#it silences. now i have this little headcanon based on absolutely nothing but my own bitter ass that the future mme lan killed a dude | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

demonicheadcanons · 4 years ago

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Haha and okay I just saw that your askbox is open and read your rules, so if you don't mind, could I please request some hcs for Beel, Mammon, Asmo and Belphie and how they like to cuddle with mc? Cuddle hcs basically lol. If four is too many please feel free to adjust this! Thank you so much and I hope you have a wonderful day 🥰

The Obey Me Brothers: Cuddling / Sleeping Headcanons

AN: Sorry this took a while!! I decided to write for all the brothers because I have a tiny rough draft of cuddle headcanons back from like, the first week I started the game. Mammon’s was the first I came up with, and I filled in the rest from my impressions of the boys from the first 4 lessons. They’ve evolved since then, and I hope they’re alright!! Take care 💙

Brother x reader writing style. Gender neutral reader as always. Written on mobile primarily so excuse any formatting mistakes please ;u; I only go on PC to add finishing touches and a read more

Some things may come off as suggestive, but aren’t really intended that way except for Asmo’s - this is fluff through and through

Lucifer

- Ideal cuddles: Likes to have you lay on his chest in his bed. He doesn’t want his brothers intruding and annoying him or pulling his attention away from you, so his room works best. There’s something about being able to look down and immediately see you there that almost gives him butterflies. It settles him immediately. He’s canonically not a morning demon, but waking up to that sight and knowing you trust him and feel comfortable around him gives him enough motivation and hope to do anything. Getting through the days becomes a breeze when he knows he can return to that most nights. He’s also a real delight to see on those early mornings - tired, but his smile brightens up his eyes, and his hair is a mess over the pillows. He’s not stressed out yet, so he’s fully relaxed and looks quite elegant.

Sadly, he’s often busy, and regularly misses out on sleep. At times like this, he likes having you curled up in his lap whilst he works, so long as you don’t distract him. He’ll press occasional kisses to your temple and you can nap or read or just lay there and listen to the music he always has playing when you’re in his study.

- He has to be very close to the MC to let them cuddle up to him, and initially he’s a bit stiff and awkward because he kind of forgot what this feels like. For the first while he’s quiet every time you cuddle him, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his head against yours and staring off into the distance. He’s touch-starved. Give him a moment.

- Once he settles and starts to get used to affection, if you two are alone he’ll walk up and put his arms around your shoulders and pull you in for hugs, leaning his chin against the top of your head. One time, months into whatever relationship you have, he does it in front of his brothers without thinking, and whilst he feels embarrassed after he realises he doesn’t mind - somewhere between him seeing it as staking a claim, because he’s still the avatar of pride, and between feeling comfortable enough in your presence that he can’t bring himself to care how they’ll react.

- On his rare days off, will absolutely whisk you off somewhere else for a day out in the Devildom and a night in a cabin or hotel or something where no one will bother the two of you and he can hold you in his arms for as long as he wants to and talk to you about everything that comes to mind, completely free and relaxed. He’s one to mumble about something or other when cuddling, unless he’s working, so when the two of you are just relaxing together he’ll ramble about something or ask you questions and listen to you talk.

- Once Luci said something that made you laugh whilst you were laying with your head on his chest and he knows he’s never going to forget about it. Will intentionally try to make you laugh so that he can experience that again. He was an angel once and yet, nothing feels more like heaven to him. Only thing is he’s not above teasing and tickling you to get a reaction out of you, so long as it’s one that might end in you laughing and smiling up at him, and you’ll feel his own laughter rumbling about in his chest.

Mammon

- Ideal cuddles: In your bed - it smells like you and it’s tidier than his room, probably. He likes to have his arms wrapped around your midsection whilst facing each other, on your sides. He also doesn’t mind if you use his chest or shoulder as a pillow, so long as you both have your arms around one another. Often times he’ll bury his face in your hair to take in your scent and because it’s soft and calming. By the time you wake up, he’s going to end up wrapped around you like a koala.

- Adores cuddling on days off when the two of you don’t have to leave for longer than a few moments at a time, especially in a place where his brothers won’t bother you; think, staying in a cabin where it all feels so domestic, you two can wake up whenever you want and make breakfast together and stay practically attached at the hip the entire time, sinking back into bed or laying together on the sofa whenever you want. No responsibilities, no pressure.

- Plays with your hands, or runs his fingers along your side, or tucks one arm up behind your back to hold you really close and play with the strands of hair at the base of your scalp / top of your neck. So long as it doesn’t disturb you heavily, he tends to have some kind of motion, not one to stay still for long.

- He’s quite warm, almost rivaling Beel, so you might have to ask him to loosen his grip on you if you get warm easily. If you do, he pouts and suggests he lowers the temperature of the entire room instead, or buys thinner blankets or gets rid of blankets all together.

- He tries to stay up until you fall asleep because it feels so peaceful and he really feels like he’s protecting you. Also, no one can criticise him or be rude to him when they’re sleeping. Even if you don’t ever talk down on him, his brothers weigh him down, so watching over you whilst you rest in his arms makes him feel so much better without worrying that you’re judging him.

- One time you two were cuddling and he just started crying quietly, because damn, he’s the luckiest demon in all the Devildom and even Lord Diavolo would be jealous of him right now. He’s an emotional cuddler, and will randomly tear up or start chuckling to himself. He’s quiet and doesn’t usually voice his thoughts when cuddling but you can tell he’s thinking constantly and always really happy.

- He gets shy easily enough but he’s also possessive, and he’s not one to turn you down. Because of this he honestly doesn’t care where the two of you cuddle, or who sees. His grip gets a little tighter around you if his brothers walk in and you’re curled up together on the sofa or something, but he wants to be held 24/7 and any mild temporary discomforts are more than worth it when he’s with you.

Leviathan

- Ideal cuddles: Please lay on top of his chest. Literally just lay on top of him. He melts every single time. His bathtub bed is perfect for this, because there’s really no other way to lie unless you want him to lay on top of you, so he prefers cuddling there - that, and it helps him stay cool, and he gets to be in the safety of his own room. In an actual bed, he’s the little spoon all the way. It’s hard to convince him you truly like him, but when you cuddle up against his back and wrap your arms around him he feels a little safer believing you might be telling the truth. It also makes him feel really safe and comfortable, a barrier from the outside world that he rejects daily.

- It doesn’t happen very often, but Levi is one of the brothers most likely to sleep in his demon form, and occasionally when you’re cuddling he’s so relaxed he takes on his demon form without really thinking about it. He says sorry and, half asleep, offers to turn back, but if you’re not uncomfortable then he starts to do it more often. He’s mindful about his horns and prefers to cuddle in his bathtub so he doesn’t tear any of your pillows or accidentally jab you with his horns.

- He’s somewhat cold to the touch unless he forces himself to raise his internal temperature. You’re unlikely to overheat whilst cuddling with him, but you’ll need a thick blanket or you may end up shivering after a few minutes, at which point he’ll try his best to be warmer and apologise profusely. He hates being warm, though - best to just go for the layers of blankets.

- Y’know that one thing where (usually) a girl goes up to her boyfriend and climbs into his lap whilst he’s gaming? Adores that. Oh, it makes him so, so happy. The first time you do it he drops his controller and after a minute of startled silence where you wonder just how red his face can get, he wraps his arms around you tight enough that you feel your spine click, and he buries his face into your neck and stays there for as long as you let him. He’s so flustered and yet, you can tell he’s happier than he’s ever been. It instantly cheers him up no matter how bad his mood is. It’s even better if you’re playing a game on a handheld system whilst he plays or watches something and the two of you are just, wrapped around each other but still doing your own thing. He just wants you close to him. He just wants to know you like him. Please give this boy cuddles.

Satan

- Ideal cuddles: Like Mammon, in a bed he likes to have his arms around your waist and for the two of you to be facing each other. Your room would be ideal but he would really rather be in his so much he ends up cleaning all the books off his bed just so he can cuddle up with you. He also likes the idea of cuddling up under a tree somewhere, or in one of those plush window seats, where you two can look out over the Devildom and he can point out different places and talk about them all - Satan has connections everywhere, and you’ll feel like you know everyone by the time he’s done.

- Satan isn’t particularly warm or cold. His temperature varies with the seasons, but he’s mostly just lukewarm. This means you’re unlikely to overheat or be too cold when you cuddle, which is always good.

- He likes to read to you or have you read to him, or ask questions back and forth to prod at each other’s minds a bit. A talkative cuddler - there are brief moments of silence, but he’s thinking constantly and he wants you to be involved in that, just like every aspect of his life. There’s usually a clear connection between one of his thoughts and the next, and he’ll have calm discussions about thinks with you in his arms.

- Only falls asleep first if he’s really, really tired. Otherwise he’ll stay up and read or talk to you until you fall asleep. Like Mammon there’s something about the peace, something about knowing you trust him, that you don’t see him as his anger, nor as his false personality that he puts on to please the others and maintain a decent status in comparison to Lucifer. You just see him as he is. He thinks about this a lot as he pets your hair.

- Speaking of petting your hair, he has a tendency to run his nails over your scalp when you’re in his arms. If you’re uncomfortable it would be best to tell him early on before the habit is set in stone. His main source of affection comes from the stray cats he feeds outside, so he just uses whatever knowledge he’s gained from that. This also means he’ll take one of your hands in his arm press gently into your palm with his thumbs, like he’s pressing the pads on a cats paw.

- Feels close to normal when he’s cuddling. Like he was never born solely of one emotion, because he feels so many in those moments that he really could be a whole on his own. He’s not one to hide this, and will openly vent to you about it. As well as this, he’s quite likely to come straight to you if he isn’t feeling well and needs cuddles to settle down. The only exception is if he’s really angry and is worried he might hurt you by accident. Even then, if you can get close enough to take his hand or wrap your arms around him, there’s a large chance he’ll settle enough to hold you in kindness and he can begin to heal.

- He doesn’t talk about it openly but one time he’s in an awful mood and you grab his head and hold it against your chest until he lets out all his emotions and feels better and it becomes his favourite thing in the world. He loves to cuddle with his head against your chest and your fingers running through his hair. You can tell that he adores it because he ends up purring and nuzzling his face against you. Unlike Luci, he hasn’t been to heaven, but he’d be able to describe the feeling of it much better than God himself could using just that embrace as his reference point.

Asmodeus

- Ideal cuddles: “Whatever you want, honey.” He isn’t picky, he just wants to be touching you in any way possible. However, he really likes laying with his head on your stomach or chest - especially if he can press light kisses against them. He wants some skin-on-skin contact, even if its holding hands or one of you burying their face in the other’s neck, or pressing feathery kisses to the insides of your wrist. It soothes him. He can’t stop himself from grinning if you nuzzle into his neck.

- He’s just the right temperature for cuddles. He’s on the warmer side, but whatever the perfect temperature is for you, he’s there. When he sleeps on his own, he likes to have a lot of blankets piled up, and then have a fan on to balance out the temperature, and he’ll push for the same setup when you’re cuddling together.

- One of the brothers who will go up to you when he wants attention. He’s the least shy, and will happily throw an arm around you anytime, anywhere. Honestly if it doesn’t bother you, he’d pull you into his lap in public or in front of his brothers and cuddle you close to him. The only problem he could possibly imagine is that other people are jealous of the two of you, so you’d really have to sit him down and explain if PDA isn’t at all your thing. Happy enough to link pinkies if that’s all you’re comfortable with, but he needs a lot of affection, so expect him to essentially trap you in his room later so you spend time with him.

- King of gentle kisses and soothingly rubbing your arms / back if you’ve not had the best day. He doesn’t mind whether you two talk or not, but on bad days he’s the best to go to - he’ll listen to everything you have to say, and verbally destroy anyone who’s annoyed you, all whilst holding your head to his chest and tracing shapes against your back.

- Loves loves loves listening to you talk about your day and then filling you in on his own. He’s a gossip but harmlessly, and will talk about whatever’s trending currently, keeping you up to date on everything. If he really wants to show you something or take a photo with you he likes to cuddle up with an arm around you and hold his phone in his other hand, scrolling through whatever social media he’s found this really interesting or horrible thing on. Otherwise he’s quiet enough, with mumbled words of affection and some suggestive jokes (and touches, if you’re comfortable. He won’t go anywhere with it if you’re just cuddling). He’s just happy and he wants to soak in it for as long as possible; he finally understands how people feel when they fall for him, he says

Beelzebub

- Ideal cuddles: Big spoon. Preferably in his bed rather than yours. He wants to wrap his arms around you, especially if you’ve already got your arms wrapped around yourself so that he’s essentially holding your hands at the same time. He buries his face at the base of your neck / top of your spine. He also really, really loves just having you cling to him in some way, and will carry you around like that - usually he loves having you curled up in one arm whilst he goes about his day or eats.

- He is so warm, but if you’re laying down he’ll insist on having a blanket because it keeps him safe from the monsters in his closet :( You’ll definitely need something to cool you down, and he gets into the habit of getting you a glass and a large jug of water before you cuddle up together because you have to stay hydrated and it should help you cool down at least a little. Get him a thin blanket and a fan of some kind and it should just about balance it out.

- He’s the opposite of Belphie, in that he doesn’t tend to cuddle for long periods of time - he wants to, and pouts any time he has to get up, but even if you help him not feel quite so hungry, he still needs to eat regularly. If you’re asleep he’ll move as slowly and carefully as possible so that he doesn’t wake you up. If you’re awake he’ll gush out apologies and then ask if you want to be wrapped up in the blanket and carried along with him. If you say no he pours a fresh glass of water and rushes out and back because he really wants to spend time with you.

- Sometimes he just gets really excited and happy and he’ll grin at you wordlessly.

- He’s quiet but in the early morning, when he wakes up, even if you’re not awake he’ll press soft kisses against your shoulders and the back of your neck and whisper whatever comes to his mind. He tends to repeat over and over that he really cares about you and that he’s really glad you’re here.

Belphegor

- Ideal cuddles: In the attic on his nest of pillows and blankets, curled up so that you’re both mainly on your backs but somewhat facing each other. No matter what he’s going to end up curling up against your side by the time he wakes up anyway. He also really likes sleeping on top of you, but this is a bit risky because he sleeps like a log and its hard to wake him up when you need to get up to eat or use the bathroom. If you’re not in the attic, the only other place outside of your rooms that he likes to cuddle up together to sleep is the planetarium, looking up at the stars together.

- He’s on the cooler side, but likes being warm - he’s used to the kind of warmth Beel produces. Because of this, he’s liable to snuggling in as close as he possibly can to you to absorb some of your heat. You’re going to become his own personal radiator.

- Unlike Beel, he will cuddle forever. There are very few things stopping him from just sleeping constantly, with the main reason being that he wants to spend time with you and Beel. In fact, you’re going to have trouble getting out of his grasp once he wraps his arms around your stomach and pulls you down onto his pillow nest. Its best to devise a system and let him get used to it - tapping on his arm or hand 3 times, or something like that, and he’ll release you. He’ll also push for you to wake him up. The only other thing that will make him release you is if he brushes a hand against your side and you’re ticklish and laugh, in which case he’ll grin and start tickling you instead.

- Like Levi, if relaxed enough he’ll slip into his demon form. It takes less energy to be in that form anyway, and he likes letting you play with his tail when you’re cuddled up together. Acts annoyed if you start poking and prodding at him because you don’t often get to see the boys relaxed in their demon forms, but he really enjoys it. Purrs if you pet his horns.

- He’s not at all talkative but likes to listen. However, he’s liable to falling asleep very, very quickly, so it’s not worth saying anything too important to him; he’ll listen, and he’ll remember when he wakes up, but he’s not going to respond effectively in a timely manner.

- Belphie smirks and grins a lot, but sometimes he wakes up earlier than you and he looks at you until you wake up too, and you’ll see his lopsided smile as he beams at you, content. Mornings are okay like that, he decides, even if he grumbles and complains when you tell him you have to start getting ready for class.

#obey me headcanons #fluff #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #my headcanons #my writings #cuddles #pda #ask #request #angeloflovedemonoflust #angel-of-love-demon-of-lust

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aggressive-positivity-network · 4 years ago

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Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

*****************

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

******************

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!

80 notes · View notes

aquietwritingcorner · 4 years ago

Text

Writers Month Day 5: Secret Word Count: 4850 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery Warning: Talk of abuse, although mostly hinted at. We all know that’s tied into Riza’s tattoo. Summary: One night on their way to Ishval, Hawkeye’s tattoo is revealed to the team. The discovery and consequential fallout do not go over so well. Notes: This is heavily based off of a headcanon session I had with @canisfuria some time back. This or something very similar (and more polished) will eventually be part of a longer series of one-shots I have planned. AO3 || ff.net

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Secret

Noise interrupted the otherwise peaceful, if hot, desert night. Out of the three tents, the one in the middle was suddenly rocking with commotion, breaking the unusual peace the night had previously brought. Of course, this meant that the occupants of the other tents were woken as well, the shouts and the sight of the tent shaking sending them rushing over to it.

Mustang arrived first, the tent he and Hawkeye shared a little bit closer. He pulled a glove on, eyes sweeping over the area, ready for action. He never had time to assess the situation, however, as Havoc emerged from the tent, a wild-eyed rage about him. Without warning, but with a bellow of rage, Jean Havoc locked eyes on him, and then decked Roy Mustang. The hit was audible, and the General went back hard, hitting the sandy soil with a painful sounding thump. Shouts of surprise went up all around, but Havoc seemed singularly focused as he took another step towards Mustang.

Falman, who had been coming towards the commotion as well, threw himself between Havoc and Mustang, trying his best to hold Havoc back. Fuery, who had come out with Falman, was already by Mustang’s side, helping him sit up, although he kept an eye on Falman and Havoc. Havoc’s rage hadn’t abated, and Falman was struggling.

Lost among the noise was the sound of a tent flap opening. Hawkeye emerged, quick and distressed eyes taking in the scene, even as she clutched a shirt that was clearly not her own around her. Breda, not saying a word, but with a deadly serious look on his face, stayed right next to her.

“What in the name of all the gods was that for, Havoc!” Mustang growled out, starting to stand. Fuery stayed by his side, still watching.

“I saw her back!” Havoc yelled out, still struggling against Falman, still obviously angry.

Mustang stared at him, shocked, before his gaze switched over to Riza.

“An accident, sir,” she said her voice deceptively steady. “The lamp caught my shirt on fire, and they pulled it off of me.”

Breda hadn’t moved from Hawkeye’s side, but his gaze was firmly fixed on Mustang. “You need to explain yourself, General.”

“Explain nothing!” Havoc spat out. “He needs to—”

“Havoc, enough!” Hawkeye snapped out. She stepped up, warning Breda off with a glance as he moved to stay beside her. She moved to stand in front of Havoc, who stopped trying to break Falman’s hold when she moved between him and Mustang. “I will not explain myself like this, nor will I do it while you attack the general.” She glanced back at Mustang and the two of them exchanged a look. “Come with us,” she said, her eyes hard and clearly not accepting any other option.

Mustang and Riza moved off and, after a moment, Havoc shook off Falman, and followed after them.

As the three moved off, Fuery and Falman stared after them, more than a little confused. Breda watched, his look calculating and guarded.

“What… what just happened here?” Falman finally asked, as the three of them watched the other three, who were only a short distance off, although mostly out of earshot.

Riza had planted herself between Mustang and Havoc, which looked to be the only reason that Havoc wasn’t punching Mustang again. Although the group at the tents couldn’t hear what was being said, they could clearly tell that there were raised voices. The conversation obviously wasn’t going well, if the wild gestures and threatening body language meant anything.

Finally, Breda spoke. “…if you had to choose between the general or Riza, who would you side with?”

Both Falman and Fuery snapped their heads towards Breda.

“��Sir?” Fuery asked, the confusion clear in his voice.

“’You heard me,” Breda said, sparing both of them a look. “Who would you side with?”

Fuery’s brown crinkled in confusion. “They’re… They’re the same side,” he said.

“No, they aren’t,” Breda said. “They’re two different people with two different goals.”

Fuery and Falman exchanged a look.

“I don’t understand what you mean, sir,” Falman said.

Breda scoffed, and looked back at the three who were arguing. Havoc had put himself between Riza and Roy, as if he were protecting her. Breda’s jaw tightened. It was too late for that wasn’t it? He shook his head, and looked back over at the other two.

“She came in tonight. She never said why, just like the other times, but Hav welcomed her in all the same. She looked like she needed it. We moved things around to accommodate, but somewhere in there the lamp’s glass must have tipped up, and the flame caught her shirt on fire. I noticed it first, but Havoc was closer and acted. He pulled it off of her, but that was when we both saw it.”

He paused, his jaw working. Riza had worked her way back between Havoc and Roy, and was clearly angry. Neither Falman or Fuery said anything, waiting for Breda to continue.

“Her back,” he said. “From neck to waist and side to side, it’s covered in a large tattoo of Roy’s matrix.” He heard the sharp intake of breath from the other men but didn’t take his eyes off of the woman in question. “It’s also covered in three large burn scars. One is bigger than my hand, one about half that size, and another the size of my palm. They’re bad enough they destroyed the tattoo, and they’re old.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Falman let out a Drachman explicative. Fuery opened his mouth, only for a loud shout to take their attention back to the other three.

Hawkeye shoved Havoc back sharply, her voice rising up, loud enough to be heard. “—DARE you determine what’s right or wrong in MY life! That’s for ME to decide and I have MADE my decisions!”

It looked as if Riza was about to fight Havoc on her own, if not for Mustang interfering. He said something that they couldn’t hear to her, and she held her place, although she was clearly angry. There were a few more exchanged words, and then, suddenly, they all split up. Mustang had his arm around Riza’s shoulders, and the two of them walked away together while Havoc turned and went in the opposite direction, heading back towards the camp.

Falman and Fuery said nothing as Havoc came closer, not sure what to say, but Breda simply asked “Hav?” without moving.

Havoc didn’t slow down as he passed them, hands balled up and shaking. “I’m going for a walk,” he ground out, stiff and angry.

Breda gave a nod, and like that, the argument was seemingly over, although absolutely nothing was resolved, and the tension remained.

By the time Havoc returned, an hour or two had passed, although no one was asleep. He passed by Falman and Fuery, who were by the fire, talking in hushed voices. The light was still on in his and Breda’s tent, meaning the other man hadn’t gone to sleep yet. But more importantly to the blonde, there was still a lamp light on in Mustang and Hawkeye’s tent.

Havoc walked to it, stopping outside of it with an inaudible sigh and steeled his nerves. Now that he was calmer, he knew that he needed to get to the bottom of this. He knocked on the tent flap and waited. There was a pause of activity, and then Mustang’s voice called out.

“Come on in, Havoc.”

Havoc pushed the flap aside, ducking his head as he entered. Hawkeye and Mustang both stared up at him. She had been cleaning her guns, Havoc noted, and Mustang had been reading, and, apparently, icing his cheek, although where he had gotten ice from was anyone’s guess.

“I want to apologize,” Havoc said, and Mustang raised an eyebrow. “But let’s get something straight. I’m not apologizing for the punch—not yet.” He sat down in front of them, face serious. “I’m apologizing for acting without knowing all the information. I saw Riza’s back, and I jumped to conclusions. It an old flaw of mine, especially with people I care about. But until I know the whole story, I’m not apologizing for the punch.”

Hawkeye and Mustang exchanged looks.

“That’s fair,” Hawkeye said, although there was still something strained in her voice. Mustang sat up straighter, putting his book to the side while Hawkeye started nimbly reassembling her gun, and Havoc realized that Mustang was waiting on her to start the story.

“When I was young,” she said as her fingers worked. “My mother died. I have very little memory of her, but I knew that she loved me dearly. Her passing left my father and myself behind. Before mother passed, I know that Father loved me. Or, at least, he was fond of me. I have some memories of him playing with me. However, with mother’s death, his warmth also left. I suppose it was his way of coping, but Father threw himself into his research.” She put the last piece on her gun and looked up at Havoc. “He was an alchemist, you see.”

She took a breath but kept going. “From then on, Father was a cold, demanding, frightening man. He cared only for his studies and for finding someone to carry them on.” Her jaw tightened, and she looked away for a moment, before refocusing on Havoc. Mustang shifted the smallest bit closer to her. “He determined that I was not intelligent enough to continue them. I believe that any chance of regaining his affection died that day, although I didn’t realize it at the time.”

“After that, my role in his life was reduced to housekeeper, cook, maid, and occasional outlet for his anger. I was also expected to keep up with my own studies. As the years passed and the money ran out, I took on additional tasks, such as hunting, gardening, and anything else that needed to be done. He had little to do with me, and after learning what having his attention now meant, I preferred it that way. Father, meanwhile, took on apprentice after apprentice, only for each of them to leave. When I was nine, a new apprentice came.”

She glanced at Mustang, and a bit of a smile touched her lips. “It was a smarmy city boy who didn’t look like he’d last five minutes on his own in the countryside. To my surprise, he lasted much longer than that with my father. Eventually, we grew to be friends.”

Her smiled faded. “However, when Roy was eighteen, and I fourteen, he enlisted in the military. Father did not approve of the military and especially not of state alchemists. He refused to teach Roy anything further, kicked him out, and disavowed him. After that, Father threw himself into his research to the point that I was afraid he would die in the midst of it.”

She stopped, taking in a breath, and Mustang definitely slid closer to her. “When I was fifteen, he asked me for my help. He wanted to entrust me with the secrets of his flame alchemy. Despite everything, I still wanted my father’s affections, and I agreed. For a year he tattooed my back. At first, I thought it would gain me his love, but I soon realized that wasn’t the case. All he cared for was his research. I tried to protest, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I had no choice but to comply. I was sixteen when he finished. The next year, he died.”

She looked at Mustang. “Roy had come back after graduating, trying to see if he could convince father to teach him the secrets of flame alchemy. He died while talking to Roy. Roy helped me bury him, and we talked. I determined that he truly could use flame alchemy for good, and so I showed him my back.”

Here, Mustang picked up the story. “I was… horrified… to see what Master Hawkeye had done. But at the same time, I was hungry for the knowledge. We talked it over more, and with her agreement, I spent nearly a year there, studying her back. Afterwards, I went to take the test and received my state alchemist title.”

“I decided to join the military as well,” Hawkeye said. “I wanted to help people, too. I wanted to protect our country.”

They looked at each other, and for a moment, they didn’t say anything.

“It didn’t turn out like we had planned.” Mustang finally said. “And we both blamed ourselves.” He reached over and took Hawkeye’s hand. “I found her, just before leaving, patting down the dirt on a grave.”

“It was an Ishvalan child,” Hawkeye said, looking down at their hands. “I couldn’t bare to leave him like that.”

“It was there she asked me to burn her back,” Mustang continued. “I wanted to refuse, but...”

“I was insistent,” Hawkeye picked back up. “There could be no more flame alchemists. I would not be responsible for that level of destruction again. I was the guardian of the secrets of flame alchemy. I would rather die or be defaced then let anyone else learn them.”

“We waited until we were both on furlough, and then… I did it,” Mustang said, his voice rough. “I only burned away the most important parts. I was afraid doing more would kill her. But I burned her, helped her through the worst of the recovery.”

Hawkeye looked back up at Havoc, her gaze steady, sure. “It was my choice,” she said. “It was my choice to have him burn me, and my choice to follow him after that. I could have quit then and there, but I chose to stay and fight for a future where no more Ishvals would happen again.” She paused, making sure she had his attention. “My choice, Havoc. My life. My decision.”

For a moment, Havoc was silent. Then, slowly, he nodded. “That’s… a lot to take in.” He was quiet for a few moments longer, processing all he had been told, and then he turned his attention to Mustang, his gaze still hard. “You worked with Berthold for years. You knew him almost as well as she did. And you didn’t do anything to save her?”

Mustang kept Havoc’s gaze for a moment, and then bowed his head. “That’s correct.”

“What are you talking about?” Hawkeye interrupted. “He made living with that man bearable!”

“But he still left you living with him,” Havoc shot back.

“Instead of doing what?” Hawkeye demanded. “Whisking me away on horseback? That man was a monster, but he was still my father!”

Havoc looked at her, and them, his expression unfathomable for a moment. He looked as if he wanted to argue the point, to say something more, but then he let out a sight. “Right,” he finally said, looking away. “It’s the past. There’s nothing to do about it.” He looked back at Roy. “Sorry for that right hook.”

Mustang let out a huff. “Yeah, well, don’t let it happen again.”

“Not unless you truly deserve it,” Havoc agreed.

He looked over at Hawkeye. “And sorry about… well, I’m not going to apologize for defending you or wanting to protect you, but sorry for not listening first.”

Hawkeye shook her head. “It’s alright,” she said.

With that, Havoc got up, bidding the both a good night. He exited the tent, but he wasn’t ready to settle down yet. He had too much to mull over, but he also didn’t feel like being alone, Looking around the camp, he could see that Breda was out of their tent, looking over something with Falman. But Fuery didn’t seem to be busy. Havoc approached him.

“Hey, Sarge. Wanna go for a walk?”

Fuery blinked up owlishly at him but gave a nod and stood. “Sounds good, sir,” he said.

Together they ambled away, towards the tree line. It was still dark out, and nothing much was said for the first few minutes of the walk. Havoc didn’t feel like talking, but he also didn’t want to be alone. Fuery walked beside him, patient enough for a bit.

Still, after a few minutes, the younger man gentled prodded him. “So, I saw you went to talk to the general and the captain.”

Havoc sighed, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “Yeah, I did.”

“Everything get settled?”

“Sort of.” There was a pause, and finally, Havoc spoke again. “It’s not my story to tell,” he said finally. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready. You two’ve gotten close since it all went down. Don’t worry about it, Sarge.”

Fuery made a noncommittal noise but didn’t push it any further. The two of them walked a little further, until finally heading back to camp. They weren’t far out when Fuery spoke again.

“…That was a cheap shot you got in earlier, though.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

There was a beat, and then. “It was pretty satisfying to watch.”

Havoc laughed at the unexpectedness of the comment. “Well, we’ve all wanted to get in a good swing at the general at least once!”

The levity helped, and when they got back to camp, Havoc was ready to go to bed. Fuery headed over to Falman, who was still by the fire, and Havoc headed towards his and Breda’s tent, taking a moment to glance at the tent of his COs, and glad to see the light out in it.

Breda was already in his sleeping bag, reading a book by the lamp light. He glanced up when Havoc came in but didn’t say anything. They both settled down to sleep, neither of them saying anything. Breda was falling into sleep, assuming Havoc was already there, when Havoc’s voice broke the quiet.

“It was her decision.”

Breda paused. “…The tattoo or the burns?”

“Not the tattoo. That was her father’s.”

Breda fell quiet at that, taking it in, not able to find something to say for a few minutes. Finally, he did.

“…that’s messed up.”

“…yeah.”

Neither of them said anything else that night, but Breda resolved to keep a closer eye on Riza from now on and make his own judgements about the situation. He had the basic information he needed for now. The rest would come in time.

The next day dawned far too early for any of them, and far too solemn. The whole team was subdued, and it escaped no one’s notice how Mustang and Hawkeye stuck closer together, and how Breda kept an eye on Hawkeye. By the time they stopped again for the night, everyone was exhausted. Camp was set up, a fire was made, and food was eaten. They moved around the camp after eating, each taking care of what they needed to.

Fuery was sitting next to the fire, tinkering with a radio when Hawkeye stopped in front of him. He looked up at her. She looked tired, exhausted, but as if she had come to a decision.

“Kain. Let’s go for a walk.”

“Sir?”

“You want to know, don’t you?”

Fuery rose to his feet and followed her out of the camp and into the nearby wilderness. No words were spoken at first, and Fuery didn’t push her. He could tell that she was on edge and low on patience. Finally, after a few minutes she spoke.

“What did they tell you?” she asked.

He hesitated. “…that you have a very large tattoo on your back. That’s it’s the general’s matrix. And that there are large burns on it.”

She nodded, not saying anything. Finally, after a moment, she spoke, her voice very detached, clinical, and matter-of-fact.

“My father was an alchemist. His life’s work was studying flame alchemy. He and I lived alone from the time I was four until I was nine. He… was a frightening man. Nothing mattered to him, except for alchemy. When I was nine, the general came to apprentice under my father. He was thirteen. He lived with us until he was eighteen and joined the military. My father didn’t approve of the military and refused to teach him flame alchemy. A year after he left, my father decided to hide his research by tattooing it on my back. It wasn’t long after, that he died. Roy came back and helped me bury him, and I decided that I would show him my father’s research. Unfortunately, it was not used the way that either of us intended. At the end of Ishval, I asked Roy to burn it off of my back. He agreed and burned the most important parts off. After I healed, I made the choice to join him on this path.”

Fuery didn’t say a word as he listened, just taking it all it. The silence stretched between them, and Fuery could tell that she was waiting for him to have questions. He did have questions, but he also didn’t want to push her too far. Finally, after a moment, he asked one.

“I didn’t, um… I haven’t seen it—a-and you don’t have to show me! But Breda said it was big…” He wasn’t sure how to phrase his question.

“Yes,” she replied, in that same detached, exhausted voice. “It covers my back. It holds a lot of information that only a trained alchemist could read.”

There was a moment of silence again as Fuery paused.

“…how long did it take to do?”

“About a year, done in differing sessions with time to heal between.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes.”

The quiet stretched out between them again, and Fuery looked down.

“…did you have a choice?”

This time, the silence came from Hawkeye. “…he asked me, and I said yes. But I didn’t know what I was agreeing to. And by the time I figured it out, it was too late.”

Fuery didn’t say anything, just nodded in understanding. And then, he looked up at her, making eye contact, and searching her eyes. His brows tented back with a wry, half frown.

“…Does it still hurt, or is it numb now?”

Something in her breath caught, and several different things passed through her eyes. Finally, she simply said “…it depends on the day.”

Fuery nodded taking that in. “Thank you.”

Another moment of silence stretched, before Hawkeye sighed. “Let’s head back.”

“Yessir.”

Hawkeye’s tiredness wasn’t hard to see, and by the time they got back to camp, all she wanted to do was sit down. Instead, she headed towards the dishes, knowing it was her turn to take care of them. Fuery headed off to the campfire. Falman was in his tent. Before she could reach the dishes, though, Breda cut her off.

“Already taken care of, sir,” he said. “Felt restless.”

Hawkeye paused, as if assessing him. “…Thank you,” she finally said and, after a moment, she headed off towards her and Mustang’s tent.

He was in there, looking over his journal, and he looked up when she came in. Hayate looked up as well, tail wagging, and moving closer to her. She looked at them, and then at her sleeping bag. Without a word, she reached down and moved it closer, collapsing down on it. Mustang watched her do it, and shifted just a little bit closer. Hawkeye laid there, Hayate cuddling up with her, and buried her face in his fur.

For a while, the silence stretched on. Finally, Mustang spoke.

“Falman came to me while you were gone.”

She didn’t say anything.

“He wanted to know about your back.��

“…what did you tell him?”

“That your father was my Master, that he was a cruel man, that after I joined the military he tattooed your back, and that after he died you showed it me. I told him that after Ishval you asked me to burn the tattoo off of you, and I did.”

She was quiet. “…what did he say?”

“He was silent for a few moments, then nodded, thanked me, and left.”

Riza hummed.

Mustang was quiet for a moment as well. “…what did you tell Fuery?”

“…about the same.”

“And what did he say?”

She paused. “…he asked me if it hurt.” A beat. “He asked me if it still hurts.”

Roy didn’t say anything. Instead, he sighed, set his journal aside, and laid down next to her. He slipped an arm around her, and for a bit they laid in silence.

“…Hawkeye… I have something I’ve wanted to ask you… And I don’t mean it in any offensive way—”

“No, I don’t blame you for what happened to me as a child. You couldn’t have done anything to change it.”

“I could have stopped him from—”

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

Mustang let out a sigh, but said nothing more on the subject. Instead, the three of them just cuddled, until they finally went to sleep.

The fire was still burning, and Breda and Fuery sat by the fire. Breda was using the light to read by, and Fuery had things to tinker with. The silence, though, stretched on, and Fuery’s items went untouched, the young man taking his gun apart instead. The only sounds were that, and the crackling of the fire. After a moment, though, Breda realized that the sounds of metal tinging had stopped, and he looked up.

Fuery was staring into the fire, his gun in pieces on his lap. It wasn’t too unusual to find Fuery staring off into the distance every so often, but something about this struck a chord of concern in Breda. Very softly, he called “Sarge…?”

Fuery didn’t look at him, but shook his head minutely, murmuring under his breath. “It was her father.”

Silence descended over both of them, stretching on until Breda finally sighed, closed his book, and stood. He passed Fuery, tousling his hair a bit.

“Get some sleep, Fuery. Morning comes sooner than you think.”

Fuery gave a noise of acknowledgement but didn’t move. It wasn’t until several hours later that he finally put his gun back together and went to lay down, even though he was certain that he would not get any sleep.

The next day, again, dawned with tension. Hawkeye seemed to be waiting for something, although no one could quite put their finger on what. It lasted through the morning, stretching into the day, until finally Breda took the opportunity to approach both Hawkeye and Mustang as they were traveling.

“Boss. Hawkeye,” he greeted.

“Breda,” Mustang said back, side-eyeing him. “Is there a problem?”

Breda looked at Hawkeye. “You tell me, sirs.” He said. Hawkeye said nothing, but she did glance at him. Breda held his silence, and finally she sighed.

“What do you mean?” she asked him, tiredness in her voice.

“You’ve been on edge since the other night,” he said. “I get it when it happened, and when none of us knew. But we all know now. We’ve all heard the basics of the story. So why are you still on edge?”

For a moment, Hawkeye didn’t say anything. “Because,” she said, tightness in her voice. “You know. You all know. And the last thing I want is for that to change what you think of me. I don’t want pity from any of you, or to think that I need extra protection. I’ve fought for your respect, and I want to keep it.”

“What?” Breda looked at her, a bit of confusion on his face. “Why would we pity you? This gives you more respect from me,” he said. “There’s not a lot of people who could do what you’ve done.”

She looked at him askance. “…Maybe that’s how you feel, but what about the others.”

Breda snorted. “You’re joking, right? All of us are impressed by you. We’re in shock, of course, and we care about you, so we’re protective, but all of us would follow you into battle in a heartbeat. You’ve not lost any respect. You’ve gained, if anything.”

Mustang shot her a wane smile. “You see?” he said. “I told you that you’ve not lost their respect.”

Hawkeye glanced between the two of them, and then up at the others, and hummed thoughtfully.

When evening came that night, and food was passed out and eaten, instead of heading back to her tent, Riza stayed out around the campfire with the men. Falman played with Fuery’s radio, trying to find something to listen to, while Breda and Roy argued over the finer points chess strategy. At some point, Fuery bumped her elbow and handed her a cup of coffee, which she took, returning his smile. Somehow she ended up settled into Havoc’s side, his arm draped across her shoulders, and she let it be. As she sat there, surrounded by her friends, she realized that Breda had been right. None of them were treating her differently. None of them were giving her pity. She still had their respect. With that thought tipping her lips ups, she settled back, and looked at the stars.

#writersmonth2021 #FMA #Fullmetal Alchemist #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #team mustang #Jean Havoc #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #fma fanfic #fullmetal alchemist fan fiction

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 years ago

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How about a headcanon for reaper, genji and mccree where reader have a very bad nightmare and getting comforted by them?

Genji, McCree, and Reaper x gender neutral reader

I don’t get nightmares many and I’d like to believe it’s cause of my dream catcher (which isn’t even above my bed when I sleep)

Requested: Yes

Headcanons of Gabriel, Genji, and Jesse comforting their s/o after a very bad nightmare.

Gabriel Reyes

He can’t remember when was the last time he had a nightmare or what it was even about because he doesn’t fear anything. If it happens, it happens.

Death, getting kidnapped, all except losing you.

Anyway, he doesn’t get dreams very often either. He doesn’t sleep all that much and ever since Moira sort of experimented on him, he hadn't been getting many dreams.

But the last time he had a nightmare, he remembered the aftermath.

He was the most scared he’d ever been since his childhood, and fear wasn’t a thing he felt often.

He knows how it feels to wake up from a nightmare, all the fear and the uneasiness, he knows how to deal with it.

Even if his last nightmare was ages ago, he had them frequently before the experimenting.

The first thing he does to comfort you is ask if you’re okay with physical touch. You never know what the nightmare was about or if you want to stay away from him.

If you answer yes, he’ll gladly take you in his arms.

If you answer no, he’ll stay near you but will not be touching you.

The next question he asks is if you need anything; water, tissues, kisses, anything.

He’ll go fetch it with shadows to be as quick as possible.

Next question is “Do you want to talk about it?”

He’ll respect your answer 100%, not asking why you don’t want to talk about it and listening intently if you do. Based off your answer, he’ll find the almost perfect way to comfort you.

Thanks to Ana, Reinhardt, and, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Jack, who’ve all had their fair share of nightmares, he’s perfected taking care of both himself and others after nightmares.

He makes sure you’re back to sleep before he leaves, even if he has to stay for a little while longer or you ask him to stay with you for the night.

The whole ordeal is handled quickly and calmly, but most importantly comfortably, and he makes sure of that.

Genji Shimada

The moment he sees you he’s at your side, wrapping you in his arms. If you ask him for space or anything else, he’ll back up straight away and obey.

You best believe he was a little lost on how to help you.

For his nightmares, he barely has any now, just the occasional unreasonable one, he’d figure it out on his own, especially when he bottled up his emotions back in Blackwatch.

Back then, he believed that he was the only person able to comfort himself, and his way of ‘comforting himself’ wasn’t comforting himself, it was more so beating himself up over how pathetic he was, fussing over a stupid little nightmare.

He scrambles for words to say, stuttering them out even when it makes no sense. It’s actually quite adorable and funny, he’ll end up cheering you up without realizing.

Once he does realize, however, he starts cracking up jokes.

Once he sees your mood lighten a little, he asks if you need anything and then if you want to talk about it.

Though he’ll let out a small, “Why?” if you say no, but he’ll soon realize that that was a bad thing to say and apologize profusely.

If you do say yes, don’t count on him listening to every single bit, he’s focusing on other ways to cheer you up. Though you won’t realize that, since his look says “I love you.” as it always does, but it also has a bit of “Keep talking, I’m listening.” His little nods make it all the more convincing.

Once you say you’re okay and he ensures that you’re okay, he’ll ask you what you want to do next.

Start your morning at 3 am? Hell yeah!

Do random shit until you get sleepy again? Why not?

Fuck sleep, let’s stay up until tomorrow night? Fuck yeah!

We should go back to sleep? Okay, a little disappointing, but he’ll respect it.

Trust on him to handle it quickly, he knows how shit it all feels and he wants nothing more than this to be over.

Jesse McCree

Sorry, but this man handles it worse than the other two. He’s a reck.

First of all, expect to be tackled with a bear hug.

If you ask him to stay away, he will first analyze to see if you really mean that or not. He hopes you don’t mean that, but he’ll back off if you do.

He asks if you can tell him about it first. If you say no, he’ll protest and it’ll take him a little while longer than Genji to realize that it’s a little rude. Once he does, however, he apologizes a lot and says he’ll do anything as consolation.

There’s a small bit of silence after you’re either done with explanation or he’s done with apologizing. He has no idea what to say and any words in his head come out as gibberish or just don’t sound right.

Finally, he settles on cracking a few jokes.

He’s the king of making cheesy ass puns and bad jokes, so bad and so cheesy that they get you every time, that is if he doesn’t reuse them.

He hopes they lighten the mood at least a little, otherwise he has nothing else to do.

If that fails, ouch, awkward, there’s even more silence as he figures out what to do.

He has had nightmares, of course, but he handled them a little less badly than Genji did, with a little less self-loathing. There was even a period of time where he had non stop nightmares. He was out of it the entire week until he got help from Ana.

While he has been helped, he does not know how to help but he’ll find out how eventually.

He’ll need you, the one who just had the nightmare, to give him some guidance.

Once you’re good, you’re fine, you’re absolutely okay, he puts your ass back to sleep. Trust him, you’ll need it.

That week of nightmares, he barely had any sleep. The next week was a mess of a sleep schedule.

#reaper x reader #mccree x reader #genji x reader #genji shimada x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #jesse mccree x reader #overwatch headcanons #overwatch x reader #comfort fic #anonymousrequest

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m-y-fandoms · 5 years ago

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Korekiyo Shinguuji x oblivious crush reader - short imagine

Request: could i request some headcanons or an imagine (whichever you prefer, i’m not picky lol) for Korekiyo with a crush on an incredibly oblivious female reader who never realizes he’s trying to flirt with her/trying to see if she likes him back? sorry if this is a weird request haha :,)

THIS ISN’T A WEIRD REQUEST, KIYO IS MY BABY DADDY. Also you requested female reader, but I wrote this with a female in mind and then realized I never used any feminine-assigned words or pronouns in here, so anyone can read this with themselves in mind! - Mod Kokichi

Warnings: PG-13 in terms of sexual/romantic scenarios and wording

“So, in essence, that is why the Egyptians worshipped Hathor, in all her grace and beauty. Isn’t that fascinating, y/n?” Korekiyo mused, watching you carefully as you waltzed through the rows of scrolls and ancient texts in his research lab.

“Yes, it’s a wonderful story! You really are lucky to have traveled to Eygpt! Heck, I’d never even left Japan until...well coming to wherever we are trapped now. Do you mind?” You pointed to a particularly intricate and elaborate book cover on a high up shelf.

“Not at all, my dear. Feel free to take any materials from my lab that you wish, as long as you promise I can visit your lab freely as well?” You let the words ‘my dear’ ghost over your ears with little to no reaction. Normally, if such a handsome man had playfully rolled those words off of his tongue in your direction, your neck hairs would have stood on end like a startled cat, but with Korekiyo it was different. You did harbor some...feelings for him, but he called everyone dear, right? He was always spewing mature and polite crap like that.

“Yeah, of course, though I don’t know why an anthropologist would ever waste his time in a plain old dance studio,” you chuckled, on your tip-toes struggling for the tome far above you. Korekiyo snuck up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached up and plucked the book down for you, placing it gently in your hands. You held the book to your own chest and turned to face him, finding yourself flush against the wooden bookshelf with the lanky anthropologist trapping you in place. “Thanks, Kiyo!” You felt blood rush to your cheeks as he tilted his head at you like a curious puppy hearing the word ‘treat!’ You tried to settle your stuttering heart. Surely he was just being nice, right?

“Think nothing of it…” his hands came up slowly on either side of your head, caging you in between his slender arms. “You know, y/n, Hathor is known mainly for her impressive duality. She balances femininity and softness with strength and vengeance. She is a protector, but also is the harbinger of dance, joy, love...sexuality.” His voice deepened into a rasp that was like melted chocolate flowing freely over your ears. His proximity was beginning to make you dizzy. “You remind me of Hathor in many ways. I see the way you take care of your friends here, the way you defend people, but also the with which you dance: the water-like movements of your passion.”

“...” you stood there, silent for a moment, and then another moment, and then another. He looked at your expectantly, his expression unreadable through his mask. “Well, thanks, Kiyo! I never thought you’d be into ballet! Though I guess dance is a part of culture as much as anything else!” You ducked under his arm with a chipper attitude, shuffling into the open space of his lab, and he sighed deeply, looking at the ground in self-pity. Were you really not interested in him? He couldn’t blame you. Many people saw him as a creep, a pariah. He was a teenager that wore a mask at all times for crying out loud. He endlessly spewed random facts and unsolicited folk tales. Of course people avoided him. But you...you visited him every day. Before his lab opened up, you met with him in the library and inquired about his day. You asked him to eat lunch with you, and walk you back to the dorms after dinner. You asked to hear his stories, and he found himself growing to like you more and more. He didn’t want to admit his feelings until he knew for sure that you felt the same, but it was looking like his old friend, rejection, might win the war once again.

“Kiyo, this lab is simply amazing! You’re so lucky... you got the biggest one yet! My studio looks like a janitor’s closet compared to this!” You spun around on the new floor on his lab, taking in the sights, book in hand. You’d been here every day since it opened, but dedicated yourself to one section a day, having only reached this floor earlier that evening. You thought knowledge like this deserved time and respect. Korekiyo agreed of course.

“Well when one’s area of study is the entire world, a proportionately large area is needed for said study,” he drawled, slinking along behind you as you sat in a chair on the main floor. He sat in the chair across from you in front of the wall of display cases holding ceremonial swords and masks as you fingered through the book in wonder.

“Woah…” your eyes widened innocently.

“Ahhh, the Kama Sutra? You’re holding one of the oldest copies known to man.” He leaned closer to you, splaying his fingers over the page you were on slowly and seductively. “I had no idea you were this kind of person, y/n…” there’s that confectionary tone again, sweet and dripping with carnal desire.

“N-no of course not I just...what kind of person do you mean? I mean...I think the book is just interesting, the cover and the design on the spine drew me in and-“

“We should never judge a book based on its cover, yes?” He let his honeyed-words sink in to your doe-like eyes, “I think human beings, much like this book, hide things within our pages not immediately evident on our covers.”

“I agree…” his words flew right over your head. “Like you! I didn’t know you had an interest in ballet at all!” He was starting to get frustrated, but he exhaled deeply, his inner voice telling him to have patience.

“Well, yes, I’ve seen many different forms of dance, and of course, ballet is delicate and breath-taking, but also very strenuous. Another thing we shouldn’t take at face value. I’ve seen the feet of many a poor dancer after a performance, and it really is a harsh contrast to the grace of the dance itself.”

“Yes, yes! You get it!” He smiled at your child-like wonder, with you seeing only the crinkle of his eyes above the mask. “I know so many men who don’t even think dance of any kind can be a sport. I think many so-called atheletes would give up on day one of ballet lessons.” You chuckled, and he let himself be enveloped in your laughter. He was complete entranced in your aura.

“So, you will allow me to view your ballet practice in private some time? I’ve seen you with your lab door open in passing, but I would be absolutely delighted if you’d honor me with a private session, so I could focus on you and only you.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his long raven hair falling around him like a bed canopy.

“Oh, Kiyo…” you began, your own heart hurting at the words you were about the speak, but it was for the best. You didn’t want to waste his time, not in a place like this. “I know you’re interested in ballet, but after those first two trials and this whole not-knowing-when-we-are-gonna-die thing, I don’t think it would be a worthy use of your time to pull yourself away from all of this,” you gestured to the gigantic room around you, “in order to-”

“Y/N-!” He spoke angrily and abruptly, startling you, before composing himself and beginning again, taking the book from your hand and instead intertwining his fingers in your own. “...I am not interested in ballet, so much as I am interested in you. Do you understand?” You felt your body tense up in complete shock. He wasn’t serious right…? He was teasing you, taking advantage of your naïveté and your obvious feelings for him. Maybe you weren’t hiding them as well as you’d thought.

“Me…?” You looked at his wrapped hand in yours, the bandages scratchy texture pulling you back down to earth.

“Yes, you.” He spoke bluntly, with nothing but compassion in his voice.

“But you’re...you’re so…” he braced himself, waiting for the insults and degrading comments that always followed when he let his walls down around normal people.

“...Odd? Long-winded? A freak of nature?” He sighed, pulling away.

“Beautiful…” you could hardly hear your own words pouring from your mouth, the pounding of your heart beat too loud in your ears. You grabbed his hand, and in a moment of fragile silence, began to unwrap the linen that covered every inch of his fingers, then down to his palms and wrists. His hands, now revealed to you fully for the first time, were just as beautiful as his voice and cat-like golden eyes. They were pale, ghostly, ethereal. They looked like they could break at the slightest touch, but withstand any hard labor that was thrown at them at the same time. “Korekiyo, you spend so much time telling others that humanity is beautiful, that you haven’t taken the time to see it in yourself, have you? At least...not for a long while.”

“Y/N, I-” you reached for the top of his mask with shaking fingers, and he jerked away roughly, terrified. When you reached out again, he didn’t move, steeling himself to be exposed to you. You deserved to see the truth. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

Your fingertips lingered at the top of the mask before tugging it down gently. He kept his eyes shut tightly as you observed his full face.

The tip of his nose, which you could tell from the nose bridge was thin, came to an adorable point above his lips. A delicate, milky white chin led up on either side to a sharp jawline, high cheekbones and a flawless complexion. That powdery complexion was met in stark contrast to the blood-red pigment of a matte lipstick staining his lips.

“Y/N, I didn’t want you to see me...truly see me for the first time like thi-” you brought your lips closer to his until they were touching, and soon found yourself leaning into his chest, into his lap in his seated position in front of you. Your lips pressed into his, a bit more bold now, and your confidence spurred his own. You now straddled his hips, your legs on either side of his thighs, and he grabbed your hips, his hands shaking like a leaf in the wind. He pulled back, scanning your face for any regret, any shame or fear, and sensing none, crashed his lips onto yours again. He roughly sucked on your bottom lip, pulling a small moan from your mouth that excited him more than anything corporeal had in a long time. You never thought he’d be such a good kisser.

“Korekiyo…” you pulled back again, giving you both some much-needed air. “I never thought that...someone like you would even glance my way. You’re so intelligent, so regal and elegant and different from the norm and…” your words trailed off, and his thumb reached up to your lips, roughly wiping away the red lipstick that clung onto your face as a reminder that he had been there.

“Likewise, y/n,” he reclined back into the chair with you still on his lap, a little too cocky and cheeky for his own good, but to say the smirk on his messy red mouth wasn’t turning you on would be a lie.

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

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Am I allowed to place in a request for Mr svelte tracker boi Demetri? I need my greek boi fix. 😅😂 My stimming (due to my slight autism and anxiety) has been kinda bad lately and I was wondering if you could do some headcanons on how he would be with a reader who has that going on? (For example, some of my stimming signs are restless, uncontrollable finger twitches sometimes, and sudden limb movements and facial twitches I can't control 😅) Thanks! Also, sorry if this is too touchy a subject!🙈

You most certainly are allowed and I cannot express how hard I fangirled when I realised it was you in my ask box. I played it very cool but just know I was dying inside from the moment I saw your username come up XD

TW: Mentions of anxiety and sensory overload. If that’s a little personal to you please be cautious about reading this one!

I’m incapable of writing short things it seems so it’s another long one.

Self-stimulating behaviour, known more commonly as stimming, usually involves repetitive movements and/or sounds. Though it is most often associated with autism (I know when I first saw the word stimming that was where my mind immediately went to) everybody stims in some way, shape or form to relieve stress, tension, anxiety, boredom etc. Some ways are less noticeable than others such as nail biting or finger tapping, while others can be more obvious and disruptive to your social/daily life like licking certain objects or scratching at skin.

I learned all this from doing a bit of reading before taking on this request and if you want to know more then the link to the article I read is right -----> HERE <------ ! It’s informed my ideas for this headcanon request and though I’m open to discussions about the topic to help educate myself and anyone else who wishes to learn more, what I will not tolerate is any sort of hate or discrimination based on the links to developmental disorders and mental illness that stimming has. This blog has and always will be a safe space for anyone and everyone and a little respect for one another will help keep it that way. Be kind folks!

So without further ado, how would Demetri react to you stimming I wonder?

Part 1: Headcanons below the Keep Reading Line Part 2: Teeth (fic) Part 3: Control (fic)

· He honestly wouldn’t really notice for a while because, well, humans aren’t exactly designed to be as flawless as vampires

· Impromptu nosebleeds, migraines, sneezes…they’re just glitches in a faulty system so why is the way your leg just bounced up off of the floor while your sitting any different to those other equally as involuntary things

· He’s struggling right now to, after all he just met his very human mate and it’s quite overwhelming for him to have to adapt to all these new feelings and situations he finds himself in, but he deals because he can

· Some days, you just…can’t

· Getting attacked by a man with some bizarre fascination with your neck is bad enough but being whisked away by strangers is somehow even worse. At least in the first scenario once it’s over it’s over, now you’re just living an anxious person’s nightmare in a new place full of new people

· Volterra was beautiful, but it wasn’t home. No cosy apartment, no neighbours cat to feed, no monotonous shifts at work…

· Actually, most of the time you’re left utterly alone to navigate an unfamiliar castle, and the times you aren’t alone is when there’s a man claiming to be your eternal lover in front of you

· Try to convince me this man doesn’t rip the band aid off and profess his love for you with dramatic flair just TRY

· Your days are filled with endless boredom where you’re doing nothing at all until someone checks on you, and then fight or flight kicks in because oh HELLO Mr Vampire guard are you here to give me lunch or kill me?

· Demetri had thought that perhaps you were okay with that, since you hadn’t really outwardly reacted beyond the way your cheek twitched up into a smirk once or twice as he spoke. Hell, you’d even winked at him…right?

· You did that a lot so he really genuinely thought that maybe you were just trying to flirt with him, build a relationship with him. Your constant little winks and the way your fingers twitched when he was nearby, like you so desperately wanted to reach out to him…

· It took a few weeks before he realised how wrong he was

· You’d reached for a sip of water and your arm had just whipped outward from your body

+ You’d absolutely drenched him with your entire glass of water and could only stare in abject horror wondering what the supposed vampire would do next, since you’d interrupted him rather smugly detailing his plans for your first date

· Silence

· There was just silence

· It only made your anxiety worse and the muscles in your face just spasmed without your permission and - god did you just smirk at him again, oh no

+ “I’m glad one of us finds this amusing. If you did not like the idea there were other ways to tell me so.”

· You almost want to cry from sheer embarrassment at this point because the date really had sounded like it could be fun and now you’d just straight up thrown water in his face like he’d insulted you in the worst way imaginable

· So you come clean and tell him about your stimming

· He’s really worried at first because autism? Anxiety he’s heard of but autism sounds very dangerous, are you dying? You’re probably dying. He’s going to lose his mate –

· Another involuntary finger twitch from you forces him to calm down because your anxious enough without his worrying on top, so he kind of brushes it off and makes no big deal out of it

· Squeezes your hand and kisses your forehead to try and reassure you all is forgiven, even if he does have to go change a very expensive looking designer shirt and god you’re so sorry

· Of course, that kind of makes it worse for you because anxiety brain is activated and your 99.9999% sure he’s actually furious with you still and has only pretended to forget it while he’s plotting his revenge

· You see him late at night when you struggle to fall and stay asleep, reading in the low lamplight at his desk across the room, his laptop propped open and a notebook before him but you’re too scared still to ask what it is he’s reading so intently (probably good suggestions on places to bury your body welp)

· It’s a complete surprise to you therefore when he does take you out on that date he promised you not two weeks later

· He’s chosen a nice overcast day so he’s in the least conspicuous clothing he owns

+ Demetri’s least conspicuous clothes still consist of the most chic and expensive brands you know of and he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the quaint little market stalls he’s brought you to see

· Despite the gloomy weather the people of Volterra are out in full force though, swarming the market stalls and chattering and laughing as flashes of gold and silver from jewelry hit your eyes, bright coloured fabrics following

· It’s all just too much

· There’s people everywhere and so much noise, so many colours and lights and people brushing past you…

· Your fingers clench tight around his, his hand immersed in a glove to keep his freezing skin from chilling you too much

· He squeezes back lightly, eyes shifting to glance down at you with the kindest smile on his lips

+ “Keep squeezing my hand whilst we find somewhere quieter to stand.”

· Your fingers seemed to take turns pressing into his rock solid skin, an odd sort of comfort coming from the fact you know you can press down hard and he won’t so much as register the sensation, and Demetri squeezes back, just firm enough he knows you can feel the pressure of his palm on yours

· He takes you to a quiet little side road where the noise is much more faded and there is so much free space around you you feel like you can finally breathe again

· He still hasn’t stopped squeezing your hand, taking turns with you as you take some steady breaths and try to focus your senses a bit, one thing you can feel, two things you can see, three you can smell...

· “I hope you can forgive me, I did not expect the market to be so busy today with the weather like this.”

· His apology takes you completely by surprise because how would he even know you struggled with crowds? You barely know each other?

· Seeing your surprise Demetri rather sheepishly admits as to what exactly he’s been reading all those nights you’ve seen him at his desk, and you’re a little overwhelmed to realise he’s been reading about you

· Medical journals, mummyblogs, charity websites and more, if it had any information about autism and stimming he’s browsed through it and taken copious amounts of notes, observing you religiously to see what might be relevant to you and how he can help · + “I read somewhere you self-stimulate to calm yourself when you are anxious or your senses feel overwhelmed, is that what happened?” “Well, yes, actually, I…I…”

“And did it help? Taking you away from the source of stress and letting you squeeze my hand like that?”

· It had actually, you felt much calmer and Demetri’s obvious acceptance and willingness to help you manage your stimming and anxiety today were one of the first little moments you fell in love with him, looking back on it

· He didn’t stop there either. Together you sat down and made a list of all the things that you found most often triggered your stimming, and all of the things that brought you joy so he could figure out things to avoid and things you might like for your future dates

· Within hours of arriving home you’d gotten a whole new daily routine set up so you weren’t left to languish and wonder what was going to happen next

· Three days later an express shipment of your favourite smelling scented candles arrived alongside a Bluetooth speaker, supplies Demetri insisted were necessary for nice calming baths on the days your anxiety was playing up

· He started doing mindfulness practices with you in the evenings

· He never touched the volume controls for his laptop, speaker or TV, leaving it to you to control the volume so you could set it to a level you were comfortable with, and he religiously policed the noise on his floor to + “Where are you going? The movie just started…” “To tell Felix to turn his music down.” “You’re vampiring again Metri, I can’t even hear that.”

· When he signed you up for Yoga and meditation classes at a centre in town you drew the line and told him he was going overboard, but bless him he had tried

· Overall he’s a solid 15/10 for effort, even if some ideas are still experimental - you’re enjoying the deep pressure massages a lot though – and he sometimes goes a bit mother-hen trying to get you out of situations he thinks you’ll struggle with, when actually you’re coping just fine today

· You love him dearly for it

#twilight #twilight headcanon #demetri volturi #volturi headcanon #stimming #autism #tw anxiety #tw sensory overload #the volturi #twilight fanfiction #I tried my best so I hope this is okay #Demetri is totally the type to go overboard and try absolutely anything to make you comfortable

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muertawrites · 5 years ago

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Hey! I absolutely loved your Zuko x reader one host you wrote, and I was wondering if you could do one where Zuko and the reader barely talk, but she’s part of Azula’s friend group. At the beach some stuff happens, and Zuko finds out she’s not as crazy as he thought she was. Kind of angst. I totally understand if you can’t, or don’t feel like it! I hope you’re safe and healthy, and everything is going well. Thank you!

From Eden (Zuko x Reader)

Word Count: 1,776 (FUHREEDOM MOTHERFUCKERS 🎆🦅🦅🦅 🎆 )

Author’s Note: Ok this request is P E R F E C T. I don’t think I need to tell anyone I love the psychology of this show, but I love the psychology of this show - especially with Zuko and his relationship with himself and others. And this episode??? Ohhhhhh I have some THINGS. TO. SAY. about this episode. I have been in this boy’s place and I feel 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 him 👏🏻 he 👏🏻 deserves 👏🏻 better 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻. I went in a sliiiiiiightly different direction, but I didn’t drastically change it (it turned out cute I think). Also, I named this “From Eden” because as I was writing it reminded me of the Hozier song. I’m such a sucker for a Broken Babe™, especially when the babe in question has a lot of personal growth and learns to love because of it. Thank you so much for this, anon, you’re absolutely gorgeous and I hope you’re keeping safe and healthy as well ❤

~ Muerta

(Also, if you’d like to request something, I have a list of prompts tagged! Feel free to ask for anything from fics to headcanons to imagines - I’m also open to new character suggestions!)

“Hey.”

Zuko sat on the porch of his family’s old vacation home, his mind miles away. Your greeting made him snap his head towards you, glowering down at where you stood at the base of the front steps. You crossed your arms, responding to his gaze with a defiant glare.

“What do you want?” he growled.

“To have normal friends,” you spat in reply. “Seems I’m stuck with you instead.”

A few hours ago, Zuko almost made a crater in the beach from the campfire you, his sister Azula, and your friends Mai and Ty Lee had started a screaming match around. Insults were flung, tears were shed, and skeletons were evicted from closets, all resulting in your realization that maybe political survival wasn’t worth the dysfunction of constantly being surrounded by a sociopath and her cronies. Pretending to have a super fun sleepover with them back at the guest house was proving to be too much for your fragile sense of self-containment, and you weren’t quite friendly enough with your newfound death wish to tell Azula how you really felt about her, so you went where you knew it would be quiet. You didn’t expect to find Zuko and his anger issues there a second time, but he honestly didn’t scare you - you’d take his obvious rage over Azula’s subtle calculations any day.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Zuko jeered. “You’re just as emotionally fucked as the rest of them.”

“Ty Lee’s got herself pretty much under control, despite her gullibility,” you answered cooly. “Also, if you really wanna talk about emotionally fucked, I’m not the one who almost roasted my ex-girlfriend alive earlier.”

Zuko furrowed his brow at you, leaning forward as if to challenge you. You stayed exactly as you were, regarding him with a hard, unimpressed expression that revealed just how little he intimidated you. You couldn’t bend and weren’t a trained fighter - you knew he knew this, and that he wouldn’t actually attack you, despite how convincing he tried to make his empty threat appear. After a long, intense moment of wrinkled foreheads and competitive frowning, he backed off with a sigh, leaning back against the pillar behind him.

“So, what, you want to come and make peace? Talk it out or something?”

You shook your head, climbing the steps and lowering yourself onto the second highest; just below him, with a few feet between you as a courtesy.

“The last thing I want to do is talk about that dumpster fire on the beach,” you told him. “I just needed some time alone. But, since I found you, I guess it’s a good time to ask if you’re okay.”

Zuko looked you up and down, a confused and partially concerned look on his face. You half expected him to raise the back of his hand to your forehead to check for fever.

“What do you care if I’m okay or not?” he asked bitterly. “We’re not friends.”

“Zuko, I’ve known you since I was a toddler,” you said. “I’d say we’re friends. It’s not like anyone else really is.”

“Mai is my girlfriend,” Zuko snapped at you. “She’s the best friend I have!”

“Mai dumped you for being a possessive asshole,” you deadpanned, “then she let her best friend convince you to commit arson. Friends don’t let their friends’ sisters manipulate them into felonies.”

Zuko huffed, slumping back defeatedly.

“You can’t act like Azula’s never made you do anything you didn’t want to,” he grumbled.

“I don’t,” you replied shortly. “I’ve just stopped caring about making her like me, since she really doesn’t like anyone. She doesn't get under my skin like she used to when we were kids.”

You noticed Zuko’s lips curl upwards into the ghost of a smile. You mirrored him, leaning your arms atop your upright knees.

“What?” you asked.

Zuko chuckled faintly, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” he responded. “You just… Do you remember when you were eight, and Azula teased Ty Lee about being too slow climbing the trees in our courtyard?”

Your eyes widened in realization, your mouth parting into a wide smile as you let out a gasp of hysterical laughter.

“Oh, that was awful!” you cried, though the memory only brought more fits of giggles to your gut. “I was such a little brat!”

Zuko was laughing with you too now, arms wrapped over his stomach as he tried to speak between breaths.

“It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” he exclaimed. “Watching her fall out of the tree like that, the shock on her face, and then I caught you with the knife and saw where you cut the branch... She deserved it. You should give her a taste of her own medicine like that more often.”

You blushed, looking away from him as your laughter died down.

“Now she could kill me if she wanted,” you said. “I try not to say or do anything around her if I can help it.”

“... Is that why you’ve been so quiet since then?”

You nodded.

“She beat me up when she found out what I did,” you explained.

You stood, pulling down the waist of your sarong to reveal the burn scar on your right hip. Zuko’s eyes burst with shock at first, wondering exactly why you’d be disrobing in front of him, his expression softening when he saw the mark Azula left.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Most brothers feel like they should protect their little sisters. I always felt like I should’ve protected all of you from her.”

“You did,” you assured him. You sat back down beside him, closer this time, so that your hips almost touched. “I remember you jumped in front of her once when she threatened us. And that time…”

Your voice faded, the memory almost bringing tears to your eyes. You couldn’t figure out why.

“You hid from her,” Zuko finished your thought.

You nodded.

“You let me hide in your room,” you recalled. “Remember? Azula punched me. I ran to the first quiet place I could find and accidentally went to your room.”

Zuko hummed.

“You were crying,” he added, “and your eye was all red and swollen.”

“You held me.”

Zuko’s eyes fixed on you. He didn’t say anything, though he remembered; you burst through his half open door, sniffling, tears and spittle running down your cheeks and chin. It was the first time Azula had actually, physically hurt you, and you were terrified and confused. He asked if you were okay, and you shook your head. Being so young, the only thing he could think to do was hug you, since that’s what his mother did to make him feel better, and you clung to him, sobbing into his shirt and using his much bigger body for protection. After that day, he let you use his bedroom as a hiding place whenever Azula got to be too much - until she found out about it and started teasing you about wedding dresses and baby names.

“We were friends,” you breathed. “I wish we still were.”

There was a long silence in which the two of you stared out at the horizon, down the steep hill leading to the vacation house and into the ocean. The moon hung in a small sliver, barely flickering across the calm waters that rocked below; you could hear the gentle rush of waves as they crawled over the sand and shrunk back into themselves, creating a calming din that echoed up to where you sat.

“... I still remember your favorite game to play with me,” Zuko said into the warm air between you. “Those times you hid in my room. You used to pretend to be a Kyoshi warrior. My mom gave you one of her old fans and we’d jump on and off my bed, trying to catch each other.”

You grinned.

“I would wrap myself around your legs to keep you from walking,” you recalled.

Zuko laughed.

“I loved that,” he admitted. “It used to make me laugh so hard when we were kids.”

He looked over to you, and you turned to face him as well. The anger in his eyes was gone completely, in its place a warm, steady sadness that made you ache.

“I miss you,” he whispered.

You reached cautiously for his hand, relieved when he slid his fingers between yours and gripped your palm tightly.

“I miss you, too,” you replied. “I’m sorry I let Azula drive me away from you.”

Zuko wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tender embrace. Your hands latched together on either side of his back, gripping into his shirt a little bit as you buried your face in his shoulder. He felt and smelled the same as he did when you were little; hard like the walls of a sturdy house and sweet like the last embers in a fireplace.

You didn’t know how long you held each other, but when you broke apart, you sat together for ages, existing in silence on the steps of his childhood house and beside one another. You felt small again, but in the best way - you felt like the girl who was brave enough to cut through the branches of a maple tree so your tormenter would fall out of them.

“I want to run away,” you blurted. “I could be someone totally different if I weren’t stuck here.”

“If you do, I’ll go with you,” Zuko said. “We can be different people together.”

You grinned, leaning your shoulder against his.

“We could move to Kyoshi Island,” you suggested. “I’m too old to start warrior training now, but we could start a business. Open an inn or something.”

Zuko chuckled at the thought.

“I’ll call myself Lee,” he mused, “and you can go by Izumi.”

“Maybe we could be married. And we could adopt orphan children and cats.”

“Just cats. You can’t emotionally destroy a cat like you can with a kid.”

You glanced over at him, noticing the hard gleam in his eye. You wrapped your arms around his bicep, holding him close to you.

“You’re not your father, Zuko,” you whispered. “You don’t want to be.”

Zuko nodded. He reached for one of your hands, curling his own around it.

“... I feel like I am going to leave,” he said, “at some point. When I do… will you stay? So that I have at least one friendly face to come home to someday?”

You nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I will,” you promised. “And when you do, I’ll give you Azula’s severed head as a homecoming present.”

Zuko laughed at that.

{ epilogue }

#requests #muerta's works #zuko #prince zuko #zuko fluff #prince zuko fluff #zuko angst #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko fanfic #prince zuko fanfic #zuko x reader fluff #zuko x reader angst #atla fanfic #avatar fanfiction

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ithinkilikeit-reactions · 5 years ago

Text

Seunghyub “Boyfriend Headcanons”

Seunghyub version // Chahun version // Jaehyun version // Hweseung version // Dongsung version

- congratulations you are dating a father

- I’m kidding lmao

- or am i?

- Dating Seunghyub comes with children

- You are dating a father and that’s facts

- Seunghyub is just such a great guy

- the person who lands him is very lucky

- he’s marriage material

- Seunghyub on the first date

- Such a gentleman

- the whole time

- like I feel like if Seunghyub dates

- he dates to find his forever partner

- very not into dating around

- if he’s on a date with you it’s because he sees that in you

- Probably will take you out for dinner

- nothing too fancy

- nothing too casual

- a perfect inbetween

- he saves the other dates for other moments

- He’s not very serious on the date though

- he figured if he was so serious it might be intimidating so he definitely puts down that wall

- he’s very smiley the whole time

- He let’s his hand move over the table to hold onto yours

- If you want him to of course

- When the date is over

- Seunghyub will walk you home

- he doesn’t like the thought of you walking home alone in the dark

- he never does

- His fingers will toy with yours as you walk

- not fully holding your hand but just playing with your fingers

- making you laugh and smile because he already absolutely adores that sound

- 10/10 kisses on the first date

- with permission of course

- when he walks away he can’t stop smiling

- his mood is intarnishable for the next 2 days

- Walking you home when it’s dark is one way he shows affection

- If you’re working late, he will pick you up and walk you home

- Seunghyub sees this as prime time to talk about your day

- and like, he feels better knowing you made it home safe

- it puts his heart at rest knowing you’re safe

-when it comes to cheering you up

- Seunghyub is the best listener

- he’s so good at listening to your problems

- and things that bother you

- holds your hands while you rant

- drawing small shapes into your skin while you do

- he does this to keep you calm

- he prefers calm talks over yelling rants

- he can concentrate on what you’re saying better and might even be able to offer solutions

- When you’re sad he really just wants to hold you the whole time

- He has a hard time letting you go when you’re upset because he just wants to comfort you

- When Seunghyub is sad or upset

- He kind of just comes in and hugs you

- burries his face in your neck and you just know something is wrong

- He really just expects you to do the same as he does for you

- listen and come up with solutions if you can

- it’s just so important to him that you two can work and help eachother with problems, even if they aren’t your own

- Arguments with Seunghyub can get heated

- arguments don’t happen often though

- and a majority of the time they are pretty small things

- things you can just sit down and talk about

- but every now and then there’s that one argument

- his voice raises a little

- your voice raises

- there’s silence for an hour or two

- then you sit down and talk things out

- however Seunghyub never gets mean while arguing

- no he’s very civilized

- If you’re in the wrong and apologize

- he’s always very quick to accept

- he doesn’t like arguing with you

- if that was the case you two wouldn’t be together

- If he’s in the wrong

- he feels really bad

- apologizes to you with flowers

- and lots of hugs and kisses

- doesn’t let you go for a few hours

- Seunghyub really hates fighting with you

- it just leaves such a bad taste in his mouth

- that’s why it doesn’t happen often

- sleeping with Seunghyub is actually quite nice

- so before you two go to sleep he tends to hold you close

- running his fingers over your back as you cuddle into his chest

- If you fall asleep like this

- he just falls asleep too

- but preferably

- he really likes spooning you

- loves having his arms wrapped around and likes being able to press kisses to base of your neck

- it’s just a small endearing thing he does

- not always with dirty intentions (save those for later)

- he just feels like he can protect you this way

- Seunghyub also prefers sleeping on the side by the door

- if anything should happen

- he just wants to be there and protect you

- That’s just the type of man he is

- the type to sleep on the door side to protect you

- Seunghyub obviously works very hard

- He’s so proud of everything he makes

- You would be so proud of everything he makes

- Like it’s such a work of art and the music is just amazing

- He loves showing you what he’s working on

- his eyes get all sparkly watching you listen to something

- waiting for your feedback

- he works on music alot

- obviously he’d be so amazed if you did something with music or were at least interested in learning from him

- Oh the amount of songs he’d write for you or about you

- there would be so many

- you’d cherish each one

- if you two get married

- bet your butt you are getting serenaded

- anyways

- free time is majorly spent on relaxing

- you really need to remind him to take it easy sometimes

- so when you’re together and have free time

- you tend to want to just relax with him

- lay on the couch and watch some tv

- or read in comfortable silence

- or to disrupt that silence with a bad joke

- just to think about something else besides work

- Relaxing comes in many forms though

- he really likes going to cafes and bookstores with you on off days too

- he considers this relaxing too

- Seunghyub likes doing things like this

- he just likes going out and holding your hand

- he would think it’s pretty cool if you worked out with him too

- obviously he’d never force you

- but he’d think it’s fun to go to the gym with you

- another way to relax together in his eyes

- He appreciates that you help him relax

- he loves that you’re considerate

- it’s something that he adores about you

- Jealousy and Seunghyub

- Seunghyub does get jealous

- but he smiles through it

- he knows you won’t do anything

- he doesn’t trust the person he was jealous of

- He’ll pull you closer into him and smile

- you’ll know he’s jealous because he’s tense

- but the second he looks at you that melts away

- and he forgets about being jealous

- he gets over jealousy as quick as he gets jealous

- Okay time for growling bedroom Seunghyub

- Seunghyub is a dom

- no discussion about it

- he’s good mix of soft and hard though

- but even when he’s in hard dom mode he isn’t that intense

- because in Seunghyub’s mind, sex is something that’s like special

- so if he gets really rough he feels kind of bad about it

- so he kind of draws the line at extreme things like choking and such

- but he gets rough in other ways

- loves biting your skin

- leaving little marks all over your chest and neck

- he absolutely loves your neck

- marking it up

- kissing it

- running his fingers over it

- however he loves your whole body

- he’s such a fan of body worship

- Seunghyub knows just what to say to make you feel absolutely beautiful

- with that deep voice of his

- the praise can be said sweetly

- it can be growled

- either way it’s appreciated

- soft praises are always being sung to you

- no matter what mood he’s in rough or not

- that never goes away

- also morning sex

- morning sex with Seunghyub is a favored thing

- his deep, deep, raspy morning voice

- coupled with some needy whines on his end

- maybe you wear one of his t-shirts

- morning sex is his favorite

- the slow lazy energy around it

- he adores it

- Seunghyub doesn’t have sex he makes love

- thats all I can say on that

- he also doesn’t like positions where he can’t see your face

- except for spooning

- that’s the exception because he likes the close proximity

- Aftercare

- aftercare with Seunghyub isn’t that intensive or anything

- because he doesn’t get that rough

- it’s filled with loving stares

- running your fingers through his hair

- soft kisses over your skin and the marks he left behind

- coupled with even more praise

- he praises you so much it’s insane

- soft laughter as you get flustered

- his eyes are always so sparkly after sex?

- looks at you with the most loving gaze

- loves showering together afterwards

- it doesn’t lead to more

- well sometimes but not that often

- he likes the intimacy of just being able to shower together

- washing your hair and massaging your scalp

- holding you to his chest and just running his hands over your skin

- he loves that

- he loves leaning down for you to wash his hair too

- looking at you with a dopey, gushy smile

- Relationship with Seunghyub is equal give and take

- he’s a classic romantic

- he’s in it to find his forever love

- the person he wants to start a family with

- the person to spend the rest of his life with

- because he’s ready for that

- he wants kids

- he wants that life

- he’s in it for the long run

A/N: So I had a real hard time writing this for some reason. It has been sitting in my drafts for 2 months and I restarted it like 5 times. So if this sucks I apologize

#n.flying #n.flying scenario #n.flying reaction #seunghyub #seunghyub reaction #seunghyub scenario #seunghyub smut

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capricorn-stark · 4 years ago

Text

Guns and Nightmares: Pt 2

pairing: bucky barnes x winter soldier! reader

warning: strong language

a/n: Bucky with grey eyes is a headcanon lol

Part One

You are a former Winter Solider struggling to adapt to a new world after being recovered from the ice chambers by SHIELD nearly fifty years later. You are listed as the only surviving soldier until the sudden reappearance of a man by the name of Bucky Barnes.

Or:

Two damaged people try to help each other heal.

Finding him wasn't the hard part.

Despite your messed-up memories, you were still able to use some of the skills you retained from your time in HYDRA to track Barnes down until you were standing in front of his apartment door in a matter of mere weeks. The hard part was figuring out if that trip was actually worth the shit you had gone through while you stared the door down like you were expecting it to magically open without you having to knock first.

What if he wasn't even home? What if this was the wrong apartment? What if he didn't even know who you were? What if his memory's just as trash as yours was? The anxiety-driven questions were absolutely endless, and the only way you managed to keep them at bay was by finally raising your hand and rapping your knuckles against the peeling wood, your body tensing up as you waited.

One beat of silence, then another, then another. Nothing. You were just about to turn away when you heard the lock on the other side click, followed by the feeble creak of a door opening.

The man standing on the other side looked like he had barely arrived before you had, judging from the heavy jacket he wore and the cap perched atop his tangled brown hair. Neither of you said anything for a while, sizing each other up in silence as the grimy lights lining the hallway flickered. For a moment, you wondered if anyone else even lived around there. The stillness was unbearable. Your gaze flickered away from the questionable stains on the walls and back to him, only to notice that his grey eyes had fixated on your face.

"Don't think I called room service." It took you a minute to fully let the audacity of his statement sink in, eliciting a blank stare from you.

"I don't think they offer room service in a place that's about to collapse." He was staring back at you with an equally blank expression, making you wonder if the man was actually joking or not. You were starting to get the feeling that he wasn't. You moved on real fast. "You're James Barnes. I have to talk to you." His grip on the doorknob visibly tightened. You forced your expression to remain neutral and ignore it. You weren't scared of him. But you would keep your guard up. "Look, I don't have a white flag to wave right now. I'm not here for trouble."

"What do you want?" Despite the edge in his tone, you stood your ground, looking him straight in the eye.

"Information. On me." He was still staring, but you noticed the slightest raise of his brow before his expression was neutral once more.

"Listen, lady. You got the wrong guy. I don't know what the hell you're talking about." He was already moving to close the door again when your hand shot out to press against it, evoking another questioning look. "What are you-"

"My name's (y/n)," you interjected, still looking up at him as you held the door open, keeping your voice even and strong. You had an objective, you knew who your target was. And like hell were you about to leave without getting what you needed. "And as far as I can tell, I'm just like you. I know you. I don't know how, but I do." Your eyes flickered across his face, waiting for any sign of recognition. "And I know you know me, too."

And for just a fraction of a second, you saw his gaze waver.

"I already told you," he started, his voice dropping as he took another step back into his apartment. "I don't know you. I don't know what the hell you're here for. You got the wrong guy."

His tone was even and his expression was completely neutral. For a regular person, it would've been incredibly difficult to discern that the man was telling anything but the truth based on his voice and how expertly he controlled his movement. He was believable despite his shady appearance because of the blankness in his face, the resolute look in his eyes, the way he remained so incredibly guarded. He wasn't trying to trigger a reaction from you, you were sure of that. At least, not right then.

But you were far from a regular person. That much, you knew. And with your eye, it was easy to pick up the little cues from his body language that any untrained person would have missed. Cues he couldn't cover up so quickly because you knew he was trying to conceal that he did, in fact, register who you were. He was lying to your face.

"I have the right guy."

Pale grey eyes met yours in a moment of complete, unrelenting silence. You felt your body tense, heart racing as you anticipated his next move and your own. The knives in your sleeves were a precaution. The guns in your holsters were from habit. You didn't want things to go downhill. You knew this man. But if he was dangerous, you would resort to methods you didn't want to use. Despite everything that had happened to you, you still anticipated an attack because it had been drilled into you from a time you couldn't even remember. At the end of the day, you found yourself being exactly what they said you had been trained to be.

A soldier.

His eyes flickered over your face for just a second, grip on the door tightening even more before he finally opened his mouth to say something - right when the glass behind him shattered, a man rolling up with a gun aimed straight at him and shouting "Freeze!" before you both found yourselves completely surrounded by heavily armed men with a whole lot of guns.

Things were definitely going downhill.

You slowly raised your hands as the intruders in bulletproof uniforms branded with the bold white word POLIZEI continued shouting at you to raise your hands, moving to surround you both. You saw Barnes letting go of the doorknob out of the corner of your eye, slowly raising his hands up as well. His eyes met yours again and it didn't take an hour's worth of analysis to register your next course of actions.

You moved to counterattack with the fluidity of a partnership that had worked together for far longer than a mere few seconds.

They had barely registered the flash of your guns when you fired at them, using your momentary distraction to grab hold of the nearest man's wrist and yank it around, using his own weight to pull him forwards before your legs wrapped around his neck and sent him tumbling into another two policemen. You fired another round of shots as another man shouted in German and sent a bullet whizzing past your ear, building up your momentum in a brief sprint before slamming your legs against his chest, letting him crash right into the wall before you sprang up off the ground and knocked out another one with a spinning back kick to the head.

"On your right!" Barnes whipped around right as you took out the man who had managed to sneak up on him, grinning for just a split second before punching another guy in the face and sweeping his legs out from beneath him.

You heard another chorus of screams and looked up just in time to see Barnes raising his hand and blocking a bullet with-

A metal arm?

You barely had time to register any surprise when you heard a yell from behind you, whirling around right when the unfortunate soul was met with a solid punch to the face with the aforementioned metal arm. You looked up to see Barnes beside you, meeting your gaze for just a second before the man crumpled to the ground and he turned to run towards the window.

"On your right."

You snapped out of whatever that had been, cursing yourself for not being careful as you watched him snatch up a bag and break straight through the glass, tucking and rolling up to another run once he landed one rooftop away. You followed suit, ignoring the stab of pain that shot through your legs at your somewhat reckless landing as you did so.

"Barnes!"

A group of special forces raiding his apartment had most certainly not been included in your plan at any point, but that didn't mean you were about to let the guy get away. You had no idea where the hell he'd wind up, or how long it would take for you to find him again, and if you let him go now, you would be kissing your only real, living connection to your past goodbye. So you sprinted after him, nearly catching up as he turned his head to look at you - right when you felt something hit your shoulder blades, then your back, causing you to topple forwards against the rooftop.

You weren't processing pain. All you could feel was your body growing ten times heavier as you tried to push yourself back onto your feet, only to fall right back down as spots danced around your vision like you were being forced into a deep, deep sleep. If this was what dying felt like, you thought it would have been a far less terrifying prospect to you in the past.

The last thing you heard was a gunshot.

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collectionofcherries · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I saw that you had Daryl on that list of yours! Have you by any chance heard of BakedCrispss??? Maybe you could do an imagine or headcanons based on her like little quotes?? I think it could be so funny!!! Maybe you could slot this in that window in alexandria of golden time??? Like when everything is calm before shit hits the fan and carl runs away and they meet Negan if you know what I mean??? I havent gone to the season Negan is in because I dont wanna *see you know what*

I do know @bakedcrispss, I follow them on my own blog, they are absolutely hilarious and I sincerely recommend anyone who hasn't checked them out but is into The Walking Dead check em out. Absolutely hysterical. There's so many funny quotes to choose from but I decided to choose this one. I'm not entirely sure how to source things but here is a link to their blog and of course this quote comes from them.

daryl: [ hands y/n a water bottle ]

y/n, drinking: thanks, but what's it for?

daryl: i heard from tara that you get thirsty around me.

y/n: [ chokes on the water ]

And yeah I know what time you’re talking about and I get not wanting to see *you know what* It’s very sad but I do suggest you try and go past it, the series continues to be good. But if that’s where you decide to end it, hopefully I can help pad out that little golden time with an imagine. ---

Pronouns: Female!Reader, no mention of gender specific anatomical body parts. Warnings: Fluff, incredibly light angst? More like longing maybe? Nothing sad though. My attempt to write the way Daryl speaks is a warning in and of itself. Word Count: 2,473 ---

Man, these beet root cookies were good, damn Carol knew how to bake and they were even pink and cute. Baking had never been your strong suit even before the world started eating itself. “You got more than one?” Was whined. You looked over and smiled at Tara. “Perks of being one of the originals, extra cookies.” You teasingly sang, sticking the tip of your tongue out in glee of your cookie horde. “I'll trade you some oatmeal mix that Denise made?” She pitches and you wrinkle up your nose as your answer and she sighs as she plops down beside you. “I know.” She agrees with your wrinkled face. “Tobin is drowning in these, he's the guy you should try and corner. Dude's getting nothing besides cookies and kisses.” You remark. “The dream.” She sighs. “You've got oatmeal and...” You struggle to think of a word, you can practically feel your brain strain. “Optimism.” You settle offering a smile, she barks out a small laugh and looks at you with a raised brow. “You come up with something that starts with O.” You insist. “Also you are optimistic, you came over here hoping to trade oatmeal for a full fledged cookie.” You pointed out. “I was hoping the love you have for me would get me a cookie.” She said looking at you with big eyes and you squint at her with yours. “You know silence hurts.” She teases making you giggle a little and shake your head. “Guess I'm not your type though.” She dramatically sighs. “I don't even know my type, Tara.” You scoff. It was her turn to squint at you. “I think everyone knows your type.” “Enlighten me, maybe you'll get a cookie for it.” “Brown hair, blue eyes, kinda brooding, incredibly greasy, handles a crossbow--don't--do not give me that confused look.” She insisted at the end. “Daryl.” She said exasperated. “Yeah, you don't get a cookie.” You brushed off trying to hide your face. “I most certainly do get a cookie, anyone here could get a cookie by answering that question.” “We're friends and Daryl doesn't like me like that.” “One, the question wasn't who likes you back it was who you like and commonly drool over and two, yes he does.” She scoffed at the end. “I don't drool!” You gasped hitting her shoulder. “Right, no drool cause you're too thirsty.” She teases back shoving her shoulder to yours. You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I am thirsty, why don't you go get me a bottle of water to trade for a cookie?” You pitch trying to get off this subject and actually get some water, these cookies were great but a little dry. “Fine.” She says getting up. “No Dasani, get me the good stuff if you want an entire cookie.” You remind as she walks away. She waves you off as she keeps walking and you continue to munch on your tiny dragons hoard of cookies, an entire three of them, Carol was quiet these days but this amount of cookies? Definitely a sign of love. Daryl brought you stuff too, since the beginning he's always brought you stuff...you sigh as you think about him, about all the time you've spent together over what are years now, how much you've been through together, how much you've both changed for the better...could your relationship ever change? So much in your lives had changed and just the thought made your nerves seize with a horrific mixture of excitement and fear. Excitement because who doesn't wanna be with the person they love? At the idea of going to bed together and waking up to them and than the horrifying fear that the wrong words could cause him to pull away from you, that would be the worst, you didn't even wanna think about that, no, no, no-- “You gonna take it or not?” You almost jumped out of your skin as you came back from your thoughts to face the man they'd been about. “What?” Was all you managed. “The water.” He said squinting at you in confusion as he once again shook it this time closer to your face. “Oh, thanks, but what's it for?” You asked as you took it and took a sip. “I heard from Tara you get thirsty 'round me.” You immediately choked out the water you were drinking. Fuck. Fuck. HE HEARD WHAT FROM

TARA?! “Whoa, whoa you alrigh'?!” He asked patting your back until your coughing stopped and you nodded in his direction. “You forget how'ta drink?” He teasingly scoffed. “You leave me breathless.” You tease back as you try to get rid of the stinging in your throat with another sip of water. “Stop.” He says as he sits down beside you and elbows you. It's the exact same action Tara had done not five minutes ago but it makes you warm when he does it, it fills your heart and rouses a giggle from you. “Cookie?” You offer breaking it in half and offering it out to him. “Thanks.” He says taking it from your hand and taking a bite. “How many did you get? I got three, so far it seems to be a record and I appear to be the favourite.” You tease. “I had four.” “Fuck.” He chuckles a little. “This's the first one I've had.” He lets you know. “What're you throwing them away?” “Carl asked for 'em, somethin' 'bout a date or somethin' with Enid.” He shrugged. “Awe, Daryl that's cute.” You coo. “Stop” He scoffs but you see the smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Playing match-maker is giving a new meaning to those wings on your back, Cupid.” You can't help yourself. He rolls his eyes and looks at you annoyed but his corners give him away, you know you've got the wiggle room to keep bugging him. “Don't worry, I won't tell anyone your secret day job.” Once again the tip of your tongue finds it's way out between your teeth in glee of your own teasing. If only you knew how far that smile got you, how that stupid cheeky smile of yours allowed you to tease him like no other. “So...why're you thirsty 'round me?” You have to try with everything in your power not to cough up your cookie. “Oh-I-uh-I-I was trading a cookie for water with Tara, these are great but a little dry, I didn't know she was gonna get you to bring it over.” You stumble out. Sure, that's convincing enough, as long as you don't look at Daryl you can't know that he doesn't buy a single word out of your mouth. Solid plan. “I actually think this means she forfeits her cookie since you brought it and not her.” You point out trying to get off the subject. “You know she tried to trade that oatmeal mix Denise makes for one of these?” Even your laugh is a little tight. He knows something's up, you're a decent liar so what was that? That was horrible, he'd never seen you lie so bad. “You think I bought one ounce of that bullshit?” He asked his face partially scrunching up in skepticism. “Yeah I couldn't believe Tara thought I'd trade one of these for that oatmeal either. Real bullshit.” You avoid. It clearly doesn't work as the skepticism on his face doesn't change until he grumbles out something with a shrug and takes another bite of the half of cookie you've given him. “Denise's oatmeal mix ain't that bad, looks like dog shit but it ain't half bad.” He points out. “It's not bad but is it worth a cookie?” You point right back. “Nah.” He agrees. “Why'd she wanna trade anyway? She not get one?” “Tara got one, she's just jealous Carol loves me more and gave me three.” You say a little pridefully. He chuckles a little and shakes his head at your delight, if that's one thing he's always liked it's how happy the little things have always made you. Whether it's him bringing you back a pen that happened to be your favourite colour or Carol giving you a cookie more than everyone else it always made you smile and over the years some days it felt like the only good in the world came from that smile. Not that he'd ever breathe a word about that. No, he'd make an ass outta himself trying to phrase that. “You gonna give it to her?” The only thing you were planning on giving Tara was a deck over the head for telling Daryl 'you get thirsty around him.' “Maybe.” You settle on. Things are quiet for a moment as you sit on the steps of your home, taking in the community that's around you, Daryl still feels out of place but having friends around helps him settle in enough to enjoy something as simple as this. “You gonna tell me

what she meant or am I gonna hav'ta out trade you with cookies?” He prods looking over at you. Fuck. “That's cheating. That's abuse of power--no, no worse that is abuse of cookies.” You rush out shaking your head. An amused breath makes it way out of him. “So you gonna or what?” “How would Carol react if she knew you were using her cookies for evil?” You gasp. “Probably laugh.” Damn him, you know he's right, she'd probably arm him with more cookies. “It's just a dumb pun. You and me work up a sweat when we go out hunting together that's all she meant. Just a stupid pun, you know her jokes aren't that great.” You bluff. That sounds like it makes sense but Daryl just doesn't buy the way you're selling this. “Why didn'tcha just say that?” He asks confused. What the Hell was going on with this 'thirsty' shit? “I just realized it, it's such a bad joke it took me a minute.” Could you worm your way out of this? Maybe, there was a small light at the end of this tunnel that let you get through this without telling Daryl you were thirsting for him like a dehydrated fish. “I'm gonna go give her the cookie before she tries another terrible joke to get it.” The lights getting closer as you get up and he nods a little. “See you tomorrow? See if you can teach me to ride your bike?” You don't want to give Daryl the idea you're running from him you just need to run away from this situation and it seems to work as he looks up at you and smiles a little. “I just got done tunin' it up and you wanna go and wreck it?” He teases. “Words hurt Daryl, I only fell off once.” You gasp putting your hand over your heart. “Yeah, sure, tell that to the dents I hammered out.” He scoffs. “See you tomorrow.” You brush off as you turn around. He grumbles under his breath but it's all lighthearted and you know it as you give a wave in his direction. He watches you leave and gives a small shake of his head, at least his bike is tuned up to run as good as it can so you're less likely to wipe out again. He finishes off the last bit of cookie before brushing off the crumbs on his pants. “Hey, Daryl.” He looks over and gives a nod at Glenn who's also got a bottle of water and it gets him thinking again. “Hey, Glenn lemme ask you somethin'.” “Yeah, sure man, what's up?” He asks as he takes a sip of water. “Do I make you thirsty?” Glenn coughs up his water the same way you had. “What?!” It's partial shock but mostly laughter. “Ne'er mind.” Daryl grumbles as he gets up. He doesn't need to feel stupid for not getting this 'thirsty' bullshit. “Wait, wait, wait.” Glenn says getting ahold of himself and reaching out to him. “Where'd you hear that phrase? I-I just need to be clued in.” He asks trying to keep his giggles in at Daryl using the word 'thirsty'. But God, that was funny. “Tara said to get Y/N some water cause she gets thirsty 'round me, Y/N said it was just a bad joke, sure as Hell sounds like one.” Daryl explains bringing his thumb nail up to his mouth to chew on, something about this subject was starting to make him nervous. “Ooooh.” Glenn nods as it all slides into place and again he has to desperately try not to laugh but a small chuckle makes it way out of him. “Man, Tara is dead.” He scoffs under his breath. “Just tell me what the Hell is means.” Daryl says letting his hand drop from his mouth. “It's uh-it's slang.” Glenn tries to explain keeping his giggle fit at bay the best he can with a deep breath. “It's when you find someone so hot they make you 'thirsty' like uh I'm thirsty for Maggie.” He explains as plainly as he can. The annoyance is clear on Daryl's face, that slang is fuckin' stupid as far as he's concerned. “Wait.” He says as it dawns on him. “Yeah.” Glenn confirms what Daryl's catching on too. “Nah, that don't make sense.” Daryl denies. “It makes sense dude.” Glenn scoffs. “You two could die of thirst beside the ocean.” He teases. “Shut up.” Daryl barks. Glenn knows Daryl's bark is worse than his bite when it comes to friends, the most danger he's in is

being shoved. “You asked to know.” He points out. “That ain't how it is.” Daryl brushes off shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. I'm gonna go quench my thirst and go see my wife.” Glenn nods with a wave as he starts to walk away. “I suggest you also quench your thirst.” He adds with a little too much glee for Daryl right now. If he had a water bottle right now he'd quench Glenn's thirst by pegging him with it. Quench his thirst--quench his thirst?! Dumb ass, no good, fucking bullshit. That's all that was. Didn't make any Goddamn sense, he refused to have it make sense. No, no, no, no, no way in Hell. He went for a walk to clear his head of this junk but no matter how much he walked his head just kept going back to it...there was just no way you had feelings like that for him...right? His pacing was stopped by a loud. “Ow!” He looked over to see you and Tara who was rubbing her head. “Your girlfriend is a doctor, you'll be fine.” You scoffed before walking off. “Y/N wait up! Don't be mad please, come on.” Tara said chasing after you 'Man, Tara is dead.' Rang through his head...could it be true? ---

~Admin Coral. 🍒 Buy Me A Coffee?

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sun-daisies · 4 years ago

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AoS Movie AU WIPS/Ideas/Headcanons

I’m not sure how much time I’ll have this week to submit content (last week I worked 45 hours in the span of 5 days so uhh naturally I didn’t have ANY time for fan content which is just very simply tragic imo). So here’s an early submission to @agentsofchallenges aos march madness: a list of aus I desperately want to write at some point or have started writing (some of which are based on movies, but all of which COULD possibly be fit into movies).

Message in a Bottle -> a Philinda pirate au (Pirates of the Caribbean au?) Captain Melinda May is the most feared pirate on the seven seas. She is known for being cold and calculating - and rumored to be brutal and ruthless, (though no one has ever actually witnessed this in action). So when Phil Coulson, a castaway stranded on an island, finds himself tied up on the deck of the Cavalry, with Captain May’s crew shouting at her to make him walk the plank, he’s surprised when she shows him mercy. And then stuff happens and they fall for each other, you know the drill.

The Rest of Us Just Live Here -> a (potentially soulmate?) au based on Coppola’s Lost in Translation. Basically a romance where nothing really actually happens - there’s no meet cute, there’s no big display of love. I’m not sure which pairing to use yet (Mackelena might be cool here, ooh or Huntingbird, but genuinely any pairing would totally work - Pipsy, Skimmons, FitzHunter, Philinda, FitzSimmons, Dousy, okay time to stop listing) but the basic premise is that they are strangers who feel lost, alone, and disconnected in their own lives and find solace in each other’s company. Neither can truly remember when they first met, or when they really started to like each other, just that they’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone else in their lives. Their bond exists in pockets of comfortable silence and late night talks about nothing and everything. (this has the potential to be the most boring fic of all time but I mean I really liked the ideas that Lost in Translation presented and would love to adapt it into a fully realized romance of sorts. could be fun!)

a Harry Potter Hogwarts au! idk exactly what this would look like exactly but @destroyer-of-days4 listed out a ton of headcanons in this post that inspired me so much and one of these days I would love to write a Hogwarts au with Daisy, Fitz, Simmons, Trip, Ward, etc.

a My Neighbor Totoro Kora and Daisy sister duo fic. Because I made one (1) moodboard for them just for fun and I literally cannot get the idea out of my head of them going on cute little whimsical adventures together. Is this basically an excuse to give Daisy a happy childhood? Maybe. Could it be cute? Most likely.

Jurassic Park! Hear me out - I literally just want to write May training raptors. That would be... absolutely so cool. But also! FitzSimmons experimenting with dino DNA? Simmons grappling with ethics vs discovery? While Fitz has his Doctor complex muddling up his morality? If that makes sense?

I might end up making a part two to this at some point, but for now, here’s some ideas I’ve been sitting on for a while.

#aos march madness #movie au wip/idea list #agents of shield

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bisexualbuck · 5 years ago

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911 & Buddie Fic Rec

I’ve been reading a lot of fics lately as I pretend that nothing is happening in the world, and so I’ve put up a list of a few that have stuck with me.

Don’t forget to leave them a comment! They’re all amazing and they deserve it.

Let’s spread some positivity around here!

In no particular order

Knocking On Heaven’s Door by MomentsOfWeakness

Summary: Buck isn’t sure where he is. The last thing he remembers was being out on a call. Now he’s here, in a place he has never seen before surrounded by people he doesn't know. It's bright. That's all he can really tell.

Based on a Tumblr prompt where someone asked for Buck and Chris both ending up in purgatory at the same time before they ever met in life. Buck has a ticket back to the living world but he gives it to Chris who is supposed to die. An old man, seeing what Buck did for Chris, decides to give his own ticket for the living world to Buck, because the world needs more people like him.

Personal opinion: This is just so good. It’s so well-written it almost reads like poetry.

Eddie Diaz and the Cat-astrophe at the 118 by SquaresAreNotCircles

Summary: It’s Chimney who rescues her from the tree, but it’s Bobby’s arms that she curls up in on the drive over to the vet to get her checked out. Right from the start, it’s as if she knows who she needs to cozy up with to secure her spot at the station.

“Come on, that’s crazy,” Buck says, but he does so while laughing not at Eddie, but at the grey tabby cat trying to get her claws on the fake mouse on a string that Buck bought with his own money, so Eddie doesn’t put too much stock in his opinion.

Or: The firefam adopts a mascot and Eddie has a minor crisis about it.

Personal opinion: This is just too sweet and too funny!!

Whatever you say, Buck by nanasteiger

Summary: Tumblr prompt: I'd love to see a fic where they start dating but decide to keep it private for a bit, except literally everybody knows because they're not secretive at all and everybody catches them here and there kissing or being affectionate with each other.

The first one to talk about it was, and it wasn’t really a surprise, Captain Nash. “So,” he said, approaching him in the locker room, “what’s going on between you and Diaz?”

Personal opinion: The softness... unparalleled.

Love Language by red_to_black

Summary: The one in which there's too much pollen around, Eddie pines, and Buck is oblivious.

Or - Eddie's love language is acts of service, and Buck doesn't totally get it.

Personal opinion: I have melted... too good!!

a leaf falls on loneliness by iimpossible_things

Summary: Buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “I’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. Really, he doesn’t. The 118 has too many good, kind people for that.

But every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to Eddie or Bobby or Hen or Chim, he hears Eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.”

—you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting—

So each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence.

Personal opinion: Y’all. Just - do yourself a favor and read this. A masterpiece!! Just *chefs kiss*

dying lol by itsmylifekay

Summary: Based on the meme: i'm dying lol

Buck is...Buck. And that means chaos, angst, laughs, and pining over Eddie. Bobby just wants his son to stop ending up in the hospital. Enjoy.

Personal opinion: I have no words to say how much I love this

i want your heart (i hope you do too) by chocobos

Summary: Buck can’t stop thinking about those words, about the way Eddie had said them, eyes open wide and earnest, hand searing a hole into his shoulder, never once breaking contact with him in any regard.

Personal opinion: One of my favorite fics in this fandom

Roll Down This Unfamiliar Road by altschmerzes

Summary: The big 'welcome to the family, sorry I tried to shut you out of it' dinner at Eddie's winds down, and Chimney decides it's time for him - and Albert - to go home. But, as he stands there and looks at his kid brother, half dozing off sitting at Eddie's dining room table, Chimney finds himself frozen, plagued by sudden doubt. What if he's not cut out for this?

It's Buck, of all people, who's there with an answer.

Personal opinion: This is a Chimney-centric fic and it’s an absolutely gorgeous piece.

a diary highlighting dysfunction (adhd) by @evaneddie

Summary: adhd!buck - headcanons into loosely linked one shots

Personal opinion: I’ve just reread just now and wow... still amazing... chefs kiss

I still don’t know my heart by attolians @getbvcked

Summary: I am SEVERELY late for Evan Buckley Week so I rolled these prompts into one fic! • March 23rd - Day 1: “That’s my family.” + fluff • March 24th - Day 2: “Why are you naked?” + fun • March 25th - Day 3: “Please don’t close your eyes!” + hurt • March 26th - Day 4: “You want to marry me?” + love • March 27th - Day 5: “You’re a good liar.” + comfort • March 28th - Day 6: “I won’t let you do this.” + angst

Personal opinion: As I said before, we’re here living in 2020 while Amber’s living in 3020... The genius *chefs kiss*

(hurt) thy neighbor by autumnchills

Summary: “He’s armed,” is all he says into the phone before standing from his spot. He shoves his phone into his pocket and steps out, hands raised. Sure enough, the man has a gun pointed at him, but if he looks closely enough… Buck squints. Color him surprised. “Is that you—” “Don’t!” The man yells, jerking his hand with the gun aggressively. “Don’t you dare fucking say my name, Buckley.”

— In which things get bad fast when Buck's neighbor breaks into his apartment thinking that he isn't home.

Personal opinion: You need to read all of autumnchills’ work actually because guess what... chefs kiss!!!

(There’s) No Time Like The Present by NobodyKnows_U

Summary: "Marry me."

The words flew out of his mouth before he could fully comprehend what he was doing. It came out as a shaken whisper, but everything around seemed to go hopelessly silent. He's pretty sure he heard a few choked gasps but all he could focus on was Buck.

Or, Buck nearly dies saving a baby during a call and Eddie ends up asking Buck to marry him.

Personal opinion: I cried, this is just gorgeous.

5-4-3-2-1 by elisela

Summary: For all the times that Eddie has practiced getting into his turnout suit in record time, he never bothered figuring out how to get out of it just as fast. He would be regretting that if he could think about anything other than the fact that Buck went over the pier rail twenty-six seconds ago, and disappeared into the dark water seventeen seconds ago.

Personal opinion: The intensity... The talent... I’m speechless.

what a man gotta do? (to be your last good night and your first good day) by diazevan

Summary: He is gonna woo Eddie. He is gonna woo him so fucking hard that the other man has no other choice but to be his boyfriend and declare his eternal love for him. Buck is gonna be that good.

Buck is the best boyfriend and he doesn't even know it.

Personal opinion: Soft!! Cute!! I’m !!!!!!

Won’t Be Lost Forever by @lionheartedghost

Summary: “Bobby said you wouldn’t talk to him last time he came in.” The chair by the side of the bed scraped back against the linoleum. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Buck opened his eyes. Eddie looked patiently back at him, passing a hospital canteen cup of coffee back and forth between his hands. “I won’t let you do this,” Eddie said when he didn’t answer, setting the paper cup on the little table beside him. “I won’t let you shut us out.”

Eddie helps Buck with his recovery following the ladder truck incident.Written for Evan Buckley Week, Day 6: "“I won’t let you do this.” + angst

Personal opinion: I’m overwhelmed by so much perfection what the hell

I also want to give a shout-out to @eddiedeaz because her fics for the Evan Buckley Week were, you guessed it, *chefs kiss*

#911 #911 fic #buddie #firefam #this took me forever but worth it #there's so much greatness in this fandom #please tell me if i messed up somewhere with the links or the usernames or the titles or anything #my post

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missdawnandherdusk · 5 years ago

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MuggleBorn Dating a Disaster Twin Weasley Extensive Headcanons:

A/n: So, who thought that this was a Draco only blog? Well, GUESS WHO WAS WRONG? me. It was me. But I’m a softie for a few other HP characters, of which are the Weasley twins. Thanks for the request @peachesandpinks!!!

Also, this is super long again. I apologize for nothing.

Okay we’re going with George here because he’s a bean so is Fred but ya know.

McGonagall is the one who delivers your letter and explains everything to you and you’re parents and you about have a mental breakdown because “well, of course, I noticed I do some weird stuff but magic are you serious?”

McGonagall is just not having it. Especially when she realizes that this is also the twins' first year as well because good lord more Weasleys??

Anyway, you’re in a train compartment by yourself because you don’t really know anyone and you can’t find your cousin who also attends Hogwarts so you’re just provolone

You’re about asleep when your compartment door slams shut and you jump up, seeing two boys with bright red hair grinning and hiding

“Um hello?”

They both shush you and pull you down with them. You hear yells and a very angry voice walk right past your compartment and the boys snicker

“Oh Percy, when will you realize,” “you can never escape us,” they’re grinning like madmen and you’re just so confused

“Um... guys?” You squeak. “Oh, right,” one says. “Sorry about that,” the other replies. “Fred and George Weasley,” the first hold his hand out for you to shake. You do. Hesitant.

“Who’s who?”

“What do you mean?” The second asks. “Who’s Fred and who’s George?” You clarify slightly annoyed. “Fred, George, respectively.” The first—Fred—grins. “And the prat out there is our brother Percy,” George flashes the same smile.

You study them, trying to pick out the differences between them. You can’t find anything except—Fred has dark brown eyes and George has slightly greener ones.

“Oi. What are you doing?” George asks.

“Trying to tell you two apart?”

That baffles both of them because let’s face it— it might be a joke but even their own mother has a hard time at that

You’re eternally grateful that you’re sorted into Gryffindor with them

You become their new favorite person. Especially after they find out you’re Muggle-born. Fred tries to corrupt you with fake facts and sometimes so does George. Most times you can tell if it’s real or not but on the occasion you can’t, you’ll look to George and his either nod or shake his head

They also bombard you with muggle based questions asking what it’s like and how you do certain things

They’re just goofballs and it’s nice to not be so serious all the time. When you’re studying and fretting over your first Potions exam George comes in and asks if you wanna see something cool and then you meet up with Fred and proceed to prank Filch who had it out for you the moment you were late for class. Not that it’s your fault you don’t know where you’re going and everything looks the same

Whenever you’re falling behind on spells or charms, George is the first to volunteer to help you out because let’s face it he’s brilliant with magic But not so good with facts and memorizing, so you help him out with History of Magic and Herbology

It’s always a game to see if you can still tell them apart. “Geroge,” No I’m Fred,” No you’re George, I just spent the last hour studying with Fred,” “no that was me!” “Ha! The past hour I was working on Potions alone! You are George!” Maybe he sulks a bit because you outsmarted him but part of him wonders did you really know it was him?

Of course, you knew it was George. His eyes crinkle when he smiles and Fred’s don’t

You might not be good at pranks, but you are brilliant for thinking out all the flaws and lying your way out of just about anything which makes the three of you quite scary and unstoppable

When you do get caught, McGonagall lets you all off easy because you three remind her of another group of mischievous Gryffindors

Their mother totally sends you a Christmas sweater

Over the holidays you actually miss your friends. You had more friends than just the twins, but it wasn’t the same without them.

Second-year comes and the twins make the Quidditch team and insist that you learn how to fly on a broom

“Oh come on!” “It’ll be fun!”

“Guys really, I don’t like heights and I’d rather keep my feet on the ground,” you insist.

They grin at each other and George grabs you and kicks off the ground and suddenly you’re very high and terrified. You scream and cling to him and he’s laughing but you’re just so scared and it’s not funny which maybe makes them laugh more because it’s just a silly prank

When you stop talking to them for a few days they realize that “oh Merlin we messed up.” Well, George realizes it first when you’re having trouble in Transfiguration but you refuse his help and take the failing grade

He tries to apologize. A lot. But you never quite seem to be in the right place at the right time.

So he puts his inventing skills to good use and charms a paper into a snitch and it lands on your desk. Begrudgingly you open it.

“I really am sorry. Please don’t be mad. I didn’t know, I won’t prank you ever again. ~George”

You thaw a little and smile at him.

And maybe you do show up at his first quidditch game despite swearing you’re not going

His heart soars when he sees you and Fred has to whack him to make him pay attention.

You keep going to their Quidditch matches... begrudgingly. You’re still a bit sore after their prank on you and you’re not one for Quidditch, to be honest but you go because it makes them George happy and smiles

To be fair it is one of the most stressful things you’ve seen because quidditch is dangerous even more so than muggle sports and you don’t care how many potions or spells are out there it’s not safe they think your rants against quidditch are cute and you just huff and storm away

The point is proven in third year when George gets knocked off his broom by a Slytherin and nearly falls to his death. You scream in terror and are the first on the field next to him

He makes a joke about “falling for you” and you want to hit him with a burning passion but he’s hurt so you refrain. For now.

You fall asleep on his hospital cot because Pomfrey insists on keeping George overnight to make sure the bones reset correctly

You wake up and see the same familiar smile and his hazel eyes crinkle and you’re heart flutters when he’s healed you do hit him and scold him about being reckless. Everyone in the Great Hall laughs because he gets the same lecture from his mother in a Howler

Everyone totally ships you two and Fred has tried many a time to get you two to admit your feelings for each other. He even tried to trick you into thinking he was George but you knew the difference. Of which he will never understand how you just know

With third-year coming means it’s the first year with their little brother Ron and their older brother Percy is a prefect and you can tell that the twins feel a little lost in the middle of it

So you start to plan very elaborate pranks for the twins

You’re their “godfather” of the prank operations with aid of the marauders' map then you have to explain what The Godfather is and finally you have to make them sit down and watch the movies

With a mini projector, you bring from home and charm so that it'll work because good lord you missed watching movies. The entire Gryffindor house gets in on movie nights and other muggle-borns are so hyped for a bit of normalcy

Fred has the ideas but Merlin, George can make them a reality and it just baffles you on how his mind works because he’s absolutely brilliant and it’s not fair

Sometimes George comes to you needing muggle ideas or perspective. Fred finds you two geeking out late at night in the common room and maybe hugging when you two figure out how to make something work. It’s awkward and blushing and Fred is not helping

Fourth-year comes and it’s the first year with their younger sister Ginny and she absolutely enamored with you because you’re like a sister to her

When the Chamber of Secrets opens George flips out and tracks you down because this thing is taking down Muggle-borns. Now you hardly go without having a protection squad of the Weasley twins and you just want a moment alone

Which means you go off on George one night “Just leave me alone! I’m fine! Nothing is going to happen to me!” You shout. “And what if something does happen! Do you think I could live with myself knowing you got hurt or worse!?” He yells back. “And why do you care!? What difference does it make!?” He just stammers and storms away and you stare after him wondering what the hell just happened.

You find yourself in the Astronomy Tower alone. “Merlin Y/n!” You turn and see Fred. “Okay, I know that you’re great at pranks but this is really not funny,” “What do you mean?” You wipe the tears off your face. “George is going mad with worry right now! He thinks that you’re dead!” “Why would he care?” You mumble. “Oh, you two are impossible!” Fred exclaims and walks off.

You hear someone else come up to the tower and you think it’s Fred again. You tell him to go away.

“I thought you knew the difference between us?”

You look up and see George. You cross your arms and look down. “Come to yell at me some more?” You mumble. He sits down beside you. “Sorry,” He mutters. “I didn’t mean to yell at you,” A silence falls between you. “You... you’re my best friend, other than Fred, and I don’t want anything happening to you...” “You’re my best friend too, George, but... I can handle myself. I... I feel like you don’t think I can do it on my own when you step in. I know you’re trying to protect me, but... I feel like you think I can’t measure up because I’m a muggle-born.” “Never! Stars! I would never want you to feel like that!” George is horrified. “I’m so sorry that I made you feel that way,” You nod and lay your head on his shoulder.

He lays off on being so overprotective and you don’t snap at him as much when he does get protective over you. Fred is dying inside because you two are so blind and Merlin you’re both his friends but he wants to lock you in a closet and not let you out until someone confesses something

Can you imagine the pun wars between you two? You once were up to a hundred cat puns in front of McGonagall that she actually gives you two detention because she also ships it and maybe some alone time together will get you two together. It doesn’t work

Fred being Fred hatches a plan with the rest of your friends to get you two to confess your feelings. It’s a ‘casual’ game of seven minutes in heaven. Fred totally bewitched the bottle to land on you when George spins it

You are absolutely red when you realize that you have to spend seven minutes with George in a wardrobe. But you’re not backing down and neither is George because damn it if you’re going to let Fred be smug about this or taunt you

But now you're very close to George in a dim space only lit by your wands and you’re both redder than his hair

“Look, we don’t have to...” He stammers. “It’s just a...” “Yeah,” You blush deeper, really noticing the green in his eyes. And he smiles and there’s that crinkle in his eyes that you love and then you’re kissing him. You’re kissing your best friend in a wardrobe while his brother is snickering outside.

He pulls away, baffled. “You uh,” “Yeah,” You breathe out. “You wanna...?” “Just kiss me, red,” “Red?” He smirks and you roll your eyes pulling his tie to kiss you again.

Seven minutes is a lot shorter when you’re having the revelation that you’re in love with your best friend and now he's kissing you in the dark. Fred pulls the wardrobe door open and George slams it back in his face and you burst out laughing and lean against him, feeling safe in his arms

Fred will not shut up about “I told you so!” as you’re curled up in George’s lap in the common room, studying for Transfiguration.

okay off-topic but George gets the entire Gryffindor team to choreograph “Did I Mention” from the Descendants after his next Quidditch game and you’re just laughing at your goofball and grinning because he’s just so ridiculous and Merlin you love him

George is the sweetest boyfriend ever. You’re still best friends but now he gets to kiss you whenever he wants and hold your hand and now he has an excuse to be protective. “I’m your boyfriend! It’s my job!”

You hex him and remind him that you can handle yourself just fine and he just loves you more

“Georgie / Red / Pretty boy” and “Sunshine / Smiles / Beautiful” Just all the nicknames

You scold them both when they start prototypes for their theoretical joke shop because it’s dangerous and you care about your boys and man are they babies when they’re hurt. Not that you have a problem with taking care of them

Geroge invites you to the Burrow for Christmas and is super nervous and tripping over his words because he knows his family and that he doesn’t have the nicest things and he wants to give you the world but he knows he can’t but you roll your eyes and ruffle his hair

Mrs. Weasley absolutely adores you. “No, please dear just call me mum,” She ushers you around the Burrow and scolds George for not being a proper gentleman, and when he starts to say he’s Fred you give him a look and he grumbles. Mrs. Weasely doesn't understand how you can tell them apart and asks for your secret. You admit that their eyes are different and that George’s eyes crinkle when he smiles

“How in the stars did you figure that out?” George asks. “The day on the train, our first year,” you admit. “Remember you asked me what I was doing?” Everyone watching just “aww”s and you’re blushing

Mr. Weasely asks you about a thousand questions about being muggles. Your shirts, your books, your pens, your dishwashers... When you’re overwhelmed with questions, both George and Fred are defending you

You’re mystified about how magic works in a domestic setting and you want George to explain everything and all his fears about not having the best or newest things fades because technically everything is new to you and your little muggle self

When George visits you over the summer your parents absolutely love him. Somehow he knows how to be polite and a gentleman and your goofball is mature and charming and you’re not so nervous anymore and wow you love him especially when he’s still a goofball when you’re alone

Your muggle tech and home mystify him the same way that his home mystifies you and he gets it. He loves your lava lamp and Star Wars and Grease the Musical

When it comes to his family, of course, you love Fred, you haven’t met Bill, but Charlie is a darling and you both geek out over dragons because dragons. Percy still gets on your nerves but you think that it’s just second hand from your boys, Ron is best friends with the “chosen one” which doesn’t mean a lot to you because you didn’t know about “Harry Potter” until you got to Hogwarts. You and Ginny go out every once in a while as just girls to get a break from the testosterone you love George but sometimes you need a break

You think that fifth year it’s a good idea to give Harry the map because of Sirius Black and convince the boys to give it up. They sulk about it but agree

As you grow older, your pranks grow a lot more elaborate and better executed but you always make sure that they stay safe for everyone involved

You’re still wary about George and Fred playing Quidditch, but one night George knocks on your window, riding his broom, grinning.

“What are you doing!?” You hiss, looking around to make sure no one can see him. “Fly with me,” He offers his hand. “George,” You whine. “I don't like-” “I’m not going to let you fall,” His voice is so soft and sincere that you give in and now you're clinging to him, as you soar over the castle. You don’t dare look, but with his arms wrapped tightly around you, you’re not so scared anymore. And maybe you do look. He beaming at you and looks so happy that you can’t help but smile back. You never want to fly on your own broom, but you don’t mind riding with George not and again

You comfort George when Ron becomes a prefect, and the comment from his mother really gets to him. “Just a twin,” He mutters, “No,” You retort. “You’re George. My George. Whose eyes have green in them and crinkle when he smiles. Who has more freckles than Fred and is better in class even slightly. You’re brilliant and an inventor and deserve the world,” “How do you know I have more freckles than Fred? Are you looking at him too?” He jokes and you laugh, knowing he feels better and it’s not a defense mechanism because you really do know him.

Your parents meeting one another is just hysterical. At first, it’s in a public setting in the wizarding world because your parents aren't used to magic just yet. Mr. Weasly has another thousand questions and both moms fawn over the two of you as a couple and it has you both bright red.

You don’t see him the over the next summer because you get a muggle job and he picks up odd jobs so that you two can have date money of which you insist on paying for half of because he might be your boyfriend, but you can handle yourself and well, it’s not the middle ages anymore

But Merlin, sixth year his hair has grown out and he’s grown about half a foot and you are a lovestruck goner. Everyone can tell the twins apart better this year because their hair is different, but nothing changes for you, you still look for George’s smile.

You help them perfect their age spell to get their names into the goblet, knowing full well it won’t work, but it’s cute to see them try.

He’s so awkward and fumbling over his words when he asks you to the Yule Ball and you laugh and ask him to the Ball instead Promposal style

“You might be a Beater but I’m Seeking a Ball date and you’re a Keeper”

He’s bright red and everyone in the Great Hall cheers. Now there are cheesy muggle Promposals everywhere and you’re damn proud of your influence

You get your drivers license along with your Apperating license “Why would you get a driver’s license? You can Apperate!” George points out. He shuts his mouth when he sees you pull up to the Burrow on a Harley motorcycle and he bloody loves that you have a license because damn his girlfriends is hot and also a very bad influence on Charlie who gets a bike too and you guys now have matching dragonhide leather jackets

Dolores Umbridge has met her match with you. “There’s nothing in the rules that says I can’t dye my hair bright blue,” “I’m sorry, Professor, can you go over that again? I don’t quite understand what you mean by that wand movement... must be my stupid muggle background,” “My apologies ma’am but can you please explain your exact problem with me being here?” She fears the days you raise your hand in class it’s your senior year and you don’t really give a damn. A lot of educational degrees are your fault and now it's a game to see who can get the most between the three of you

Whenever Malfoy or his friends try to insult your blood status you laugh because it's like being threatened by a chihuahua even though everyone else is furious and ready to hex the crap out of the little prat

You are absolutely furious when Fred and George get banned from the Quidditch team that you actually consider joining to spite Umbridge

George rolls his eyes and pulls you close because he knows you’ll never get onto a broom.

Except for the day that he and Fred quit school. You follow their lead and you’re gone, leaving Hogwarts behind you. George is furious, but you shrug. You never wanted to pursue a Magic job, you were quite okay living with the best of both worlds and besides, they needed someone to do the professional/design side of their new business

You go to a muggle university after working it out with McGonagall on how to get your grades transposed over. You study the classics and Latin and broaden your horizons and think of starting a muggle/wizard school

But then the war starts. You join the Order of the Phoenix and put uni on hold until your Wizarding world is safe. You work with muggles and muggle-born kids at Hogwarts underground, making sure they’re safe too.

You, George, and Fred are hardly seen without the other. It’s always the three of you in the shop or at the Burrow, or anywhere. “The Twins” now includes you.

You and Tonks are a forced to be reckoned with. They thought the Twins were bad? It has Remus and George in a mix of fear and awe at both of you

You visit your parents at least twice a month, after moving them to West California far away from the war. You don’t explain everything but they’re not exactly complaining about a condo on the beach paid for by your savings from co-running the joke shop

You and George share a bed at night because you both need the reassurance and you have terrible nightmares that only George seems to know how to calm you down from and make you laugh after

When you get the summons to appear in court to Umbridge to prove that you’re a wizard, you walk in, hand in hand with George, in your Bon Jovi cropped t-shirt, bright blue hair, Converse trainers, throw your family history on her desk and walk out, flipping her off on the way off and George almost proposes on the spot

You wait with Molly the night that they transport Harry, waiting for your boys to come home and you nearly have a heart attack when you see George is hurt and you're about sobbing and Fred is holding you and then George makes a stupid joke to make you two laugh

You refuse to leave his side after that and he pokes fun at you “I remember a certain someone arguing about when I hovered over her because I was afraid she was going to get hurt,” You pout and he laughs, pulling you into a kiss. “This is different,” You grumble. “You are hurt,” “And thanks to you, I’m healing quite well,” He grins. You still hover. Just in case

At Bill and Fleur’s wedding, he does get all nervous about the idea and Fred breaks the ice saying that "When I get married, I won’t be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I’ll put a Full Body-Bind Curse on Mum until it’s all over." and you laugh holding onto the hope that one day the world might be safe enough to actually get married and settle down

You co-host Potterwatch and figure out the charms to the radio so that it does change channels and requires a password you also really get into healing magic because you know a war is coming, and though you’re not much of a fighter, you have a knack for fixing things as well as mixing muggle and magic for better results

The Battle of Hogwarts comes and both twins try to convince you to stay back but hell if you’re letting them stop you “I’ll be sick with worry, you’ll be worrying about me, and it won’t be good. We need to stay together,” You whisper to George one night.

Something breaks in you when you watch Fred die and maybe it’s the notion you had against killing someone with a “muggle” gun, because the pistol just feels so right in your hand as you take down the Death Eater. The gun was your dad’s. He gave it to you when you told him there was a war coming and you cried when he did and always carried it with you

The fighting seems to be over and the Death Eaters are gone or dead but you’re still on edge. You hear someone come up behind you and you raise the gun and your wand but it’s George. He’s bloody and bruised but alive and you drop the gun and your wand and run into his arms.

He holds you tightly and you both break down sobbing and join the rest of the family as you mourn over the ones lost.

The day someone dies isn’t the worst, and the next few days aren’t so bad because there are things to do... it’s every day after when they stay dead.

You and George do get married. You’re in a t-shirt and jeans, he’s in about the same. It’s a quiet affair and no one can argue because it’s all for Fred.

It’s a year later and you and George finally reopen WWW, knowing that the world needs to laugh right now.

You both get muggle tattoo’s in Fred’s memory and name your first son after him because of the deep brown that his eyes are and the lack of freckles.

You live not far from the Burrow in a mix of muggle and magic. You get a cat named Peeves. You eventually finish Uni and the whole family comes to your graduation.

It’s never quite the same, but it’s better. And the sun still shines.

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