#you always gotta explain and justify and hold back at least a little and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scrumpledorph-writes · 1 month

Text

Koben’s Return Home (It Is A Home Now)

These last few days have felt like no more than a few hours. I didn’t even think to ask Brayli if it was alright to stay at her apartment for this long, and she hasn’t brought the subject up either. Still, I’ve had enough time to heal, and I’d hate to make her late for work tomorrow – it’s about time I packed up my things and headed home. We can always visit, or holo-chat, or leave each other messages. Maybe I can even host her at my place, if she’d like to see the dunes.

‘I’ve had a wonderful time, but with all of my things here, your apartment is starting to feel rather small. I should take them back home, and considering how hard some of these would be to replace, I should probably stay with them too.’ That sounds like you’re never planning to leave. ‘Oh, but – I don’t need to watch them all the time. I’ll come to visit, of course; you know that my work schedule is flexible.’ That gentle smile, same as always.

‘Don’t worry sugar, I getcha. Y’ain’t gotta justify needing some alone time. I know I can be a lot sometimes.’ ‘You’re exactly as much as I want.’ For all she’s done for me, the least I owe her is to tell her exactly how much she means to me, every opportunity I get.

‘Thanks, sugar. Though, next time you show up at my door – try to do it conscious, okay?’ She always knows how to make my worries feel like they’re nothing at all. ‘I’ll try my best. Considering that and the bounty hunter incident, I must look pretty bad at my job.’ ‘Nah. I know how someone who’s bad at your job looks sugar.’ ‘Which is?’ ‘Through a cybereye, if they’re lucky.’ If one of my squadmates made that joke I’d have just rolled my eyes, but I can’t help laughing at it from her.

‘Oh, yeah, one last thing sugar; I made you something.’ ‘When did you manage that? We’ve barely spent an hour apart since I arrived.’ ‘I made it last week. I – well, I kinda figured I wouldn’t see you again, so I wanted something to remind myself of you.’ She really is too good for me. I can almost feel tears welling up just hearing her say that. ‘I see. I never would have thought to do something like that, but I’d love to see it.’ ‘Yeah, I put it away to not ruin the surprise, lemme go grab it real quick.’

This isn’t like her usual sculptures. Her art certainly isn’t anything I’d see in an Imperial gallery, but it communicates its subject adequately. This just looks like a sheet of off colour glass shards glued together on a stand. ‘I appreciate it, the fact that you made it, and that you want me to have it means more to me than I can describe – but I don’t really know what it is.’ ‘Here sugar, hold it up facing the wall.’ Oh. It’s beautiful.

‘Even under that big suit of yours, I could tell you really seemed to be enjoying the sunset on our first date. It obviously doesn’t look quite as majestic, but-’ I can’t possibly do anything but kiss her after she made me something so beautiful. She made it out of love; broke off a little piece of herself for me to keep forever, and that makes it her best work. I’ll have to find a way to do the same for her some day. Maybe I should take up carving, I keep my knife plenty sharp.

‘I love it. I love you. Thank you so much for making it. I’ll put up a shelf under the window so I can see the light shine through it every night.’ ‘No problem sugar. Anyway, last sun’s going down – you should probably get going.’ If we said everything we wanted to I don’t think I’d ever get to leave. There’ll be time to later. We have all the time in the galaxy now. ‘Agreed, call me when you’re off work tomorrow.’

Barely have enough room for all these things in my speeder. For not having a license, Jaxon drives pretty well. Can’t see any damage that couldn’t be explained by regular desert sands scraping across it. I’m sure Brayli has opinions on how to keep one in good working order, and it would certainly be a benefit to know – I should ask her some time.

Still not used to driving across these dunes without my helmet on. On the one hand, it’s nice to see what they look like without that pinkish tinge of the visor – on the other, all this dry wind in my eyes is horrible. Definitely not a fan of open topped vehicles. I should buy some goggles, but for now I’ll just wear the helmet the rest of the way.

Feels different to wear it now, thinking on it. Isn’t as comfortable as it used to be, but I’ve felt more comfortable with it off lately – guess I’m finally growing out of it. Wistful sentimentality aside, it still offers very good protection; and my line of work requires that. Maybe that repaint I’ve been thinking of will help.

Back at the house. It looks just like I left it: empty. Easy to get everything put back into place, especially with how little space it all takes up. At least I have one thing to help fill it, and it almost reaches the window if I put it on the trunk. Good enough for now. I’ve never really paid much mind to how my living quarters looked before. I guess that’s what makes somewhere home.

For as nice as it was to cuddle her to sleep, Brayli’s bed didn’t do me any favours. Good to spend the night in mine. If I could get her waking up in it with me, that would be ideal – wouldn’t want to put her through the commute to work though. I tentatively own as much of the area around this house as I bother to claim, so we could just build a speeder garage out here, but then she’d probably have no customers. I should talk to her about this some time.

Have enough credits for the foreseeable future, so I can spend the day on more menial tasks. Already got my armour patched up at her place, but I’ve been too busy to check my messages lately. Brayli sent me a lot last week. One every day. We’re together again, no reason to listen to them; it’d just be hurting myself over nothing, and I’m sick of doing that.

Oh! Those reinforced doors and windows finally arrived, perfect. No more shutters blowing open late at night, and I can’t imagine anyone getting through these without waking me up. If customizing your house makes it home, then I guess I’m still most at home in a fortress. Waiting for pickup, but I should call ahead just so I can make sure they’re waiting for me on arrival.

‘Herbo’s Home Hardware, whaddaya need?’ ‘I’m calling about an order for a steel reinforced door, lock, and shutter set. I received a message that they were ready for pickup a few days ago, but I was too busy at the time. My apologies.’ ‘Hey no problem lady, half the time we only find out a customer won’t be picking up when we see their name in the obits.’ He’s laughing, but given how violent things seem to be around here I’m not sure that was a joke. On the other hand, I am a bounty killer, so my perspective might be skewed.

‘I’m realizing I don’t have a speeder truck to pick them up with. Is there any way I could rent one?’ ‘We deliver for a fee.’ They’re civilians, but I really don’t want to leave any more of a paper trail than I already have. Better to never need these upgrades in the first place if I can manage it. ‘No, that’s unnecessary. I can pick them up myself, unload them, then return the truck.’

‘What, were you planning to install them yourself too? You know you already paid for the work, right? No refunds, by the way.’ That would be difficult, I never took structural engineering. How do I phrase this request without being too obvious?

‘Can I ask that your men ride in the back of the truck with the merchandise while I drive, then I’ll return them the same way?’ This is getting convoluted. ‘Okay lady, I think I’m starting to pick up what you’re putting down. You’re one of those discrete types, right?’ ‘Correct.’ I should have figured they’d have accommodations for underworld customers around here.

‘Right, gotcha – say no more. Yeah it’s an extra fee, but you can have the work done by droids. They drive out, do the job, come back, we wipe their memory banks. No muss, no fuss.’ Can hardly ask for more discretion than that, short of destroying the droids; and I don’t think that would be good for my professional reputation.

‘That sounds perfect, how much is that extra fee?’ ‘A thousand credits.’ Of course, borderline extortion. The original charge was only three hundred. I suppose it’s a fair price to pay for peace of mind. ‘I accept. When would you like the payment?’

‘Just leave the credits in the truck and plug in an address, they’ll drive there and do the work. You don’t even need to be home.’ I don’t like the sound of unsupervised droids, not looking to get two timed again.

‘I’d prefer to drive them here and supervise their work.’ ‘Suit yourself lady, doesn’t matter to me. I just work the front counter.’ Their chain of command has a very weak link. ‘In that case, I should be there within half an hour. Goodbye.’

While I’m thinking of customizing this place, I am starting to miss the crowded, lived in feel of Brayli’s apartment. I’d reign it in a fair amount, bumping into things in the dark wasn’t any fun, but just being able to stare from wall to ceiling to floor in almost every direction from the center of the room feels...hollow, now that I know what other options there are. I should buy some furniture while I’m out.

III

This place is, well, it’s what’s available I suppose. Used to bigger depots and warehouses for this sort of thing, but I guess I’m not done tempering my expectations for a planet this far out. ‘Hey there, you picking up the doors?’ ‘I am. Before I do, I’d like to see if you have a few other items I need.’ ‘Course, no rush, take your time.’

I just realized: everything I ordered is stainless steel, that’ll be corroded beyond recognition within a year. Need to paint them, but not sure what colour I should use. Freshly painted doors would also probably look out of place next to the aging stone, which means that would need painting too. I should call Brayli, ask her what she’d like.

Never actually called her while she was in the shop before. I don’t think she’ll mind, but I do hope she’s free to talk. ‘Hey sugar, what’s up?’ ‘I’m sorry to bother you while you’re at work, are you available for an involved conversation right now?’ I know that mechanical work can be very intensive.

‘Sure, you caught me during some diagnostic tests. What’d you want to talk about?’ Usually mechanics would shoo me away during diagnostic work – said they needed to focus. Maybe she’s just that good. ‘I need to buy paint for my new doors to keep them from corroding, and I think that would make them look out of place without also painting the rest of the exterior. I wanted your opinion on what colours you think I should buy.’

‘Aww, sugar – I’m flattered. I’m not much of a painter though.’ ‘Really? I figured with your work in speeders you’d have some opinions.’ The other thing mechanics always used to do was complain about the aesthetics of Imperial vehicles. I always thought they looked fine.

‘I’ve got some time, we can brainstorm. What’re you hoping for, what colors do you like?’ That’s a good question. The exterior does serve a practical purpose – it’d be good for it to blend in with the surrounding sands to make it harder to spot from a distance or during an overhead scan. The inside I could really do anything with.

‘I just figured out the exterior, I’m going to go with a sandy colour. Talking to you about it did help though, so thank you for that. The inside I don’t have very strong opinions on. What would you like?’ Maybe we could paint it up like an ocean, remind her of home.

‘Aww, well, it’s your place sugar, I wouldn’t want to be making decisions for you.’ She doesn’t seem to realize how much she factors into these decisions. ‘I want it to be your place too some day, or at least to have you come over and enjoy it with me sometimes.’

‘Wow, really? I mean, that’s really sweet sugar, don’t get me wrong – but I kinda figured you liked having your own little space to go back to.’ Experiencing her home made me realize just how little there was to mine. I want nothing more than to welcome her into it.

‘Spending the last two days with you made me realize just how empty my life was, and my home is a part of that. I want you to help me fill it in – that ornament was a start, but if there’s anything I can do to make you feel more welcome in it; please tell me.’

I hope that didn’t come across too strong. I mean, I know how much we talked and cuddled and all that stuff, but- she’s smiling even wider than usual. She understands. ‘Well, if that’s the case sugar – and I know this is maybe a bit cliche – but maybe some ocean blues? Dark floor, medium walls, light ceiling?’

That sounds beautiful. ‘I’d love to. I was only expecting to have to do one colour though, this is sounding like a two person job.’ It’d make a lovely excuse for a date, and to show her my place for the first time.

‘I guess it does, sugar. Pick up the paint, we can do it on my next day off.’ Maybe I should hold off on the other decorations until after we’ve painted. I don’t exactly have anywhere to put them other than directly onto the sand or in my speeder. I can still do some looking around, see if anything speaks to me.

‘Oh, while we’re talking; I was hoping to see you tonight. I’ve already gotten settled in back home, and without work, my schedule is very open.’ I hope she doesn’t mind how much I want to see her. She’s laughing, so it doesn’t seem like it.

‘Sure thing, drop by tonight. We can think of something to do. Gotta go now, tests are wrapping up; which means I’ve gotta get back to actual work. Bye sugar.’ Maybe we can finally get around to that holovid, I think I’ve gotten used to her enough that I can focus on something other than her when we’re in the same room. Now, back to shopping.

Got the paint – interior and exterior – loaded in with the droids, alongside a doormat. I’d been getting tired of tracking sand in, and “Live Laugh Love” is a concise summation of everything I’ve been forbidden from doing for so long. Having a reminder every time I come home should really help.

There were plenty of other trinkets; a little Hoth snowglobe, a physical calendar with small, furred native fauna from a variety of planets, and a charming framed picture of a Twi’lek family. Not sure why that specific family was chosen, but they look nice enough. Maybe once the painting is done I’ll see about buying them.

The droids seem more rudimentary than I was originally expecting, I don’t think they’d be capable of spying on me even if I weren’t watching them. Still, best not to take any chances. Glad they let me rent painting equipment, I don’t exactly have a lot of storage space to accrue miscellaneous tools. Maybe I should see about having a shed built some day.

Here we are. Flick the droids on, and according to the instructions; just give them a command and watch them work. ‘I need this door and these shutters installed on that house.’ Do they even have the dexterity to accomplish something like that? They each only seem to have one manipulator, and they’re so small that I’d half expect their three legs to break if they tried to lift the door – but I guess that’s why there’s so many of them. Guess I’ll just have to see.

Wow, they must have some serious custom programming to work so well in concert like that. Maybe that surcharge isn’t even a simple matter of extortion, but covering the potential replacement cost of these things if they get damaged. I suppose I can start bringing the paint in while they work.

These cans can just go in the corner. They certainly don’t help the place feel more lived in – now it looks even more like a storage facility, but that’ll all be over once Brayli and I get it painted. Maybe I should buy some snacks for when she comes over, surprise her with a nice lunch out on the sand.

I should have bought one of those picnic blankets. I’ll bet sitting on hot sand for an extended period would really dry out her skin. Even I probably wouldn’t find it too comfortable unless I was armoured, and that would likely dampen the romance. I can just use my blanket, shake it out thoroughly before bringing it back in. Not fancy, but it’ll do.

I should also probably give the inside a thorough cleaning too. I know it’s already cleaner than she keeps her place, but the old shutters let sand blow in from time to time. That’ll be a thing of the past once these droids are done. I should go check up on their work.

Solid work, consistent pace, navigating the sand well. A lot more effective than I was expecting, I really underestimated them. Door’s already installed, I can start painting that. Start with the brush, see how much I can cover – use the little cans of spray paint for everything else. Simple, menial work.

It’s nice to do something productive with my hands that isn’t violent. I’ve tried to pick up hobbies before, but they just always make me feel restless. Like I’m wasting my time when I could be accomplishing something. Spending time with Brayli doesn’t make me feel that way though. Every second feels well spent with her.

I spent longer than I should have in the store, the heat’s picking up. I’ve never had to worry about it before, the armour is UV sealed, but I might actually get burned. Adapting to the elements is certainly more difficult without the full technological backing of The Empire, but it’s kind of nice. Within a week of setting up shop, anywhere they designated became another stock template base, same as any other.

Seeing the dunes ebb and flow like this is pretty. I didn’t notice them before, but they’re different heights than they were when I moved in. Some of the old sand blows away, some new sand blows in to replace it. Constantly changing, even in just three short weeks. Wish it wouldn’t pile up against the house, but there’s hardly any use trying to sweep sand – even the best Troopers never managed to win that battle.

Getting the hang of this now. Might need to wash my clothes after this though, managed to splatter some paint at the beginning. Seems like the droids are taking a bit longer with the windows, but that gives me time to catch up. This shouldn’t take too long.

Wow. It came out great. The paint is just the right shade to blend in with the sand. Dried quickly too, maybe the desert heat helped with that. The droids are done too, so I suppose all that’s left is to give it all a test. Door first, obviously – it’s the most direct path of approach.

Lock glides well, don’t need to fiddle with it like the old one. Key turns easily, and it can take my full weight trivially. Can’t imagine anything short of a rancor bursting through this. Well, of course someone with the right tools could manage it, but I think even a typical breaching charge would only barely get the job done. Shutters next.

Paint made them stick slightly, but after the first few movements they glide like a dream. Shut firmly, don’t open to jostling. Can’t exactly test how well they’ll handle the wind, but they look like they’re designed not to catch it nearly as much as the old ones. Overall, completely satisfied.

Even if the inside is still undecorated, this makes it feel like home. Not just a normal home, my home. Built to weather a thousand storms and hold up to a thousand blaster shots. Just like me. Not only that, but with sensible decisions taking the surroundings into consideration.

I always found ways that the copy and paste base design could be improved, but the officers always said it wasn’t worth the effort. Now that’s my decision to make, and I made it exactly right. I live here, I call the shots. Maybe I should put in a back patio to watch the sunset. I can think about that later – right now I can just take it all in.

What’s this tugging at my pant leg? Oh, right, I do need to get these droids back. Okay, when I get back from that; then I can take it all in. ‘Put the old shutters and door in the back of the truck.’ Hopefully they’ll take all this off my hands, not like I have any use for it.

Can’t believe how complicated it was to get the old parts taken off my hands, that took hours. At least now I know where the recycling center is, and to call ahead. On the bright side, all that took so long that Brayli should be off work. Should I tell her about the renovations, or save it as one big surprise when she finally comes out to visit? I think I’ll let it all hit her at once.

Three quick knocks at her door. No response. She must be in the refresher, that’s fine. I can wait for her. Never really took the time to look at the surrounding complex, I suppose this gives me the chance. It’s decent. Not great, but not in noticeable disrepair. Some spots could do with new paint.

‘Brayli, it’s me – Koben. Could you get the door?’ Still no response. That isn’t like her. Maybe she was so tired after work she took a nap? I should ask her for a key some time. The door is unlocked. That’s definitely not like her, but with how eager I was to see her – maybe she left it open for me figuring I wouldn’t arrive too long after her.

No. Something happened here. The apartment is smashed up, and that’s her blaster lying in the middle of the room. Scorch marks on the walls – light, set to stun. A robbery? In broad daylight? This neighbourhood isn’t that bad. ‘Brayli! Are you in here? It’s me – Koben! You’re safe now.’ The droid’s been swept off the counter, and that datapad looks too new to be from around here. It looks Imperial.

‘Greetings Tarani.’ That voice. ‘I had my men take the liberty of leaving this datapad somewhere prominent enough that even you could find it.’ It can’t be him. ‘Begrudgingly, I must congratulate you for escaping from Huxley Padova.’ How did he find me? ‘I was certain he would kill you, but it appears that you are tougher than even I accounted for.’ Did he spend this long looking?

‘Thus, I have been forced to go after someone with far less fight in them: your girlfriend. How absurd, to see you go native like this. Even as I defeat you, you find a way to undermine my dignity.’ It’s been thirteen fucking years. ‘You will find my ship at the coordinates left on this datapad. That is not an order, or a recommendation, it is a fact – because I know you.’ He held a grudge this long?

‘You will come to rescue your, I’m not even going to dignify whatever you two have with the term – her – and then my compliment of Stormtroopers will kill you.’ He was barred from ever holding rank again, how does he have Stormtroopers? ‘Signing off: Bounty Acquisition Agent Anton Blackmire.’

#my oc #oc #star wars #writing #koben tarani #sapphic #transgender

0 notes

dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

#steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #Mob!Au #mafia!au #soft!Mob!Steve Rogers #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #botanical interest

553 notes · View notes

cheelduh · 3 years

Text

How to tie up a cute boy

(Highschool Au)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Parts: 1 2 3

Word count: 4K

Warnings: Swearing, Scaramouche abuse, no Signora slander this time, shit humour.

Synopsis: "Why are you doing homework?" Childe groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

Note: Unedited yet again besties. Tysm for reading :) I got Childe after losing him to mf MONA, istg it was the most stressful moment of my life.

The clock ticks with its pendulum, ridiculing you as it holds the time. The gentle whirring of the air conditioning in the background serves as the icing on the cake to your pent up aggression.

You try not to glare at your phone too much after receiving a text from Childe that told you not to worry, that his dad picked him up and that he was in the comfort of his home, letting the flu blow over.

It took a lot of convincing from his part earlier that morning to get you to go back and actually attend the rest of your classes, making sure to check up on him every break plus the additional "bathroom breaks" you usually never take while in class.

"I can't let you get in trouble for me." He murmured with a small smile that pumped your blood a little faster than usual. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry your pretty little head."

You do exactly that.

You don't even know why you're so worried. He's sick, not dying. Not to mention, you aren't even his girlfriend let alone his friend to care so much.

Your intrusive thoughts don't waste any time. You latch onto the one thought that takes over. He's probably dead. Lying in his bed in a heap of pillows, passing peacefully while his parents are in the other room. He's dead.

Okay, he's not dead. You intrusive thoughts sure do one hell of a job. He'll be fine, and in no time he'll go back to being a reckless distraction in your life that you need to surpass. Just another obstacle to add onto the list of things life has thrown at you.

But for an obstacle, he sure is kind of cute.

You refrain from bashing your head on the desk. School isn't really a preferred environment on your list of top ten places to shrivel up and die.

Speaking of death and all that is evil, why is Childe always on your mind? He takes up every nook and cranny of your day, constantly, and truth be told it's starting to boil your piss.

Every time you close your eyes you see his smug smile, and hear his stupid laugh. He's an annoying little prick who gets a rise out of exasperating you. Yet here you are, terrified by the warmth that blossoms in your heart when you so much as hear his name.

The final bell rings at long last, conveniently before you bite your tongue to avoid screaming, and not another second is wasted once you launch yourself out the door. You dodge through the crowd of students in the hall that are buzzing in excitement from it being a Friday afternoon, and you would be too if you weren't so damn hung up over a ginger with a battlekink.

Locker in view, you make a beeline and spend the next two minutes fumbling with the lock in your hands.

"Woah there cutie," Lisa speaks up playfully. "At this rate you'll break the poor lock with your bare hands."

For a moment you're surprised at her sudden appearance, but then remember that it's normal for her to worm her way anywhere.

"It's just—this lock is being dumb okay? It has no reason being a pain in my ass but it wakes up every day and chooses violence." You hiss through your teeth, a sharp metallic ring invading your ears when you lose it and jostle the combination lock against the door of your locker.

Lisa winces, but smiles teasingly nonetheless. "Want me to give it a try?"

"Please."

Lisa has the door open at record speed.

"I love you Lisa." You confess wholeheartedly, gripping at your chest. "I love you so much—"

"Yeah yeah," She waves you off with a grin. "Now hurry up and go save your boyfriend from the common flu. Archons knows he won't make the night."

You flush at the word "boyfriend" and don't give much thought to the insinuation that lies within the rest of her sentence.

Sliding your skateboard under an arm, you spin on your heel just to bump straight into Scaramouche, who's won the scowl of the century on his face. He's the last person you want to see right now, but apparently the universe wants to have a pissing match with you.

"Give this homework to that idiot Ginger." He shoves a stack of papers into you. "Tell him that once he's done circling the drain, I'm gonna kick his ass." He then leans in, murderous glint in his eyes. "And if you ever touch me again I'll take a shit in your cereal. That's not a threat, it's a promise."

You shiver at the thought of him squatting on your Cheerios, hands becoming clammy as you try and justify yourself. "It was an accident."

Your pitiful excuse earns you nothing from the navy haired boy. "It'll be an accident when I murder your entire family, three generations over."

"Hi Mona!" You wave excitedly over his shoulder at the body of students that are totally not Mona. With elation he fails to conceal, Scaramouche turns to look at the speed of light.

You take the chance to make your escape—not before waving to Lisa, chuckling to yourself. He's down bad.

With great expertise you file your way through the flock of students chattering near the entrance. , you confidently place your skateboard down on the sidewalk, ready to—

Wait—where does he live again?

You sigh heavily, ignoring the sadness as you thank the universe internally for pulling the reigns on your disastrous plan. Checking up on Childe at his house? With his family present? Making a complete fool out of yourself? What are you thinking? The possibilities are horrendous. He probably doesn't even think of you like that, he just likes a challenge and you pose as one.

You turn away to make a run for it in the direction of your home, all the while ignoring the nagging worry in your chest for Childe. He's probably fine anyways, you don't need to check up on him, and if you did he'd likely find a way to spin it and tease you relentlessly.

Although somehow, the thought of being teased by him isn't as dreadful as you'd like it to be.

Suddenly, an idea graces you, one that guarantees your misery by sating your obligation to check up on Childe. A litany of curses escape your mouth. Genius really, the amount of ways you can think of doing something that'll end in your demise.

"Adeptus Xiao." You whisper apprehensively, already regretting your decision. "Adeptus Xiao." Glancing around your surroundings, you barely notice the shadow that looms over you at your backside.

"What do you want mortal?" Unbeknownst to you, he strikes out of nowhere, making you jump back several meters. You manage to muffle a surprised shriek.

Xiao is Venti's -6 ft boyfriend, the vicious epitome of an eboy. He has a scaled tattoo covering up the majority of an arm, a few piercing holes in his ears, all matched up with a disinterested look. Somehow, he always appears out of nowhere if you call out his name. It's sort of disturbing in a way.

His amber eyes pierce through you, forcing a shudder of fear and dread to lace your blood, almost as if he can sense you shittalking him in your head.

With shaky hands, you ask, "Can you tell me where—"

"No."

"You didn't even hear me ou—"

"No."

"Please?"

He refuses to at least pretend to think about it for a moment.

"No."

"Why?" You frown, stomping your foot on the ground childishly.

"Because." He retorts with a lack of interest, but doesn't further explain his point. English teachers must love this kid.

"Okay," You say slowly, casually inspecting his form as you come up with an idea, briefly remembering Lumine mentioning it to you. "How about I give you my share on almond tofu Tuesday."

The lack of interest on his face wavers slightly. Bingo.

"What do you want mortal?" Xiao mutters gruffly, arms crossed, face morphing into subtle annoyance.

You wrack your brain for a proper answer. You can't just outright ask him or it'll seem like you have a thing for Childe, which you unfortunately do, but you'd like to keep a semblance of integrity. Ah yes, the homework!

"I gotta deliver these to Childe." You outstretch the pile of worksheets in your hands. "Except I don't know where he lives. Can you tell me?"

Xiao's eyes glint with danger. "Did you summon me for the trivial task of giving you an address?"

You nod furiously.

"Do humans have no shame?" Its rhetorical. Expressionlessly, he closes his eyes with intent focus, doing what you assume to be locating Childe's exact location.

He blinks an eye open, reaches a hand out. "Give me your phone." Palm waiting.

You hand it over to him almost desperately.

One glance at your bubbly phone case and he doesn't even try to hide his distaste. He taps a few times, then hands it back to you almost immediately.

On the screen is maps, and Childe's home is about a fifteen minute walk away.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"Easy," He mutters, leaning back against the school gate as the remainder of students walk past the two of you. "Locating demons that need subjugating is but a simple task."

There's a pregnant pause. Demon.

"Childe's a demon?" You gasp, even though you've always had your suspicions. Hence the reason you invest so much in demon-cancelling charms.

"What? No." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, and you note that his irritation grows the more questions you ask. "I had a physics project with him last semester."

That's why the charms don't work.

Your mouth forms an o, in fear that if you keep this conversation going on any longer, he'll snap at you. Especially when your next line of interrogation involves how he's able to appear and disappear into thin air.

It's a magic trick you'll want to master whenever Il Dottore has another conniption fit in the middle of the hallways after Kaeya tells him he looks like he has skid marks.

"Thank you." You say instead, trying to preserve his regard, but by the time you meet his gaze he's already gone with the wind.

—

Childe's home is surprisingly humble, considering the amount of fat stacks of cash he carries around in his fanny pack so care-freely. It's a normal suburban home from what you can tell, a little bigger than normal with a double garage, neatly mowed lawn and a few forgotten decorations from the windblume festival. A series of water guns lay forgotten near the entrance, making their presence known when you stumbled upon them.

It's hard to remain unphased. Especially since such a normal looking home has bred someone as ruthless as Childe.

Maybe it not the home, you think. Maybe it's the way he was raised. You recall a few glimpses of his mother in middle school, but because of your worse for wear memory retention, you can't ballpark her personality type.

As your thoughts wander further down to his parents and early childhood, villain origin story and what not, you're pulled out of your concentration when the door opens. The possible implications of being here are most definitely not in your favor.

Childe's mother is a stunning woman in her mid-forties who sure as hell doesn't show it in that jaw-dropping sapphire dress, topped off with a brilliant smile that makes your knees weak. Like mother like son, you suppose.

With her sudden appearance, strangely enough, you can remember how good her tiramisu bites are.

You take a moment to respond, swallowing thickly, only to stare at her stupidly.

His mother doesn't waste another second before ushering you in, oblivious to your star-struck expression. "Y/N? L/N Y/N? My have you grown. I remember when you were only this tall." She lifts her hand up a little above her waist, the jewels on her fingers dazzling with every movement. "How is your mother doing?"

"She's doing alright, busy with the clinic." You're able to find your words, smiling back at her, able to get somewhat familiar with her warmth. "I hope I'm not intruding. Childe forgot some homework." You say, heaving the short stack up.

"Ajax?" She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe he's going by that now. I wonder when this phase will be over. He may act tough but he's such a softie, has the biggest heart."

You, in between concealed emotions and giggles that threaten to leak, try to hide the oncoming grin but it's impossible. "Well he's got you to thank for it."

"You flatter me too much Y/N," She fixes the up do, pinning back the blonde hair that deftly frame her familiar cerulean eyes. "I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Her words make you waver momentarily. The fondness you've refused to share, the drawn out stares in the halls, the lingering touches, you don't want to acknowledge it but it's there. Whatever it is.

"I'm so sorry for cutting this short dear," His mother sighs, grabbing her keys off the counter and placing her wallet in an elegant handbag. "My niece is getting married and we're already late. I told Ajax I'd stay if he didn't feel too well but he said he could handle a headache. That boy, I swear, always tries to power through."

You nod in understanding, but wait a minute. A headache?

Scrunching up your face, eyebrows furrowed, you ask. "Headache?"

She frowns, applying another layer of her rouge lipstick hastily in a nearby mirror. "I know dear, how unfortunate. The school nurse said it's a migraine, and I shouldn't fret much, but a mother can't help but worry. If only he weren't so stubborn, like his father."

As if on cue, a loud honk comes from outside.

"That must be him!" She exclaims, hurriedly sliding in her heels, turning back to look at your awkward figure. "Ajax is in his room, it's the second door to the right upstairs. I've made some lasagna for the kids, you ought to have some as well, I'll be upset if you don't—" Another annoying honk cuts her off, to which she scoffs, shaking a fist. "That old man, I'll strangle him in his sleep. I must be going now, goodbye dear." She reveals a twinkling smile at you one last time, waving a slim hand before picking up her heels and making a run for it.

The door closes with an unceremonious thud, gust of wind in its trail, leaving a bewildered high schooler in its wake.

Snapping out of your haze, overwhelming tides threaten to drown you whole. Being in Childe's home, alone, with him a handful of stair steps and a wall or two away, your cheeks are set ablaze.

Now that his mother's gone, you take a second to really look. There are a few toys littered in front of the TV, home covered in with soft throws and coordinated cushions, a lazy sectional plopped right in the middle. The marks on the furniture with all the stories, the light hued mismatched frames hanging on the walls and on all the table, so many pictures of those that resemble him, his brothers, his sisters, his family. You can almost hear the echoing laughter in the halls, the childish squeals and pitter patter of tiny feet slapping the hardwood floor.

This is where he grew up. This is where he retires to after a long day full of gratifying fistfights. This is where he was raised to be who he is today, ambitious and reckless, with the absurd dream to one day rule the world. This is his home.

It's...like being wrapped in blanket, safe and cozy, surrounded by all the love in the world.

Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the outlines of a younger Childe, two missing teeth and eyes full of dreams, hugging the side of his father's shoulder because his small arms can't wrap around them. Not just yet.

You make your way over to the staircase, which has even more frames littered across the wall, one that falls short of hiding the marks of a green crayon—another slice of domesticity you aren't quite accustomed to.

The reality sets in, and you come to a conclusion. This home is definitely not an environment for growing psychopaths, Childe just beats the odds like he beats up kids on the daily.

Your fist hovers over his door as you contemplate abandoning the sheets on a nearby table, but his mother was so sweet and polite, so incredibly hospitable, you wouldn't have the heart to make a run for it.

"I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Three consecutive knocks. If he doesn't answer, you'll leave them at the door.

"Mama," Childe's muffled groans stem from the other side, and oh, you want to revel in the grave undertone of his voice because it's certainly not a common occurrence. "I told you I'm fine. You can go okay? I don't want you to be late, just need to sleep it off."

You blink, lips curling, and then knock again.

"Mama," He whines again, and it has you grinning mischievously. He's a mommy's boy, he has to be. The thought envelopes your heart with a newfound fondness. "Just come in and hurry."

You eagerly take in the room once you slip in, eyes scanning over every little detail, until they zero in on the heap of sheets smack dab on the single bed, a pair of feet dangling off the edge, topped with a comforter thrown over leisurely.

Childe's facing away from you, head dipped in between his shoulders, probably trying to find a position that's more comfortable. He's shivering, sweating at the same time. His mother must've been too preoccupied to notice. This isn't the first time he's used his exceptional bullshitting finesse.

"I can't believe you lied to your mother," You cross your arms, leaning back against the door.

With a jerk, Childe flings into a sitting up position, wide awake and aware of everything that is going on, a stark contrast from nearly seconds ago.

He blinks at you in shock, once, twice, rubs his eyes a bit, relaxes, then leans back, out of it completely. "For a sleep paralysis monster, you sure are kind of cute."

"For and idiot you sure are an idiot." You snort back.

"Wait a minute," He mutters slowly, jaw dropping. "You're actually here?!"

Ignoring his question, you opt to slap the papers on his desk to ignore your clammy palms. "Homework."

"And here I thought you came here all this way to be my personal nurse." He smirks, recovering from his momentary shock fairly swiftly. Doesn't refrain from giving you that shit stain of a bad boy grin, even with a flushed face and concavity under his eyes.

"I can be your personal mortician instead."

"I didn't know you were into role play babe, but I'll take what I can get." He winks, but is punished by a sequence of coughs that earn a wince from you.

"Headache?" You tease after he quiets down, but he remains as cavalier as always.

He sighs, sides of his lips still arched upwards. "My parents barely have any time to themselves, it's so hectic with the kids. What kind of son would I be if I couldn't even give them this?"

He must've threatened Barbara.

"You're," You inhale, briefly letting the silence hang between you two, mulling over what you wish to convey. sweet.

"Irresistible? Hot? Sexy?" He starts casual, arrogant smirk widening.

"Kind of not a complete asshole, is what I was going to say."

"Careful girlie," He narrows his eyes on you, playful lilt in his tone. The comforter is allowed to slip past his shoulders to reveal the goods that lie underneath, the complete naked chest of a post-puberty highschool boy who sprays too much axe. Full pectorals are something to pay for, stringed with smooth muscles that ripple their way over his toned shoulders. "If you keep teasing me like this, I can't promise I'll be the nice guy."

"One more time from the top," You bite back, avoiding staring at him for too long. "Without the congested nose this time."

With great expertise, he weakly throws a pillow at you, and you watch it exceptionally land at your feet, barely grazing the tips of your socks.

"Impressive," You whistle, not impressed.

He pouts, shivers, then is dunking his head back into the welcoming embrace of his plush collection of pillows.

With a sigh, you plop down on his chair, grab a pen and begin calculating derivatives.

"What're you doing?" He doesn't even turn your way, voice muffled.

"Homework," You reply nonchalantly, trying to calm your nerves. "unless you want me to get you something to eat, considering you puked out your gogurt on Barbara's shoes earlier. Congrats by the way, you're hit listed by her fan club."

"Why are you doing homework?" He groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

He really has an IQ below room temperature.

Burying the formidable obligation to clock him in the face on behalf of society, you slowly get up to approach his bed, to which he grins widely in disbelief.

Apprehensively, you climb onto his bed, and he scoots over, excitement as clear as day. His hair's a wild mess from all the shifting, almost makes you want to card a hand through it. Your heart nestles it's way in your throat at the sight of his blazing blue eyes.

You pity him for what you're about to do.

"Relax Childe," You lean over him with confidence you never knew you had to begin with, face hovering inches before his. Your fists strategically grip the comforter on either side of him. "We have all day after all."

Although you attempt to pay no heed to his quivering hand that snakes up to find solace on your hip, you momentarily shiver at the tenderness.

He's eating this up and leaving no crumbs. Closing his eyes in anticipation, his lips tremble when he tries to close in the distance.

Abruptly, you cross both handfuls of sheets over his body, tying them securely in place to keep him docile. He struggles in your grip, eyes snapping open in surprise. "Wuh-What."

"Did you really think you had a chance?" You cross your arms, stepping back to get a good look at your handiwork.

"Honestly?" Childe huffs, struggles some in his restraints. "I wasn't really thinking."

"Typical," You scrunch your nose up, unscrunch, and then exhale. "You stay here and I'll go make you some soup. Well, not that you can really move but you get the idea."

"You're really going to leave me here like this?" He pouts cutely, melting you, and the sick bastard knows of his power.

"Relax," You wave a hand, "I may be evil but I'm not Scaramouche."

Meanwhile, Scaramouche sneezes as he tries to ask Mona out, falling straight on his ass from the kick back, making a complete fool out of himself. Mona doesn't mind though, finds it endearing.

Back at Childe's room, he raises a brow, expectant.

Going through the five stages of grief, you do something you've been wanting to do for a while, succumbing to the immense feeling.

Closing in the distance between you two, you suck in a breath and gently tilt Childe's head to the side. He blinks quickly, not quite expecting your sudden forwardness, about to say something that doesn't matter as soon as you place a tender peck on the side of his cheek.

Time stops, the world coming to a halt completely. A moment made in history, one you won't ever forget, fresh in both your minds from forward on.

And then you stagger away as if you've been stabbed.

"Soup!" You squeak, appalled by the sheer boldness of your actions. "I'll go make soup while you rest."

Childe, frozen, stares at you incredibly confused, and then beams.

Dear Archons, what have you done.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe x reader #childe #fanfic #genshin oneshot #kaeya alberich #dottore #genshin tartagalia #tartagila #lumine genshin impact #mona genshin impact #aether #barbara genshin impact #ajax x reader

291 notes · View notes

darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Word count: 2K

Warnings: bullet wounds, hospital, swearing.

Oh darling, please believe me

I’ll never do you no harm…

The music reverberated through the whole floor. You danced around, and Bucky was the only one that joined you, if not a little shyly. Tony sat on the couch flipping through some news and sighed as he asked you to change to a better music.

“Nothing is better than The Beatles, Stark”, you said in between laughs, and Bucky flipped you in the air. His strength almost matched Loki’s, and you weren’t afraid of him dropping you to the floor.

Believe me when I tell you,

I’ll never do you no harm.

“Uh, I beg to differ”, he raised an eyebrow, still with his eyes on his current research. “By the way, are you coming to the next mission?”.

“I’ll ask Loki. I told him he could join me”.

“Well?”, he inquired, pointing with his head at the door from your room. You didn’t know if you wanted to say it out loud. The common room had not only Tony, but also Bucky, Steve and Clint. You sighed. "He's sleeping".

"Liar. You wouldn't be here".

“Okay. He’s out now”.

“Where? It’s four in the morning”, he laughed, and then dropped his news to look at you with concern, realizing. “Oh”.

“No, it’s not… it’s not what you think. He goes on walks to keep his mind busy”, you lied.

“Sure. At four in the morning”.

Oh darling, if you leave me,

I’ll never make it alone.

“Yes, we don’t question his ways, okay? He’s been feeling bad”, you defended him, and turned the music higher. With a hand gesture, you invited Steve to dance with you. He chuckled and accepted it.

Truth was, you had no idea where Loki was now. He kissed you goodnight when he thought you were asleep, muttered something along the lines of I’m sorry, I’ll get this fixed, and left around midnight. He should have been in bed by now, and you couldn’t call him or check on him in any way. Not without compromising the secretism, anyway.

And you were upset. You were so, so upset, because you’ve had fights about this for the past week, and still he thought it best to just do as he pleased when you were supposedly asleep. You were so, so upset. But concerned at best, because he never told you what his plan was about. He had no regard for his safety. He could be getting injured, at best. He could be getting killed under the hands of the Mad Titan or whoever huge predecessor of Layfey that would be guarding the throne. He could be getting hurt and killed and in pain and he blocked you out so you could do nothing about it.

So you danced. You drank coffee to keep you awake until he came home, and moved your hips to the rhythm of the music. Trying to forget the matter for a while.

Believe me when I beg you,

Don’t ever leave me alone.

“Hey”, called Thor, walking in with the pillow marks on his face. “Turn down that thing, it’s too late”, he asked. “Oh, you’re here. Where is my brother? Sleeping?”.

“On a long and weird walk”, said Clint without looking away from Steve’s awful dance moves. He was getting ready to pull off his phone and become famous on tiktok. You spinned under Steve’s old-fashioned steps.

“Walk? At these hours?”, he laughed. “My brother doesn’t do that”.

“Yes, he does”, you said nonchalantly, trying to hide your unease. Maybe you should’ve stayed in your room. That way, your loneliness in the late night wouldn’t be too evident.

You had grabbed Loki by the wrist before he left. He knew he didn’t leave you sleeping—you asked him to stay. You told him there was nothing he could do about it anymore. He murmured he could and he would, and the mere thought of being able to fix it all kept him up at night anyway, so he might as well go and get it.

You told him if he loved you he would stay. He told you he was doing this because he loved you. He told you it was the —only— way to keep both of you safe and together. You thought he was wrong, and that thought remained there, eating your brains alive, while you tried to dance it out. A knot in your throat kept you from talking any further.

When you told me you didn't need me anymore,

Well you know I nearly broke down and cried.

When you told me you didn't need me anymore,

Well you know I nearly broke down and died.

“Where is Loki?”, asked Thor once again, coming out of his room when the sun had already setted widely on the sky. No rain, a clear day, perfect for flying. The mission would start in the next three hours, and you were still waiting.

“Look, I really need to get a confirmation on whether I’m having you on the mission or not”, said Tony, losing his patience. “He’ll come back at some point, but you don’t need to worry about him. He’s a God on Earth. What would happen? He’d get mugged and stab the damn robber?”, he joked, and you pretended to laugh.

“You’re right. I’m going, count me in”.

Where was he, now?

Something was for sure, he was away.

And a week had passed. A whole week with its seven days, and you've received no notice whatsoever of your lover.

Thor seemed to know, yet he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He said it wasn't his place. He said he didn't know what Loki was thinking about. He said he didn't want to misinterpret his messages. He said a lot of things and none of them were comforting. None of them fulfilled your need to know —where is he, is he well, is he traveling, is he locked up, is he dead, is he with someone else, is he ever coming back, is he even trying to communicate—what's going on?

In the quinjet, you looked down the window. Bucky and Thor were in front of you, and Tony by your side, explaining the steps of the next mission. You weren't listening much. Just nodded. You knew those things never went as planned —having plans would usually get worse outcomes, from your experience. Plans wouldn't work.

You had one small plan; climb a mountain. You were going to a marvelous place, and you always wanted to climb them. It was completely possible you could get a few hours off, if not half a day to go and get it. You'd maybe convince your teammates.

Whatever you could do to keep your mind away from Loki's suicidal mission, whatever that may be.

"Buckle up, fellas", said Tony, getting into his suit already. "There's fighting to get through right now. We'll have to do the brainy part after".

And just like that, Thor with Mjölnir in hand, Bucky ripping off his sleeve and you getting your boots adjusted, jumped off the quinjet and landed on soft grass.

There weren't many people you had to fight. They were just very strong. You held your grip to Tony's suit as he flew with you all around the forest.

The rest… you might know how it goes. As it always does. You’re too reckless—words from everyone on the team, all the time—and you jumped off too quickly to catch Bucky’s bullet.

“Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?”, yelled Bucky as he approached you. He applied pressure on the bullet wound and you gasped for your dear air as you felt a little dizzier and dizzier.

“You were about to get shot!”, you justified.

“I’m a supersoldier, you fucking idiot”.

“Do I look like I make rational decisions on the run?”.

“Here, as you lay on the floor bleeding out from an unnecessary bullet wound that would’ve been a fucking scratch on me? Yeah, no shit, you make great decisions on the run”.

“I thought you were shy to talk”.

“No, I just keep my mouth shut because people aren’t so stupid for me to talk back to them, but you just…”.

“Agh!”, you contorted in pain and then James decided to stop bitching about how you saved him from the hit—when he so clearly wanted to get shot instead—why would he care so much? “Could you… take me to the quinjet? There’s gotta be like a first aid kit in there or something”.

“What? You gonna put a bandaid over the bullet and call it a day? Come on, I’m taking you to the medbay”.

“No way, Buck. They’ll get me to a hospital for the day and won’t let me participate on the mission. Come on, just patch me up a little and don’t say anything”.

James rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“No”.

He took you to the medbay, and, as you predicted, you spent the night in the hospital. The whole night, and woke up the next morning in that same goddamn white bed with white sheets, surrounded by white walls and white everything. Except a dusted friend, who had been holding your hand the whole time.

Bucky, scratched from head to toe and very clearly lacking a shower and a good night of sleep, didn’t let go of your hand even when you woke up. And damn you who were only thinking about how that should be Loki by your side.

“Hey, morning sleepy head”.

“What are you doing here? You should be on the mission”, you reproached him with a smile. “Not here, being a good friend and all”.

“I wanted a day off work”.

You laughed. He seemed too tired to even move.

“Thanks”, you sighed, and looking out of the window, heard the door opening and Tony Stark walking in. “Oh, sorry boss”.

“Call me boss again and you’re fired”, he said, sitting on the foot of your bed. “You reckless, irresponsible idiot. You should be fired for this alone. You’re a danger to the team and especially to yourself”.

“Come on. I defended a member of the team”.

“You jumped in front of a supersoldier about to get a fucking mosquito bite out of a bullet, that's what you fucking did”.

“The spirit is what counts, after all?”, you tried, and he laughed shortly, only to come back with a meaner expression.

“Hell no”.

“At least I can go back to work today, right?”, you tried. Tony just laughed—that bastard. Fucking asshole. And where was Thor? Was he with his brother? No that he’d say anything.

Wow. Painkillers made you bitchy.

“We’re both taking the day to get you recovered, and Stark and Thor will handle the mission. Tomorrow you get back if you’re well rested and in enough shape, alright?”, explained Bucky with a softness that almost made you vomit. He was sugarcoating it—surrounding it with nice-sounding words and a soft-spoken voice.

“No way I came all the way here to not do shit and let you do all of the things I’m supposed to do”.

“We could climb that mountain you wanted to”, he tried, and then you were out of words. You thought about it for a few seconds.

“Okay”.

“Are you crazy? They’s got stitches. They can’t make efforts. Bed rest”, fought Tony. Bucky winked at you.

“That’s why I’m going with them. I’m gonna make sure they don’t get any worse, alright?”.

“Make sure they gets better”.

“Consider it done, chief”.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 , @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @enderslove, @theonewiththenerds )

26 notes · View notes

superbadassnatural · 4 years

Text

A Lot to Make up For

Summary: Dean threw a fit when he saw something he didn’t like. To say you were angry with him was an understatement. The least thing he could do was make-up for his behavior. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 4,647 Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, little bit of spanking, jealous!Dean, mentions of fwb relationship, a bit of crack? A/N: this was written for “SPN Bi-Weekly Challenge” hosted by the amazing @supernatural-jackles. There are three prompts in this one and they are all bolded. I’m trying to understand why tumblr flagged this post when I uploaded the gif I made, which is similar to this one, but not flagged it when I used someone else’s. Either way, at least one of them worked. Please, enjoy it!

(x)

When you decided to come to the bar, you didn’t expect it to be this crowded. Loud conversations competed with the sound of the electronic music. Somehow you managed to find an empty barstool and ran for it. You ordered a beer, sipping at it, unsure of what you were really doing here.

You needed a night out. It had been a while since you last went out by yourself. You usually hung out with the boys, but this time you didn’t want to. It’s not like you didn’t want to be around them, you just wanted to enjoy some quality time alone.

A man sat beside you. He seemed to be around your age and he was definitely a sight for sore eyes. The man turned to you, introduced himself, and started a small talk that turned into an interesting — and mostly funny — conversation.

Andrew was good to be around. He was a stranger, but he somehow knew how to make you laugh. He even bought you a couple of beers and fries.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out of the bar and have your way with him between the sheets. Or maybe it was the way he was flirting with you that was making those thoughts run through your mind. You didn’t even notice he was that close to you. Your knees brushed each other under the wooden counter. His knuckles ran down your forearm. Every now and then his brown eyes would descend to your lips as you spoke. He wanted it as much as you did.

“You know, I was thinking...” he scooted closer, eyes leaving yours to dart to your painted lips. “Maybe we should-“

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice interrupted him.

Dean. He stepped towards you, a smile playing on his lips. Both you and Andrew frowned.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart,” his hand made its way to your waist as he planted a kiss to the side of your head.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his hold.

“I was worried sick, baby,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew stepped in just as confused as you. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dean, her boyfriend,” he beamed, holding out his hand, but Andrew didn’t take it. “Listen, thanks, man, for taking care of her. I’m glad you were keeping her company. Who knows what would happen if you weren’t here. Maybe some bastard would’ve tried to take advantage of her.”

“Her boyfriend?” The man was trying to wrap his mind around what Dean was saying.

“No!” You jumped it.

“Yeah,” he said at the same time as you did. “I don’t know why she’s saying I’m not.”

“Sorry, man,” he looked at you as if you were some lying bitch. “She told me she was single.”

“I am single! He’s my friend.”

“Well, I don’t know if she’s told you, but she suffers from short-term memory loss,” Dean pursed his lips.

What the hell is he talking about, you thought to yourself.

“You know, like Dory from Finding Nemo,” he added. “She probably forgot we were dating. She’s probably going to forget about you too so I suggest you go away. If she forgets you and sees you, she won’t understand a thing. It’ll only make her poor mind even more confused.”

“It must be hard to deal with that,” Andrew sighed, buying Dean’s crap. “Well, I’ll leave you guys be. Sorry about that, man.”

Andrew headed out of the bar. You were too dumbfounded by the whole situation to go after him and explain that your best friend was delusional. He probably wouldn’t believe it anyway. Dean burst into laughter.

“Are you out of your mind?” You nearly roared at him, slapping his hands off of you.

“Oh, you gotta admit that was funny,” he gushed between laughter.

“No, Dean, it wasn’t,” you glared at him. “It was ridiculous and extremely disrespectful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

You stormed out of the bar with Dean hot on your tail. Your blood was boiling. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just let you get some tonight? You stopped in front of your car and turned to him.

“Get lost, Winchester. I don’t want you near me tonight.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’m your best friend. I’m your favorite person in this whole world,” he bargained.

“Best friend?” You chuckled humorlessly. “Since when best friends do stuff like that? Seriously, Dean, that was low even for you. I don’t wanna see you tonight or tomorrow or for the rest of the week! Not even if you’re covered in gold.”

“Not even if I’m naked and covered in gold with your favorite chocolate?”

“No. Actually, the thought of you naked just made me throw up in my mouth a little.”

“Well, that wasn’t what you said a few days ago,” he had the cockiest grin playing on his lips. Maybe he thought he could charm his way and you would forgive him.

“Fuck you,” you sneered. “If you do so much as follow me, I’m gonna murder you!”

Hopping in your car, you turned the engine and headed home. Your hands gripped tight the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. You couldn’t for the life of you understand what had gotten into him. He’d never acted like that. He didn’t have the right to.

In about ten minutes you arrived at the condominium you live in. Parking in your spot, you let out a frustrated sigh before climbing off the car. You were glad he didn’t follow you. At least he had a little respect for you.

As you stepped foot into your apartment you rushed to the bathroom. A shower would do wonders for your tense muscles. Maybe it would even wash your anger away. You turned on the water and checked the temperature before hopping in. You relaxed immediately as the warm water hit your skin.

Although you felt more relaxed after showering, your mind was still on a thousand miles per hour. Dean had never behaved the way he did tonight. Throughout your eleven years of friendship, he had never disrespected you or crossed any boundaries. But tonight he did. Maybe he was angry because you decided to hit a bar and didn’t invite him. It doesn’t justify his behavior.

You’d be lying if you said you were just friends. Over a year ago, after many drinks you and Dean had sex. It was nice, but you barely remembered anything the following morning. So you did it sober. It might have been a dumb idea, but boy it felt good. Dean suggested you should keep doing that and you agreed. No strings attached. No exclusivity. Just two friends blowing off some steam every now and then.

What you have with Dean doesn’t give him the right to act the way he did. He’s not your boyfriend. Both of you agreed that it was okay to see other people and even have sex with them — always with protection. Aside from Dean, you only had sex with one person since you started to fool around. Now, when you finally got the chance to hang out with some guy, he decided to show up and throw a fit? Who does he think he is?

“Ah, screw him,” you mumbled.

Shifting into your ideal sleeping position, your body relaxed on the mattress. Thank God for memory foam. It didn’t take long for tiredness to take over and for you to drift off to sleep.

The unceasing sound of the doorbell ringing startled you. You stood to your feet abruptly, but soon regretted when you felt dizzy. Putting on your robe, you headed to the front door not even bothering to look through the peephole. It seemed to be some kind of emergency. No one would be ringing the doorbell this late if it wasn’t urgent. Unlocking the door, you opened it.

“Hey. How can I-“ you stopped once you met his green eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry-“

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you hissed, trying to push the door close but his feet stopped you.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t care. It’s fucking three in the morning. I have to get up early to go to work,” your hand gripped tight to the knob, ready to close the door in his face if he tried to come in. “I’m sorry, but not everyone works for their dad and can show up late everyday.”

“We both know tomorrow is your day off,” he said. “Please let me in. I need to talk to you. Then you can kick me out and go back to your beauty sleep.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, stepping aside for him to come in. “But only because I’m mad at you and I’m in the mood for a fight.”

“Can we fight so we can have angry make-up sex later?” A smirk appeared on his plump lips.

“Sex with you?” You snickered. “Never again.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “It’s been two weeks since we had some fun.”

“Did you come here so you could get laid? Did ou wake me up just so you could have sex with me? Really, Dean?”

“No, of course not. If I wanted to have sex with you, I would have texted you first,” he said. “I came here to apologize.”

“Oh, so you know you screwed up. Good.”

“Would you let me finish?” You rolled your eyes crossing your arms over your chest. “I came here to surprise you. I thought we could have a sleepover since you don’t have to go to work tomorrow. I even brought my Die Hard collection so we could watch it tonight. I bought two slices of pie on the way. Cherry for me and apple for you. Imagine my surprise when I open the door and there’s not a single light on.”

“So what? Are you telling me that it’s my fault now? I should have stayed home waiting for you?” You pointed your finger at him. “Is that the reason why you did what you did at the bar?”

“I looked for you everywhere. Then Jess told me you went out for a drink at Hardy’s. So I went after you. When I saw that guy with his hands all over you, I flipped. I knew I couldn’t punch him and start a fight so I did that.”

“You know you’re not my boyfriend, right? Or my father for that matter?” You stepped closer to him. “So why did you have to ruin things for me tonight? I’ve never done anything like that to you. Never! Why did you have to be such an idiot?”

“I was jealous, okay?” He growled.

“It still doesn’t give you the right to do that, Dean,” you yelled at him. “You know, Dean, every time you, Sam, and I go to a bar, you leave us on the table to hit on the bartender. I wouldn’t have a problem with that if your brother was single. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jess, but if Sam was single then he’d hit on someone and I’d be free to do that too. Or even better, I could make out with him!” You exclaimed, knowing it would piss him off. “Oh, Jess told me some things that you probably don’t wanna know, but they were really interesting. In case you don’t know, girls talk about sex too. From what she’s told me, I bet he’s better than you. I mean, he’s definitely bigger so-“

“Shut up!” He yelled. You could see his jaw tightening as the veins in his neck throbbed.

“You know what’s even worse? When Jess comes with us, I’m third-wheeling most of the time. For some reason, they won’t let me get two feet away from them.”

“I hit on the bartenders to make you jealous. It’s all fake,” he nearly barked. “I thought that maybe if I did that I’d get a reaction from you because I’m too much of a coward to do the right thing.”

“You do remember our agreement, right? Just sex. No feelings. We are non-exclusive. We can see other people and even have sex. We made a bunch of rules back in that day. One of them was no cockblocking,” your blood was boiling in your veins. You could feel your anger grow with every word you said.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I couldn’t just stand there and watch that son of a bitch getting all handsy.”

“While you were having fun with bartenders and girls you met every time we went out, I was alone. Since we started this, I��ve only had sex with one person and it was-“

“Terrible. I know you said the guy was awful.”

“It’s not that I think I should be having sex with half of the men in town, but if you can have sex with everyone you want then why can’t I? Every time I try to hang out with someone, I get sabotaged.”

“Ever since we started this, I’ve only had sex with you. I tried to be with someone else but it didn’t work because she wasn’t you.”

“Oh my God, it was you!” Reality downed to you as you ignored him. The sound of your raged heart much louder than his voice. “You sabotaged me every time! The broken lock, flat tires, and all that crap that happened every time I got close to a guy. They were all you.”

“Yeah, it was me,” Dean barked. “You deserve better than those guys.”

“Who gave you the right to do that, you idiot? Why did you have to do that?”

“Because I love you dammit!” His voice was much louder, causing you to flinch.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem!” You yelled back at him.

You spun around completely done with him, your head was pounding in your skull. The last thing you saw before storming out of the apartment was his jaw wiring shut as his eyes filled with rage.

The door slammed with a loud thud, startling Dean. He was pulled out of his angry trance when he noticed he was standing alone in the middle of your apartment. He knew he had screwed up big time. He’d not planned on confessing his feelings to you tonight. Especially not like this.

You stood dumbstruck in the hall just outside your door. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were peacefully asleep, the other you and Dean were almost jumping at each other’s throats. He shouldn’t have said he loves you. And you shouldn’t have stormed out the way you did.

“God, what have I done?” you sighed.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the corridor. You didn’t want to turn around. You couldn’t face him.

“You realize you just stormed out of your apartment, right?” He let out a small chuckle to try to light up the mood.

“You see what you do to me?” You turned around to face him. His green eyes held anything but anger. “You make me so mad that I do stupid things like storming out of my own home when I should’ve kicked you out.”

“Hey, you don’t need me to do stupid things. You can do that on your own,” he held his hands up, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. “Now let’s get inside, shall we?”

You only nodded, following him back inside.

“So what do we do now, huh?” He asked, shutting the door.

“You don’t love me. I mean- you do, but as your best friend.”

“No, Y/N, I love you as more than my best friend.”

“Stop,” you argued. “You can’t, okay? Or you’re gonna ruin everything.”

“Ruin what? We both know this is not a friends with benefits shit. It never was.”

“Dean-“

“This is not one-sided and you know it, Y/N,” he said, voice deeper than usual. “What we did… what we do is not just sex. Or do I have to tell you how many times we actually made love?”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice wavered.

“Because I love you, Y/N.”

“Then don’t. You’re screwing things up.”

“Why can’t you just admit it? Why is it so hard for you to finally say it?”

“I can’t risk losing you,” you said low enough that he almost didn’t hear you. Almost. “The moment we take that step there’s no going back and I can’t risk losing you. I can’t.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he placed his hands on both sides of your hips, his body incredibly close to yours.

“You can’t promise me that.”

“You’re right. I can’t, but I’ll do anything to be with you.”

Fingers curling in the collar of his flannel, you pulled him to you, capturing his lips with yours. Your heart skipped a beat as he returned the kiss. It was slow at first, almost uncertain. The soft press of his lips made you melt into his touch. Your tongue caressed his plump lips in a plea for him to allow you to delve into his mouth. A muffled moan escaped his lips as his hands came up to cup your face, thumb circling your cheek.

You pulled away in need of air. Your eyes were still closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t know about you but I’m still down for some angry make-up sex,” he said between panted breaths.

“Dean-“

“Stop denying what you want, Y/N.”

Swallowing thick, you opened your eyes only to meet his green orbs hooded with lust. With arms around his neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist, lips colliding with his. Warm hands held you by the back of your thighs as he walked towards your bedroom. He pushed you against the wall, placing you back on the floor. His lips graced the skin of your neck with sweet yet hungry kisses. Your body was pressed flush to him. You could feel his heart beating fast against your chest and his growing bulge against your pelvis. A moan left your lips as one of his hands hiked up your leg and squeezed your thigh over the silky robe. Dean pressed himself to you and you bucked your hips, the feeling of his erection against your soaked pussy setting your body on fire.

Hurried hands fumbled with the knot tying your robe. He pushed it off your shoulders, revealing your naked before him, the soft material pooling around your feet.

“Fuck,” he said in a low grunt as his eyes wandered over your bare chest.

A smile spread on your lips. Always the same reaction from him. You unbuttoned his flannel, dropping it to the floor. As Dean yanked his white shirt over his head, your hands reached for his naked torso, traveling down to his abdomen and stopping over his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He pulled down his pants, standing in front of you only in his boxers. You pushed him towards the bed, straddling his hips as he sat. Hungry lips captured his plump, pink ones, his hands snaked to your back. The soft touch of his fingertips sending shivers down your spine.

“Need you,” a breathy moan escaped your lips.

Dean’s back met the softness of the mattress, green eyes sparkling at the sight of you on top of him. You leaned and his hands reached for your breasts. Fingers nipped at your hardened bud as his mouth enveloped the other. His name escaped your lips in a tiny whimper as you rolled your hips against him. He released your nipple with a pop and planted kisses everywhere he could touch.

You pushed down his boxers, revealing his hard cock in all its glory. Your small hand wrapped around his length, stroking it before circling the head with your thumb.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hissed. “Want you. I need to taste you. Come up here.”

You crawled up, knees around his broad shoulders. As your hands met the headboard, he lowered your body to his face. Dean wanted to take his time. He peppered open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs. He ran his nose over your folds and you let out a frustrated moan.

“Stop teasing.”

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” although you didn’t see it, you felt his lips curl into a smirk.

“I need to cum.”

Three teasing licks from your slit to clit caused your breath to hitch on your throat. He wanted to drive you insane and he definitely knew how to do it. Dean licked and sucked your most sensitive parts. Parts he knew by heart. His tongue entered your channel and you saw stars. Fingers finding their course to his hair, gripping it to the point of pain. A guttural grunt from him made your whole body shudder. You tried to buck your hips against his sinful mouth, but his strong grip on your hips restrained your movements. He kept pushing his tongue as far as he could, tasting your sweetness as he feasted. Muffled moans and husky hums escaped his lips, reverberating through your soaked folds. He enjoyed this as much as you did.

“Hmm, yes,” you moaned.

When you felt his grasp on you loosen, you rolled your hips. All your self-consciousness fading as the need to come grew stronger. Your hands dropped to the mattress, ass angling up. His tongue started to circulate your clit, sending small shivers through your body. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on his hand stroking his cock slowly. Your cunt clenched around nothing. His teeth grazed over your bundle of nerves, nipping slightly. The burning coil in your abdomen tightened. Dean sealed his lips around your clit and you went off as a rocket. Your legs trembled around his head as he kept sucking. Waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Fuck, Dean,” you yelled out his name along with a bunch of obscenities.

Dean moaned as he lapped at your juices. He licked you clean until you rode out your orgasm. He kissed your sensitive clit before helping you scooting down so you could meet his face.

“Hi,” you smiled as you laid on top of him.

“Hey,” his plump lips were shining with your release, his cheeks a bright pink.

You leaned to capture his lips. A moan was muffled by his mouth as you tasted yourself in his tongue. The kiss didn’t last though. Both of you were in some serious need of air to make it last.

“I bet the neighbors know my name,” he beamed with the cockiest smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” with a roll of eyes, you started to plant open-mouthed kisses down his throat.

“You know they do. Especially after tonight. The way you-“ he stopped as you sucked at a sensitive spot on the side of his neck. “Shit, Y/N. Need to be inside you.”

He flipped you onto your back, laying on top of you. His lips attacked yours in a hungry, bruising kiss. Your hand reached for his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

“No, not like this. I have other things in mind,” he said with a crooked grin. “On all fours, sweetheart.”

Dean pulled away and you did as told. Your ass perked up and his warm hands gripped your hips. He squeezed your skin and you groaned in anticipation. The tip of his cock circled your entrance.

“Please,” a sweet little cry escaped your lips.

You whimpered as he pushed inside you ever so slow. His massive size stretching your walls to fit him. Dean groaned. He slid out almost completely before thrusting into you with such force that you gasped.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted. “You feel so good. So tight.”

His blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly. Sweat broke through your body as your breath started to come in short spurts. His hand collided with your right cheek, causing your body to jerk. Then he did the same to the other one and you hissed. Dean leaned against you, kissing your shoulder blade.

“You like this, don’t you?” His voice barely upon a whisper, hot breath fanning at your clammy skin. “You like it when I take you just… like… this?” His thrusts matched his words, sending you over the edge once again.

“Yes!”

His hand smacked harder at your right cheek as he pulled away. That definitely was going to leave a mark. Your skin tingling at the stingy sensation. He slammed in and out of you like a madman. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room along with shameless cries and husky grunts. The heat in your core started to grow even more. You fell forward into the mattress, fingers curling the sheets. Your walls pulsated around him as your orgasm hit you abruptly. Dean sent another five deep-seated thrusts and had you screaming into the pillow in pure ecstasy.

You were so lost in the feeling that you didn’t notice Dean flipping you into your back. He leaned down nuzzling into your neck, before sliding back into you. He kept driving in and out of you, his breath erratic. Your hands slapped against his back, nails digging into his skin, heels digging into his ass. You needed as much of him as you could get.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” he nearly pleaded as he pulled away from your neck.

His hips pistoned against yours, sloppy thrusts aiming for the final push. The thumps of the headboard banging against the wall mixed with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. Dean delivered three deep thrusts before his body stiffened. He held himself there as he painted your walls white with his seed. Your orgasm rippled through you. You clenched around him so tight, milking his cock for all its worth. His green orbs locked in your lust blown eyes as his lips parted in a perfect “o” shape, mirroring your expression, though no sound came from any of you. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as pleasure washed through you.

Dean collapsed on top of you, his head nuzzling in the curve of your neck. He placed a kiss to your skin before rolling to his side. Both of you waited for your breaths to even. Only then, when the room had grown quiet, you noticed the orange glow in the room caused by the strays of sunshine that managed to get past the blinds.

“Hot damn,” he let out a content sigh.

“What we did tonight… it should be illegal,” you half-chuckled.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he had a stupid grin on his face the whole time.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you pouted. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Really? C’mon! I thought I had made myself up to you by making you come three times. Wasn’t that enough?”

“Of course not! You cockblocked me. Who knows how many times I would’ve cum if I was with that guy,” you shrugged.

“None. Plus, he doesn’t love you so it wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as this was.”

“You still need to make yourself up to me. ’Sides, you didn’t even tie the record, Dean. I’ve made myself come more times using just my fingers and a couple of toys.”

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

“Only if you wanted it to be,” you smirked.

Dean rolled over you, his hand making its way to cup your mound. “I bet you still have my cum dripping from this tight pussy.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Please, consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Dean Sweethearts:

@maya-craziness @akshi8278 @spookytaylors @thisismysecrethappyplace @witch-of-letters

#spn bi-weekly writing challenge #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #Supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #dean x reader #deanreader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #supernatural x reader

183 notes · View notes

hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Harringrove April Day 23- Picnic

Billie’s used to seeing Steph in the kinds of fancy clothes she wasn’t even allowed to touch on the rack, but this, this is on a whole other level.

She showed up at her door, unannounced like usual, but when Steph answers, she’s dressed like a full on southern belle, a lacy floral dress down to her ankles, heavy makeup like she almost never wore, her brown hair all done up and wearing a little sun hat with a ribbon. Billie was willing to bet she probably even had a matching lace parasol somewhere.

“Oh honey, what are you wearing?” She snickers, not even trying to hide her amusement at the way her girlfriend is dressed.

“Shut up.” Steph snaps, blushing, though it goes mostly unnoticed under all that rouge, and steps aside to let Billie in, white kitten heels clicking against the hardwood floors.

“Are you wearing bloomers under there?” She grabs one of the many layers of dress and lifts it, getting her hand swatted away and scolded, ”Billie!”

She holds her hands up, got caught red handed, and Steph rolls her eyes, explaining her ridiculous ensemble, “Ruthie’s making me go to one of her stupid mother-daughter bonding things. We’re going on a picnic once she gets dressed.” She adds under her breath, like she’d already been waiting for a while, “Which knowing her will be another few hours at least.”

“So she made you put on your nicest princess dress just for what? To go sit in the dirt and eat cucumber sandwiches?” Billie teases, slightly surprised when Steph agrees with her, ranting, “Exactly! I’ve been complaining about it for years but it’s always the same, Stephanie listen to your mother, Stephanie do what I tell you, Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie.”

Maybe a little more aggressive than is necessary, egged on by how upset her girlfriend was when she was normally the one who didn’t complain, Billy remarks, “How about, Stephanie wake the hell up and realize you don’t owe it to your mommy to play dress up with her just so she feels like she’s a good mother?”

“That’s a bit harsh.” Steph tells her, defensive and a little taken aback.

“Why do you think she even does these things, Steph? It’s sure as all hell not because she wants to spend time with you.” Her tone shifts very quickly from teasing and comical to serious, defensive even, and it makes Steph feel like she did something wrong. “She thinks it makes up for it if she comes around once every few months. Even then she’s still forcing you to be this perfect daughter.”

It’s not like she doesn’t see where her girlfriend is coming from, but that’s her mom, she’s not just going to let Billie say all that stuff about her. “That’s not even fair, Billie. My mom’s not like, evil or something just because she doesn’t get me.”

“Baby you’ve got to see the pattern here. She doesn’t get you because she doesn’t even know you.”

“It is just a picnic, Billie. That’s not- That’s not some horrible, manipulative master plan made up by my abusive mother or something.”

“I know that, sweetheart. But you can’t keep making excuses for her just because she takes two seconds out of her ‘busy’ day to make you do something you don’t even want to.” Steph realizes then that Billie doesn’t give two shits about Ruthie, that this is about her, and her girlfriend would be doing the same thing no matter who it was that had made her upset.

Steph is still processing that when Billie softens up a bit, maybe sensing that she’s been figured out and telling her gently, “Look, if you actually want to go to this thing, then go, by all means please do, but you have to quit justifying your decision. And you gotta promise you won’t just be doing it for her either.”

“I wouldn’t be. I promise.” Steph assures her, taking up her hand and asking Billie sweetly, “Could you come with me though?”

“‘Course I will, but if you think you’re dressing me up like that-“ She motions to Steph’s outfit, “then you’ve got another thing coming, baby girl.”

“Why not? I have to do it.” But Billie firmly denies her again, so Steph decides to sweeten her offer, “You wouldn’t seriously deny your girlfriend the chance to see your tits in a bustier, would you?”

Billie makes a face like she’s thinking, and that wide toothy smile appears on her face again as she agrees, “Only if after we get back, you make sure I’m wearing nothing but?”

Steph agrees, dragging Billie up the steps to get dressed, ”Deal.”

#harringrove #harringroveapril #fem! harringrove #billy x steve #story by ej!#ej writer #a rare femme harringrove for y’all #I would like to write more about them but like I just don’t have any ideas that would benefit from them being women instead you know

27 notes · View notes

novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1.6K~

Summary: The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

A Greg and Steven focused fic, set when Steven is freshly four. This is one of those I had on the poll a month or so back, ahah! Finally finished it. Apologies for the wait. The good news is that my list is now whittled down to three non-Crack the Paragon WIPS! Woo! That’s rather exciting.

There’s some brief meta rambles on the AO3 version. If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

“Where’s yours, Daddy?”

The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

“My...?” Smiling encouragingly, he lets the word dangle unfinished in the air for a moment, and gestures to try and prompt the little tyke to continue. “My what, kiddo? My... pajamas?” he says, pointing towards each item his kid bears in succession. “My... stuffed tiger? My very own... tickle monster?!”

In the spirit of good-hearted mischief, Greg tousles his boy’s dark, flyaway curls. When he then moves his hands to tickle his sides, Steven breaks into delighted peals of laughter, squirming nonstop.

“Noooooo,” he giggles breathlessly, batting his small pudgy hands at him to stop the affectionate onslaught. “No tickles, your gem! Like mine! You ‘aven’t never showed it.”

In an instant, the small universe encapsulated inside their van freezes, and he goes momentarily slack-jawed as he struggles to process the words that just came out of his son’s mouth.

“My- w-where’s my gem?”

He lets out a low chuckle at the absurd thought— imagine that, him, having a gem of his own! Where on Earth did his kid acquire this notion? And then... his memory can’t help but drift back to a few hours earlier, when Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl spent a mission-free day with Steven on the beach, surrounded by all manners of summer tourists. Humans coexisting amongst Gems, most entirely nonplussed by their otherworldly appearances. Steven was eagerly padding across the shore in his brand new swim trunks— the pair he received for his birthday just a week ago— the quartz gem at his navel on proud display. Midway through the afternoon, though, the kiddo seemed to become strangely preoccupied by all the human beachgoers. He’d glance at people’s faces, their sternums, their exposed navels, and then scowl in confusion. At one point he excitedly ran up to a dark skinned young woman with hair like Garnet’s to give her a high-five, and returned puzzled, his lips pressed in a thin line. At the time, Greg didn’t understand what all of his bewildered, curious gawking was about, and quietly instructed him not to bother other people. But now, given this latest comment, a theory builds in his mind... oh stars, was he looking for their gems?

Did he somehow assume both from his own and from his frequency of interaction with Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl that everyone had one hidden somewhere?

Swallowing, he deliberately makes it a point to mask his nervousness about this topic in front of his impressionable four-year-old child as best he can. Oh, boy. They haven’t had this sort of conversation yet. He always kinda feared it was coming, coursing towards him like a tidal wave faster and faster with each passing moment, but never in a million years did he imagine this moment would be tonight. And now, his tongue dry as a stone in his mouth, he finds himself at a complete loss for words. As best he knows, there’s no one else even remotely like Steven in the entire universe. How does one even convey this concept to their child in terms they’d understand?

Because even if he— ignoring the rose quartz gemstone embedded flush with his skin where a typical kid’s belly button would be— looks the part, Steven isn’t human. That much is obvious. That’s simply a fact. Humans don’t glow as babies. They don’t grow so ramrod still while sleeping that they appear like they’re not breathing at all. They can’t casually lift double their body weight at the tender age of four. Not to mention, in all his years of life thus far, he’s never gotten sick. Never gotten a scrape or cut that didn’t heal up completely in less than an hour. Not once. There’s no way that’s by mere coincidence, Greg muses, there’s gotta be another reason. He’s gotta have some sort of mega-boosted immune system or something, or magically healing cells. No branch of human science can successfully justify the alien nuances of his son’s existence. He just... is. He’s a walking miracle, the light of his life.

Steven’s never been a normal child, that’s for sure.

But how is a father supposed to lovingly and sensitively explain this to innocent ears?

“I, erm- I don’t have one of those, bud,” he says slow, still desperately sorting through his thoughts to figure out what else to say about this.

The kid stubbornly wriggles free from his arms, lifting up the bottom hem of his baggy pajama shirt to showcase the glittering pink gemstone resting at the center of his belly. “But I got one, an’ Amethyst an’ Pearl got one, an’ Garnet, she- guess what,” he says in an attempt at a whisper, wide eyed as if he’s about to impart some sacred knowledge. “She even got two gems!”

“That’s right, she does have two gems!” he nods, only barely holding back his chuckle at the hilarious solemnity of his kid’s proclamation. “But Steven, not everyone has ‘em like you and them. It’s something unique to the four of you. Y’see, they are Gems, just like me and everyone else in town are humans. It’s, um—“ his speech falters as he struggles to find words someone so young could possibly begin to understand— “it’s sorta just who they are.”

The corners of Steven’s mouth turn downwards in an exaggerated pout, and it’s immediately obvious that this blind, clumsy attempt at an explanation didn’t satisfy him one bit. Greg leans back against the inner siding of the van, gently tugging at a strand of his hair as he scours his mind for any potential solutions to this parenting quandary.

Think, think, think... How does one connect this topic to things such a young kid might understand?

“Listen, uh...” he begins again, marked hesitation tinting his voice. “Pearl’s been teaching you about bugs lately, right?”

However, if Steven— bless his heart— happened to notice his heightened nervousness, he sure doesn’t let it show on his face, instead enthusiastically jumping to answer his question.

“Uh-huh!” he nods, and then proceeds to happily babble about what he’s learned, flapping his hands in front of him as he does so. “She tells me all about bumble bees an’ stick bugs, an’ these...” His brow creases as he pauses, combing his memory for the right words. “...fuzzy worms? But they aren’t worms, ‘cause they sleep for really super long and then, then they get wings and fly away!”

He can’t help but smile at his son’s animation about this subject. He soaks up knowledge like a sponge, that’s for sure. Between Pearl and him, they’ve been trying to introduce him to some of the basics lately, stuff kids his age should know. Like reading, and writing, and counting, and music, and basic science. Pearl does the math and science, (those classes were never his wheelhouse in school), and he takes care of everything else. Given, erm... given their kinda strained history, they don’t exactly collaborate on lesson plans, but so far the arrangement seems to be working out okay. Steven’s having fun, at least, which is all that matters in the end.

“Oooh, caterpillars and butterflies, huh?” he says, reaching for the thick blanket folded up against the side wall of the van. “Well, y’wanna learn a cool new thing?”

His son bobs his head, his eyes glittering.

“All those bugs you named?” he begins, unfolding the blanket for the two of them as he goes. “They’re each types of completely different creatures, or, different species, we call ‘em. And humans and Gems, they’re types of species too. And every species has something that makes them unique, different from everything else. You know how all those bugs have special things the others don’t have, like the bumble bees and their stripes, and those caterpillars’ fuzz?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, that’s what it’s like for humans and Gems, too! Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl and you, you all have gemstones, just like yours right here,” he says, tapping a gentle finger over the rose quartz embedded at his midsection. Steven lets out a small giggle at the contact. “That’s your special thing as Gems, something humans don’t have.”

“What’ve humans have?” he asks in curiosity, tilting his head.

Greg purses his lips, his fingers subconsciously massaging the blanket’s rough, time-worn surface as he considers the elements that— from personal experience— he’d consider essential to human life. “Hmm. Well, let’s see... I guess... humans eat, and sleep, and grow from babies all the way until they’re adults. Gems don’t age. They don’t really... do any of that.”

“But I can do that!” he whines, brows creasing.

“Hm?”

“I thought you jus’ said I’m a Gem?”

Greg’s breath stills upon the deliverance of this pointed question, spoken with such youthful innocence, and yet wholly capable of penetrating through every layer of his ill-formed logic. He swallows hard. Once again, he is not prepared. He likely never could be.

His son... oh, his beloved Steven. Without meaning to, he keeps ignoring the inherent humanity that sets this boy apart from the rest of the Gems. He’s similar to them in many respects, yes, but he’s also not. He’s both, but...

He’s also neither.

He’s unique from everyone, his own thing altogether. Something entirely new.

Quite honestly, the best word he can grasp at to describe him is hybrid.

And while at this present moment he has no idea if he’s doing his son a disservice, othering him from the rest of humanity at such a tender age, he figures that he at least deserves to know the truth.

“You’re kinda- uh, both, at once, actually,” he clarifies, these very words acting as a beacon to clarify a wide range of once deep-seeded assumptions in his mind. “Gem and human. You’ve got special things from both sides, how funky is that?”

“Huh.” Steven mulls this new information over, and then flashes a toothy grin. “That's cool!”

#su #steven universe #greg universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

53 notes · View notes

hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Physical Fatality Part 13- Icarus

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warning for very slight suicidal themes this fic has a happy ending I swear

Masterlist

Agony.

Losing you is agony.

Endeavor is lecturing him for pulling the stunt with Bakugo earlier that day but he can’t hear or really process any of it when all he can think about is the fact you’ve blocked his number and seem to want nothing to do with him. He vaguely registers words of “I told you so” and “I warned you” and even a word or two about a demotion but none of it matters. Hawks doesn’t know how to do anything but be a hero. It’s been the driving force behind a lot of the choices he’s made in your relationship and he knows it’s the same for you, but that doesn’t make any of this easier.

“You’re going to have to work really hard to earn my trust back Hawks and the trust of your coworkers,” Endeavor warns. “Understood,” Hawks replies, his voice almost detached. It seems to disconcert Endeavor, the other man being far more accustomed to the snarky Hawks persona than the serious man in front of him now. “Hawks, uhm, do you,” Endeavor stutters suddenly unsure. He coughs to cover his discomfort and clears his throat before resuming. “Do you need to talk about what happened between you and Artemis?” he finally manages to ask. He looks so deeply uncomfortable potentially talking about the subject and his discomfort only grows when Hawks continues to give him nothing back. “That won’t be necessary,” Hawks replies before turning and walking out of the office. If Hawks doesn’t know how to live without hero work, Keigo doesn’t know how to live without you. So his only option is to abandon Keigo until the pain stops.

He can’t have slept more than a handful of hours that night but he still wakes up early the next morning to run an extra patrol before his normally scheduled one. He files paperwork, even revisits old cases, all in a bid to keep you off his mind. Of course it’s not enough to stop his coworkers from whispering. Typically he ignores the gossip of the lower ranking heroes but it’s hard when he knows they’re speculating about you and him. It certainly doesn’t help that your break up was so public and now it feels like nearly all of Japan has watched the video of it happening. Hawks used to be the darling of Endeavor’s agency, beloved by all of his coworkers. Now he’s practically a pariah.

His new outcast status is only made more obvious at the cocktail party later that day. He’d wanted to skip it entirely, the fact you were supposed to be his plus one to the event made it all the more unappealing, but he’s already skating on thin ice and had no legitimate excuse to justify his absence. So instead he watches the other heroes talk and drink and laugh about things while he hides in the corner, too exhausted and heartbroken to put up the persona necessary to maintain conversation. No one seems to ask about him anyway or even care what he thinks despite the fact it’s his personal life that’s become the hottest topic in all of Japan. He wonders if this is how Icarus felt as he plummeted to the earth. Hawks had flown too close to your light and warmth and now he’s fallen from grace. He wonders if it’s true that Icarus laughed as he fell. If so he can empathize. As painful as this fall is, he would live it over and over if it meant he could catch even a glimpse of you again.

When Shoto comes to join him it’s literally the first genuine interaction he’s had all day. “You look like shit,” Shoto comments by way of greeting. “Thanks. Feel like it too,” Hawks replies. He doesn’t have to pretend with Shoto and for that he’s grateful. “Are you ok?” Shoto asks. “Even though I’ve always hated these things I was always so good at them,” Hawks starts in response. “I’d talk, drink, laugh just like everyone’s doing, be the center of attention, play the part of the charming number two hero. And look at me now. I’m so fucking anxious about what they’ll say about me, about her, about us and what happened that I can’t have a proper fucking conversation. I used to be on fire and now I’m standing in the ashes of who I used to be and I’m just fading away. Without her I’m fading away. I’m just as pathetic as she said,” Keigo confesses and it’s a weight off but it also makes the hollow space behind his ribs where you used to live feel all the more prominent. “This right here is kind of pathetic,” Shoto starts, earning him a shocked almost laugh from the other man, “but you are not pathetic Hawks. I think (y/n) knows that, she’s just hurting. Rightfully so. The bullshit with the others in the agency will get better too.” “I don’t know about that one.” “You’re not the only one who’s done dumb or bad shit. Not by a long shot.” “Really?” “You know Iida?” Shoto asks, pointing to the man in question as he obliviously continues his conversation with one of the others present. “Yea. Your year at UA, stickler for the rules. What about him?” Hawks asks. “He chose his internship our first year with the sole intention of trying to hunt down and kill Stain to avenge his brother.” “Really? That guy?” “Yep. My dad isn’t so innocent either: quirk marriage, child abuse, oh the stories I could tell you.” “Jesus Christ.” “Exactly. Everyone has their own shit Hawks. This will pass and hopefully you and (y/n) can find your ways back to each other when it does.”

Shortly after Todoroki finishes speaking his phone rings and he frowns down in confusion when he notices it’s Bakugo calling him. “I didn’t think we had task force business today,” Shoto says as he answers the phone. “We don’t. Is Hawks there with you?” Bakugo asks, his tone betraying his worry. “Yea he is.” “Shit.” “What’s going on Bakugo?” “It’s about (y/n),” Bakugo admits and Shoto’s eyes widen. He casts a look at Hawks before finally deciding to drag the other man with him to an empty office on the floor they’re currently on. He locks the door behind them and then pops his phone on speaker. “Ok you’re on speaker with me and Hawks what’s going on with (y/n)?” Shoto asks, his voice remaining calm. “All Might fired her last night so she was supposed to come in this morning and collect her stuff except instead she pretty much just threw everything away. I came back to patrol and found out she’d left Midoriya and I little gifts on our desk which was weird, so I hit up her roommates and apparently she never went home after she swung by here. I thought she and Hawks may have run off together but if he’s with you...” Bakugo explains. “Maybe she’s just clearing her head or something,” Shoto suggests. “No way. The whole of Japan is gossiping about her right now, the last thing she’d want is to be out in public,” Bakugo quickly refutes. “Was there anything else off about your desks? Drawers opened?” Hawks asks. “Maybe, I wasn’t paying that much attention. Why?” Bakugo asks. “Your task force notes still there?” Hawks asks in lieu of an answer. Hawks and Shoto wait with baited breath as they hear the sound of Bakugo moving around and then opening a desk drawer. “Nope, they’re gone,” Bakugo finally reports back. “Thought so. (Y/n) wouldn’t just roll over and kiss her career goodbye, she’s probably trying to take out the terrorist cell herself and use it as leverage to get her job back,” Hawks deduces. “Alone? That’s a suicide mission,” Shoto says. “Hence the gifts on the desks,” Hawks replies grimly. “Most of our notes are over there with you guys though,” Bakugo points out. As if on cue an alarm starts blaring overhead warning of an intruder. “That’s gotta be her,” Hawks says. “I’m on my way, hold her there so we can talk some sense into that idiot,” Bakugo tells them before promptly hanging up the phone.

Hawks has to give credit where credit is due. As foolhardy as your plan is, it’s incredibly well executed. As a former member of the guest list, you would’ve known everyone would be occupied with the cocktail party on one of the lower floors, far away from where the files you need are. The elevators will take forever with so many people trying to all get upstairs which only leaves the stairs, which are marginally better but still relatively slow. You must have spent most of the night planning this out. That thought fills Hawks with a certain amount of dread. You’re probably emotional and sleep deprived on your way to take on an entire villain group yourself all in a desperate bid to save your career. It almost sounds ludicrous. Yet, as Hawks races to the top floor in hopes of catching you, all he can think of is something you’d once told him during happier times, late at night as you two were wrapped up in each other:

“Honestly Kei? I’d rather die a hero than live long enough to prove those stupid reporters right about me.”

Author’s Note: Does this still count as a double update if I’m posting the second one after midnight 💀 anyway I can’t believe how quickly I was able to get this chapter out. The image of Hawks standing in the corner of a massive company party feeling like a shell of himself is actually a large part of what sold me on writing this fic for him. The song this chapter correlates to just felt so right for his character that I knew it couldn’t be anyone else. I thought about waiting to post this until later tomorrow today? but I’m ✨impatient✨ so instead y’all get it now

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead @lavender-moon13

#hopelesspf #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #cw suicide mention #tw suicide mention

35 notes · View notes

staywritten · 4 years

Photo

All In│Bang Chan «Chapter Thirteen» ◄Back «Masterlist» Next►

Chan had been staring at his ceiling for almost an hour. You soundly napping in his arms, unknowing of the emotional turmoil he’d been dealing with since his talk with Felix. He’d been racking his brain on how to tell you, but there wasn’t anyway to put it without it sounding sketchy. The two of you kinda just fell into this perfect rhythm and he didn’t want to disrupt it. You were everything he’d ever wanted. He’d never been able to open up, and feel so comfortable before. Sure, he had his friends and he could tell them anything, but he was always the big brother. He never wanted to burden them. But with you he didn’t feel that weight. You welcomed everything with open arms.

He smiled seeing you pout in your sleep. You still had another thirty minutes set on your alarm. He brushed your hair out of your face, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.You relaxed almost instantly to his touch, cuddling into his chest.

He waited a couple more minutes to make sure you were comfortable before quietly slipping out and heading to Felix’s room.

“What’s up Man?” Felix opened his door letting him in.

“Can I vent? I think I just need to talk it out first.” Felix could tell just how disheveled Chan was. He just looked so mentally exhausted. Felix sat on his bed watching Chan pace. “I don’t want to hurt her… I’m terrified of hurting her”

“Then don’t. Just be honest”

“Honest? If I’m honest I’ll lose her...and I don’t want to lose her Felix I think I’m in love and I don’t want to let it go”

“Noona is understanding, and she loves you too I can tell. Friends don’t look at each other like that” he chuckled “I mean I love you, but I’ve never stared at you the way she does.”

“Felix I’m serious.” he groaned “If she asks me about Rosie what am I supposed to tell her? Hey this is Rosie, technically my long distance girlfriend but don’t worry we’ve been on a break for like three years but everytime I go back to Australia we always pick up where we left off, sleep together and go on dates and stuff. But we’re on a break” his tone sarcastic as he rolled his eyes, crossing his hands over his chest.

“See! It’s that right there. Girlfriend. You need to call Rosie right now and break up properly, that way you don’t have to lie" He grabbed his phone, getting ready to call Rosie himself. “You can just break up and that way you don’t have to tell her anything because-”

Chan watched as Felix’s eyes widened, trained on the door behind him. It’s like he knew before he even turned around. His shoulders slumped in guilt before his eyes met yours. “I-”

“...You have a girlfriend…?” your voice breaking, tears already spilling from your eyes. “I was so stupid…” you shrinked back, you couldn’t even look at him. “A girlfriend…” you sniffled, wiping the tears furiously from your eyes.

“It’s not…” he reached out, his body reacting before he could even form a sentence. “Baby please...”

“Don’t touch me!” you stepped back immediately, hugging yourself.

“I never meant to hurt you” his eyes widened, panicked. He knew he was losing you and he didn’t know what to do. “Please… just let me explain everything and… I know you hate me right now but-”

It was like suddenly you were in your sophomore year again in the same toxic cheating relationship. All of your anxieties about opening up, trusting someone, loving someone. It all came rushing at you. Suddenly you were that same, weak, naive sophomore that let a guy manipulate you. All of your insecurities about Rosie that your friends tried to brush off, were justified.

Your body stiffened, Chan reached for your cheek to wipe your tears away. “I’m so sorry”

“I said don’t touch me!” you pushed him back keeping your distance.

“Baby please…” he held his hands up, approaching you slowly; Like you were some frightened animal. “Let me explain...I-”

Your body panicked, your anxiety rising. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in. You felt cornered, heart broken, deceived. You bolted down the hall, not even bothering to grab your things. You shoved your foot in your sneakers, stepped on the backs of them and ran down the stairs from the apartment building.

The cold night air hitting you hard in your thin t-shirt and sweatpants. There was almost an immediate regret once you got down to the main street. You regretted not wearing a sweater, you regretted not grabbing your phone first, you regretted being in an area that wasn’t within walking distance from your house, and most importantly you regretted ever giving another person your heart.

You ran at full speed for as long as your legs could manage, your lungs screaming for a break, your feet in pain from the rubbing of the sneakers on your bare foot. But you couldn’t stop because stopping would mean thinking.

As long as your body was in some sort of visceral response mode, crying and overthinking became second priority.

“Chan you gotta give her some space” Felix grabbed him, stopping him from going after you.

“I can’t! Felix she’s crying and out there in the middle of the night! She doesn’t have her phone- I-I gotta go find her!”

“Hyung! You’re the last person she wants to see right now. If you find her she’s gonna run again.” he took his keys. “I’ll go find her. You stay here in case for some miracle she comes back.” he ordered before heading out.

It was rare that Felix ever took initiative like that but Chan was falling apart.

He drove down the block, looking for you, the only good thing about the whole situation was that they lived in a rather nice area, it was well lit and close to the college so you should be familiar with it, but it was still dangerous for you to be out there alone.

Felix drove the entire path from his apartment to yours, even stopping at a few shops along the way. But still nothing. Chan was blowing up his phone wondering about an update, but there was nothing to tell him. He couldn’t find you. After driving back and forth twice he was starting to worry. But he needed to hold it together because if he panicked Chan was definitely going to lose it.

Somewhere along the way you’d gotten lost, it was bound to happen. It wasn’t like it was a straight shot from North to South campus, and you weren’t even thinking straight. It just hit you how alone you really were. It wasn’t like you had anyone's number memorized, you didn’t even know where you were. You couldn’t even remember the last business you saw, the few you passed were closed for the night. This was as good as it was gonna get, because your legs couldn’t manage a step further. You finally stopped running and collapsed to the ground of what looked to be a park. At least it was decently lit. You hugged your knees panting heavily,, your legs exhausted from the sudden sprint.

Was this your fault? The only reason you got up early from your nap was because Chan wasn’t there. Maybe you should have just stayed asleep. Living in this warm, blissful ignorance, slowly falling more in love with something you knew was too good to be true. You scoffed, sniffling into your t-shirt. Your heart was filled with regret, because deep down you convinced yourself that you didn’t get happy endings, at least not in love.

Felix drove to your apartment once more. It’d been over an hour since he started looking for you. Even if you walked straight home, you should have made it there by now. He hesitantly knocked on the door.

A very groggy Momo opened the door, yawning and wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Felix? What in the world? It’s like 1am I have practice tomorrow morning.”

He nervously looked up at her. “I...Is yn-Noona home?”

“What? No, she’s at your place” she laughed at the silly question before reading his face. “Wait...Why? Where is she?” the worry was rising on her face.

“She...Kinda got upset at Hyung and ran out...she left her phone and stuff at the house…”

“What?! She left your house on foot? Felix! When? I- What did he do to her!?”

“I’ve been looking for her for like an hour.” His shoulders slumped “Momo, focus here, I’ll tell you that later but we gotta find her I’m getting worried…”

“An hour?!” She grabbed her purse and phone to call Hyunjin “Drive me back toward Chan’s house, I’m getting her stuff. And tell me every single thing that happened.”

Felix and Chan called everyone they could gather to go and help look for you. It was still too early to file any form of police report, especially being that you left willingly, and it’d only been a few hours but they called just in case.

Chan paced back and forth, he’d had to explain the situation more times than he could count, and there was never a gentle way to put it. He fucked up. He completely and wholeheartedly fucked up. The whole swim team and anyone else he could gather was out looking for you, and all he could do was wait.

Momo walked inside the apartment to get your things. Walking passed Chan without a second look. She grabbed your phone, books and bag packing them up in a furious silence. “Momo I’m so-”

“Save it.” she glared at him. “My best friend is missing because you cheated on her. And if ANYTHING happens to her I swear-”

“I deserve it…” his head hung low. “This is my fault… I.. I should have…”

She gripped her small hands, almost shaking before taking a deep breath “I don’t give a shit about this pity party you’re throwing yourself. This whole woe is me, this is all my fault, I deserve this self hate thing, it’s a little pathetic given the situation. My friend is missing. Our friends are out there looking for her in the middle of the night, and you are doing nothing”

“She doesn’t want to see me”

“You pick a hell of a time to start being considerate for her, where was this when you forgot to tell her you had a girlfriend.”

“Momo you don’t know the whole story”

“And I don’t care to! You are full of excuses!” She let out a breath, visibly shaking. “You know-It doesn’t matter. There’s plenty you could be doing. You could be calling places, calling people, getting out there and looking for her anyway. Yes, it’s your fault. But it’s also mine, I should have never encouraged her to talk to you. I should have never said you’d be different and that you were a nice guy. But I’ll have plenty of time to blame myself after we find my best friend and that she’s home safe.” She rolled her eyes “But hey, if you wanna throw your pity party help yourself. But I’m gonna go find my friend” she grabbed your bag before leaving his apartment.

Chan knew Momo was right, he was falling apart from the guilt. It was like everything he feared was coming true and he felt helpless. He just wanted you to be safe. He took a deep breath.

To Be Continued…

Hi friends! （ﾉ´д｀）I’m sorry, I had to plot ;_;

All In│Bang Chan «Chapter Thirteen»

Synopsis: After a messy break up your sophomore year, you decided that the best thing for you was to finish off your college career single. You wanted to focus on yourself, grow as a person and finish off your degree strong. There’d be plenty of time for love after college. But after losing your camera you become friends with the seemingly perfect boy that threatens to ruin your plans.

Genre: SocialMedia!AU, College!AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

◄Back «Masterlist» Next►

∘Tags List:

@vhschs @thelustasylum @lunnanunna @yooniversalstudios @aiyalix @ph0ebevix @zaratanveerx @channieboyo @hannahdinse8 @got7-yeah-got7onmymind @itisjustpaula @ann0325441904 @etherealchangbin @7829-kamie @ateez-babygirl @lazyliyah

#stray kids #stray kids scenario #stray kids fluff #stray kids reaction #stray kids x reader #stray kids social media au #stray kids sns au #bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan sns au #bang chan social media au #skz #skz scenario #All in series #staywritten

343 notes · View notes

vincess-princess · 3 years

Text

ex malo bonum

Chapter 8.

Word count: 7091 Warnings: murder, blood, violence Author’s note: can’t believe we’re here, guys. A year and a half later, we’re here. At the end of this fic. I got so used to it during this time, I don’t even know how I’m gonna cope without it. But I do hope you have a good and satisfying reading :)

“Alright, alright,” Nikki raised his hands up in surrender. “Do it yourself, if you wanna. Don’t blame me when you fuck your hair up, though.”

Vince pulled off a hairband and shook his head, disheveling his hair. He liked it more framing his face in a loose way, but couldn’t handle constantly noticing the black that had already conquered more than a half of his hair length. Noticing it now, he shuddered - since he had last taken a look at it, it had added two more inches. It’d only been a week or so, with him trying to act as angelical as possible. Then why did it spread so fast?

“If I’m going to do it often, I need to learn how.”

“Fair,” Nikki shrugged. “Okay, now get your hair wet. See that thing looking like a telephone with holes in it?”

“I can recognize a shower head,” Vince rolled his eyes, holding his breath at the same time – would Nikki care? Would he get angry? After a second or two he exhaled quietly – his little trick went unnoticed. Or unpunished.

Vince reached for the shower head and turned on water. It was cold, but he didn’t want to wait for it to warm up. It trickled down his back and shoulders, leaving trails of goosebumps on his skin.

“Yeah, I gotta admit you’re making progress pretty fast,” Nikki nodded. Oh, yeah, Vince remembered, they had been carrying on a conversation. “Now, get the dye out of the package and mix it.”

“With what? Water?”

”No-no. See, you need my guidance.”

“With what?” Vince repeated, ignoring the last reply. He was going to do everything himself in this one. It was already too much that Nikki bought it for him. He couldn’t owe him even more.

“See this little bottle?” Nikki fished the bottle out of the package and handed it to Vince. Vince took it, careful not to touch Nikki’s fingers. “Pour the liquid from it into the cup and add dye from the tube. Then mix until it’s homogeneous.”

“Homo-what?”

“Homogeneous. I swear, you only think about one thing.”

“Hey, you said this word first!” Vince protested, and this time his stomach sank not so shamefully deeply, maybe a little, but it was something.

“Maybe so,” Nikki waved his hand. “Okay, did you make the dye? Yeah, you’re supposed to mix it. No, not with your fingers!”

Oh no, Vince’s stomach shrunk, he did it wrong. He didn’t know, but he still fucked up. Fucked up-

He looked up at Nikki’s face, searching frantically for signs of anger, or annoyance, or fury, or- anything, just anything negative. Anything that would justify Vince running out of the room and crawling under the bed in his bedroom, shaking and panting. He had become an expert of reading that face on that night. He should have seen something.

But there was nothing. Nikki’s eyebrows were slightly raised, and his mouth was a little bit open, with a smile starting to form on his lips. It was in its very initial stages, but Vince could see it. Nikki wasn’t far as good at reading Vince’s face as Vince was in reading his; he couldn’t see all the bugs of terror and panic crawling under Vince’s skin.

He probably though they were friends. Enjoying each other’s presence in a totally normal, friendly way.

Vince exhaled in a short, sharp movement of his chest and throat. “Why not?” he grinned, the grin fake but plausible, then especially slow put his finger in the cup and started mixing the dye. Nikki’s eyes went wide open, he made a disgruntled “Hey!”. Vince considered licking the finger to make Nikki even more exasperated, but that was probably too much for his already battered body – he was sure the components of this dye were far from safe. Vince’s scars have healed already, but he was still getting spikes of pain at every sudden movement, especially from walking and sitting. He eventually came to a conclusion that the pain was going to stay with him for life.

Maybe that was for the better.

“Mixed it?” Nikki leaned closer and checked the cup. “Hm. Probably should be enough. Now, where is your hairbrush?”

“I don’t have one,” Vince reminded. He hadn’t brushed his hair since the day he cut it. It hung in messy curls and knots around his face.

“Yeah, you don’t,” Nikki muttered. “We should definitely take you to the store and buy all the stuff humans use on their bodies. Not that it’s necessary but helps keep the body in a decent shape. And – attract a lot of chicks,” he winked. Vince had to suppress the urge to kick him in the smug face.

“I swear, you only think about one thing,” he uttered instead.

“Hey, that’s my phrase!” Nikki exclaimed indignantly, and satisfaction blossomed in Vince’s chest. He wanted Nikki to realize he couldn’t bug him and not expect anything in return.

“Okay, so I need a hairbrush,” Vince said before Nikki managed to come up with something else. “But I don’t have one. What, are we going to the store or something?”

“No, you’re not going anywhere looking like this,” Nikki waved at Vince, got up and left the room. For a second Vince really thought he was going to go to the store right there and then, and he wasn’t ready to wait for so long. Everything inside him itched and twisted to get rid of that beastly color on his hair tips. But then Nikki returned, a hairbrush in his hand. “Here, take mine.”

“Uh,” at first Vince reached out to take the hairbrush but Nikki’s words made him stop in his tracks. Realizing how stupid he must have been looking, with his hand hanging in the air, he quickly dropped it. The corner of Nikki’s mouth twitched, and Vince froze mid-inhale, but Nikki said nothing. “Uh… won’t the dye spoil it?”

“It probably will,” Nikki shrugged. His hand was still hanging in the air, holding out the hairbrush, and the atmosphere was quickly growing awkward. Why doesn’t he just lower his hand, Vince prayed silently. Why doesn’t…

“Thank you,” he mumbled and grabbed the hairbrush, again trying his best not to touch Nikki’s fingers in the process. The hairbrush’s wooden handle retained the warmth of Nikki’s hand. “Okay, okay,” he attempted to calm his quickly beating heart. They were living together, when will Nikki’s mere presence stop making him fucking fall to pieces? “We’ve got the hairbrush. What’s next?”

“Put the dye on your hair.” Nikki’s face was perfectly indifferent, but his eyes gleamed triumphantly, the same they had when Vince accepted the box of cheap hair dye fresh out of the store. Vince wanted to kick this expression out of him. There was nothing victorious in it – on the contrary, it was a collection of Vince’s defeats. “Use the brush to get every strand,” Nikki continued. “Your shell is blonde from birth, so you only need to dye the tips.”

Vince carefully, like he was holding something fragile, brushed the front strand of his hair and smeared the dye all over it.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” he asked while evenly distributing the dye to the rest of his front strands. This white cream smelling of chemicals didn’t seem to be powerful enough to obliterate the all-consuming black.

Nikki shook his head. Vince couldn’t help but glare at him from under his wet hair. Was he going through all this for nothing, damn it? “But we can at least try,” Nikki added, but not very reassuringly.

“Yeah,” Vince’s shoulders sunk, but he kept applying dye to his hair. There was still hope, right? It could still work? Then he had to try it.

Finished with the front of his hair, he proceeded to brush the back and realized that dying it was going to be way harder than the front. But he was going to do it himself, even if the possibilities of fucking up were going to be sky-high. Vince reached for the cup to grab another portion of dye and realized he definitely needed to use less or he would run out of it quickly, or some part of his hair could just as well remain undyed. Fucking great. Of course, they could always go buy more, but he didn’t want to ask Nikki for that. He hadn’t asked him for the dye in the first place. But he accepted it, nobody forced him to, besides, maybe, the uneasiness in his stomach appearing at the sight of Nikki getting even mildly annoyed. So now he had to get through all this.

Still, there also was a possibility that it’d work out.

Nikki soon got tired of watching Vince dying strand after strand, slowly and carefully. “Call me when you’re done,” he ordered and left, and the atmosphere in the room immediately got less tense. Vince even sat down on the edge of the bathtub and began murmuring a song under his breath that got stuck in his head. And she’s watching him with those eyes, and she’s loving him with that body, I just know it… He’d heard about love, of course, a divine feeling when channeled towards Him and a dirty, filthy feeling when channeled towards other people, especially in an animalistic, sexual way. It was interesting also, how humans could fixate on one person so hard they could only think and dream about them. Maybe that song exaggerated it a little, after all.

Vince had heard a lot of songs during the week that passed. Having nothing else to do, he was glued to the record player in the main room, listening to a record after a record until he ran out of them. That was a tough moment for him, because he had to either just go through what he had again, of which he was already very tired, or ask Nikki to share his collection. Tommy helped – or, rather, fucked everything up but in a good way, - by dragging Vince into Nikki’s room so that Vince had to stand there with his ears red and listen to Tommy explaining Nikki the problem. Nikki did share, and his collection did have a lot of “bangers” – that was the word Tommy used once – in it. And halfway through the thick stack of records Vince had almost forgotten it was Nikki’s music. Almost.

Dying his hair was a slow and painstaking process, but Vince even enjoyed the thoroughness of it. Also, it was repetitive – take some dye, put it on a strand of hair, distribute evenly, repeat – and let him think his own thoughts but without getting too deep down, where his demons lurked. So Vince was even disappointed when the last strand was covered and added to the slimy bundle on his head. He looked into one of the pieces of the mirror he shattered – the biggest one was left until the mirror would be repaired, - and chuckled. He looked funny, with his hair sticky and put up in a sloppy bun. This way even the roots, which were still blond, looked darker. Maybe that was just the way the dye looked like while doing its job, Vince tried to calm himself down. Or maybe this cheap dye just couldn’t get through to the demonic black. Either way, he had to finish what he started.

He headed to the door, peered out and shouted: “Hey, I’m done! What’s next?”

Nikki stepped out of his room, cast a look at him and started laughing.

“What?” Vince raised an eyebrow. He thought he would never be able to hear Nikki’s laughter and not shudder again, but him laughing like this, open and sincere, relaxed something very strung out inside him.

“You look like a wet rat out of a sewer,” Nikki told him though laughter. Vince had no clue how rats out of sewers looked like, but, since Nikki meant it as an insult, he assumed they didn’t look very attractive. Good thing he didn’t care about Nikki’s opinion on his looks. Even more, every time he remembered Nikki call him pretty in that sleazy, lusty voice, he wanted to disfigure himself so that Nikki would back off at his mere presence. Not that Vince was actually going to do it, but a man – or a demon, rather – can dream.

He still didn’t really understand the concept of beauty; he hadn’t seen that many people to make his own judgements. The only description of himself came from Nikki – “pretty”, a single world that could mean anything in other contexts. Vince spent hours looking into the fragment of mirror, trying to single out beauty in his own features and realizing with disappointment it was too early for him to judge his own appearance according to human standards. But he also took his time to explore the vessel he was now bound to stay in it for the rest of his life. He didn’t have a chance to thoroughly study it before, apart from catching its reflection in shop windows and that one time in a club bathroom where he overdosed on heroin.

Once he did pay attention, he noticed a lot of interesting things: the way the left eye was a little bit lazy, an old burn on his elbow, the faded lines of tan on his hips, the dry, cracked skin on his knuckles, a mole on his inner thigh. His own markings, what made his vessel- no, his body different from others.

He barely noticed any people during his stay on Earth, blinded by grief, so he could only compare himself to Nikki, Tommy and Mick. Nikki, of course, claimed to be gorgeous, with all those attracting-chicks comments of his, but his features were completely different from Vince’s – boyish yet delicate, absolutely not matching his tall, muscular body. How was it possible that Vince and Nikki, looking so different from each other, were both considered good-looking? Tommy was just a little bit taller than Nikki, but had a slimmer frame and more sophisticated, chiseled-out features. He was, as Nikki confided in Vince, also “drop-dead gorgeous.” Yet another inconsistency. Tommy’s vessel was the youngest of the three of them and still bore traces of teenage clumsiness. It matched well with his light-hearted, careless, a little bit immature character.

Mick was way older than the three of them combined, but his exact age was hard to define. It was possible even he didn’t remember it – years start to fly by faster the older you get. His shell, though, was middle-aged, as wrinkles gathered in the corners of his eyes when he smiled, and visible lines traced across his forehead. Mick’s frame was frail, he was even shorter than Vince, and his shoulders were constantly slumped – Tommy revealed to Vince in a dramatic whisper that there was some illness going on. But the grace with which Mick walked, the precision of every his movement couldn’t not convince Vince that the end of his days was still so far in the foreseeable and even unforeseeable future that the three of them, being lower-caste demons, couldn’t even dream of reaching it.

“Hey,” Nikki interrupted Vince’s train of thought, waving his hand in front of Vince’s face. Vince snapped out of his thoughts so quickly he blinked in confusion – too absorbed in his thoughts, he forgot Nikki was talking to him. “Earth to Vince.”

“Yeah?”

“You done with the dye? Great. Now just wait. Half an hour should do. And don’t get the dye everywhere!”

“Maybe that would motivate you to clean the house,” Vince muttered, turning around, and he could say he didn’t want Nikki to hear it, but why would he lie? It was supposed to be friendly, and Vince did try to play his part well. The fact that he tensed up so much and bit his lip anxiously, waiting for Nikki’s answer with dread building up behind his ribs, was of little importance.

“Whatcha say?” Nikki squinted at him, but his mild indignation was obviously and purposefully feigned. So Vince flashed him his widest smile, so wide it balanced on the edge of creepy, and went back to the bathroom. He could turn on hot water and sit in the bath for some time, maybe wash himself again. A feeling of something sticky and warm slowly seeping down his legs and random spikes of pain in his lower part of the body returned every day, and only a good bath or a shower helped get rid of the feeling and soothe the pain for a while.

Vince returned to the bathroom, checked that the door was locked twice, turned on water and got rid of his clothes – same Tommy’s shirt, same Mick’s pants, already slightly stinky. The hot, almost burning water began to fill the tube, and when Vince undressed and stepped carefully into the bath to check the temperature, it already covered his ankle. Whatever, it could fill up perfectly well with Vince already inside, so he submerged himself into the bath, lay down into the thin layer of water and sighed with pleasure. The water slowly climbed up a few inches and the cool air of the bathroom was creating nice contrast on the skin of his legs. Vince loved contrasts: they let him explore two different sides of an often the same thing. But were there just the extremes, or there was something in between, he asked himself, and the answer came after reading a lot of books from Mick’s personal library - the whole linear representation of “good” and “bad”, which he was taught in Heaven, was actually a spectrum. Contrasts were still necessary, by the way - he needed to be able to see the extremes but not be lured into them.

Vince dipped his hands in water and splashed it onto the bare skin of his legs. Cold immediately replaced by heat, then cold again once the water flowed down, leaving only a couple of droplets on his skin. Vince did it again, and again, and again, relishing in the sensation. Sensations – even as simple as this one - were new and exciting. Some of them were pleasant, and they made life worth living; some of them – not so much, and the pleasant moments became even more delightful after that. In Heaven it would take him an entire year to feel the enormous variety of feelings and sensations he could feel here in a single day.

Heaven. Vince bit his lip and leaned onto the side of the tube, careful not to rest his head on it. He didn’t miss it, he kept telling himself and everyone else around him. What was there to miss? Endless service just for the sake of it, with no promotion, no reward, commanded by someone Vince, His own child, hadn’t seen once in his long, very long life? With no explanations and not a single answer to the questions a lot of angels, including himself, undoubtedly had? What was there to miss, again?

Still, Vince kept waking up in the middle of the night seemingly for no reason, the sense of a tremendous loss fresh and poignant in his heart. When he asked Tommy about it, Tommy denied it pointblank. And of course, he did, Vince was one hundred percent sure he was told to behave as demonically as possible so as not to lure Vince back to God’s side. But Vince could see it in the depth of his eyes, in the very feeble tension in his voice, that it was there, that it still haunted him sometimes. One who knew this incredible sorrow could always recognize it in another.

Tommy was here, on Earth, for little less than half a century. Very young for a demon, the equivalent of a human toddler. What he and Nikki had found in common remained a mystery for Vince, but the evidence was there: they were thick as thieves, always hanging out together, throwing parties and getting in trouble. it was Tommy who was getting all the trouble though, Nikki was a mastermind behind all of it. He kept insisting he was “too old for that” to actually participate. How old Nikki was exactly remained unknown, but he was definitely much, much older than Tommy.

And because he had spent so much time in this cruel, animalistic worlds, Nikki’s angelic features faded. His sorrow for Heaven had long ago turned into bitterness, and bitterness then - into hatred, the same hatred he poured out onto Vince. You see, it’s not so much about you personally, as about you being an angel rang in his head. Vince squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands onto his temples, massaging them. Slowly, slowly Nikki’s grinning face from that night faded in his mind.

Though Vince was not exactly fond of Heaven already, he couldn’t imagine how much time would have to pass for him to start actually, sincerely hating it. It was his home, after all; it disowned him, threw him out into this cruel human world, but it remained his home, the place where he lived and served. His former home, he corrected himself hastily. Now his home was this place, this small house in the middle of Los Angeles (how ironic), this room with a bed soaked with his blood. They changed the sheets, but the mattress was still the same, and Vince hadn’t slept on it once, preferring the awfully uncomfortable leather couch in the living room. He didn’t particularly like this home he was staying in, after all that happened to him under its roof, but he had nowhere to go. After Nikki and Tommy told him about angel hunters he became even less eager to leave. The longer he stayed inside, the more time passed, the less the possibility that they would come back for you and try to kill you, Nikki told him. The transformation will have finished and you will be much stronger by then.

When this moment would come, Nikki didn’t specify; Vince just wanted it to arrive as quickly as possible.

The water had already reached Vince’s ribs, so he turned the tap off. He splashed the water onto his bare chest and straightened his legs, which were just long enough to reach the other end of the bathtub. The steam rising from the water covered the walls of the bathroom with tiny drops of water. Vince traced his finger down the wall, gathering the drops on his fingertip.

One of the strands of his hair broke free from the mess on his head and slid down his back. Vince tucked it back into the bundle, his fingers smeared in the dye. It was of a dirty white color. Vince washed it off in the water of the tube. Then it occurred to him that he probably had a trace of dye on his back from the loose strand, so he plunged into water so that only his head was above it, hoping the stain would wash off.

The abrupt knock on the door startled him, and he almost dipped his head into the water as well.

“Vince!” Tommy shouted from the outside. “Get out, I gotta pee!”

Vince sighed. As long as Tommy was around, he wouldn’t get any peace in this house.

“I can’t! I’m in the bath!” he shouted back.

“I don’t give a shit!” he heard from behind the door. “Open the door, asshole!”

Vince rolled his eyes. He could, of course, ignore him, but Tommy would totally find a way to take revenge on him for that. It would probably be better if he just let him in.

“Okay,” Vince said, getting out of the bath. He didn’t bother to wipe the water off or cover himself - Tommy had seen all of that anyway - and left a trail of puddles behind him. If Tommy slipped on them, that’d be his own personal problem.

“What’s up with your hair?” Tommy said, casting an appraising look all over Vince’s naked body and smirking. Vince didn’t like the smirk, but Tommy didn’t do anything else besides that and headed straight to the toilet. While he was unzipping his leather pants, Vince got back into the bath. The water had already lost a lot of warmth, but he didn’t turn on hot water again, though he wanted to. But it was time to get out - half an hour had probably already passed, and Vince wanted to see the result.

“Dying It,” Vince shrugged. “Nikki said I gotta wait half an hour, so…”

“What color?” Tommy flushed the toilet and zipped his pants back up.

“Blonde.”

Tommy cast him a long look over his shoulder. “You can’t escape your demonhood like that, y’know.”

“I’m not,” Vince murmured, staring at the water rather than at Tommy. “I just look better with blonde hair.”

“Well, that is true,” Tommy nodded with a stupid grin, his seriousness gone as fast as it had surfaced. “I have yet to see a guy rocking blonde hair the way your vessel does it.”

“Thanks… I guess,” Vince leaned forward and pulled out the bath plug. “You done? Get outta here.”

“Okay, okay, boss,” Tommy laughed but did get out… leaving the door wide open.

“You little shit!” Vince shouted into his back. Tommy laughed and sped up, hiding behind Nikki’s bedroom door.

Goosebumps went down Vince’s chest when he got out of the bath again to close the door. The comparatively cold air entered through the open door and made Vince shiver. Closing the door didn’t help much - it was already much cooler in the bathroom – but at least he was no longer on a display of everyone passing the corridor.

Vince sighed and reached for the towel. He didn’t know whether it was Tommy’s or Nikki’s, but did hope they would eventually wipe their faces with it.

After the body came the turn of his hair. Vince washed it thoroughly, making sure all dye was gone. His hair did look a little lighter, but not light enough, and Vince’s stomach sank. He had to remind himself that wet hair always looked darker than dry.

“Done?” Nikki asked when Vince peered into his room, with wet chunks of hair around his face being in dire need of brushing. Nikki and Tommy were drinking, beer bottles in the hands of each.

“Wanna a drink?” one of them pulled a beer out of the package and threw the bottle to Vince. A week or so ago Vince wouldn’t be able to catch it, but his reflexes improved since then.

“No, thanks,” Vince threw the bottle back, aiming at Nikki’s head. Nikki caught it without even looking at it. “Now what?”

“Just wait for it to dry,” Nikki said. “Wait, I have a hairdryer somewhere.” He got up and began rummaging in his closet. Something long and pink fell out, and Nikki hurriedly shoved it back into the closet. Tommy burst into laughter. Vince watched him in confusion. “Here. Just plug it in, it’ll start working. You can change the power with that slide.”

“Okay, got it,” Vince accepted the offering and retreated into his room. The hairdryer turned out to be incredibly loud, but the wave of hot air it was sending forth felt nice against his face.

As he finished, Vince put down the hairdryer and pulled out Nikki’s hairbrush. His hair was still slightly wet, but his patience had run out. He brushed his hair quickly and hurried to the mirror. What if it didn’t work, what if it-

It did, and surprisingly well. Now it was almost impossible to tell what his hair color had been. Vince was blonde again, exactly like he had been when he had just fallen. No trace of that beastly black on his hair! And if it grew more, the dye would hide it!

Vince grabbed a fistful of his hair and brought it up to his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t that platinum blonde his vessel had, it had warmer undertones, almost golden. But it wasn’t black, and that was enough for him. He didn’t really care about good looks of his vessel, as he didn’t even know how good looks were supposed to, well, look. He hated to admit that Tommy was right, but he was: it was all about hiding his demonhood, like one would hide a crazy relative in a tower so they would never be seen again.

So what? What was wrong about it? It harmed no one but Vince himself, so he was going to continue. He would dye his hair again and again, install a lock after a lock on the door of this tower. Nikki warned him that constant use of hair dye would fuck his hair up, but Vince preferred not to think about that now.

Someone rang the doorbell. Quickly, impatiently, pressing on it way more often than necessary. Someone in a hurry. Weird, they weren’t expecting anyone, and Mick had his own keys. Tommy shouted “Coming!” from the other room, and Vince almost stepped forward to stop him, but then braced himself. Some stupid friend of Tommy to go pick up on the girls, surely, or a junkie coming for Nikki’s heroin. Something mundane.

He heard the lock click. Tommy asked something, probably “who the fuck are you,” because the voices at the door were unfamiliar. Vince couldn’t hear Tommy well, but he sounded more worried with every second. Vince put down the hairbrush, tensing up.

Then Tommy shouted. His shout was abruptly cut off with a shot. Regular weapons could do nothing against a demon, just irritate him more. If this one worked, it wasn’t a regular weapon.

Vince’s fingers weakened, the brush fell out of his hand and onto the floor. The noise it made was exceptionally loud in a post-shot silence.

The demon hunters had come.

Vince sprang onto his feet, his heart beating so fast it as though wanted to get out of his chest. Did they kill Tommy? Were they already in the house? And where, god damn, was Nikki?

That very moment two shots were fired in the corridor, and then two unfamiliar voices began to scream, right behind the thin door of Vince’s bedroom. Seconds later their screaming sounded more like gurgling, as they probably were choking on their own intestines. Nikki could be quite inventive in those matters. Still, there were way more than two of them. And they had their magical anti-demon bullets.

A drop of sweat slid down Vince’s spine. He wasn’t a coward, and he was always ready to fight, but he had just begun living his life here, enjoying it, in a sense. How fucking unfair it was of the demon hunters to come right now to take it all away from him. So fucking unfair.

Vince darted to the dresser in his room, pulled out the bottom drawer and upended it above the bed. Not much there, Vince didn’t have time or desire to hoard things, still confused by the concept of private property. But the thing he was looking for, his only actual possession, was there, hid under the false bottom. Tommy persuaded Mick to give it back to Vince, vouching for his loyalty.

“He can’t even do what you ask him to do,” Mick said to Tommy then. Vince, who was eavesdropping behind the door, bit his lip anxiously. “I mean, good for him for going against the authority, that’s what I put a blade in the cupboard for.” Vince automatically reached to touch the scars, jerking his hand back halfway as Mick’s words dawned on him. Oh, so it was Mick. Oh, how smart. “But he can’t be trusted with weapons yet.”

“But the hunters are out for us,” Tommy said then, almost desperate. He was the closest to Mick out of the three of them – somehow, the youngest and the oldest managed to find something in common. But even he couldn’t cross some lines. “He needs to protect himself”.

“Then what the hell are you here for?” Mick said tiredly, but there were no stern notes in his voice, no prohibiting undertones. Tommy also recognized that and beamed so brightly Mick was utterly and completely defeated. Vince heard the sound of a drawer opening, and the next second Mick opened the door and looked down on Vince sitting on the floor right behind it. “Next time you want something, just ask for it yourself, okay?”

The double bottom fell out, revealing the holy blade. Vince picked it up carefully, trying not to touch the steel. It started to warm up, reacting to the demonic presence. His demonic pre- fuck, Vince stopped himself, there was no time for this brooding now.

Vince shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, hoping it wouldn’t burn a hole in them. Mick promised to rip his heart out if something happened to his jeans. Well, figuratively, Vince hoped, though he was absolutely sure Mick could actually do it.

He flinched at three gunshots fired in the other room, accompanied with shouts. Something heavy rattled across the floor. The thin wall shook under someone’s full weight thrown into it. Vince just hoped it wasn’t Nikki’s body. He tried not to think about Tommy.

He should go and help Nikki. Yes, he had only a “toothpick” and they had guns; but here or there, he would die anyway, and he’d rather do it in the middle of a fight. He absolutely should. Should he?..

Yes, he cut himself off and dashed to the door.

And almost collapsed into it, as it opened right in front of his face.

Vince froze. The hunter right in front of him did the same. It lasted barely seconds, but for Vince it felt like hours. Hours of just standing there and watching each other. Blue eyes, freckles on the nose, ragingly ginger long hair with darkened tips. And a rifle pointed right at Vince’s stomach.

Vince stepped back. Just a little.

Then he was pushed in the chest so strongly he lost balance and fell onto the bed. The hunter straddled him, making his hips jerk with pain at the movement, and his rifle was pointing right at Vince’s forehead now. It was so close Vince could feel the warmth of the barrel.

This hunter has already killed someone.

They looked at each other, silent. The hunter was examining his face so thoroughly as though he tried to see past Vince’s expression. Then he released the rifle with one hand and ran his fingers through Vince’s still slightly wet hair.

“It should be black,” the hunter murmured in confusion. “Enough time has passed, it should be black! You should be a full-scale demon now. Why isn’t it black?!”

Vince exhaled slowly. That was his chance.

“It never darkened,” he murmured. Congratulations on your first lie, demon. The hunter was so fixated on Vince’s face he didn’t notice his hand moving oh so slowly towards the back pocket of his jeans.

“Show me your nails,” the hunter ordered. Vince stretched out his left hand, hoping desperately that the blood under his nails, the blood he couldn’t wash out hard as he tried, wouldn’t make them look sharper.

The ginger grabbed it, looked it over, even smelled it. But, judging by his face, found nothing suspicious “They should be longer, sharper,” he whispered. His own nails were pointy and long, just like Nikki’s or Tommy’s. Vince suppressed the desire to tear his hand away from this grip.

But then – the hunter hit Vince on the head with the rifle handle, so strong the world lost its color for a moment. There was only black and white, and white was so all-encompassing Vince squeezed his eyes shut.

Vince knew why the hunter did it – it was his last check. Demons’ eyes darkened at a very strong emotion or feeling, revealing their true selves in the toughest moments. Nikki’s black eyes after he’d been stabbed, Vince’s own blackness seeping through his eyelids when he was beating up Nikki – all of that happened to both of them at a very emotional moment.

But pain could no longer elicit emotions from Vince. He had so much pain over the last couple of weeks it became inseparable from his entire being. It was almost mundane now, an every-day little inconvenience.

The hunter stared at his perfectly light, hazel eyes, and his grip on the rifle weakened.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered so quietly Vince had to strain his hearing. “A real goddamn angel.”

Vince slowly, very slowly began moving his right arm down.

“How the hell could these stupid demons mistake a real angel for a fallen one?” the redhead hissed. “They never were smart, but this… it’s beyond comprehensible. Why are you still here, with these despicable creatures? Did they imprison you?”

Maybe because you wanted to shoot my brains out, Vince wanted to say but didn’t.

“Yes,” he said instead. “But all is in His hands. We cannot change our fates, and if mine is here, with this demons, I will be here for as long as He tells me to.”

The redhead kept hovering over Vince, but he put away the rifle – unfortunately, not far enough to not be able to reach it in a second. His hungry look wandered over Vince’s body. Hunger as not lust, but the crave of remains of angelic grace, a trace of angelic beauty.

The hunter hovered over him again and grasped his shoulders – not with an intention to hurt, more like a drowning man clings to a lifebuoy. “Do you hear Him? Do you hear Him still?” he asked, his voice shaking.

A slow nod and an honest look into the eyes of a hunter – and he released him and sat on the bed, his back turned to Vince. Vince raised his hips slightly to fish out the blade from his back pocket. He squeezed it in his hand and got up as well, settling near the hunter on the bed.

“What does he say?” the redhead asked. “I haven’t heard from Him for so long. I-“ his voice dropped, - “I miss Him.”

“Me too,” Vince said gently. “But He always cares about all His children. Even those who chose the wrong path. Especially those.”

“I thought he left me,” the hunter lowered his head. “I though he left me alone, after I fell. To this cruel, evil and sin-infested world. World full of demons. How could one defeat all those demons? Are they free to roam the Earth for or against his wish? I killed many demons, but with every one I kill, two more appears. I’m tired, angel. I want back. I want back so much,” his voice quivered, and Vince could even feel a spark of sympathy for him. But only a spark. His hand gripped the handle of the blade.

“What is your name, brother?” Vince asked.

The ginger frowned. “I don’t remember. Nobody remembers, don’t you know that?”

“I do. I mean, what is the name that you picked for yourself? You can’t go nameless in this world full of identical people. You need your own label.”

“I…” the hunter swallowed loudly. “I’m Axl. But why?”

Vince smiled his most kind and compassionate smile. “So that He knows who to reward there, in Heaven. You’ve killed so many demons, you deserve it.”

“What?” Axl’s face lit up. “You can tell Him about me? You can ask him to take me back?”

“It’s even better,” Vince put his hand on Axl’s slumped shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you here, and these demons were your trials. You passed them successfully.” He squeezed Axl’s shoulder maybe a little too tightly. Axl’s breath accelerated at these words, his cheeks reddening with anticipation.

“You’re going to meet him,” Vince said finally. Then he reached to embrace Axl, the blade in his hand slightly vibrating. Axl trustfully leaned into his open arms. Oh, how damaged he was, how naïve. “You’re going to meet Him very soon, Axl,” he whispered and drove the blade up to the handle into Axl’s back.

Axl flinched, for a second not understanding what just happened. Then he did and looked up at Vince in such shock and disbelief that shame waved over Vince – but just for a second. Then Axl exhaled sharply, still looking at Vince, and started to fall down. Vince carefully lay him down across the bed, pulling the blade out in the process.

“I’m sorry, Axl,” he said quietly. “Go, meet Him. For me.”

***

“There’s blood on your hands,” Tommy noticed immediately once he appeared in the doorway. “Are you hurt?”

“No. His.” Vince nodded at the lifeless body on the bed, soaking sheets with blood once again. His ginger hair spread in a circle around his head looked like a halo. “And you should worry about yourself instead,” he added sternly. Deep bleeding gash – he could even see bone through it - across Tommy’s temple where the bullet grazed him was more urgent to fix.

“Ah, this?” Tommy dipped his fingers in his own blood and licked it off them. “It doesn’t even hurt. It wasn’t a silver bullet. I just pretended it was, so that they would leave me and go for Nikki. And how did you manage to take him out with that toothpick of yours?” he nodded at the blade still in Vince’s hand. The weapon didn’t heat up anymore, only vibrated slightly – it was no longer hungry. For a while.

“I think he didn’t complete his transformation,” Vince said, wiping the blood off the blade on his own shirt. “But why does it the fuck matter?”

“It does,” Nikki’s voice sounded from the corridor. Soon he was in, limping and holding onto his side, his face covered in blood – Vince sincerely hoped it wasn’t his own. But if he could walk and talk, he was probably going to be alright. “The first murder – it seals the demonhood in you. No coming back anymore.”

“My demonhood was sealed long ago then,” Vince murmured more to himself than to the demons, but Nikki heard him.

“What?” Nikki leaned forward, stepped on the hurt foot, yelped and would definitely fall down if Tommy didn’t catch him. But he didn’t break eye contact with Vince even while falling. “You say this- this is not you first-“

“What do you think I fell for?”

#motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #vince neil #vince neil fanfiction #tommy lee #mick mar #nikki six #axl rose #motley crue slash fanfiction #fallen angel!au #ex malo bonum #i had to rewrite this chapter from scratch #it was like 2k at the beginning and incredibly shallow #i hope these additional 5k words improved it #you are free to scream curse and cry at me i know i deserve it :)

31 notes · View notes

blkmxrvel · 4 years

Text

All Grown Up (PT. 1)

Pairing: Brie Larson x CollegeStudent!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Request: -

Summary: You’re In college, You’re dating Brie. Yeah there are some people who are gonna talk shit, but everything’s going to be alright as long as you have her… right?

Warnings: Fans being assholes, Angst, break ups, Heart break. Not edited.

A/N: So, I’ve had this in my drafts for almost a year. Haven’t even looked at my docs since the last fic I uploaded. I wanna get back into writing since my life has calmed down quite a bit since October, so I just decided to post the furthest along fic in my WIPs. I may write part two, and finish the concept but I’m not too sure. And I may finish the requests in my inbox, but I’m not too sure about that either. For now, I just hope you enjoy this :)

You were walking hand in hand with Brie, your head down as to avoid the blinding lights being flashed in your face. Your body was up against hers and you pushed through the crowd, the loud yells of the paparazzi flooding your ears.

Brie! Do you have any response to the people who have called you a pedophile?! Any comments?

Do you think this relationship is going to work?

Why are you dating a gold digger!? I mean she’s practically a prostitute!

Brie usually could keep her cool when it was her getting the heat, but that made her lose it. She drew the line at you.

She snapped her head around towards the man, eyes wide and furious. “What the fuck did you just say?” You pressed your hand on to Brie’s chest pushing her to keep walking.

“Let’s go, Brie. Don’t pay them any mind, they don’t know anything.” She listened, albeit reluctantly, and made her way into the building.

From the moment you and Brie had started dating, people couldn’t stop having an opinion on it. You were in college, finishing up your degree when you had first met her. She was 13 years your senior but that didn’t really matter to either of you. There was something about one that pulled the other toward them, besides you were more attracted to older women anyway.

You had done your best to ignore all of the comments being said about you both. The only people who really knew what was going on between you and Brie were….you and Brie. And you figured that it should stay that way. There is no need to justify or explain yourself to people who were just onlookers. At the end of the day, you and Brie were the only two people that mattered.

None of your close friends and family made any comments or passed judgement either, they were completely fine and loved the two of you together. The only ones who said anything were even impactful on your life, so it shouldn’t matter at all.

You walked past the theater doors, smiling at all of the familiar faces. It was the Avenger: Endgame movie premiere, and of course you were Brie’s plus 1.

Brie barely even had a chance to breathe before an interviewer was flagging her down.

“Brie and Y/N! Hollywood’s best couple, beautiful as always! Are you excited for the movie?"

Brie was the first one to speak up. ”Super excited! I’ve never seen anything pieced together, just the individual scenes, I can’t wait to see what the whole thing looks like.“

"You’re not the only one! What about you, Y/N?” The interviewer held the microphone to your face, smiling encouragingly at you.

“No, yeah. I’m stoked too! I’ve always been a fan of Marvel, comic books and the films and it’s a bit overwhelming to be at an actual premiere.” Brie’s hand came to rub over your hip, smiling down at you. “I’m supposed to be at home studying for an exam, but this is easily more important in my book.”

Laughs rang out as the reporter agreed. “I second that. Well I hope you too have a great time watching it! Congratulations, Brie on all of your hard work! You were amazing in Captain Marvel and I’m sure you’ll be just as great in this, if not more."

"Hey!” You squinted playfully at the reporter. “She’s taken!” You placed your body in front of Brie’s, failing to hold in the laugh that was expelled from your body.

The interviewer had left eventually, and you and Brie continued your walk down the red carpet. Pictures were taken of Brie by herself, with you, and some with her castmates.

As you walked towards the main auditorium with your girlfriend, you began to feel eyes on you and hear hushed whispers. Looking around, you saw fans more than likely whispering things about you and Brie. It was pretty obvious, they were giggling slightly and rolling their eyes when you looked that way.

Just because you were dating someone who was so used to the limelight, didn’t mean that you were automatically comfortable with it too. You were 21 for god sakes, there were so many things that you didn’t like about yourself. You hated how people could judge and make assumptions on someone they didn’t even know, you ignored the comments, yes. But that didn’t mean the pressure didn’t eat away at yourself esteem.

“Baby, you alright?” Brie had stopped while walking inside, popcorn in one hand your face in the other. “You’re doing that thing again.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What thing?”

“The thing where you go silent and press your body into me when we’re walking. Plus your hands are clammy and your eyes keep darting everywhere.”

You secretly hated how Brie knew you so well, but after a year and a half of dating, what could you really expect?

“What’s wrong?” She asked again, her lips coming to kiss your forehead.

“I can feel people staring, and then when I look up their whispering and giggling. They don’t do anything to cover it up!” You leaned into Brie more at the confession.

“Who was it?” Brie’s body pulled away from yours as she searched then hallway with squinted eyes. “I will fuck them up."

You giggled, pulling Brie back toward you, resuming your walking until you got into the theater and sat down in your seat.

"I just…I’m trying not to imagine what they’re saying. The things they say out loud are bad enough.” Brie frowned before pulling you from your seat into her lap.

She kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your ear. “Don’t think about that, baby. Whatever they’re saying is incorrect. They don’t know you.” She wrapped her arms around your middle and pulled you down so that your head was on her shoulder. “They don’t know how hard you work, how smart you are, how brave and resilient you are. How much I love you. They don’t matter because they aren’t here. Just try your hardest to block it out okay?"

You nodded, lifting your head up. Your eyes worked a little hard to find Brie’s eyes in the darkness. The movie hadn’t started yet, it was only the trailers.

You found her eyes, holding contact as you smiling a toothless smiles. "I love you. So so so much, Brie.” You leaned in and sealed your words, your girlfriend kissing you back eagerly.

“I love you way more, baby.” She said when you pulled away. “Forever and Always.”

—-

Finals were a complete bitch, you’d decided. Whoever came up with the concept of a huge exam on everything you’ve learned and making it a big portion of your final grade could suck your ass.

It wasn’t like you could slack on this one either, no. This was your first final of the first semester of your last year of college. You were graduating early and you couldn’t mess this up. You had no choice to but to do well.

You sighed as a rattle of keys came from the outside of your apartment. Brie was home. You were excited, but so fucking stressed that you didn’t pay any mind to Brie.

“Hey Y/N!” That was weird, she never called you by your name usually, oh well. You chalked it up to a one time thing and focused on your work.

“Hey, how was your day?” You flipped the page, eyes glancing up to your girlfriend briefly.

“Pretty good actually, the scenes went really well.” Walked over to the couch, plopping down as she sipped her drink. She smiled down at you. You were still in your pajamas, a t-shirt two sizes too big and your hair unruly.

“Well I’m glad at least one of us had a good day."

"How long have you been studying?” You shrugged going over the flashcards in your head. “What time is it?”

Brie glanced at her watch, taking a minute to read the time. “Quarter till 10.”

“Then like 12 hours almost, I started a little bit after you left.” At that Brie’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“12 hours!? Y/F/N, that is way too much. And knowing you, you haven’t taken a break besides to pee, which means you haven’t eaten in 12 hours."

"Hey, everything as a price- hey! Stop! What are you doing? Give it back!” You got up onto your knees and tried to snatch your book back from Brie, who held it way above your head.

“Brie, come on! I need to study!” You pouted as you stood in front of her.

“You’ve studied enough, baby. You need to eat and rest. A rested brain is a passing brain.” You hugged again, reaching to grab your book again, failing when you fell right into Brie’s lap.

“I’m never gonna walk if I don’t pass this class. I need to graduate at the end of the year.” Brie pushed you back up and held your face. Her reys started right into yours and her furrowed her eyebrows.

“I know, and you’re gonna pass. You’re going to ace all of your exams and finals and graduate with the Magna Cum Laude.” She kissed your cheeks, smiling brightly. “You’re going to walk across the stage, grab your diploma and your certificate, and you’re going to walk off a graduate, my little graduate.” She kissed your lips this time, allowing you to melt all of your worries away.

“I know I’m too hard on myself,” you began when you pulled away. “But there’s just so much at stake. Graduating 2 years early is already a risk but doing so when you’re in the public eye and everybody hates you? It’s a different breed."

Brie nodded in understanding. "I know, baby. But you gotta give yourself more credit. You’re going to graduate and you’re going to hear my loud ass cheering for you the whole time.”

Your eyes lit up at that. You hadn’t expected that. “You’re going? I thought you were going to be filming the day of the graduation?"

Brie shook her head, hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I was, but I convinced them to give me a week off to see my girl graduate.” Brie smiled widely at you and you wiggled in your seat. You were giddy because Brie getting to be at your graduation, cheering you on and letting everyone know that she was proud of you, was worth all the stress you were putting yourself through.

“You promise?” You held your pinky up, heart racing racing when Brie interlocked hers with yours and kissed the back of her hand.

“I promise, princess."

—-

"We need to break up.” You had almost dropped your glass. Your heart fell into your stomach and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you.

“What?” Your voice was shaky at your addressed your….girlfriend?

“I’m sorry, I just. I can’t do this anymore.” Your heart began beating faster as tears sprung to your eyes.

“Brie, you’ve got to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.” You let the tears fall, your fingers in a vice grip against the counter.

“I’m not, and I’m so sorry I led you on like this, Y/N. So sorry that I let it get this far. The age gap is just too much. You need someone your age. We both do. We’re just…. Two people with two different experiences.”

You sink to the floor, no longer caring about what you looked like. Your worst nightmare was finally coming true. You tried your hardest to tell yourself that the age gap between you and Brie didn’t matter. She tried her hardest to help you rid yourself of that fear. And here she was, breaking up with you over that exact reason. Was it all a lie?

There was no point in arguing, Y/N concluded. No point in trying to convince Brie to stay with her, maybe change her mind and snap her out of it. No matter how bad it hurt, how bad she wanted Brie to stay, it was never going to work out. They were never going to have a real love.

“Okay.” Y/N nodded, wiping the tears from under her eyes. Her heart hardened immediately. She stood up on shaky legs and a broken heart. She couldn’t let Brie see her care too much.

“I’ll leave. I’ll probably send Scarlett or Chris to come and get my things. If you could just put them all in a box for me that’d be great.” She grabbed her book bag and her books, making her way to the door. “Just things that I bought, nothing you bought me. Please.”

Brie felt her heart shatter at her broken ex-girlfriend. This was hurting her too, but it had to be done. She was crazy to go after a girl so much younger than her and think that they would actually last. Y/N deserved better.

“Okay,” Brie wiped a tear from her eye and clenched her hands when she saw Y/N reach for the knob. “We can still be friends, you know. This is the end of the relationship, but it doesn’t have to be the end of our friendship. We were friends first.”

A chill ran down Brie’s spine at the bitter chuckled that left Y/N’s lips. Her free hand came to run through her hair while the door squeezed the knob. “Well we ruined that friendship when we started dating. And besides, I can’t be just friends with someone I wanted to spend my life with.”

Brie pouted, and Y/N almost smiled, almost. “Don’t say that. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life with me, that’s all in your head. You’ll find someone else. I’m sure.”

Y/N nodded her head once, a nod of hurt, acceptance and realization. “Yeah, whatever you say, Brie. Have a nice life.” Y/N opened the door as just like that she was gone.

Brie felt the wind being knocked out of her. She immediately fell to the ground, sobs and desperate breaths wracking through her body. She had done it, she let Y/N go. And it hurt, it hurt so bad.

What had she just done?

–

Neither Y/N nor Brie had gotten much time to grieve and heal, because once word got out about the break-up. Everyone was asking about it. Y/N would get stopped by everyone on campus asking why they broke up; if it was because Brie realized what a gold digger you were, or if she was only in it for the Sex and companionship. None of the questions were positive, or in the slightest bit respectful. Y/N didn’t know what she expected, everyone hated her and Brie together. If they didn’t like and respect her then, why would they do it now? Y/N just stuck herself. School, work and home was all she focused on. Without Brie, it was all she had.

Most of her nights were filled with what went wrong, and what the absolute hell was wrong with her. Y/N blamed herself. If was maybe a little bit older, or maybe not in school or carried herself better. Maybe then Brie would’ve liked her enough to stay. If she acted older maybe then age wouldn’t matter. She didn’t really know, and it was killing her. But she had to live with it, live with the self-sabotaging demons in her head.

Brie wasn’t doing much better either. She was in the public eye constantly. Everyone was asking her about the break-up: in interviews or at parties, award shows and meet and greets. It was exhausting, heartbreaking. Brie doesn’t even know why she broke up with Y/N. She thought it was for the best, that it would be better than way. But all it did was cause her more pain.

She regrets it, regrets it all. She just feels so stupid that she let the thoughts and opinions of other get into her head. She hates how she allowed their words to fuel her insecurities and sent her down the wrong path. She could only blame herself though. She had the choice to tell everyone to shut up, to make the announcement that her and Y/N’s was just that: her and Y/N. And that everyone else should just shut the fuck up and go somewhere. But no. She allowed herself to be consumed in all of that and it led to her losing the love of her life. She had to do something.

#madi writes #brie larson #brie larson x reader #brie larson imagine #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers

380 notes · View notes

comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years

Text

Snowed In p6

This gave me such a hard time but I needed this conversation to happen for like 50% of the plot shit down the road, plz forgive me.

Pairing: Geralt x fem!reader

Warnings: hella awkward convos, pining, self depreciating undertones?, talking about sex? idk yall im tryinna tag these with everything i can think of but if i miss something plz let me know!

Summary: (Last part was pure smut, but for those who skipped, it was basically them justifying a good roll in the hay bc it would help them sleep) The day after some completely pragmatic and not at all monumental sex they’re figuring out where to go from there. Boundaries and such?

__________

part 5 here!

You woke slowly, uncomfortably warm and… sticky?

As reality came into focus you realized the stickiness was sweat from being plastered to Geralt's bare chest as you slept. You wriggled a little, loosening his hold on your hips so you could scoot back and see his face. He was still fast asleep, hair sticking to his stubble and mouth slightly open. He looked so much more innocent, almost juvenile when he slept. It made you want to protect him, as ridiculous as it sounded.

Your hand reached up on its own to brush the strands of hair away from his face. When he didn't stir you trailed your first two fingers down his jawline, gently dragging the backs of your knuckles up over his cheekbones. You knew he could wake up at any moment, and it would be uncomfortable to explain why you were staring at him like he alone breathed life into you every day, but you continued tracing the peaks and contours of his face.

If you let yourself think about it, he technically did. He got you up every morning, did anything you asked to help you, and everything you didn't have the stones to ask. This man made space for you like no one ever had and accepted the mess you brought with you, going so far as to help you sweep it into a manageable pile.

You swallowed back the lump forming in your throat as you realized just how much of a mess you'd made for yourself this time. You'd fallen in love and set yourself up for nothing but pain.

The snow would melt, you two would join Jaskier on the other side of the pass, things would go back as they were, and you would fall asleep alone.

You took a slow deep breath in and savored the peace for the last couple of moments you could before your heart would burst. Gently lifting Geralt's arm, you rolled up to sitting as slowly as possible, watching him the whole time. When he still didn't wake, you snatched up your clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom.

He was still asleep after a towel bath and meticulously braiding your hair, softly snoring now. You couldn't help but feel a little proud of yourself for tiring him out so thoroughly.

Sitting down next to him you squeezed his shoulder, "Geralt. Hey, wake up."

He grumbled something about it being early and patted the bed where he thought you were supposed to be before his eyes snapped open.

"There he is." You cooed, reluctantly pulling your hand away.

He squinted and furrowed his brow against the morning sun, pushing himself up on one elbow, "You're up. And dressed."

Now, you knew you were manufacturing the disappointment in his words, but it still hit you just as hard. You sprang to your feet, kicking the contents of your bag back toward the corner with a little more vigor than necessary, "Woke up hungry. C'mon, get up."

"Alright, alright." He grumbled, rolling over and reaching for his neatly packed bag.

Breakfast was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Geralt didn't lean his knee against yours and you weren't sure if you missed it or were relieved he spared you the adrenaline rush. Though when he brushed against your arm reaching for the salt and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The neighbors sat across the table from you and one of them winked at you, almost making you choke on your oats. As soon as Geralt was done with breakfast you cleared both your plates and made a beeline for the door.

You lead the way out to the barn, excited to see the caverns in the snow your fight had left the week before were still uncovered by fresh snow. You fumbled with the latch, not entirely paying attention, so Geralt reached over your shoulder and flicked it open himself. He was so close you felt his breath on your neck and the heat coming off of his chest. Everything in you wanted to lean back into him, but that might be breaking a rule and these rules were becoming ever more nuanced.

You went about your usual business feeding and examining the horses and were about to leave, but Beau looked so sad and bored. Poor guy hadn't gotten more than a walk up and down the breezeway in a month and you could see the pent up energy in his eyes. You sighed and grabbed hold of his mane, swinging up onto his back and laying back over his haunches while he ate. This felt like a good place to slow down and examine your options with this whole "friends" business.

"Y/N?"

Or it would have been.

"Stall." You answered, not sitting up even when you heard him slide the door open.

"What're you doing up there?" Geralt's voice had that same confusing, unidentifiable tone he'd used when he'd left you in the bath.

"He looked so lonely. You don't just spend time with Roach?" You spared him a glance, noting how casually he leaned against the door, arms crossed so that his collar slipped down to show the marks from your nails digging into his skin.

He shrugged, "She gets tired of me."

Beau walked across the stall to sniff Geralt’s pockets and nudge his hand when he smelled what he was after. You shifted to stay balanced on his back, absolutely no intention of coming down any time soon.

The silence between you that crept on and on was in no way comfortable. You fidgeted while Geralt pet Beau, giving him a treat here and there when he smiled for him. Normally you’d be amused, now you were just angry at yourself.

You swung a leg over Beau’s withers, spinning to sit sideways facing Geralt, “You’re rather quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

You shook your head, frantically searching for the words you needed, testing the waters,“I ah… I had a good time last night.”

He quickly glanced at you before focusing back on Beau trying to eat his gloves, “Mhmm... Haven’t slept that well in months.”

There was a beat where you debated leaving it there, but you were never one to quit while you were ahead, “This doesn’t have to be weird, does it? I don’t want things getting tense.”

Geralt finally locked eyes with you, searching your face for something, “No… if you’re uncomfortable-”

“Which I’m not.” You interrupted.

He tilted his head, a softness taking over his face that you rarely saw, “You’re my best friend. As long as you’re okay with it, I am too. It’s just sex, after all.”

You nodded, “Just sex. Yeah. We- heh, we didn't even kiss...”

“Exactly. What are friends for?” Geralt playfully swatted at your boot, giving you a grin.

What are friends for…

You plastered a smile on your face, changing the subject before the emotions bubbling in your chest boiled over, “Jaskier is gonna kill you when I tell him you said I’m your best friend.”

He moved to stand in front of you, crossing his forearms and resting them on your knees. His touch was calming, grounding you back into reality as he usually did.

He squinted up at you, “That’s if you tell him.”

You patted his hand, “Oh, I’m definitely telling him.” you teased.

He gripped your wrist and quickly spun to face away from you, pulling you forward and off Beau's back. You squeaked and gripped onto his shoulders when you landed on him. He laughed, giving a little jump to get you higher on his hips and get a hold of your knees. A giggle slipped from your lips, partly due to surprise, but partly because his grip on your knees tickled.

"I'll tell him it was you who dropped the sword on his lute strings." Geralt made his threat halfheartedly, carrying you out of the barn only to have you steer him back to grab your gloves that you'd left on the hay. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, taking your opportunity to hold him close to you as possible, resting your chin on his shoulder. His warmth and his scent lulled you into a state of content as he took his time meandering back to the inn. Just before he reached the door you noticed a fresh snowflake on your elbow.

"Motherfucker." You shouted, "It's snowing again."

"Shit! Y/N, you're right in my ear." He tried to turn to look at you but you tucked your head against his neck, hiding almost like a child.

"Sorry. I forgot…" you whispered, more out of embarrassment than anything.

He hummed, the vibrations permeating your whole body from where you were perched as he yanked the door open and stomped inside. You wiggled, communicating you could once again walk just like a toddler, but he just hoisted you up higher and trudged up the stairs. You bit your lip, hiding a smile on the basic principle of not wanting to feel it, not necessarily because anyone important could see you.

When you reached your room Geralt rather unceremoniously collapsed onto the bed, sending the two of you bouncing for a bit before he came to rest with his shoulders on your hips.

"Tired?" You asked, fighting the urge to rake your fingers through his hair.

"Exhausted." He made no effort to get up but rested his hands underneath the outsides of your knees.

You sighed in agreement and rested your hands on his shoulders, "Post breakfast nap sounds nice."

I can handle this. I know the boundaries. Just don't kiss him. That should be easy enough ...

__________

part 7 here!

gotta edit bc im a scatterbrain and forgot to tag! If you want to be tagged plz let me know!

@ab-haya @fire-in-her-veinz @cavillhavoc

#geralt of rivia #the wticher #geralt of rivia fic #geralt of rivia fanfic #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x reader fic #geralt #geralt x reader fic #geralt fic #geralt x reader fanfic #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fan fiction #the witcher fic #geralt x fem!reader #fucking yearning hours yall #thats damn near all im good for

87 notes · View notes

blonde-toddy · 3 years

Text

Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 6

It has taken me a while to do this. But I write this shit down so....

I wonder if they got busy in that carriage.

Probably.

Ok Clyvedon! Y'all are definitely not in the square anymore.

Aww Mrs. Colson. You're so proper and ready to show off and he's just trying to break that back in.

Gahh that place.

Ok Simon, go off!

Aw we're really just diverting there.

You really don't want to know Hyacinth.

Eloise is not here for the shits.

Oh, Colin. You fucking idiot. The one time Violet and Anthony are in agreement.

Colin you happy, dumb boy.

Brothels though?

Colin has a point. He is older than Daphne.

To be fair Colin and Daphne are both getting okie doked.

You horny mfs. I love it.

"You are already Duchess of all this." Yes please.

Ooooh that flip and the way he patted at her hips. They are too good.

Aw Daphne is trying to be proper and Simon is like "fuck all that."

Your Graces.

Jeffries dgaf about this damn honeymoon.

Oh Daphne, she just wants to show you around without YOUR commentary.

Redecorating? Didn't she say she did a bunch of improvements?

"A perfect Duchess." Ok you shady bitch.

Yeah that nursery shit is coming back.

All dressed up and no where to go.

"You're so far away." He wants his WIFE!

They have no chill and the staff don't know how to react.

Mrs. Colson absolutely does not approve.

Girl he hates that place. Gut it!

This man and the way he takes off gloves. Good fucking gawd.

Their poor staff.

I swear I swear I swear that man man is living, breathing, dripping seduction.

Well shit take it outside then.

Queue the rain.

Yes. Remove the wet clothes. ALLUM!!!!!

He is the king of playin with it. And I fucking love it.

"Do you like this?" Fuck yes! Talk. To. Me.

I wonder how many orgasms this man has caused.

"Tell me what you want." Keep talking, yes.

And by "you" she meant that dick.

"Does that hurt?" No boo, it sure doesn't.

But your ignorance on the subject does. Him taking advantage of your ignorance also does.

I love love love Simon but I'm having a harder time with his evasion now that they're actively getting busy.

She's bound to figure it out though, right?

Ahh they're still hot af to me.

Oh shit they're still going.

That picnic. Omfg. Flippin that ass like.....

Head on a ladder?!?!?! Get you some Daphne. Oh sweet Simon....

Sex on a ladder too.

They're really like "fuck the staff." And the staff is like "haha, keep fuckin."

Don't go there Mrs. Colson....

Welp.

That shoe dropping. Gawd yes.

Daphne really went from knowing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to getting that Grade A like a beast.

Though Simon is obviously a withholder, the man is sexually attentive and attuned to her physical desires. He comes to please, indeed.

That tangle.

Ok, girl tell Rose your business.

I do love Rose. I want more of her.

"His physical inability to have children." Oh the sting of lies and ignorance.

"Difficult entanglement." Go head Rose.

Oh Colin, you fucked up lil buddy.

Hyacinth is a treasure.

I like that Violet does try to be supportive.

Penelope and her passive aggressive ass is saucy.

She's mad af.

The sisters do crack me up.

Penelope is dripping salt.

Oh Eloise. They really are putting you out there homie.

Awkward Marina.

Portia is mf hyped! She is all about that social climbing.

But she's gotta negotiate the bag before she pop tags on new Dresses.

Aw shit Marina caught Delacroix. Her French accent was a bit cartoonish.

Curious Eloise.

Oh children.

Oh poor oblivious Daphne. Simon, help your wife.

A fucking tie. Bitch they gotta kill them to eat them. Simon, again, help your wife. Tell your wife THINGS!

Y'all fucking dumb off all that sex and living in la la land apparently.

Well somebody liked his evil ass daddy.

Diplomatic Daphne.

Another sprinkle of kids....and pregnancy too.

I saw that longing look.

Aww she's worried he's hurt by being around children. If only you knew.

"I thought only of you." Really, mf?! As you keep up this lie.

She's so optimistic about her circumstances.

He's lucky he's beautiful. And that I pity him a bit. Because he's a motherfucker.

How did you get so lucky? Well you're lying to your wife and she doesn't know how sperm works sooooooo there's that.

What a beautiful expansive scene though.

Penelope is PISSED.

No belly yet.

Passive. Aggressive.

Oh this dinner is so awkward.

Portia you are not subtle at all.

Anthony is still CLEARLY not here for this engagement.

Oh is she about to snitch.

Well shit. She's kind of snitching.

Aww. He thinks your such a good friend, but hes got this.

You're sneaky and he's stupid.

Marina is hustling.

Eloping is always a grand idea. Colin you fucking dummy.

Marina is so relieved.

Aw where's Simon?

Sad Daphne is not a good look.

Grouchy workaholic Simon is not a good look either....but he does have a lot of responsibility in all fairness.

Mrs. Colson is so sick of Daphne.

Homegirl is just trying to find her footing. At least Rose stays supportive.

Have I said how much I love Rose?

Damn no one wants to talk to Daphne.

Aw she's befriended the pregnant lady with the screaming toddler.

I'm glad someone is finally explaining shit to Daphne. She can't grow if she don't know.

Too busy for his wife now......I'm not liking this vibe.

Aw she's trying to hash it out with Mrs. Colson.

Oooh she's looking for guidance about Simon.

He really hasn't told her shit about his life.

The power dynamic of their relationship is frustrating.

All this talk of being barren.....

She misses Simon's mama.

Strong seed got her thinking!

Penelope you sneaky, lying ass....what are you up to?

She has hope yet again. She about to expose her mother.

She ain't giving up.

Marina is damned and determined to marry Colin.

Oh Marina went there THERE.

You're gonna see your wife, Your Fucking Grace.

Stressy Simon is such a grouch.....but I'm not judging. I'm the same way.

But when they're affectionate, fuck.

He really just tossed her up on that desk like "Fuck work."

And he proceeded to fuckin work that mf thang.

How many people in the world are fucking like crazy right now because their significant others stay turned on by this show.

If I were not single, I would most definitely be pouncing on my partner ALL. THE. TIME.

Ok. Back to the show.

That was a mighty aggressive pull-out.

Relatable Simon. I too like foods after fucks.

Oh shit Daphne connecting the dots.

Rose out here saving the day like usual.

Well at least Daphne knows where babies come from now.

Everything is about to shatter, amrite?

She can't even hear a word he says. She feels so betrayed.

The piglet.

Dat ass though. And those shoulders.

Yeah that's gonna be a no tonight.

Oooh and now he wakes up without her.

She's fucking heartbroken.

The man she loves took away her choice with his deceit.

He allowed her to believe he was unable, not unwilling.

Would she have married him if he told the truth?

He was ready to die about the shit and still lied though.

All he ever had to do was tell her the whole fucking truth.

Everything this WOMAN knows about love and sex, she's learned from this man (and the real MVP Rose). He has literally taught her everything from the start of her sexual awakening. He knows better than anyone how ignorant she is regarding literally ANYTHING sexual in nature. I know he's insanely damaged, but this fucking hurts.

It's a unique feeling of unease and helplessness when you feel or realize you don't have agency over your own body.

An absence of the option to consent if you will.

I know this is a show, and I suppose it's doing its job because it's getting me deep into my thoughts and feelings. And I sure as a mf ENJOY THE FUCK out of watching them literally breathe in the same room with each other....among the many other things they do onscreen together. I guess I'm just heartbroken too. Shit. Plus y'all know I love tf out of my girl Daphne.

Ok back to the show again. This episode is fucking with my emotions.

Daphne is stewing!

But fuck if this isn't romantic as a mf.

These 2 fuck me up every time!

JPOLND - The End. That's this song. And this song is perfect.

Yes y'all! Rip them clothes off.

Daphne looks wild as hell. Carnal. She has a carnal look about her.

Ok bitch. Climb that mf tree then!

Is she anger-fucking him?!

Either way, he's loving it!!!

This song really is perfect.

Oh shit she's not letting up.

Fuck.

This shoe dropping?! Gawd NO!

She was literally like you took my choice so I took yours.

These fucking two.

He's hot with it for good reason for sure, but she is going in!

How the fuck could you think she knew how this worked when she didn't know what masturbation, let alone sex was until you got a hold of her?

YOU. PLAYED. ON. HER. IGNORANCE.

Maybe this conversation should have been had before y'all got naked.

They're both right in their own ways.

But they are absofuckinglutely wrong in so many of their own ways too.

He didn't ask for her pity and she didn't ask for his betrayal.

They are tearing me apart right now!

Big Sean said it best. "I guess drama makes for the best content."

I'm still rooting for them. I love growth and we still got 2 episodes left. They can't stay stuck like this, I'm sure.

Oh hey Whistledown.

Aww go to your friend.

Wtf is going on?

Are they all trying to kill me?

Aw fuck. Marina has been blasted by Whistledown. It's over.

Pure little Colin.

Oh Simon is heartbroken and Daphne.......she's desperate for a baby.

"Can the ends ever justify such wretched means?" That's a great question Whistledown. I'll have to get back to you on that.

I will close this with happiness because I refuse to accept this heartbreak.

#bridgerton #bridgerton reaction #the duke of hastings #simon bassett #the duchess of hastings #daphne bridgerton #simon x daphne #daphne x simon #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #violet bridgerton #marina thompson #portia featherington #penelope featherington #lady danbury #lady whistledown

14 notes · View notes

im-fairly-whitty · 3 years

Text

The Mortifying Ordeal of Caring: A DBH oneshot

Gavin and Nines have been working together for nearly a year now and dating for more than half of it, but the suggestion of moving in together has Gavin anxious about the bad habits he’s only just managed to kick and that he fears could come back at any moment.

To his own great discomfort he realizes that—unlike most things in his past—he cares too much about his relationship with Nines to just run away from it, leading him to hunt down a real life professional (android) therapist to give it to him straight and tell him once and for all if he’s too messed up to really be good enough for Nines in the long run. (Or if he maybe has a chance at actually becoming a better person.)

“Gavin Reed?”

Gavin stood up fast enough to wack his leg on the low waiting room coffee table, making him wince.

Luckily the sharp new pain in his shin was easily stuffed down underneath the sheer terror that had been rising in his gut since he’d awoken two hours before his morning alarm and been unable to get back to sleep.

“That’s- Um, that’s me.” He coughed, having to clear his dry throat halfway through the first word.

Was not being able to speak properly enough of a screw up to justify leaving? He could probably bear the shame of running out of the office now, right?

But the android just smiled warmly and held the door open for him. “Come on in Gavin, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!”

Gavin teetered on the edge on flight for another instant that felt like an eternity before gritting his teeth, ordering himself to man up, and stiffly walking back into the office with the same care he’d take entering an uncleared area with a reported active shooter on the loose.

But once inside the office he realized it didn’t look much like an office at all. He’d been expecting some clean lined minimalist space with the stereotypical red couch that cartoons had taught him to expect, but this room instead seemed...cozy.

There was a couch, but it was worn in and brown, not an ostentatious slick velvet red. A rolling chair was beside it, presumably for the therapist. On one wall was a collection of drawings scattered with stickers, and against the other wall stood a low bookshelf filled with baskets of toys.

“You, uh, you get a lot of kids in here?” He asked stiffly, gingerly sitting in the exact middle of the couch on the extreme edge of the cushion.

Beside him on the couch was a small novelty pillow covered with blue and purple sequins which he carefully ignored.

“I do.” The android said, closing the door behind them and taking a seat on the rolling chair, relaxing into it and leaning against one of the arms. “Most of my clients are adults, but many of the more complex situations I work with since the revolution are android children with human parents. Having toys for them helps ease things a bit when we talk, and I’ve found my adult clients don’t mind either.”

“Shit. I didn’t even think about kid androids.” Gavin said, eyes wide as he stared at the shelf. “Fuck, how does that even- uh, sorry about the swearing, I, uh...”

“While we’re here together I don’t want you to worry about censoring yourself.” The android said easily. “If you need to swear in order to best get your thoughts and feelings out, then I want you to swear up a storm. I know this is our first time meeting, and sometimes it can take a few tries to find a therapist that best meets your needs specifically, but while we’re here today I want you to feel as comfortable as possible.”

Right. Like feeling comfortable was going to happen.

It suddenly occurred to Gavin that she hadn’t pulled out the large notepad and pen he’d assumed all therapists scribbled away on during meetings.

“Are you recording this?” He blurted out, cheeks turning red as he tried desperately to think if that was an offensive question. “I mean, just, you don’t have a notebook and I know you probably gotta take notes, but if I’m gonna talk I’d rather you didn't record anything, you know? Or like, at least not without me knowing? Sorry if that’s a bad question or whatever, I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, I’m sorry.”

“Not a bad question at all, this is a new experience for you, so it would be unfair for either of us to assume you already knew everything.” She said gently. “I don’t record sessions unless I ask the client for permission first. I may make some notes after a session, but I generally prefer to be in the moment so that our conversation can flow more naturally and you feel like you have my full attention.”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s good I guess.” Gavin said, his gaze now trained on the floor.

“So Gavin, what is it you’re hoping to gain from our sessions together?” She asked, watching him.

At least her gaze somehow didn’t feel intense. That and Gavin had the feeling she would wait as long as he needed to get his words together, which was great since it took nearly two full minutes.

Usually when he was uncomfortable he could fall back on sharp insults or biting sarcasm to shield him, but he’d promised himself he’d give this an honest try after managing to drag himself in and that meant not resorting to his usual cop-outs.

“I have a boyfriend.” Gavin finally managed to spit out after a mortifyingly long silence of throat clearing.

“Congratulations.” The therapist said with a smile. “Can you tell me a little bit about him?”

“His name is Nines, we’ve been dating for, uh, seven months now I think? And he’s an android.” Gavin said, palms up and hands open. He found himself impossibly hoping that alone would miraculously explain all his issues to the therapist without him having to wrangle together more words.

“That does explain why you would seek me out as a therapist.” She said, her smile a little wider than it had been so far. “I haven’t had many new lone human clients since the revolution.”

“I wanted to make sure I got someone who really understood, you know?” Gavin said. “I didn’t want to waste time on some doc who still thinks androids aren't people or some shit. Plus I figure an android would be a better help for me getting better about...certain stuff than a human would. Better perspective on things, you know?”

“What model is Nines?” The therapist asked, nodding. “That’s always an important bit of context for me.”

“An RK900.” Gavin said, clearing his throat and finding himself watching the therapist’s LED, which indeed flickered yellow before she got it under control.

“I’ve never had the chance to meet someone who’s that model before.” She said, her eyes a bit wide.

“He’s the only one out right now, his series got put on hold after, you know, everything.” Gavin said, waving a hand vaguely. It felt much easier to talk about Nines instead of himself. “They released him to our precinct as a prototype since we were the ones who tested the first RK800 too, Connor. You’ve probably heard of Connor actually, he was all over the news during, you know...”

Another vague hand wave.

“Anyway, I got assigned Nines as my partner—I’m a detective by the way—which I’m pretty sure was because my boss hates me, and Nines and I hated each other too for like a month or something, but then we started not hating each other so much, and he’s really amazing actually, and you wouldn’t really think he’s caring since he looks so fucking scary when you first see him, and he can rip the door off a car door like no problem and everything too.”

He could feel himself starting to ramble out of sheer nerves, but found himself unable to stop now that the words had finally started.

“But he’s actually really caring and sweet and looks out for me without making me feel like it’s a problem? And right before we started dating he found this kitten in a rain gutter and took it in and we started teaming up to take care of it and whatever cause I’ve already got two cats. And anyway we’re dating now and I’ve never dated someone I care about this much before, and I feel like I’m always about to fuck it up, and the other day we were talking about maybe moving in together which I know sounds kinda fast but it feels right for us, and it sounded awesome when we were talking about it, but then afterward I started feeling like shit about it, and I’ve never really been good for anyone ever and I’ve got so many issues and I just don’t know how I can possibly be good enough for him long term, you know?”

Gavin rubbed his arm as he forced his ramble to an end, his panic having risen slightly the longer he went, sure the android was going to cut him off any second.

But instead she just nodded, eyebrows raised, but seeming understanding. “Sounds like you’ve really got a lot on your mind, Gavin.”

“Yeah.” He said weakly.

“Well first of all, thank you for sharing this with me.” She said very sincerely. “It sounds like you’re doing a lot of soul searching and feeling vulnerable right now, and I’m glad you trust me enough to share.”

“Well, I mean it’s your job, right?” Gavin shrugged, feeling somehow embarrassed at being thanked for spilling his guts. “If I’m working a case I want all the evidence I can get so I can solve it, I figure it’s the same for you and I’d be an idiot if I tried to keep it back, right? Be a waste of my money not to help you do your job right.”

She chuckled. “That’s definitely one way to look at it, though often most of what I do involves helping people solve the puzzle themself.”

Well that sounded like bullshit to Gavin, she wasn’t even going to fix his problems for him?

“So,” She said. “What I’m hearing is that you are currently in a relationship that you value very much with someone who you feel values you back, and now that you two are coming up on a big relationship milestone you’re starting to have doubts and feel afraid that you aren’t good enough for him? Is that right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Gavin said, not particularly liking hearing it said so plainly, but relieved at least to have communicated it well enough.

“What are some of the reasons that make you doubt yourself?” The therapist asked. “Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, and it sounds like maybe you’ve got some weaknesses you’re noticing more and wanting to improve if you’ve made the step to come in and see me.”

“Anger issues, rudeness, occasional insubordination.” Gavin said, reciting the most popular topics in his disciplinary file. He scratched the back of his neck, his gaze wandering to the bookshelf.

“And in your personal life?” She asked, clearly seeing through his strategy.

“I don’t know.” Gavin said, hedging as he unconsciously reached for the sequin pillow, fiddling with the edge.

He knew this was probably the part where he was supposed to say well doc, it all started with my dead mom and abusive, alcoholic dad... But despite his earlier claim that he wanted to hand over all the evidence, he found himself suddenly balking.

“I, uh, I don’t really date a lot.” He said, feeling like he was prying the words out of himself. “I’m more of a one night stand kind of guy. I don’t like people thinking I owe them anything.”

He scruffed his fingers through the pillow’s sequins, flipping them from blue to purple and back as he was silent for a long minute, letting his thoughts wrestle themselves out.

“I’m angry a lot.” He finally managed. “Sometimes I try working on it, like when I was in college or when I first joined the force. But then I get tired or forget I guess and I get just as bad again. Or, you know, something happens.”

Like when Hank had slipped into alcoholism after his kid died and Gavin had handled his old friend’s trauma in the worst way possible because of his own issues.

“Would you say that’s your biggest concern?” The therapist asked, considering him without an ounce of judgement in her gaze. “That you’ll revert to old negative behaviors as your relationship with Nines progresses?”

“I guess.” Gavin said, starting to scrape all the sequins on the left side of the pillow blue. “I uh.” He cleared his throat. “I think I’m extra worried because...because he’s an android. I was really...not great about androids before we met. He’s the one that helped me get my head on straight about it all, you know? So I guess I’m extra worried about going back to how I was because of that. He deserves better than that, and if it’s a lost cause I’d-”

He ducked his head, coughing and scrubbing at something in his eye.

“I, uh, I guess that’s why I’m here. I wanted to get a professional opinion on if I’m too screwed up or not. If I gotta...gotta let him go or whatever I need to do it before we’re both in too deep. I can’t move in with the guy and realize a week later that it was a mistake, I won’t do that to him. He deserves the best, and if I can be that I want to be, but if not I don’t want to hurt him. You know?”

The therapist watched him quietly with a softly understanding expression, her LED flickering blue.

“Have you talked to Nines about this yet?” She asked. “It seems like you two must have a strong relationship if you’ve already overcome so much together and work together professionally.”

“God, no, I haven’t.” Gavin shook his head, grimacing. “I mean, well, kinda? I mean, he knows about my issues obviously, and he knows all about my parents and everything. I think maybe he probably knows I’m nervous about moving in together, but he doesn’t know I’m here doing this. I mean, maybe he does, he is the world’s most expensive detective.” He said with a chuckle.

“Is there a reason you haven’t talked about it with him yet?” She asked gently.

Gavin felt himself blush a little, picturing Nines’ unimpressed but still caring expression all too well. “Uh, probably because he’d tell me it’ll be fine, that we’ll work through whatever happens together. And that he’s put up with my shit too long already to let me go so easily now.”

The therapist smiled at that. “It sounds like he’s as dedicated to you are you are to him.”

“I guess, yeah.” Gavin said, looking at the pillow.

“It sounds like your main fear is that you’re afraid that you’ll revert to a past version of yourself that you don’t like very much anymore, but it also sounds like you’ve already made some incredible personal steps recently that already put you far apart from the old Gavin, is that right?”

“Well sure, old me never managed to get himself in to see a shrink, no matter how many people told me to.” Gavin said wryly.

“Precisely. And it sounds like you have something and someone you value enough to really put in the effort to make a change. And most importantly,” Her gaze got a little more serious. “It sounds like you’re changing yourself because you are growing and realizing that you want to be better. Putting the responsibility on your partner to make you better is unhealthy, but working to improve yourself because you’re no longer satisfied with the status quo is admirable. Even just the fact that you would be willing to let him go if you wouldn’t make him happy despite how badly you want it to work out says a lot about your motives.”

“Yeah?” Gavin asked, for some reason feeling a little like he might cry.

“You’re right in knowing that change isn’t easy, breaking old habits and thought processes takes a lot of hard and consistent work, but genuinely wanting to change is the first and hardest step.” She said with a nod. “The fact that you’re here and willing to put in the work to make it stick is a huge deal Gavin, and if you are willing to put in that work then I have no reason to think that you won’t succeed. It’s never easy and there will sometimes be some setbacks of course, but you’ll have all the resources you need to work through it and succeed.”

“O-okay.” Gavin said, voice stupidly fragile. “That’s good I guess. Yeah. Good. That’s good to hear.”

“I think my first homework assignment for you though will be to talk to Nines about your concerns and be honest about your fears about this big potential change.” She said, her smile almost teasing, but not quite. “It’s normal to feel nervous about important relationship milestones, but it can also be an opportunity for both of you to grow closer and learn about each other. Does that sound fair?”

“Yeah, that’s fair. I can do that.” Gavin said, clearing his throat and pulling out his phone to make a reminder that he definitely didn’t need. “I guess talking about my feelings shouldn’t be that much of a surprise for therapy homework, huh?”

“Perhaps not.” She chuckled. “As for the rest of our time together today, I’d like to learn more about you so that we can start getting to know your old Gavin habits better. That way we can tackle them in the best way possible. For the rest of this session and our next visit I’d like to hear everything you feel comfortable telling me that you think is relevant.” She tilted her head a bit. “That is assuming of course that you choose to continue our visits, otherwise I’d be glad to refer you to some other android therapists you might be interested in visiting.”

“Yeah no, I’m coming back, don’t worry.” Gavin said hurriedly, in that moment realizing that he absolutely would be. “I'm not ditching you for another therapist, otherwise I’d have to do the whole almost crying thing again, right? What’s the point in that?”

“Well I'm happy to hear that, Gavin.” The therapist said warmly.

Gavin realized with a silent groan that he didn’t even remember her name, if he’d ever paid attention in the first place after looking up a nearby well rated android therapist online.

“And don’t hate me for this, but I forgot your name already.” Gavin said, trying to sound as not guilty as possible.

“It’s Amelia.” She said with a smile. “You can call me that or Amy if you like.”

“Amy. I can remember that. Amy.” Gavin said with a nod, forcing the name into his long term memory. “So, uh, where should I start?”

“How about you tell me more about Nines?” Amy suggested. “I’d love to hear more about how the two of you managed to end up together.”

Gavin grinned. “Now that I can talk about for hours.”

#dbh #Detroit: Become Human #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Reed900 #more swears than I usually write because Gavin is a gremlin who will not be overly censored and his therapist is supportive #wit writes #been wanting to write something for DBH for aaaaaages

22 notes · View notes

alewyren · 3 years

Text

I dislike redemption arc culture.

I hate seeing arguments over which characters are “irredeemable,” and this notion that every villain story has to be a morally didactic narrative in which the bad guy gets punished, the end.

I’m almost tempted to say we were all spoiled by having Zuko as a formative experience, because he’s really just the picture perfect redemption arc. He started out as a legit villain, but he never did anything too atrocious, had a tragic backstory that explained why he was like that, and went through three whole seasons of gradual character development. Like, Zuko was an amazing character. That’s the problem, though; he set our expectations too high for what “the perfect redemption arc” should be. Everyone expects their “reformed villain” characters to follow those same beats, but not every story is that cut and dry. There are lines between redemption and reformation, reformation and rehabilitation, rehabilitation and just... continuing to exist but no longer hurting anyone, and there’s a lot of nuance lost when people try to cram all that into the box of “redemption arc.”

Gonna be bringing a lot of different examples to the table here, but let’s start with Azula for ease of transition. She went through the same abuse that Zuko did, but she never got a redemption arc in ATLA proper. Some people say this isn’t fair. I disagree. This is not to say I don’t think she should be afforded the opportunity for post-canon character growth, because I absolutely do. I fully think she is capable of Getting Better, and spinoff media has consistently portrayed her as a sympathetic character. But like... she’s done some shit. She was a straight up war criminal, and emotionally abusive towards basically everyone in her social circle. I understand why. She was a 14 year old raised in an environment that rewarded that behavior, and never given a healthy outlet for her aggression.

The difference, in my opinion, is this: Zuko was fundamentally a good person from the start. Far from perfect, but he has a strong sense of values even as a child. Azula is not. Redemption for someone like Azula would look much different than it did for Zuko. Besides, in ATLA proper she was already filling an important villain role. She’d need her own show. (Which would be awesome, actually.)

But I think that’s where you have to ask the question: what even is a redemption arc? Is it any story where a villain stops being a villain? Is there a scale for like, “must do X amount of good deeds equal to Y bad deeds to qualify for redemption”? Must they be sufficiently punished for their bad deeds? What if reformation is possible without punishment--is punishment for its own sake truly justice? The focus people have on penance and atonement feels very baked in Christian moral philosophy. People don’t work like that. There’s not a cosmic scale of right and wrong, or a cosmic sin counter, there’s just... actions and their immediate impact. Bad people being let off the hook too easily can leave a bad taste in your mouth, and there are of course things with unfortunate real world implications which can’t be divorced from real-world context which are... irresponsible to allow in the hands of Certain Groups, but I hate this notion of “villains must be punished appropriately for their crimes, always, even if they have extenuating circumstances, even if they have demonstrated the capacity for personal growth, because that personal growth will never negate their misdeeds.”

In real life, it’s different. In real life, you can never be sure what’s going on in another person’s head. But the prison system of justice is fundamentally broken. People are rarely fundamentally evil, but there are some people who are too twisted and dangerous to society to be allowed to live without, at the very least, constant supervision. True evil is banal, rooted in social systems, not individual “bad people.” People have individual will, but ultimately they’re just the products of the environment and systems that fostered them. Setting aside the questions of whether people can be born evil or at what age you become personally responsible for your actions, you will get bad apples in any sufficiently large group of people. If someone has to be punished and removed from society, that’s not a success of justice. The fact that they reached that point in the first place is a failure of society in and of itself.

In fiction, technically everyone is redeemable. You can get into the heads of the bad guys and do basically whatever you want with them. Fiction should be responsible when dealing with real-world issues that affect real people, but it does not have to be morally didactic. Sometimes there just... isn’t an easy, morally didactic answer for dealing with morally complicated characters or situations. And more importantly, sometimes the morally didactic answer isn’t the narratively interesting answer. 9 out of 10 times, what’s more interesting to read about? A horrible villain being put to death, or a horrible villain being forced to live and grow?

Some hypothetical examples to ponder, purely in the context of fiction.

Horrible war criminal villain with a body count in the millions has all memories of their crimes wiped, or is forcibly brainwashed into being a better person. Setting aside the ethics of brainwashing: are they still required to “repent”? Would a victim still be justified in seeking penance from this guilt-free shell? Would this change at all depending on who was responsible for the mind-wipe?

More realistic: horrible war criminal villain with a body count in the millions straight up retires. Gets older. Bloodlust, national zeal, whatever once motivated them to do such evil loses its edge. They fall in love. Start a family. As they grow as a person, learn the value of life, the weight of their crimes starts to sink in. They atone in little ways, through little random acts of kindness and helping the people around them, but for one reason or another (not wanting to risk harm to their family, knowing they’ll be tortured for information? you decide) don’t turn themselves into the proper justice system and are never punished. Should they be punished, or allowed to continue existing? Would this change at all depending on the surrounding political circumstances, i.e.: whether their public execution would hold any symbolic value, whether affected groups are calling for their death? Does it matter at all in deciding justice whether this hypothetical villain feels personal guilt or regret over their war crimes? Why or why not?

Child villains. IRL there are documented cases of violent crime in children as young as grade school age, not all of whom had violent backgrounds. Should they be held to the same standards as adult villains, even if the scale of their crimes are the same? What’s the cutoff age? Are all villains under 18 capable of rehabilitation, no matter how horrible their crimes? How about 16? 14? 12? What about villains whose ages aren’t really clear, ie Cell from DBZ being like, six?

How much does backstory matter? Should it matter if there’s a good reason someone is Like That, or should their actions be judged as-is? It doesn’t matter to the victims whether or not the villain had a bad childhood, right? Moreover, does it matter at all whether someone is “fundamentally a good person,” at least insofar as genuinely caring about the people around them and caring about a moral code? People do evil things for reasons other than “being evil people.”

Morally bankrupt person who regularly fantasizes violent harm on the people around them, wholly selfish with no love for any other human being, fundamentally incapable of meaningful self-reflection or growth. Just a complete piece of shit all around. But they never have, and never will, commit any crimes, either due to some divine ordinance or just plain self-preservation/fear of getting caught. They might, at worst, just be a toxic asshole, but not one who holds any power over others. Should they be punished solely for their moral character, rather than actions?

There aren’t always easy answers. It’s okay to acknowledge that, and it’s okay to tackle hard moral questions like this in fiction. And I hate seeing this boiled down to “stop trying to redeem villains who are Actually Horrible People” or whatever. Especially in kids’ media which takes an optimistic stance on people being capable of change in the first place. Y’all gotta stop holding it to the same level of moral realism as gritty stuff for adults.

On the whole, I think we should do away with the term “redemption” in the context of morality entirely. Like redemption arc, redemption equals death, what does that mean? It implies one has sufficiently made up for their past deeds, that that’s the gold standard, but is that really ever possible? Like I said, there’s not a cosmic good deeds | bad deeds counter for every person, or at least not one that living people have any way of knowing about. And that’s a flawed way of thinking to begin with. Those bad deeds can never be erased, ever. There plenty of examples of villains who commit crimes they can never realistically atone for. Regardless of whether they want to atone in the first place, it’s like I said: in fiction, it’s often just... more fun to force them to live and deal with the consequences. But on the flipside, there are so, so many people who see themselves as “good” and use that to justify their own bad deeds. Which ties back into what I said about the whole discourse reeking of Christian moral philosophy, because lmfao @ corruption in the catholic church.

The point is. There are shades of grey. Not everything has to be a full-blown bad guy to good guy redemption arc. You don’t need to “properly atone for your sins” to be worthy of life or love.

Here are some better questions to ask than “is this character redeemable”:

Is it believable, from what we know of this villain as a character, that they are capable of becoming a good, law-abiding citizen?

How about capable of love?

Guilt?

Are they capable of any personal growth whatsoever?

Are they capable of being a positive impact on the lives of the people around them?

Is it actively harmful to leave them alive, even with clipped wings?

Is it interesting to leave them alive?

How morally didactic is the narrative as a whole?

How much forgiveness are they offered, versus how much could they possibly ever deserve?

How abstracted is this character from reality, ie: are there any real world parallels that make it uncomfortable to frame this character in a sympathetic light? (be careful not to fall into a black and white abuser/victim dichotomy)

Would further punishment or suffering be productive? (Productive, not justified, that’s a key distinction--punishment for its own sake is just pointless cruelty.)

Even the most vile, irredeemable bastards can still be dragged like... an inch. And that’s still a fun and valuable story in and of itself, even if it’s nothing remotely approaching a redemption arc and they’d very much still deserve to rot in Hell by the end of it. I don’t believe Hell is real, as much as I personally wish it were sometimes, but like. If it were, or in fictional universes where it is.

But also, there really are some characters and botched “redemption arcs” that just come off insanely uncomfortable. And there is a subjective aspect to that as well, but more than once I’ve seen people say “X villain did not deserve redemption/forgiveness” and 9 times out of 10 I’m like “that’s... really not what they got, though?”

It’s complicated.

#idk how coherent it is #i just saw a tweet that annoyed me #''villains deserve happiness and redemption arcs *guy who murdered 20 million people* no not him''#i don't even entirely disagree but it's... complicated #musings

5 notes · View notes