#but i am looking forward to seeing him again. no concrete plans yet but he kept saying ‘next time’ so i know

[matenrou-fan]

I've been such a fan of your work and I'm so so so excited your requests are open again! And that you write OM, too! I'm honestly torn on what to request because Hitoya is my lawyer husband (I have a commission done of him and my OC Nana) but Beel is my himbo husband.

Well, I'll let you pick. Something fluffy and NSFW would be lovely. After reader/OC had a long day and they pamper her? 💕🙏 I look forward to it and I hope you have fun with the next bunch of drafts!

Hitoya pamper his fem! s/o after a long day

ahhh hiii sweeeeetiiiie!!! thank you very much for your kind words, it warms my soul..! ^^ here, I hope you will enjoy this one work too!

femreader, fluff, fingering (receiving), sex in bath;; 2553 words;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

;MINORS DNI;

Ah.. such a hard, long day, indeed. You almost can't feel your own legs as you walk home, loud thrumming in your ears makes your head empty and aching, and all you can't concrete in was a good hot bath and cuddles with your husband, while you two bending each other's ears, complaining about your stupid jobs.

The door of your house crack as you get in, surprised to see lights being on. Can't it be..?

"Welcome home.." - Hitoya, your husband, walks in the corridor to meet you, already in home clothes and a cup of coffee in his arm.

"Good evening.." - A deep sigh breaks from your lips as you take off your jacket and get closer to him with a small chuckle. - "I'm the one who's late today, am I? When was the last time you got home earlier than me? It's so unusual.."

"I don't remember myself." - he chuckled too, cupping your cheek with his hand. Ah, such contrasts between his warm skin and your cold from street one makes shiver run down your neck. - "Have a rough day today?"

That's why you love him. Because, despite his grumpy cold demeanor, Hitoya always was so attentive to your needs, reading you like an open book even when you tried to hide some of your emotions. His gray eyes were serious but gentle, as he looked at your face with understanding in his pale gaze. And you can't help but freeze for a moment, mesmerized by his beauty - his ash brown hair was already uncoiled, framing his pale, tired face with messy locks. These light wrinkles and dark circles just gave him an air of consummate elegance, making your husband even more charming in your eyes. And of course he noticed your fascinated face too.

"Hey, you hear me?" - Hitoya smirks and pinch your cheek, bringing you back from the clouds to earth. - "Come on, it's cold here, let's get in the kitchen, I have something to show you.."

"Ahh, wait, I can't even walk normally, I'm so drained.." - you sigh a little, knowing damn well he would never get annoyed with you and your small tantrums.

But when you change into your comfy home clothes too and walk in the kitchen, you get silent, greeted with a bunch of dishes on the table, still warm and juicy, and the smell was so delicious.. You turn to look at your husband just to see his proud smirk.

"When I got home and didn't find you I thought to order some delivery.. Yet then I thought that I didn't spoil you for a really long time, didn't I?"

"Ah, Hitoya.. How sweet you can be sometimes.." - you mumble with a small smile, quickly sitting at the table, as your mouth is already watering from all these delicious meals.. Oh, he even cooks your favorite food, along with his favorite ham and cheese casserole.

"Stop with this lovey-dovey stuff.." - as usual, he scoffs, acting tough towards any softness, yet smirks after. - "At least leave it all for later, as I have more plans for our evening tonight.."

"Oh? You know how to intrigue.." - you can't help but giggle a little, wondering what exactly your husband hides behind this grin.

"And you don't know how to not fall under my intrigues, aren't you?" - now this smirk got even wider as he sat in front of you. - "So be a good girl and enjoy my treatment today..

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Hitoya knows how to cook, and how to cook well, enjoying his hard work with you. Small talks quickly relax your mind and your body as you listen to his day and then venting about yours. Such a good, peaceful evening together, you adore this side of your husband so much, as he gets softer, not ashamed to tell what annoys him today at work or even makes him sad. And, of course, listening to your problems with such attention and care, giving your small advice or just cursing your stupid boss together with you.

"Mm.. that was wonderful.." - you sigh happily, leaning back on your chair with a pleasant smile. You eat so good yet you don't have this pressure in your stomach that you're full, just perfect.

The same smile plays on Hitoya's lips too as he quickly cleans the table, shushing you when you try to help him. You can't help but chuckle, as it was kinda amusing - the way he showed his love with a mix of light sullenness sometimes.

Well, as he tells you to not worry about dishes, you walk in the living room, slumped into the couch with a small yawn. You don't even know what feels better - the delicious dinner itself or the fact that your dearest husband makes it just for you, probably being no less tired than you are. And now even taking care of all dirty plates too, while you luxuriate among soft pillows.

"Mm? You didn't fall asleep?" - his sudden voice behind your back makes you jump a little and then you giggle:

"How can I? I remember your words about something more.." - you murmur as Hitoya places his hand on your head, messing with your hairstyle.

"Oh yes.. Sit here for a little bit more, okay?" - he leans closer and kisses your forehead, before leaving you again. What kind of surprise did he prepare for you? You didn't know, yet also didn't mind waiting a little, resting in the softness of the couch, kinda understanding why he was surprised you didn't fall asleep - it was hard not to..

It didn't take long as your husband got back with a smile and bent over the back of the couch, tickling your shoulder. Soft giggle bursts from you as you get up, grasping his hand and pulling Hitoya closer into a quick but playful kiss.

"Come on, don't make me wait for too long.." - your whisper tickles his lips and he can't help but chuckle too, admiring this excitement in your eyes and the way you bite your lips, inpatient:

"Of course, darling. Everything is almost ready so let's go.." - he takes your hand and leads you through the corridor to the bathroom, and you don't believe your eyes - is this really your bath?!

In the dark, lit only by small candles, it looks like some magic room from fairytales, and the sweet citrus smell of an oil along with the airy clouds of a bubble bath makes it even better, as you can't look away, shocked.

"What? Was it worth the wait?" - A low whisper tickles your ear as Hitoya gets closer, hugging you from behind. As you turn back to face him, first that you notice was his playful smile, he was clearly amused by your reaction..

"Dear.. When did you manage to do this?" - your voice dropped to a whisper too, your hands run from his shoulders down his arms as you hug him back. You both lean closer to each other, touching noses and looking in eyes.

"Mm.. While cooking, another thought crossed my mind.." - his words tickle your skin, and the light feeling of his lips touching yours drive your mind to another dimension, makes you wonder how far care of your husband will go today. - "I thought that for the last few weeks we didn't get enough time to pay proper attention to each other, don't you think?"

With these words Hitoya just pushes your fantasies even further, as playful lips to lips tickles turn into a more deep and passionate kiss this time. Hands on your waist get more ardent too, reaching blindly down and playing with your shirttail. You both probably could just keep things like that but he suddenly pulled away, only a thread of saliva connected your lips now.

"We don't want to get too carried away, okay? Let's take things nice and slow today, I want to prolong it as much as we can.." - Hitoya whispers and steps back, throwing away his shirt and of course you don't need any requests to repeat after him, also undressing yourself slowly, revealing more of your skin to your husband and enjoying his gaze that didn't leave your body even for a second. As much as your eyes kept roaming around his figure, in this mesmerizing semi darkness muscles of his shoulders and chest looked so smooth and enormously prominent, making you forget about everything around once again.

"I just told you to not get too carried away, baby.." - his low chuckle along with a slap on your ass wakes you up, pulling a little gasp from your chest. Hitoya smirks and gets into the bath first before extending a hand to you.

"Sorry.. It's kinda hard when you look at me like that.." - you bite your lip, meeting his gaze, these always pale gray eyes get so dark now, only small reflections of candle's light sparkle in this depth of lust.

Water was warm enough to make shivers run through your body, but not too hot to melt you right in place and raise your blood pressure to the point your minds get dizzy. There's other things that will bring you to this point..

You leaned back, pressing yourself to the wet and soft chest of your lover with a trembling sigh, relaxing your muscles. Despite all you can think right now was this intimacy between his body and yours, you have to admit the bath itself was also really good - unctuous water on your skin feels so nice, and smell of oil along with faint gleam of candles' light on water surface gets you in some romantical, sensitive mood.

"So my gaze was enough for you?" - the way his whisper tickles the nape of your neck makes another small sigh escape your lips. - "How cute.."

Oh of course, what would Hitoya do without his favorite teases? Even in such a smooth atmosphere he wanted to play with you a little, wanting to know how you would react to something more than gaze, maybe for some touch..? As his hands quickly wrapped around your waist for a few moments, holding you suffocatingly close to him, to the point where your ass pressed against his half hard dick. Your mewl makes the corner of his lips lift even more as Hitoya gets more bold, moving to your thighs and squeezes it under water.

Oh, how amusing it is, to watch you slowly melting under his hands, as he tickles your inner thighs with his fingertip, another arm cupping your breast, twiddling your nipple.. And you can't even return the favor and tease him back, only grasping his knees, whining. All you can do is just rub your hips against his crotch, pulling low groans from your husband.

And he can go like that for a long time, just mocking you with slow drags of his fingers on your labia, with sweet teases in your ears about how quickly you fall for it, fall for his games and teases, get so aroused when he doesn't even do much..

"Hitoya.. stop with your games.." - a whine bursts from your trembling lips as you pinch his leg in anticipation, just to hear another laugh from him:

"How can I? You sound too cute when whining like that.."

"Oh, that's it? You don't want to try to make me sound more.. pleased?" - you chuckle, pressing yourself to him again as you can feel how his dick starts twitching more, rubbing against your back.

"So you give me a challenge now?" - he leaned closer to kiss your temple, before finally moving his hand further, pressing your throbbing clit then caressing your folds.

Closing your eyes, you whine, as the first wave of goosebumps washes over you after the long - awaited touch to your pulsing core. As your husband, he knows by heart all your sensitive spots, and if you decided to goad him like that then now be prepared that he will only abuse these weaknesses, quickly turning you into a squirming moaning mess. Your loud whines and small whimpers under breath lead Hitoya in the right path for your delight, as he changes his pace and angles just to hear more shameful sounds from you.

Tight grasp of your trembling hand on his forearm, shaky hips that keep moving forward his finger with every thrust on your clit, weak voice of yours.. A beautiful masterpiece just for your husband to enjoy. He bit his lips, feeling the aching throb of his dick, as he kept grinding against your spine. His own hand that now slowly sinks inside you, stretching your walls, also starts trembling a little. This nagging urge started burning in his chest more, and Hitoya leaned closer, nibbling on your neck, hiding his groans in your skin.

Your legs spread more on its own when he hit your sweet spot inside, and you can't help but almost scratch his arms with your nails, drowning more and more in pleasure. Tossing back your head, you stop controlling your voice and body, calling your husband's name again and again, so desperate and needy.. Any thoughts fade away as you completely give way to your feelings, almost riding his fingers now, gyrating and bouncing on it.

"Hitoya.. I'm so close.." - your strength was only enough for a few seconds before your words turned into another whine. The pushing knot in your abdomen gets so tight, you can't think about anything else but your burning walls that clench around his hand, sucking his fingers more inside.

Hitoya didn't answer but sped up, thrusting in and out at just the perfect pace, making you lose the last piece of your sanity. His free hand moves to your waist, grasping on it so you would squirm too much when your orgasm hits you. And very on time - just a few moments and you moan loudly, suddenly squeezing your thighs together and locking his arm between it, your walls frozen around his fingers tightly as you came hard, with mind blank and whole body empty as all your feelings concentrate on your womanhood.

You collapse on your husband's chest, panting and whining. His hand didn't leave your body, caressing it more gently now as he helped you calm down, yet you can feel how hard his dick pushing your lower back, and his breath so heavily..

"Mm.. I think you sound pleasant enough right now.." - Hitoya mumbled with a light chuckle before lifting you and turned face to face with him. Now his cock rests against your tummy, hot glans tickling your skin. - "What about let me have some fun too…?"

"Right here?" - you raise your eyebrows with a smirk, hands playfully running on his chest and shoulders as you get lower and touch his hard cock.

"It didn't bothers you few minutes back so what the problem now?" - he murmurs, getting more tense under your touches.

"No, nothing, dear.." - leaning closer, you pull him into a kiss, tickling his lips with your tongue. You feel so refreshed and playful now. - "But it means it's my turn to play with you, no?"

"Oh, and I thought to spoil you a little bit more.." - Hitoya grasps your waist, rubbing his crotch against yours. - "Why don't you just relax and let me take more care of you today, darling..?"

#hypmic x reader #hypmic imagines #hypmic #hypnosis mic #hitoya amaguni smut #hypnosis mic hitoya #hypmic hitoya #hitoya x reader #hitoya amaguni #hitoya Amaguni x reader

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

For the WIP ask game: “Glitching” and “it all started with that hug” either or both 🥺💚🤎

Oh, I started these two so long ago now and yet the new season is coming up upon us and I am no further forward (yet).

Anyway, both of these ideas came from the D23 trailer.

Glitching

Originally meant to be a 5+1 idea where Loki only gets to see Mobius (his Mobius) in small segments because he keeps glitching back to that other TVA. I've not written much more than this, sadly.

"Hello? Mobius?"

Loki crept slowly into what had been Ravonna's room, holding a dagger in each hand in case this wasn't the right timeline.

The glitching, whatever was causing it, was playing havoc with his ability to defeat Kang, to make any concrete plans, and, most importantly, it was preventing him from being with his Mobius.

"You probably don't have enough time to be sneaking around. Get on in here," Mobius said, stepping out from behind the door and into Loki's eyeline.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling as they fell on him, making Loki shiver.

Seeing Mobius made him feel ten times lighter. He let out a long breath, vanishing his daggers and running towards him to clutch at his jacket, making sure he was real.

They breathed in each other's air for a second until Loki could resist no longer, leaning down and brushing his lips against Mobius'.

He felt hands wrap around his waist, pulling them closer together as if they alone would keep him firmly in place.

If only they could.

Loki wanted to kiss Mobius forever, make up for all the lost time between them, but despite his protests when Mobius pushed him back, he eventually gave in and instead pressed their foreheads together.

"How are you?" Mobius asked, his eyes still looking at Loki's lips.

"Starved," he answered truthfully. "I don't know how much longer I can do this."

Mobius hummed, bringing a hand up into Loki's hair. He pulled Loki back down into another kiss: soft, tender and devouring.

A tug on his hair made Loki gasp, and that's when he felt it. The first jolt; his skin vibrating.

"No," he breathed, feeling Mobius slip from his fingers while the world spun around him.

For a brief second, it stopped and Loki twisted, seeing that he now stood across the room from Mobius.

With the next one, he would be gone, back to that other TVA.

"It's okay," Mobius reassured, a soft sad smile on his face. "For all time."

"Always," Loki confirmed. Then Mobius and the room disappeared and he landed back at square one.

It Started With That Hug

An angsty look at Loki living in another TVA, realising they are non binary, realising how much they love Mobius, and not being aware that they are glitching back to their Mobius occasionally.

There's, uh, 8.7k already and Loki has only just realised they are talking to their Mobius (thanks to Sylvie).

Here's a bit from just before Loki meets their Mobius, when they find Sylvie.

If the answer wasn't in the files or in asking this Mobius questions, where could they find it?

Could they steal a TemPad and see where it took them? Would that even be a good idea when this TVA knew nothing about Lokis and he was free to wander the halls?

It was deeply puzzling and Loki had always been good with puzzles. They shouldn't be letting their emotions stop them solving this one.

Getting back to Mobius was objective number one on their list. They would keep trying to get the information they needed as long as they remained free enough to find it.

Looking like a dejected puppy seemed to have worked. They really should count their blessings.

A small sob left their throat. They wanted to sink into Mobius' embrace like they had on the hill. They wanted to feel safe and secure and like they belonged.

Being taunted by someone who looked like him, who was him but with different experiences, it was difficult at best.

"I need you," Loki whispered into the wooden desk. If they could, they would move the heavens themselves.

It was then that they felt that strange feeling again, like everything shifting. Nausea crept up their throat as their stomach lurched. They jerked their head up and saw the room move, or was it them moving? Everything moved. They were there, then here, then further away, and it was frightening.

It's the madness in me, Loki thought. I'm losing my mind.

When it finally stopped, Loki collapsed onto the floor, trying to breathe. They closed their eyes, but snapped them open again when a familiar voice called their name.

"Loki?"

"Sylvie," they gasped, looking up at her. She sat in a small office, but instead of paper lining every surface, there were knives and switchblades.

Another one dropped onto the desk as Sylvie pushed herself up and out of her chair.

"You look like Hel."

#lokius #loki x mobius #loki #mobius #sylvie #loki series #mcu #marvel #wip tag asks #my wips

[tomkiesche]

Go team! Butch was rescued by @laanimalrescue who once again came through! This is yet another rescue I am a fan of. I posted a video of Butch a while back. I have never seen a dog leak so much poo or shoot poop out when he coughed. No dog deserves to land in a shelter. However, it goes for Butch… I am happy it won’t end with him behind metal bars and on concrete floors. I look forward to hearing about Butch’s journey. And I trust he is in very caring and capable hands. Repost from @laanimalrescue • Butch is safe! He was on borrowed time and we had to give him a chance! When I picked him up on Monday I really wanted to post his freedom announcement right then but seeing the condition he was in broke my heart and challenged my spirit. He’s going to require a lot of vet care, time and love! PLEASE DONATE to help BUTCH. ❤️🐾 Right now the plan is to work on getting him healthy (skin and digestive system) and then we’ll schedule the neuter and mass removal on his tail. He got antibiotics for skin infection, allergy shot, blood panel, fecal test, skin scrape, X-rays, medicated bath, and meds for his soft poop. This guy has not had an easy life! It’s so incredibly sad that people neglect animals and then discard them like trash. Leaving him tied to a pole? Really?! L A Animal Rescue is a non-profit 501(c)3 animal rescue run by volunteers & your donations. We currently care for over 250 domestic and farm animals between our rescue ranch and foster network. HELP US CONTINUE HELPING MORE ANIMALS BY ❤️🐶🐈🐷🦆🐔🐴🐰🐦🦎🐐🐢❤️ 🔹 Sharing our posts which gives our animals more exposure 🔹 Becoming a monthly donor or making a one time donation 🔹 https://www.laanimalrescue.org/donate 🔹 PayPal: [email protected] 🔹 Venmo: @laanimalrescue (last 4 digits: 1658) 🔹 Zelle [email protected] 🔹 YOUR DONATIONS ARE TAX DEDUCTIBLE #laanimalrescue #animalsanctuary #dedicatedtotheanimals #safehaven #laar #nonprofitcharity #butch #bulldog #medicaldog #abandoned #meatball #hotmess #englishbulldog #meathead #thelongroad #timetoheal #thisisrescue (at Friends of North Central Shelter - Los Angeles Animal Services) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmwWV-BrgcL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#laanimalrescue #animalsanctuary #dedicatedtotheanimals #safehaven #laar #nonprofitcharity #butch #bulldog #medicaldog #abandoned #meatball #hotmess #englishbulldog #meathead #thelongroad #timetoheal #thisisrescue

[decaynow]

crying over how much i love tobi for a second time today

edit: but like happy crying i’m a little sad bc i miss him but i’m mostly crying bc of how much i love him and how loved i feel

#i miss snuggling with him so much it hasn’t even been 12 hours #please god please just let what we’ve got last forever and grow and be a lifelong relationship #that is my dream and my goal. i dont care what happens or what we label ourselves as long as youre mine and im yours srs #he’s just really wonderful and attentive and it’s just really funny bc the way he is online is so different from in person #he comes off really like... neglectful #forgets to answer or reply a lot or doesn’t have much to say #but in person we talked forever and he picked up things i forgot and fed me and tried to help me with my nose piercing #even tho i told him i didnt want to make it his problem and hes just like. idk. like idk. #im so in love with him like love is real like really real and i experienced it and i want to have that forever #if i could just wake up next to him for the rest of my life i would be happy with existing #i’m not looking forward to sleeping alone and i’m not looking forward to showering or his shirt losing its smell #but i am looking forward to seeing him again. no concrete plans yet but he kept saying ‘next time’ so i know #i just know that i can do this. i can be alive. i want to be here because i want to be with him and my friends and have fun with them #ok anyways sorry for ranting its just that he is the most wonderful thing ever created #this post does not reflect the views of my employer

[crankynewt]

Good for a Weekend (Helmut Zemo)

Masterlist

Summary: You were retired, a disgraced Avenger content living the rest of their life out in solitude. But Sam and Bucky's shenanigans dragged you back into the hero life and you found yourself face to face with the man who'd got you into this mess in the first place. The question is, however, is he really who you thought he was? Or are you just as crazy as him?

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader

Warnings: TFAWS Episode 3 Spoilers, Zemo (he's a warning), swearing, mentions of torture and experimenting (past), drinking, Zemo being semi-protective, I think that's it??

Word Count: 3.41k

Author's Note: Biting the bullet and writing this BEFORE Marvel does something to get us to hate him again. Also, ZEMO AND BLANK SPACE WORK SO WELL TOGETHER OMG.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” You murmured, looking at the message from Sam flashing across your phone. Although you had stopped dead in your tracks, the chaos of the bustling streets of London continued around you. You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose, them having fallen down as you were peering at the screen of your burner cell.

‘Need your help in Madripoor ASAP,’ the text read. You weren’t daft, you knew exactly what kind of lawless entropy happened on that Indonesian island and if Sam was asking for your help, that meant he was in some deep shit.

‘I’m retired,’ you replied, glancing over your shoulder out of habit. Although you’d been pardoned after the Berlin incident by the government, you were still a disgraced Avenger in the eyes of the world. All you wanted was to live the rest of your life out in peace, a future without the world-saving you began when you left HYDRA with the Maximoff twins.

You hadn’t chosen to become a human lab rat, tortured and exposed to the mind stone until you could suddenly hear the thoughts of others in your head. Telepathy and telekinesis were not necessarily the kind of special skills that employers wanted to see on a resume, but alas, here you were. Thankfully, however, you'd learned to block them out until necessary to violate people's privacy. Fighting aliens and other superpowered entities, including the people you’d once considered to be your family, were in the past.

‘Please. It’s Bucky,’ Sam messaged again. Those three words were enough to make your blood run cold and your heart stop. Bucky was the reason you were in this mess in the first place, and you would be damned if the ex-assassin was going to fall back into the clutches of evil.

With a sigh, you typed back ‘fine’ and began the trek towards your apartment. Your phone was vibrating again immediately, Sam explaining that they would be picking you up at a small airstrip on the edge of the city.

Three hours later, you were walking along a long, concrete runway, the harsh England wind attacking your body as you pulled your leather jacket tighter around you. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of a civilian jet rather than the military-esque vessels you’d become accustomed to. The steps were awaiting your ascent with an older man stood adjacent to the entrance.

“Ms.(Y/L/N),” he greeted. A thick accent laced his tone, one you couldn’t quite determine from the crackling of age in his voice. German or Russian, most likely, you deduced. Attempting to be polite despite your skepticism, you gave him a tight-lipped smile and handshake before the elder man gestured towards the stairs for you. Entering the jet, you turned right to be met with the familiar faces of Sam and Bucky.

“(Y/N)!” Bucky exclaimed, rising from his seat and embracing you in a hug. He held you tightly against his body, almost as if he wasn’t sure you were really there. The super soldier had taken a liking to you when the two of you stayed in Wakanda during your exile, both of you having a certain understanding of the other due to your shared experiences with HYDRA. The sergeant had become somewhat of a brother to you in your time away together. “What are you doing here?”

“Sam messaged me.” You replied, Barnes’ arms immediately releasing you as he whipped around to face Sam.

“You tattled on me to (Y/N)?” He scoffed. If looks could kill, Sam would have dropped dead from the darkness in Bucky’s orbs.

“Wait, if he’s okay then what am I here for?” You said, shifting your gaze to Sam as you raised a brow.

“You’re here to make sure that he stays in line.” Sam snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as Bucky let out an exasperated ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath.

“Bucky’s fine, Sam.” You replied, rubbing your face with your hand in annoyance as you glanced at the super-soldier.

“He’s not talking about James.” A new voice sounded from behind you, one both vaguely familiar but also strange. Whipping around, you were met with a face you’d only ever seen through a screen. Zemo.

“What the fuck is he doing out of prison?!” You exclaimed, looking between Sam and Bucky in utter disbelief.

“Bucky broke him out of jail!” Sam exclaimed, pointing a finger towards the super-soldier.

“Sam’s the one who pulled me into this mess!” Bucky pointed back.

“You two morons have reached a whole new level of dumbassery!” You exclaimed, keeping a cautious gaze on Zemo in the corner of your eye. “You broke out the man who ripped apart the Avengers out of jail and you let him do it?! The same man who killed King T’Chaka! Do neither of you remember what T’Challa and the people of Wakanda just did for us after we became enemies of the state?! I cannot believe that you would betray their trust and help this monster to escape!”

You paused for a moment, breathing heavily as you looked at the ashamed faces of Bucky and Sam in front of you.

“I’m sorry to-” You heard Zemo begin, you turned to face him with utter rage shining in your eyes. “No! The grown-ups are talking, you can wait your turn.” You scolded him, almost as you would a child but just a tad harsher. Grown-ups may have also not have been the best choice of words to describe Wilson and Barnes.

“I don’t want any part of this suicide mission!” You snapped at the duo, moving to leave.

Thirty minutes later, however, you were still on the jet, glaring into a pair of brown eyes as the four of you flew through the air. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you were still there, but Sam and Bucky knew you too well and pushed just the right buttons to convince you to stay. Sam needed you to tap into Zemo’s mind if need be to figure out if he was planning on betraying them, and you didn’t want two of the last people you trust getting themselves killed if you could prevent it.

Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum were sitting across from each other, meaning that you got stuck sitting across from the Baron in silence. He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, the darkness in your (Y/E/C) orbs not sitting well with the man.

“So, you read minds.” He began, rubbing his hands together anxiously. You noted the nervous tick and couldn’t help but feel amused at his discomfort, but your expression never faltered.

“You don’t need to make small talk.” You bit, your icy tone growing colder in every syllable.

“I’m genuinely curious, is all.” He began, pausing his fiddling to brush his hair back only to resume it once more. “It just seems like for someone with your abilities, you’re often an overlooked member of the team. You’re the most powerful, even more so than Maximoff or Banner, perhaps, yet you were never truly an Avenger, were you?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m retired.” You muttered, ending your glaring to gaze out the window. The way Zemo spoke about you was unsettling, especially considering how he felt about the Avengers. He seemed not to think that you were part of the team, similarly to Bucky, and that brought you a feeling of unease.

“And why is that?” Zemo pushed, your avoidance evidence that he’d struck a chord.

“Why do you care?” You scoffed, looking back at the Sokovian man, both annoyance and exhaustion present in your tone.

“Because I think you’re like me.” He answered, his tone becoming quieter. Zemo didn’t look at you with the same rage you’d seen in footage from 2016, nor with the amusement that he gazed at Bucky and Sam with. No, it was something different, softer and analytical, perhaps. You wanted to peer into his mind for something, anything to figure out what he was thinking, but he would likely feel your prodding into his consciousness. As of now, he didn’t seem to have any plans to betray you guys, and you wouldn’t be the one to give him a reason.

“That’s enough from you.” Bucky interrupted, rising from his seat to switch places with you, his brotherly possessiveness clear as day.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and Zemo provided the three of you with costumes for the roles you were to play in Madripoor. Yours seemed to have been designed specifically to be horribly uncomfortable, both in feel and the amount of skin that was exposed in the cool evening air. The three of you were making your way towards the glowing city shining in the distance, the nerves in your stomach rising with each step.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp.” Zemo explained in response to Sam’s protests over his own outfit. “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname.” Sam said, looking at the picture of Conrad on the phone Zemo had just handed him. “Hell, he does look like me though.”

“And who am I supposed to be playing, exactly?” You questioned, still unsure as to what role you would be playing in this scheme.

“My partner,” Zemo said simply, an amused smile working his way onto his lips.

“What?! No! Nu-uh, I’m not doing that!” You protested, Sam chuckling at your denial of what was probably inevitable.

“Would you rather the alternative of all of us getting slaughtered the second we step foot into the city?” Zemo retorted, still humored by your resistance.

“Fine, but if you try anything I’m going to break your nose.” You gave in.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Soon, the four of you were making your way into a bar, Helmut’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist since the second you exited the car in a mock possessiveness. It was all part of the charade, you had to remind yourself, as the Baron kept your side pressed against his snugly.

Making your way up to the counter, the bartender didn’t look impressed to see the group of you there as he made his way over to you.

“Hello,” He began. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have a business to do, with Selby.” Zemo interjected before Sam could respond.

“The usual?” The bartender ignored Zemo and turned his attention back to Sam, who simply gave a curt nod in response. The bartender turned, grabbing a snake from a jar and slicing it down the underside with a blade. A part of you wanted to cackle, especially seeing Sam stiffen beside you, and you didn’t doubt that Bucky was having to restrain himself as well. Zemo didn’t seem surprised as the bartender pulled who knows what out from the snake and placed it into a glass.

“Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” The Baron commented, the bartender sliding Sam his beverage only to pour two glasses of a different liquor for Zemo and yourself.

“I love these,” Sam said, raising to clink glasses with yourself and the Sokovian man whose arm was still draped around you.

“Cheers, Conrad,” Zemo replied, smiling back at poor Sam. The three of you downed your burning liquor, Sam struggling the most out of the three of you, clearly appalled by the organ at the bottom of his shot. You could see Bucky give a little nod in the corner of your eye, knowing he must be finding this as amusing as you were.

A man soon approached Helmut from behind, tapping him on the shoulder before he turned to face the stranger, shifting you with him. When Zemo felt the little nudge, he immediately pulled you closer to him. You were even tighter against him now, so much so that you had to wrap an arm around him as well to stabilize yourself. It was almost as if he was trying to shield you from the man despite him knowing full well that you can hold your own.

“I got word from on high; you ain’t welcome here.” He spat, getting too close to the two of you for either of your likings. But Zemo kept his air of indifference while you instinctually moved closer into his side. It’s all an act, remember? You have to play the part of the clingy partner who would get frightened at such a rough man threatening you two. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo began, trailing off as he gestured to Bucky.

“New haircut?” The strange man asked Bucky, who merely glowered in response.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo finished, this time him being the one to get into the man’s face. Thankfully that was enough to send him away, most likely to Selby or this Power Broker who seems to be Madripoor’s own version of Big Brother.

You could feel Zemo let out a breath that you don’t think he even knew he was holding, giving a quick glance down at you before placing a peck on your temple. For the facade, of course. But what wasn’t fake were the butterflies rise in your stomach, something that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Were you… Flustered?

No, you reminded yourself internally. This was a very bad man holding you close, the same one who killed the former King of Wakanda and ripped your team to shreds. Not only that, but he hated all the Avengers, so why did he seem to like you? It doesn’t matter whether or not he likes you, he’s Zemo. But the more time you spent with him, the more intoxicated you became. He was starting to look more and more like your next mistake, and love is certainly not a game you wanted to be playing with him. Right?

The next thirty or so minutes were a blur. Bucky having to fake being the Winter Soldier to kick a bunch of men’s asses to finally meeting up with Selby, only for Sam to break your cover through a phone call and Selby quickly being shot. The four of you promptly exited the bar, attempting to remain inconspicuous until bounty hunters from all around started shooting at you. Bucky and Sam jumped forward, meanwhile, Zemo darted to the right, dragging you with him as he moved his hand from your waist to interlock your fingers.

You cut through alleyway after alleyway, hiding in the shadows as gunfire echoed around you. Eventually, you managed to catch up with Bucky and Sam, approaching the pair with your hand still in his.

“Well this is too perfect.” A female voice interrupted your mini-reunion, Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows as she ripped down her hood, gun fixated on Zemo.

“Drop it Zemo,” She started, Zemo raising his gun-holding hand before lowering the weapon to the ground. “You cost me everything.”

“Sharon, wait.” You reasoned, raising your hand as you slowly backed up.

“What, are you his lover now? His sugar baby or some shit?” She badgered you, causing your eyes to widen as you only just remembered that you were still holding his hand. You quickly dropped it, raising it to match your other arm as Zemo sent you a look that you couldn’t decipher. Oh, how desperately you wanted to look into his mind, but the little bit of sanity left in you told you to leave it be.

“Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead,” Sam explained.

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.” Sharon replied, gun still pointed at your group.

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky questioned the blonde.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass so that you could save his ass from his ass and became a criminal with their ass.” She explained, pointing the gun at each mention of whoever's ass it was that turn. “Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up, so, I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Hey, don’t blow that smoke. I was on the run, too.” Sam rebutted Sharon’s complaints.

“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore - I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.”

“Listen…” You began. “Sharon, we need your help, the former agent only laughing in response. “Please.”

“This isn’t over.” She conceded, shaking her head at you. “I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while.”

Sharon’s place was definitely nicer than yours is now, and you’re not even on the run anymore. She, thankfully, had a change of clothes for you to slip into, the soft material much a welcome relief from the tortuous item Zemo had you wearing.

While you were waiting for Sharon’s guests to begin arriving for whatever event would soon be taking place downstairs, everybody slowly filtered out of the room until it was only Zemo and yourself remaining.

“Can I ask you a question?” You spoke up, breaking the silence from your spot on the sofa as you glanced towards the Baron seated across the room.

“Ask away.” He smiled, taking a sip from the amber liquid in his glass.

“What did you mean earlier, when you said we were the same.” Your voice was quiet now, so much so that you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you. That is until he got up from his seat and slowly walked towards you.

“I never wanted to tear the Avengers apart, not until they killed my family. Destroyed my city… Sure, I didn’t like them, but I didn’t want to destroy them. It was all about vengeance.” He began, sitting beside you on the yellow fabric. “For you, it was HYDRA who ruined your life. You joined the Avengers because it was where the last people you had left were going and it was the easiest way for you to ensure the organization was destroyed. You never wanted the idolization that came with being a hero, and it was clear when your work was done that you had no desire to keep going. Everything that came after the Sokovia Accords was out of survival.”

“I’m not saying you're right,” you began, “but what would that make me, then? Insane? Cause that seems to be the running theory.”

“You’re not crazy, despite how rumors fly. Neither am I, really.” He began, eliciting a small smile from you at the last bit he added. “You’re a fighter, someone doing whatever it takes to get their agenda done. Whether that means breaking the law or joining the Avengers, nothing will stop you once you put your mind to it - it’s one of the things I admire about you.”

You pursed your lips as you focused on the amber fluid floating in its crystalline home, him taking another sip of the burning liquid. Your gaze shifted back to his face, and oh god, look at that face. Maybe it was the liquor in your system already or maybe your last bit of sanity was finally escaping your mind, but suddenly his past didn’t seem to matter anymore. You had plenty of red on your ledger as well, and the more he spoke the more you began to sympathize with him.

“So you admire me?” You smirked, crossing your arms as you tilted your head slightly to the right playfully.

“Why don’t you look into my mind and tell me?” He replied. Reaching out, you gently placed your fingers against his temple as you gazed into his consciousness. Flashes of magic and madness, ideas of a love that could be forever or go down in flames. You didn’t go searching deeper, because your own mind was racing. Would pursuing this be worth all the pain that could very well follow? No, not could, would. You’d be betraying your former teammates, but what did that matter much anymore.

Rather than pulling your hand away, you placed your lips gently on his, tentatively, even. He tasted of expensive liquor and a hint of peppermint, and you found yourself intoxicated. The kiss ended far too soon for your liking, him pulling away so his brown orbs could gaze into your own.

“So… What do you say?” He asked, cupping your cheek in his hand, you place your own over top of his.

“Why not?” You smiled back, reconnecting your lips to his.

“I can make the bad guys good for a weekend.”

Taglist:

@fanfictionedagain @lam-ila @b0nnyzz @haydieenzzibug @cyanide-mustard @duchess-of-new-shire @the-chocoholic-writer @milenadixon @real-fbi @golddenlioness

#i feel so guilty writing this lmao #i hate liking zemo rip #helmut zemo #zemo #helmut zemo x reader #tfaws #marvel #baron zemo #helmut zemo imagine #daniel bruhl #mcu #tfaws imagine #bucky barnes #sam wilson #zemo x reader #zemo imagine

[valuedabovehoardedgold]

Friction part 1

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader 

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Abduction, Groping, Non-consensual touching, imprisonment, Slight choking, Collar, Dry Humping 

Word count: 1,225

Rating: Mature (minors DO NOT INTERACT) 

Summary: Your friends and you make a massive mistake in your adventure. Deciding to rest at the inn located in the infamous village, you’re all captured and taken to the four lords. Where you unintentionally capture the attention of Lord Heisenberg. Who has plans for you. 

(this is a darker fic, if that isn’t your cup of tea please feel free to ignore) 

 I want her. 

The words that lead to your current predicament. Chained to the dirty factory floor of some backwoods plant, your friends scattered to the wind. Your hope of escaping diminishing second by precious second. 

It's the sound of metal grinding against metal that rouses you. Besides a small overhead beam of light that blinds you, you can't make out much. Your throat hurts, and upon further inspection, your fingers brush against the cold rusted surface of a collar. You also find that your wrists are bound as well. A rusted chain reflecting dully in the light shackling you to the floor. It jolts you from your half-awake daze, and panic settles in. 

Fuck. 

Nothing is familiar, and the last thing you can recall is the musty-smelling bed you were about to sleep in for the night. But that's beside the point;  now your focus is on your pounding head and aching body.  Memories slowly fade back, going on a trip with friends, stopping at the creepy inn as the sun set behind the snow-capped mountains. Then-then, everything stops after the inn. Though, you're not able to place why. 

Shadowing your eyes from light helps with the throbbing and makes the blurred room if only a little more focused. That's when your eyes catch it, movement. Miniscule amongst the darkness but your eyes latch onto it, someone is here with you, and that terrifies you more than the thought of being alone.

"Ah! Our guest is awake," the voice is familiar, and it sends a mixture of fear and curiosity coursing through you. A shadow, hunched over something, on a beat-up desk, the scattering of papers signals that whoever it is has turned to face you. 

"What's the matter, sweetie? Bat got your tongue?" 

Your tongue refuses to cooperate for a moment; your mouth feels like sandpaper, but you manage to croak out. 

"Where am I?" 

Your throat burns with every syllable, your lips crack with every word. It's been a while since you've had water.

 How long had you been out? 

The figure doesn't answer but draws closer to your light. You wish it wouldn't, it's a childish thought, but maybe in the light, you're safe. But no the figure enters the beam and it hits you. The inn, your friends' screams. Rushing out of your room to help, pain, and then darkness. The throb in your head makes sense now. 

"Name's Heisenberg. But let's leave the questions to me, alright?" 

He's massive standing before you his shadow engulfs you. He looks like some sort of doomsday prepper. Wearing a wrinkled hat the brim shadowing his face, sunglasses, and a tan trench coat. You feel yourself shrinking to the floor terrified of him, he hasn't made a hostile move toward you but he has the power to do whatever he wants with you. That sets your heart racing as he watches you in silence for a moment. 

"Now, let's get a better look at you," he states and stands there for a few moments, and you're left confused. 

"Do I have to spell it out, sweetheart?" 

Again your blink up at the strange man before you, he's deranged, he must be... He huffs throwing his head back, like a child being denied something, before the metal collar around your throat tugs painfully up. The edge of it digs into the soft flesh as you're forced to stand. You panic like a wild dog in a trap, fighting the pull, but it does nothing to stop the collar forcing you to stand. 

Your vision swims as the collar forces your head back; you feel like a trussed-up trophy. Left balancing on your tiptoes as he walks around you, appraising the body on display before him. You feel his eyes taking you in, shorts, and a ratty tank top the only barrier between your flesh and his hungry eyes. The clothing leaves nothing to the imagination as he stands behind you. You can feel the skin bruising where the collar cuts into flesh, biting your lip as he closes the distance between you two. 

"Now I see why the super-bitch wanted you so badly." 

It's rumbled into your ear another shiver races down your limbs, another memory surfaces, after the inn. 

Waking up in a chapel the stone foundation freezing against your skin. Your friends bound, and someone--something argues for each of you. A towering woman sitting in a pastor’s chair. Arguing for all the women in the group to go to her. Her yellow eyes shining in the dim lighting as she takes in your whimpering friend.

You lean against your friend in a small attempt at comfort. She hides her face against your arm. Her sobs becoming louder, as the conversation continues. The group before you bickering about you and your friends as if you’re livestock to be doled out to the highest bidder. 

I want her.

The memory fades as he presses himself to your back. Your heart stops your fingers grasping at the taunt chain holding you hostage. 

How is he doing this? 

Your panicked thoughts don't help as hands grasp at your hips, yanking you closer to him. You bite your cheek to stop a yelp from leaving you. You will not give him the satisfaction of hearing your fear. His nose presses into your hair. He takes a deep sniff nuzzling deep into your tresses; the growl he makes sends shivers creeping down your spine. 

"Hmmm, it has been...awhile." 

He mutters into your hair as his right hand slips forward cradling your abdomen, his left keeping your hips pinned against his. Grinding himself against you, and it feels... fuck it feels good. It had been too long since your last...You are seriously considering this? You got hit hard on the head, this must be some sort of trauma reaction. 

It's how you try to rationalize the way your body reacts to him. Your core throbbing as warmth settles into your stomach. You close your eyes and another memory slithers its way to the forefront of your thoughts. 

He kneels observing each of you, his scarred lip pulling into a smirk. The friend he's closest to squirms away, pulling on his bindings as he does so. As you feel his gaze land on you, a stupid part of you meets his gaze, daring him to do whatever his fucked up mind could think of. You're bruised, bloodied, and pissed. Right now you're hoping your bravado gets his attention off your friend shivering beside you, barely holding back her sobs. He stands heading back to his makeshift throne, but his gaze lingers on you the rest of the time. As his fingertips stroke along the handle of the wicked-looking hammer beside him. You've made a critical mistake, you just don't realize it yet. 

You'd sealed your fate to him the second you'd challenged him. In your naivete, you all but condemned your friends to their demises, each one doled out to the different lords. Each one...mostly likely dead or being tortured in some horrid way. It feels like a sick cosmic joke, and yet here you are forgetting those very friends you tried to save in favor of the man who is dry humping you like a dog in heat...And you're enjoying it. 

Heisenberg didn't want to end you though, no he liked the spark behind your eyes. Liked the way you refused to be caught, he'd even witnessed you take down a few of the lycans. You're a fighter. 

"You're gonna be fun," he chuckles with a final grind against your backside. The sensation leaving you gasping as the collar goes lax and you drop to the floor. Biting back a whine of pain; knees scraping against the concrete floor, and your hands taking the brunt of the fall. 

Heisenberg smirks above you, fingers tilting your chin up to face him. 

"Be good now sweetheart, I've got some...things to work on." 

With that, he's disappearing into the dark. Leaving you to consider your options...Make nice with him. Or figure a way out. 

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine #karl heisenberg x you #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 imagine #resident evil village imagine #karl heisenberg x female reader #this is a dark fic so please feel free to ignore #just trying my hand at writing him #let me know what you think!

[for-fucks-sake-h]

At My Weakest - one

rated: m, mature | word count: 3.2k | story page  

...tangled up in heartbeats and bite marks and body heat. 

   - butterflies rising 

When Gianna was young, she used to have elaborate daydreams of what her life would look like in the future.  Where would she live? What would she be doing? She thought about it in the way that a lot of kids wish away their youth, wanting to be independent and take care of herself, not have her parents constantly on her case telling her what to do. She worked hard through school, was a straight A student, followed the rules, graduated at the top of her class, had a good job, had her shit together.  

Seemingly, her life looked pretty good from the outside.  But that was the thing about looking from the outside in. You never truly know what goes on behind closed doors.  

She slammed the door so hard the walls shuddered, the trim cracking the tiniest bit around the framing. Fuck, she wished she could slam it harder. Take out all her aggressions and just slam it, over and over and over again.  

She didn’t though. She took off towards her car instead, the sound of her name being called a distant echo as her heart hammered in her chest. Her blood was boiling, her hand shaking as she reached for the chrome door handle so that she could lock herself inside. Her breathing was erratic, her chest rising and falling harshly as she pressed her head back against the leather headrest.  Her throat burned with emotion as her pulse beat wildly, the threat of tears ready and waiting at her lash line.  Deep breaths; one, two, three.  Not without slamming her palm down on the top steering wheel in frustration; one, two, three.  

She released one more deep exhale, her body practically sinking into the seat with it.  She couldn’t help but glance at herself in the rearview mirror, her eyes noticeably dark and soulless.  

How did she get here?  

That was the question running through her mind as she reversed out of the parking spot, as she drove down the highway, as she circled around her town in an attempt to clear her head. She wasn’t even sure how she ended up at Gemma’s, but all of a sudden she was parked outside her building.  

It only took one buzz and a soft “it’s me” into the intercom for the latch to open.   

“Hiya babe, you okay?”  The concern was written all over her friend's face, a telltale sign that Gianna looked even worse for wear than she thought.  

“Is it okay if I stay here for a bit?”  

It wasn’t even a question, Gianna knew that. She’d known Gemma nearly her whole life. They grew up across the street from each other, Gemma’s family moving for her mum’s job. One bike accident and two scraped knees when they were six made them inseparable. Their families became so close that they even started vacationing together. They all got older, but it never changed.    

Gemma nodded, not pressing the issue. “Come on, I’ll make you coffee.”  

That was all Gianna needed, just the comfort from someone who truly knew her. She thought Steve knew her. Shit, she thought she knew him too. They had plans - nothing concrete, but talked about enough that Gianna felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her. She could feel the ache of it in her chest with every breath, and it was excruciating.  

“What am I gonna do?” Gianna asked after a while, two coffees and a half a box of pound cake later.  

“I don’t think you need to figure that out just yet, babe.”  Gemma’s tone was soft, gentle - comfort was something that came naturally to her.  

“All my stuff is there. I don’t even want to look at him,” Gianna shook her head with a frown, eyes cast down to her half empty mug.  

“I’ll have Harry call him,” Gemma devised. “We’ll figure out a time for you to go over when he isn’t there for you to collect your shit.”    

A frustrated growl came from the back of Gianna’s throat as she looked up to the ceiling. “What about tomorrow? How am I supposed to tell my parents?”

Gianna desperately didn’t want to go through this.  They were not engaged, but they might have well been.  Five years was a long time to be with someone just to have things not work out. Their lives were so intertwined, her parents loved him, Gianna knew her mum was counting down until she could start wedding planning. Fuck, Gianna was ready to start wedding planning. She was ready for the next step in her life, a family of her own. She wanted it with Steve. And poof, all that was gone in the blink of an eye.  

“G,” Gemma sighed, a sympathetic look on her face. “Tell them when you’re ready. You don’t owe anything to anyone except yourself.”  

Gianna didn’t say anything else. What more could she say? She didn’t even want to acknowledge that this was her new reality. Years of being in a perfectly content bubble popped so quickly it made her head spin.  So she nodded as she toyed with the handle of her mug.  

“Come on,” Gemma nodded towards the hallway. “You wanna change into some sweats?”  

It didn’t even register that she was still dressed in her work attire, which was a feat in and of itself since she usually changed as soon as she got home. Her “home” closing in on her seemed to be enough of a distraction to the now overly prominent tightness of her skirt cinching into her waist.

So Gianna followed Gemma into her room at the end of the hall, and exhaled a sigh of relief as she unzipped the mid length silk skirt that made her feel pretty and complimented her skin tone. The sheer, black dress shirt that she had tucked into it fell away from her skin once the skirt loosened, and she was quick to tug on the joggers and exceptionally soft lavender sweater that Gemma left on her bed for her.  It smelled like vanilla and detergent, and somehow that gave Gianna just enough comfort to not stay in Gemma’s bed for the foreseeable future.  

It wasn’t until later that evening, with a pitch black sky above her and the cool September air biting at her cheeks as she sat on the rooftop that it really started to feel like everything around her was crumbling. She didn’t let herself cry until then - until she knew she was alone and could let it out without an audience.  She hated crying in front of people, and as much as she loved Gemma, she just didn’t have the energy to let herself go there. But now? Now, it was coming full force whether she wanted it or not.    

The sound of the metal storm door opening startled Gianna enough to make her jump, her sweater paw immediately going to her face to cover the tear that had just fallen.  

She peaked over her shoulder after a moment only to find Harry pouting in the doorway, seemingly deciding if he should trudge forward or not. Gianna turned away from him, back toward the city lights as she pulled the bottom of her sweater down over her knees. She wrapped her hands in the sleeves even more as the wind blew a strip of hair across her face, and let her head fall to peer down at her knees when she heard the door slam closed.

The silence was deafening as he appeared at her side, moving to sit next to her on the picnic table situated at the corner of the roof.  His ripped jean clad knee knocked against hers once he was seated on the table top, the side of his boot pressing against her socked foot where it rested on the bench seat, his palm finding its way to her shoulder blade.

Gianna leaned into him as her chin wobbled. Soothing circles were rubbed into her back, but the gesture only expedited the tear from slipping down her cheek. 

“Gems told me. ‘M sorry, love.” His voice was gentle despite the deep timbre of it vibrating near her ear as he pressed his jaw against the top of her head.  

It felt like too much time had passed before Gianna spoke up, her voice low and broken. “How do you just… fall out of love with someone?”  

Harry shook his head against her temple, his arm wrapping around her to pull her closer into his side - an attempt to shield her from the onslaught of disappointment coursing through her veins.    

“I don’t know, G.”  

She sighed heavily. “I was supposed to marry him, and he just... broke up with me. Like it was nothing.”  

“Did he say anything?”  

Gianna pulled away from Harry’s side, wiping the sleeves of her sweater under her eyes in an attempt to collect herself.  “Said he ‘couldn’t do this anymore’, whatever the fuck that means.”  

Harry released a deep breath as he shook his head in disgust. For as long as Gianna and Gemma had been friends, Gianna and Harry were friends too. They weren’t super close, not the way the girls were, but they were friends nonetheless, and he hated seeing her hurt like that.

“Makes me think he didn’t love me at all,” Gianna continued. “How did I not see that?”

“If that’s true, he fooled all of us, love.”

Gianna didn’t say anything for a bit, just looked up to the dark sky as tears burned at her lower lash line. Harry stayed quiet as he watched her with a deep crease etched between his brows.

“I feel so fucking worthless,” she whispered eventually, her voice so solemn it ripped right through him.

“Hey,” he practically called, but she didn’t look at him. “You are not worthless.” Gianna shook her head, disagreeing. “Gianna. Stop it.” Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “His fucking loss. If he doesn’t know a good thing when he has it, fuck him.”  

“It’s not that simple.” Gianna leaned into his side once more, finding comfort in the way his fingers gripped her shoulder.

He hummed as he squeezed her shoulder once more. “It is. You’re too good for him anyway.”  

Gianna snorted a soft laugh as she shook her head with a gentle jab of her elbow into his side. “Easy for you to say.”    

“‘M serious. Way out of his league. In every sense.”    

Harry gave the compliment with as much ease as he would with a stranger at a bar in the hopes of taking them home at the end of the night. He was charming that way, a smug sort of confidence wafting around him without any actual effort on his part.

Gianna wasn’t sure why, or how, but the compliment gave her just enough of a boost of confidence to make her feel a bit better.  

Maybe Harry was right. Hell, maybe he was right about everything he’s been saying over the years. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a serious relationship. He avoided the mess. He avoided the drama. For as long as Gianna had busted his chops for it, maybe he knew something she didn’t all along.  

“You look like you’re thinking too much,” Harry commented when Gianna went quiet in her thoughts.  

“No, I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”

“Course I am,” he nodded surely. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”  

She gave him a pointed look, which simply received a chuckle in response and nothing else.  They both went quiet as they looked out over the city.  Despite it being the middle of the night, it still seemed alive with the buildings roof top lights spreading out in the distance.  

If there was one thing Gianna knew after the day she had, it was that she hated feeling the way she did. It had been a while since she felt so down on herself, let alone being let down by someone who she thought she could count on… forever.  It put a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she hated it.    

Harry spoke up after a while, the tone of his voice just enough of a tease to make Gianna’s skin prickle. “You know what they say, G.”  

“What’s that?” she turned to him, watching as he kept his eyes focused on the city ahead of him.  

“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”  

She held her breath without even realizing she was doing it, before slowly exhaling as she watched Harry turn ever so slowly to catch her eyes. She literally couldn’t help it, her reaction was immediate, the most subtle tingle crawling across her skin.

They teased and joked with each other plenty over the years. But somehow, in some way, Harry’s words felt different.  The way he was looking at her felt different. Like he was dying to see her reaction but refusing to give in. His eyes were dark on the dimly lit roof, but completely focused on her.  

Harry didn’t dare move, just stared back into her curious brown eyes, his mouth forming around the words faster than his brain could catch us. “Sounds to me like you just need a distraction.”  

“Are you offering?” Gianna’s response was so quick it made a shudder fall down Harry’s back.  And although Harry’s face was completely at ease, his eyes were fixated on the curve of her Cupid’s bow.  

Harry’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Do you want me to be?”

That was enough to have Gianna’s body lean in on its own accord, her mouth catching his in a slow lingering kiss.

He tasted like the faintest bit of tequila and whatever his choice of spearmint gum was that evening, and it was intoxicating. His lips were soft but reacted immediately, suctioning to her bottom lip in an attempt to keep her there.

Just as quickly as it happened, Gianna was pulling away, the sound of their lips parting reverberating off of thin air.

She closed her eyes and turned back towards the city. “I’m sorry I don’t know what—”

But just as quickly, Harry’s hand reached for her jaw to pull her back to him, immediately interrupting her apology in favor of slanting their lips together once more.

This time, his fingers gently cupped her jaw as his mouth reeled her in further. It was like a knee jerk reaction, or when you haven’t had your favorite chocolate for a while and then can’t get enough of it.

He couldn’t get enough of her.

Gianna’s hand gripped his wrist, her mouth melting into his, head fuzzy and buzzing. And when Harry’s tongue teased, she found her own mouth opening more to let him in.

God, she welcomed him in, her tongue smoothing over his in a way that pulled the most toe curling chill up her spine. The kind that makes your skin erupt in goosebumps and your belly twist with something; need, desire, lust. Whatever it was, it had Gianna’s cheeks warming and her back arching closer to Harry.

And Harry, he was so far gone he felt like his head might explode. She was so warm, and she curved into him perfectly when he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer, fingers still clenched softly at her neck to keep her still. The softness of her breasts against his chest was enough to light a fire in his stomach, desperate to be as close to her as physically possible. The flesh of her hip was pliant under his palm, fingers digging into her skin, subconsciously not wanting her to slip away. But maybe not so subconsciously after all.

His lips smoothed down her chin and across her jaw, nipping softly as a breathy moan slipped past Gianna’s lips. The sound had Harry sucking eagerly into the warm skin of her neck, kiss after sucking kiss being planted upon her soft skin. He could feel her pulse thrumming against his mouth, his own heart beat matching methodically.

“God, what are we doing?” Gianna whispered up into the open sky as her hands squeezed his shoulders.

Harry pulled away from her neck just then to check her face. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No,” she breathed, her mouth finding his waiting lips with a hum.

He kissed her hard, his mouth so insistent on sucking and pulling on her lips that Gianna felt like he was taking her breath with him. His mouth was soft exactly the way it should be, but strong all in the same. Demanding, urgent, salacious. Kissing him was almost too enjoyable.

Gianna’s hand smoothed down the strong expanse of Harry’s shoulder, nails scratching against the hard muscle beneath the soft skin of his bicep. The goosebumps there could have been attributed to the cool evening air, but Gianna knew better.

Especially when her fingers trailed the rest of the way down his side and across the top of his thigh, her palm resting on the center seam of his jeans.

Her eyes were closed despite her head tilting down, pulling her lips from his as their foreheads met softly.

“You’re hard.”  Her words were just above a whisper. It was obvious, but she couldn’t help commenting on it. She could feel the firmness of his cock beneath his jeans, hot and full against her palm.

“You made me hard,” he leaned in to kiss her cheek gently. “You’re so fucking sexy. And beautiful. Y’smell like heaven. Fuck.” His words traveled down her neck, his mouth finding the edge of her sweater to suck a new kiss on a new piece of skin. He wanted to uncover every piece of skin to leave traces of his mouth on.

“It’s my perfume.” Gianna’s rebuttal was soft as she tilted her head back to grant him more space; more skin for him to suck tiny kisses into.

She palmed him over his jeans, the twitch of his hard length making her swallow thickly with desire.

“Think it’s just you,” Harry commented wistfully.

Gianna’s fingers toyed with the button of his jeans, his zipper lowering ever so slowly as Harry’s tongue smoothed over her skin before sucking gently.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly as her hand smoothed into his snug jeans, feeling the hardness of his length over his briefs.

His head tilted back with a soft moan while his fingers squeezed her waist tighter, as if her gentle touch was too much for him.

“You tell me,” he breathed as his cock twitched against her palm, his body begging for more from her. “Are you okay?”

That was the age old question, wasn’t it? Was she okay?

Gianna wasn’t sure. She knew she would be, eventually at least. But in that moment, all she knew was that Harry made her... feel. For as long as she’d been numb, he was making her feel alive in that moment. And he made her forget, and that was what she wanted.

“We don’t have to—” Harry began, but was quickly cut off by Gianna pushing forward to press her lips to his jaw, her tongue smooth out over the sharp indent before her lips sucked softly.

His moan was addictive. The firmness of his length was impressive to say the least. His hands felt like molten lava where he gripped her waist. And Gianna’s skin burned with intrigue.

“Let’s go to your room.”

A/N: Ha! Can you believe we’re doing this again??? After I said no more series for a while?? Well, here we are... I really hope you liked it! Lots of people to thank for helping me get my ass in gear - so huge thank you to @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays @real-work-of-art​ @harrytheehottie​ @all-things-fic​ @haute-romance-quotidienne​ for all the hand holding and support and hyping and encouragement and just being overall wonderful humans... you guys have my heart, seriously. And if you’ve read this far - thank you! I would love to hear your thoughts! Lots more to come xx 

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#harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles x ofc #amw

[clairenatural]

Shy Nerd | Dean

Punk | Castiel

[ the world needs more of this]

college au! this ran away from me and ended up 2.2k whoops :’) i hope you like it! (also note i have no idea how motors work i am not an engineer)

There’s an open textbook on his bed, but Dean is ignoring it; instead, he’s scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He doesn’t really understand Instagram, but Charlie had looked so shocked and dismayed when she found out he didn’t have one that he’d given in. He doesn’t post much—doesn’t have much to post, really, besides his car and LARPing with Charlie—but it sure is a good distraction from his physics work. He sighs and flops down on his back as he taps through stories. It’s a Friday night, so there’s all the usual parties, and clubbing videos, and group dinner shots. He frowns as he taps through Charlie’s story of a few of their friends playing D&D—he’d be there, too, if it weren’t for his exam. His physics final, on Monday, that he should be studying for. Instead of being on Instagram.

Dean is about to close the app and begrudgingly turn his attention back to his notes when he clicks onto one last story.

HELP NEEDED ASAP, it says, white against a black background, in all caps. Someone who is good at engineering. Or building. Or even just welding things. I’ll pay you, it continues, and then in pizza and beer. Please, in smaller font, directly below.

Dean pauses. He likes beer. And pizza. And building things. He could help out this—who posted this, anyway? It’s a name he doesn’t recognize. casanova.k. He taps on the profile picture. His eyes go wide.

Oh.

That guy. That guy from the hipster art party Charlie had dragged him to earlier in the semester, when she was still dating that art girl, and he’d ended up in a dark room thick with smoke, blurry with alcohol, talking to a guy about three levels of cool higher than him about…something he can’t remember. He just remembers hastily exchanging Instagrams as Charlie dragged him out of the party, ranting about her soon-to-be-ex.

And now he needs help.

Dean looks at his textbook. He looks back at the guy’s—Cas?—Instagram. He takes a deep breath and pulls up a message.

i like beer, pizza, and welding things

It’s smoother than usual, and Dean is proud of himself for about 2 seconds before he panics and ruins it: i’m an engineer, i mean. not just a rando with a thing for power tools, haha.

There’s an achingly long pause before Cas likes both messages.

This is how Dean Winchester ends up standing in the University’s metalwork studio, with 24 hours left until his final exam, staring at a multi-eyed, multi-winged, metal…thing.

It’s due next week, Cas had said. I know it’s last minute. The only studio space I could get was Sunday.

And Dean had said yes, like a fool, because he can never say no to boys in eyeliner with pretty eyes.

Now, staring up at the sculpture, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas, next to him, groans and drags one hand down his face. “I know. It’s—this is why I need help, alright? I think I can still salvage it if I just—”

Dean, who has taken a few steps forward to admire the intricacies, looks up sharply. “What?”

Cas frowns back. “What?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I mean—I’m not an art guy, but this metalwork is great, man.” He traces one of the welded seams. “You, uh. Obviously have good hands,” he continues, and then winces. Great compliment.

There’s a soft huff and Dean looks up to see Cas watching him, bemused. “My good hands,” he emphasizes it, and part of Dean wishes he could melt like solder. “Make me a good artist. They do not make me good at making things move.”

Dean blinks at him. “Excuse me?” Move?

Cas frowns again, but it’s more out of worry than confusion. His arms are crossed, and Dean tries very hard not to focus on the black ink swirling down his forearm. “I sent you the plans yesterday.” Now he’s chewing on his lip ring, too, and Dean rips his attention back to the steel structure to stop himself from focusing on that, either. He tries to think about these plans. He remembers getting the text, opening them……and immediately disregarding them in lieu of getting as much studying done as possible. Internally, he groans.

Externally, he nods, pretends to know exactly what these “plans” are. “Sure, yeah,” he covers, and hopes it’s convincing.

The metal…thing, because Dean still isn’t sure exactly what it is, has a cluster of wings in the middle—6, to be exact, and they’re poking up around 3 large rings. He reaches out for one of the rings, right between two of its welded eyes, and gives it an experimental push. It creaks, and sways, and Dean winces when he hears Cas suck in a breath behind him. “Sorry”, he mutters, but when he turns back around Cas is frowning at the art piece and not at him.

Dean is expecting to hear either it’s alright or, more likely, never touch my art again, but Cas just hums and steps up until he’s standing next to Dean. “What do you think this is?”

It’s the closest they’ve been since he arrived, and Dean takes a moment to observe the other student from this distance. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans. A t-shirt with a band on it that Dean has never heard of. His nails are black but the rings he’s wearing are silver, and so is the cross hanging around his neck. His hair looks like he either spent an hour on it or no time at all, and his eyes—like at that party, the one neither of them has mentioned yet—are rimmed in black. Dean, in his sneakers and second-hand jeans and faded Batman shirt, has never felt less cool.

“It’s an angel,” Cas continues, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s given up on waiting for a response or if he’d never expected one in the first place. “A biblical one. You know, the ‘be not afraid,’ kind.” He lowers his voice for the angel impression, which Dean didn’t think was possible. He doesn’t know what to do with the realization that it is.

“Don’t think this is what my mom meant when she used to say angels were watching over me,” Dean tries for a joke, and it’s half-hearted, but to his relief Cas chuckles anyway.

“Yes, well. The church preaches them as significantly more…cuddly.” Cas frowns. “It makes praying to them easier to sell.”

The cross around his neck is starting to get confusing.

“And these—these are gonna move,” Dean hazards a guess, reaching out to touch one of the rings again. “All of them?”

“They’re electrons,” Cas nods, which Dean supposes is an answer. “They should all circle the wings together, like the classic atom diagram. But I can’t—” Cas reaches out for the ring this time, hand landing directly above Dean’s. He pushes it, and it sways. Obviously frustrated, he pulls back. “I need it to be motorized, to look right. And I have the motor but don’t know how…to do it.”

And, well. That, Dean understands. He smiles and, in a burst of confidence, claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas looks up at him, startled, but his expression morphs into a soft smile at the look on Dean’s face.

“Let’s get her moving, then.”

He tries not to think about the time slipping away as Cas hauls out the motor, or when he hands Dean tools. He does not stare too long at Cas’ biceps when he’s screwing something in, or when they have to do last-minute welding. They get it hooked up, and it whirs to life, and Dean does not think about how late it is when Cas gives him a hug in his excitement, or when he promises to follow up on his beer and pizza promise at his apartment.

It’s there, back in Cas’ apartment, sitting on his living room floor, both a beer or two in, when Cas finally mentions it.

“You’re the one who gave me that idea, you know.”

Dean stops mid-chew and blinks at him. “Whg—” he swallows his bite of pizza and tries again. “What?”

Cas shrugs and doesn’t make eye contact. He picks at the beer label. “At the party we met at. The one we aren’t talking about, for some reason.”

Dean wants Cas’ ugly, blue, cigarette-smelling shag carpet to swallow him whole.

“You told me you don’t ‘get’ art,” he sets the beer bottle down to do air quotes, and Dean’s shame deepens. “Because you only ‘get’ science. And I told you they were the same thing. And you told me to prove it.”

Suddenly, it clicks, and Dean risks making eye contact. Cas catches his gaze and holds it steady, and he’s calm—not upset, Dean registers, which is a relief. “The atom,” he blurts out, and Cas grins. “Yeah.”

“Art and science.”

“Yeah.”

Dean is sitting up straighter now. “But, the angel—”

Cas sighs and pushes himself up from where he’d been leaning against the couch. He turns until he’s fully facing Dean. “Divinity,” he raises one hand, “and the core building blocks of humanity,” he raises the other. “Art,” he gestures with the first hand, “and science.” With the second.

Dean stares at him. “Are you calling art divine?”

“Art is an expression of divinity,” Cas shrugs. “Science is an explanation for it. But it’s—you know. The same thing.”

Dean wonders how he can say that so casually, so nonchalantly. He wonders what would happen if he crossed the pizza-box distance and kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts instead, and Cas raises his eyebrows. “The party, I didn’t think—I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I assumed you didn’t,” Cas counters. “But you did. You do. Why didn’t you text me?”

It’s exactly what he expected to hear and it still catches him off guard. “Um—” Dean stammers, trying to think of a good excuse. Cas is just watching him—not staring at, watching—brows furrowed.

With a heavy sigh, Dean settles on the truth. “Come on, man. Look at me,” he scoffs and stares down at his jeans, the already worn knees even worse after the day spent kneeling on concrete. “I’m an engineering dork who plays D&D on Fridays and you’re—” he waves vaguely in Cas’ direction. “You know.”

The frown has deepened. “I don’t.”

“Cool.” It sounds so juvenile to say it out loud.

Now, Cas looks taken aback. “Dean. We met at a party where I voluntarily listened to you talk about string theory for an hour and a half.”

Dean doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or not. He buries any possible blush with a swig of beer. “String theory’s cool,” he grumbles into the bottle.

“Yes.” Cas agrees. “And so are you. Although—” he pauses and tilts his head. “I could have sworn you were in physics, based on how much you talk—”

Dean is so caught up in Cas Novak calling him cool that it takes his brain a second to process the word “physics,” but when he does he nearly spits beer all over the ugly carpet. “Shit,” he swears, already starting to scramble up.

“What?” Cas is following him, frowning.

“Physics final. In—” he checks his watch, “—16 hours. I gotta—” he still has time to water down the beer, study, and get at least 7 hours of sleep before—

“…Why did you just spend all day helping me if you have a final tomorrow?” Dean pauses from where he’s trying to find his other shoe to glance back at Cas, who looks so genuinely baffled it shoots a warmness into Dean’s heart.

“You needed help,” Dean shrugs, finally locating the missing sneaker and pulling it on. “Good luck with the angel, though, okay? If it gives you any running issues, feel free to—”

He’s pulling on his jacket when he feels a touch on his arm and realizes that, sometime in the past 20 seconds, Cas has crossed the room to him. “Dean,”

Dean pauses, and Cas…looks nervous.

“I like D&D,” he offers, and Dean stares at him.

“What.”

Cas levels his gaze. “There is nothing more punk than dragons,” he replies, incredibly seriously.

Dean’s brain short-circuits.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the exam panic, maybe it’s the 1.5 beers, maybe it’s Cas’ hand still warm on his arm, maybe he’s still caught up in Cas calling him cool and maybe his brain takes an extra second to load his self-consciousness on its reboot, but—he leans down and kisses him.

Cas makes a small noise but kisses him back almost immediately—but then he’s pulling back nearly as quickly, and he gently pushes Dean back by the shoulders when he tries to follow. Not far enough away to be a rejection, just…enough. “You have an exam in the morning,” he says this like an apology, and the warmth in Dean’s chest grows. “Text me after?”

Dean nods, then pauses, realizes what Cas just said, and nods again. “Yeah, I—yeah, I will.”

“There’s not enough alcohol here for you to pretend to forget this time,” he teases, but he’s smiling.

Dean flushes anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Cas shakes his head and pushes him a bit. “Apologize tomorrow. Go.”

“Okay.” Dean doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Cas replies.

“Okay,” Dean says, and leans down to kiss him again, a quick one, because he thinks maybe he can.

“Okay,” Cas repeats, but his tone is fond. “Go.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats back. But this time, he does.

The next day, after he aces his physics final, he doesn’t pretend to forget.

#destiel #deancas #punk!cas #nerd!dean #i didnt know how to end this lmao sorry!!!! #(also ik this isn't quite as punk as the typical punk!cas im sorry sadhakdsh) #but wow i love these two now #this took me back its been a WHILE since i read/wrote some good punk/nerd #thank u anon #they live in my brain now #my words #follower fics #alcohol mention

[castthy-nightedcolour]

One- Shot: The Seaside Dream (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the post as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Aziraphale, Crowley

Warnings and Tags: depression, skipping meals, dynamic duo, here come the boysssss, soft crowley

Summary: you don’t show up for wine with crowley and aziraphale, and the two hurry to your apartment to see what’s going on

Word Count: 2281

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/83889112

‘Crowley, please hurry!’

The pained cry of the angel came from the top of the flight of stairs in your apartment block, echoing off the concrete walls. This mixed with the reverberant sigh of Crowley, and the ever- so- slow tread of his footsteps.

‘CROWLEY. This is important! Do you not care?’

The demon stopped dead in his tracks, planting his feet at the bottom of the set of stairs that the out of breath Aziraphale stood at the top of.

Crowley was not at all happy with the angel’s question.

‘Do I not what? Care? Oh Angel, you’re asking to be pushed down these stairs,’ he responded, almost growling under his breath. In any other circumstance, this might have actually pleased Aziraphale, however this time, he was actually terrified.

-

The scenario had started with what Aziraphale called ‘a dreadfully funny feeling.’

Since Armageddon was narrowly avoided, the angel and the demon had found themselves at somewhat of a loose end on Earth, enjoying their free time together but still constantly striving for some higher purpose.

That’s where you came in. Little did you know that a walk into a lovely little bookshop called A.Z Fell & Co. one day to search for an overpriced illustrated copy of your favourite book would lead to drinking a couple of bottles of wine with the owner and his companion for seven hours straight, and that this would become a weekly tradition. You just clicked with the pair, you found them magnetising and, well, you were a fascinating human to the angel and the demon, so they quickly grew fond of you.

The two supernatural beings then decided that their purpose would be caring. Caring for you.

Not in a suffocating way though, at least that was never the intention. Between the two of them, Crowley and Aziraphale decided from the get go that they would just be there for you as a friend, with little extras added on top like going out and buying your shopping for you whenever there was a thunderstorm, or baking you enough cake to feed the 5000. But, the pair’s talents in observance and intuition slowly made them realise that something was always just slightly off with you.

To them, it seemed like there was always something hidden behind a wall in your head, like a pretence that you constantly held up. Granted, part of their realisation came when in one of your drinking sessions at the bookshop, you let slip that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal for two days and they both nearly hit the roof. They asked you why, and kept asking why (Aziraphale in particular was extremely persistent) but you brushed it off- you always brushed it off.

‘No no, it’s nothing to be worried about, I promise! I’ve just been so busy, y’know? It’s nothing, please Aziraphale, you can sit down. Don’t you worry about me.’

Now, Crowley could sense a lie from a mile off considering he was the lord of them, and Aziraphale could feel that your inner emotions were about as steady as a mongoose riding a pedal bike, and they therefore deduced that they should in fact worry about you.

And so the slightly incompetent suffocation began.

This was definitely mainly from Aziraphale, as his senses for detecting emotional suffering and hurt were a lot stronger than Crowley’s- this was just down to how long he’d been pulling angelic manoeuvres. Crowley was a lot less practised however when he felt that something was off, he really did feel that something was off. This however meant that wherever in London you were, Aziraphale would realise that something was wrong, no matter how small the inconvenience.

Notable occasions included when the tubes on the Central Line were running one minute late and Aziraphale unsuccessfully attempted to miracle another train up, causing even more delay and destruction, when the bottom of your shoe fell off in a puddle and Aziraphale got so upset that he cried for an hour, (to be fair, he’d had a long day; someone had tried to buy a book from the shop which had displeased him greatly) and when a seagull crapped on your shoulder while you were sitting outside a bar at Canary Wharf and the angel managed to manifest a fluke bolt of lightning which struck the seagull down right into your food.

And all this from the comfort of his own home.

Crowley had tried to tell the angel that not every inconvenience could be sorted out, that the pair needed to pick their battles with the perils of the human life.

‘Yes yes, I understand. I’ll stop, I promise. We’ll stick to the original plan. Now have you seen my banana bread recipe? I think they could do with a pep up.’

This lasted for 22 hours.

You hadn’t shown up to the bookshop like you did every week.

‘Oh Angel do stop pacing, they have a life of their own you know,’ Crowley nagged, holding a bottle of red wine in one hand as he stood in the doorway between the main shop and the back room.

‘Something is wrong, Crowley. I have a dreadfully funny feeling,’ Aziraphale insisted, wringing his hands and pacing at twice the average speed of an angel.

‘Right, yes, okay but the problem is, you’ve said that every night for two weeks and it hasn’t been true once.’

‘You can’t sense it like I can.’ The angel stormed towards the coat stand, reaching for his coat.

‘Oh no no no, we agreed, no suffocation. Put that down, you’re not going anywhere,’ the demon asserted.

‘Oh yes we are. Put that wine in the back, you’re driving.’

Crowley had rarely heard Aziraphale’s voice like this before, low and extremely demanding. There wasn’t any way he was getting out of this, the angel was on a mission.

-

And so, Crowley drove the angel to your apartment block and the two of them ended up in the stairwell facing off with each other. Too highly strung for their own good.

‘What if this is the one time that I’m right? You’re here getting all… demonic on the stairs and-‘

‘I will get demonic, Aziraphale. I am in fact a demon, plus if this is the one time that you’re right then you’re holding both us back by squabbling. Move out of the way.’

Crowley marched up the stairs stony faced, swooping straight past Aziraphale to your front door.

He did care. He really did. He just didn’t like to show it around Aziraphale because he always felt inferior in they way that he cared compared to the angel. He didn’t have those massively intuitive senses, his baking skills weren’t up to scratch, he felt held back by control. But something in the demonic form burned when he thought of the idea that you were hurting- and that burning was made more painful by Aziraphale’s suggestion that he didn’t care.

He snapped his fingers at your door, and it violently swung open, hitting against the wall of the hallway as it did. He stormed inside, barely letting Aziraphale follow behind before he snapped his fingers again to close it. Darkness and silence fell over the hallway as the angel and the demon stood completely still, their anxious breathing slowly filling the space.

They could both easily sense one important thing- you were present in the apartment, you were safe within the four walls. There was a collective sigh of relief.

‘Told you,’ Crowley sneered under his breath, trying to hide his still present anxiety. As much as he could feel your presence, he was struggling with any of the finer details, your emotional state or your exact whereabouts.

‘Don’t be like that. I was only trying to help,’ Aziraphale whimpered, taking a small step forwards. Unlike Crowley, he could just about tell that you were somewhere in the general direction of your bedroom. The angel clicked his fingers and uttered a small ‘let there be light’, allowing the hallway to be illuminated by a faint white glow. There was no other light coming from anywhere due to a distinct lack of windows in the architecture of this building, the only three were in your living room, your bedroom and your kitchen and even then, you’d shut all of the curtains and all of the doors in the place.

The angel padded further down the hallway, leaving Crowley to look at the prints on your walls like an awkward cousin at a party. By the time Aziraphale had reached your bedroom door, Crowley had moved onto examining the items on the coffee table that was slightly further down the hall. There wasn’t a lot to examine, a couple of books, your keys, an Alexa that you’d turned the microphone off on. The one thing that caught Crowley’s eye was a small painting of a seaside town just laying down on the table. It wasn’t anywhere near being finished and much to Crowley’s dismay, it was crumpled up. He assumed two scenarios from this, either someone had given you an unfinished painting and you felt so strongly about it that you took to crumpling it up, or this was in fact your handy work that had been partially destroyed.

‘Crowley, what now?’ Aziraphale whispered from the end of the corridor, bringing Crowley’s gaze up from the table and back to reality.

‘Uhhh, don’t scare them. Don’t just burst in,’ the demon responded, moving down to meet Aziraphale by the bedroom.

‘I wasn’t planning on doing that! I just mean, do I knock? Just go in? Announce our arrival?’

Crowley rested his hand lightly on your bedroom door, looking quizzically at Aziraphale who was jumping through every possible scenario in his head. The demon sighed.

‘Just, shush. Okay, let’s just be quiet. Follow me, angel.’

Crowley very slowly pushed your bedroom door open, being greeted with yet more darkness from inside as he did so. Aziraphale hung over his shoulder to try and look inside, with Crowley grunting slightly at this. Through the darkness, Crowley made out a shape in the bed.

You, curled into a ball and fast asleep. Your breathing was heavy, but not laboured, and the bedsheets rose and fell accordingly. You were as close to comatose as could possibly be, dead to the world but luckily, very much alive.

‘Aaah. Oh, look,’ whispered Aziraphale. Crowley glared slightly at the angel, but inside, his sentiments were very similar. The pair stared at your form resting in the darkness for a few seconds, relieved with every breath that you took. With anyone else? It would have been creepy.

But not with these two. It was a deep devotion and concern.

Aziraphale went to take a step forwards but Crowley stopped him in his tracks, stopping the angel from getting anywhere near you.

‘Don’t even think about waking them, look. They’re deep in dreamland,’ the demon hissed, meeting Aziraphale’s puppy eyes.

‘Oh please, I just wanted to check that they’re okay.’

‘Aziraphale, they’re very clearly shattered. I think that we’ve discovered that they’re definitely not okay, but interrupting their sleep won’t help anyone. Let’s just, y’know, help where we can.’

‘But their soul-‘

‘I know. We’ll help with that tomorrow. For today, they sleep.’

Aziraphale eventually backed off slightly, looking down while nodding in defeat. While his deep concern could only ever have come from a place of love, he realised that stepping back for a second could be beneficial to everyone. He started to head towards the kitchen to see if there was anything that he could help with in there, turning back round for a second to ask Crowley what he should do. Crowley however was no longer stood in your doorway, and was instead sat on the edge of your bed, resting his hand on your leg.

The angel went to protest in some jealousy for a moment, but the warm glow that filled up his heart because of the sight stopped him. He just smiled, and turned back.

—

Between the pair of them, you were treated to a clean kitchen, a full fridge, a massive fuzzy blanket for the bed and soft, warm light for each room.

But there was one final detail bugging Crowley.

As the pair crept down your hallway back to the front door, Crowley let out a soft whistle to his friend as he stopped beside the coffee table. The angel turned his head, looking at the objects scattered about the surface.

‘What’s this?’ He asked, strangely intrigued by the small speaker- like object.

‘It’s an Alexa, it’s like a - y’know what, doesn’t matter. That’s not what I need you for. Look at this.’ Crowley picked up the ruined painting that he’d spotted earlier, showing it to Aziraphale. The angel scanned over it.

‘Ooh, its Whitby, the place with Dracula!’ He half gasped half squealed, failing to see what his friend was seeing.

‘It’s fucked is what it is, angel. I think they’ve crumpled it up in frustration or something, which I’m not exactly thrilled with. I’m out of niceness for today, can you do something?’ Crowley sighed, thrusting the painting towards his friend slightly.

‘Oh, easily. Your wish is my command, dear.’

Aziraphale swiped his hand across the paper and watched as the creases disappeared and the smudges eased. The colours got just a little brighter, and the beauty of your half- finished painting was restored.

‘We’ll help them finish it tomorrow, yes Crowley?’ The angel continued. Crowley gave a small smile with all the good energy that he had left in his body.

‘Yes angel. That would be nice.’

#good omens #good omens one shot #good omens fanfic #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader

[hawkinsindiana]

this changes things

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR OF ELEVEN (!!)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.3k

a/n: we’re back to eleven chapters baby!!!! this one ended up being longer than i thought. i know i usually post on friday nights, but i couldn’t help but give you all a lil valentine’s day treat. pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve’s nervous. 

It’s down to the wire; there's only a few short weeks left of his final high school semester. Four out of five college applications have been rejected. Each one received has fed the anxiety more and more. 

Every day that passes without a lick of news from the remaining university has him reconsidering everything. His education. His career. His future.

The only thing Steve knows about his future is that he wants you in it, in whichever form that might be. You’re the constant. Without you, he’s afraid he’d eventually go back to being that person he was before. You make him want to be better. Trying to be worthy of you gives Steve purpose. 

He imagined that getting a college education would help keep him on that path. It seems farther away with each rejection letter he receives. 

Steve hasn’t told you that he hasn’t gotten into any so far. He’s afraid of disappointing you, especially after everything you’ve done for him. 

The spring of ‘85 has been particularly unforgiving. It’s been storming all week - the air still hangs with that familiar smell of rain soaked concrete. You read that the Hawkins Post reported a record amount of rainfall; the local stream overflowed and flooded a few basements. 

The mail is still damp when Steve retrieves it after practice. It sticks to his fingers as he shuffles through each envelope, drying his sneakers on the welcome mat. 

And then his eyes linger on one addressed to him; Steve nearly drops his backpack when he sees who sent it. 

Haphazardly, he tosses the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter as he contemplates whether to even open the damn thing. Steve’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Is it an answer he wants?

Whatever the words inside this parcel read, it changes Steve’s life forever. His future is planned from the moment he breaks the seal - there would be no going back. Either he stays here in Hawkins, trapped by an education he neglected for far too long, or he gets to take a step to distance himself from this shitty town and prove his worth. 

Steve isn’t a fan of the former option.

He wishes you were here to read it for him. He’d rather you tell him the news; hearing it come from your lips would make it easier. 

By the time Steve decides to open it, a few minutes have passed. Why does this feel like the scariest thing he’s ever done?

Due to the water, some of the ink bled through the paper; pieces of the letter are illegible. But at the top, a familiar phrase answers his question: Unfortunately, we regret to inform you-

Steve curses, angrily throwing the envelope and its contents into the trash. He refuses to read anymore. 

He has no one to blame but himself. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry. There were multiple opportunities for him to change course and put effort into his schoolwork. By the time he finally tried, it was too late. 

Thunder booms in the distance once Steve parks his car beside your mother’s. He doesn’t remember deciding to come here; the only thing he can recall is grabbing the keys, without a destination in mind. His heart brought him to your warmth. 

As Steve gets out of the car, he wonders if this was maybe a bad idea. It isn’t very often that he feels afraid to face you - he’s scared of your reaction, and the outcome that could follow.

He knew that he could love you, that he could fall just as hard as you did for him. But admitting it to himself, and then you - he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again. That phrase has left a sour taste in his mouth, one that Steve hopes he can wash away. Because you deserve to hear it too. 

Maybe he’s closer to saying it than he thought, perhaps that’s why he’s so scared to tell you. Maybe-

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Dustin’s voice startles Steve, who turns to see the boy walking his bike up the driveway. Steve fumbles his response, head spinning with thoughts about you, “I don’t, uh-”

Dustin interrupts him, not noticing the nerves Steve displays, “Hey, you should come in! It’s mac ‘n cheese night.” 

Steve hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he’s going to follow your brother inside. He can’t say no to this kid. 

Dustin hangs up his raincoat once the pair of them enter the house; the bell on Tews’ collar jingles as they run to greet the boys. The kitten weaves between Steve’s legs before he kneels down to give them a few pets. 

“That you, Dusty?” Your mother calls from within; clattering silverware echoes from the kitchen. Steve chuckles at the nickname. Dustin punches him in the bicep. 

He kicks off his shoes as he replies, “Hey Mom! Get out another bowl - look who I found loitering around.” 

Steve scoffs, shoving Dustin as they walk forward through the threshold into the living room. Your mom moves to welcome them; her warm smile widens when she sees Steve by her son’s side, “Well look who it is! Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

He’s baffled by her every time he shares a meal with your family. Her kind soul is infectious, and drastically different from the parents he was raised by. Steve tries not to think about the fact her beloved pet is secretly buried out back - he’s reminded of it whenever he sees her. 

“I’m good, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?” Steve answers, returning her grin. She envelops him in a quick hug, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? Just call me Claudia, hon.”

Steve laughs along with her as he follows her to the kitchen, “I think you’ll need to remind me one more time.”

And then his eyes meet yours from across the room. They smile nearly as much as your lips at the sight of him; your heart flutters at this unexpected surprise. 

When you catch onto the sadness in his expression, the corners of your mouth drop. It’s obvious to you that something’s wrong. Steve doesn’t usually stop by without an invitation; something must’ve happened. 

Throughout dinner, you take mental notes on his deflated behavior. It’s subtle enough to fool your family, but you know him better. With each minute that passes, the more anxious you become to hear the cause. So when he volunteers to help you with the dishes, as he always does, you know it’s only a matter of time. 

“How was practice?” You ask before drying off a cup. Steve takes it from your hand as he replies, “Uh, it was good. Although it’s annoying that we’re still practicing even though the season’s over.”

You hum in agreement as he places the glass on the shelf. Steve glances back at you briefly, “What about you? What’d you get up to?”

A beat passes - you’re looking for the words to describe your afternoon. Maybe not the words, but the courage. It’s only when he turns around, brow creased, do you answer him. 

“I studied at Nancy’s,” You say. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

You nod your head, focusing your gaze onto the floor, “It was nice, actually. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Now when you say studying…” He trails off for a moment as he thinks, “You two didn’t… exchange notes about me or anything, did you?”

Steve’s growing smirk makes you laugh; you hit him playfully with the towel, “No! And I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

A part of him can’t help but be relieved. There’s no limit to what you two could chat about.

“We just ended up talking about college most of the time,” You add, “She wanted to know some tips since she’ll be applying soon.”

Steve grabs a plate to dry; in order to try and quell his anxiety, he has to do something productive. But your mind recognizes it as a distraction - you’re no stranger to coping mechanisms. 

“Have you figured out where you’re gonna go yet?” He questions, praying your answer isn’t far; lightning flashes outside the kitchen window, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder. 

You sigh as you lean back against the counter, “I’m not sure. Nancy was helping me talk through my options earlier, but it’s such a big decision to make. I wanna make sure it’s the right fit.”

Steve nods slightly, forehead creasing as he wipes his hands on the towel. And by the way he clenches his jaw at your reply, you know that this is the source of contention. 

You nudge his leg with your foot, “What about you? Get any responses back?”

The breath hitches in Steve’s throat; there’s no way this conversation doesn’t end with his reveal. The longer it takes for him to speak, the more concerned you grow. 

“I, uh-“ A sigh passes his lips as he grips the counter, keeping his focus away from you. He doesn’t want to witness your reaction. 

“I didn’t get in,” Steve mutters. He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief; until now, it almost didn’t seem real. It took admitting it to you for his brain to accept it. 

You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. Over the past few weeks, you and Steve had been discussing how your relationship would persist once you both had made your college commitments. This wasn’t an outcome either of you prepared for. 

“Holy shit, Steve. I’m sorry…” You whisper. Steve pushes his face into his hands; his voice is muffled from behind his palms, “Yeah, yeah… holy shit.” 

You don’t hesitate any more to comfort him. Steve straightens as you place your hands on his arms; he melts into your touch, unable to prevent you from turning his body to face yours. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” You reassure him, “College isn’t the only option, you know. There are other things you could do.” 

The expression on Steve’s face breaks your heart. You’d do anything to wipe it away and brighten his mood. But Steve just sighs again, appreciating your efforts to help him, but nothing seems to be working. 

“How’d your parents react?” You ask. The only thing keeping Steve grounded to this moment is the firm grip you have on his shoulders; he thinks he’d float away without it. 

He scoffs a bit; the sound breaks the deafening silence that formed as he thought of a response. His eyes are still focused downwards as he finally answers you, “They don’t know yet. I just got the last letter today. I couldn’t think of going anywhere else.”

When your fingers brush against his cheek, Steve instinctively moves his hands to rest on your waist, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Steve finally lifts his head. Your eyes are wide, pupils filled to the brim with nothing but your fondness for him. All of a sudden, he’s confused why he was so scared to tell you. He realizes that he never should’ve doubted you. 

“I was scared this would change things. Or that you’d be disappointed in me or some shit.”

Your brow furrows as you laugh softly - baffled by his words, “What could ever make you think that I’d be disappointed in you?” 

A flash of previous memories answers your own question. You decide not to pull on that thread anymore. 

“This changes things,” You mutter. Your eyeline drops as you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Finally, Steve feels a bit of relief. The sincerity in your voice calms the fear, and a deep exhale allows him to let it go. Your compassion and understanding permits him to begin thinking clearly again. He knew there was a reason he came here. 

You’re right though. This does change how you both navigate the future. But with you here to support him, Steve figures he’ll be just fine. 

“I mean…” The corner of your mouth curls up at the thought that pops into your head, “The only way my opinion of you changes is if you killed my brother or something like that.”

Steve chuckles slightly, “But Mike’s still fair game?”

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” You quip, “He’s had it comin’ for a while.” 

Even though your voices are hushed, the joke still makes you crack a pair of brilliant smiles; it almost makes Steve forget about his future for a moment. Standing here in your arms, Steve can’t help but realize how safe he feels. 

And then you sigh, reaching up to brush back a lock of his brunette hair - the sensation of your touch fills Steve with something new, something different. A direct contrast to the violent storm brewing outside, this is soft, warm, and golden. Like daylight.

Your eyes meet again. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever wants to look at anything else. 

Your hand lands on his chest, “This doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Steve throws caution to the wind - he kisses you. And already, you can tell that this is one you’ll remember. His lips are soft against yours, but without sacrificing an ounce of passion. You almost forget that someone could walk in and expose your relationship; when Steve finally pulls away, it doesn’t matter anyways.

As if you weren’t left breathless enough from his kiss, the words he mutters afterwards could’ve done it themselves. 

With one of his trademark smirks plastered across his face, Steve moves to hold your head between his palms, “Fuck, I love you.”

You kiss him again so quickly that you both didn’t have enough time to wipe the twinkling grins from your lips. Your noses are squished against each other, but neither of you cares enough. Your shared love dulls the pain. 

Steve smiles into the kiss even further. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

—   taglist: @djjarin / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #st fic #st imagine #steve harrington x you #my writing #almost paradise

[lupically]

#3B797A | XIAO.

genre | angst

word count | 1707

warning | mention of death, mention of blood, faint mention of injury

note | this was originally posted on my other writing blog, i am moving it here because... well, i have a genshin writing blog now. and, once again, this is not very good. let’s hope i get better at this!

if karmic debt is a real thing, this must be xiao’s worst one yet.

he swore he would keep an eye on you after the first time you died on him.

he has never felt anguish like it.

of all the invisible chains tied around his struggling limbs and his fragile neck, of all the pain and misery he has been put through over the years of his catastrophic life, of all the repressed memories and emotions he kept fighting back to keep his sanity at bay, he has never felt anguish and manic like he did when he saw your lifeless body on the ground with an arrow stuck to your back.

it was the worst one yet, especially when he was the reason why you ended up with a bed of bloody roses underneath you.

he swore he would keep an eye on you after that.

and then came the second time you died. that was also because of him.

the blood that trickled down your lips as you smiled at him was vivid in his memories. he was supposed to be fond of the way you felt relieved to see him there, after he had carried you behind a fallen wall so you didn’t have to see him deal with the treasure hoarders who put you in such a bad state for trying to take a pair of emerald earrings back.

he was, to a certain degree, when you choked out his name in that god-awfully brilliant voice of yours. it was faint, but he could hear the genuine happiness in you when you called his name.

you were always so excited to see him. ever since you dropped atop of him from the sky, apparently coming from nowhere, you have been happy to see him. he was undeserving of that; the chances you have given him at experiencing how soft this world can be was undeserved, but nonetheless, xiao was fond of the way you make him feel, more than he would like to admit, more than anything he has ever seen or heard or felt in this world.

you were the fondest he has ever felt. it was all you.

but the fondness goes like dust and ashes when you reached up with the pair of emerald earrings you bought him, which he dumped in the middle of the ruins because he was being petty about something insignificant he could no longer remember.

the sight of them gave him a moment of realization—you were here because of him.

and then you took your last breath—you died because of him, again.

he didn’t know how to feel when you didn’t respond to your own name. he kept calling for you—[name], wake up, he said. [name], stop playing around, you know you’re not funny, he said. [name], [name], [name]. but your eyes remained closed, so he held you close for the first time, and he exchanged the tears with apologies.

he promised he would keep an eye out for his actions after that.

yet here he was.

don’t die. please don’t die.

he dropped his spear and crouched down frantically next to you. he was still panting from the fight with the three ruin guards patrolling around fallen pillars and buildings, but what made him stress, even more, was less because of his sore body and more because of your bleeding head.

“[name]? [name], open your eyes, right now!” he said—scolded, in the voice he always talked to you with, the fondly defeated tone that showed he has surrendered his annoyance for your happiness, but with more urgency this time.

you coughed, feeling more lifeless than ever. there was a rush of deja vu back then, just a few moments ago when xiao gently laid you against the wall and left after telling you to stay still and keep your eyes open for him. it was like you have lived through this moment before, but you were hurting too much from your head wound to think into it.

xiao breathed out a sigh of relief.

thank the archons.

“hey, xiao…” you greeted with a faint smile, then you reached your hand up to give him the quingxin you picked. “flowers… got you flowers… for crowns… ”

he pursed his lips. you silly! you bone-head! why did you not just buy them from the flower shop? was what he wanted to say. even though knowing you, you would probably spill some weird argument like how flowers picked by other people wouldn’t have the same freshness and love in them, and he would say nothing because there was no winning for him when it comes to you.

he never has anything to say. nothing to go against your favors, and certainly nothing that makes you worry ever again. nothing that will get you running into forests alone to pick him flowers and risk the chance of you stumbling into ruin guards, or hilichurls, or treasure hoarders, or abyss mages.

(maybe the one you should avoid is him.)

“come on, let’s get you to the doctor, okay?” he said as he discarded the flowers at a frantic pace.

he looped your arms around his neck and hoisted you on his back. his spear sparkled next to the white flowers on the ground, reflecting a halo glow upward as if telling on him to the sky about what he did to you again. he took off running back to the city, praying to the archons that he could end your pain quicker, that he could find someone to stop the hurting faster.

but it seemed destiny had other plans.

he paused for a second to catch his breath. he did not notice the way your arms had long gone slack around his shoulders, and how you kept slipping off his back as if you could no longer support yourself. he was deliberately ignoring the details that signified your death, his delusional consciousness wishfully thinking that he would make it to the doctors in time.

“we’re getting there, [name],” he said as if he could still feel your short breath against his neck.

“you’re going to be fine, i will make sure,” he said as he began walking as if he could still feel your chest heave against his back.

“i will keep you safe next time, i promise,” he said as he leaned forward a little because your lifeless body was starting to slip off his back again.

“and then we can go pick flowers together, and you can make me flower crowns,” he croaked with guilted tears running down his cheeks, a smile on his face as if he wasn’t just given hope that he could save you this time, only to have you die on his back.

all because he said he would never put on a flower crown, and you insisted that he has to try.

(maybe the one you should avoid is him.)

the evil archon was silent when xiao appeared before it with your dead body. this was the third time. it was starting to see a pattern, and all it felt was glee that the pattern it has carefully cultivated was working in its favor.

because what better to keep the adepti under control than to make him feel indebted to itself? what better to keep the adepti under control than to keep reviving his dead lover and make him think they have a surviving chance this time around? what better to keep the adepti under control than to kill his lover and use his guilt against him every single time?

“dead again? what have you done?”

“please… help me…” xiao laid your body before the archon, which was just a statue without a face.

“reviving a human that was consumed by death takes a great deal of power, alatus.”

xiao gritted his teeth, but he said nothing when he could feel your skin under his gripping fingers. he lowered his head, pushing down the horrendous amount of anger and humiliation to the back of his mind, and he begged.

he begged for another chance to see your beautiful eyes smile under the moon again, he begged for another chance to hear you talk on and on about the wondrous world you two live in together, he begged for another chance to feel your radiant soul live near him and to let you show him around the city as if he could not already navigate through it with his eyes closed.

(he could not. he knew the concrete roads and the old stone walls, but he could never know about the smooth flower petals dancing with the wind and the tender glow of the sky everyone shared without you taking his hand and dragging him across all parts of the world.)

(just like cotton candy, you told xiao. his frown melts like cotton candy, whatever cotton candy was.)

“i’ll do anything,” he said.

“for the mortal. really.”

“i will do anything,” xiao declared again.

the golden flair in his eyes almost made the evil archon shiver.

it was radiating off of him—the heat of anguish and terror that he had once killed you, the heat of unfairness and humiliation that he has to stoop so low as to meddle with life and death, the heat of extreme affection for a lover he now has nowhere to cast upon because the sole receiver has long died in his arms.

all for a mortal. a special mortal. a mortal who has made someone who hates, love. a mortal who has made him, him who hates and scorns, love. not just themself, but everything else around him—music, flowers, lights, cities. a mortal who made sure he will always love, still, even after the sole reason for his affection is gone and he no longer has a reason to be gentle.

the archon wanted to laugh.

truly. the only thing more maleficent than love itself is the act of using it against someone.

looking at xiao right now—inadequate, fragile, chained, and so miserable.

oh, how it worked in its favor.

it has done so many things to the poor boy, but this one, oh, this would be the worst one yet.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #genshin xiao #xiao imagines #xiao x you #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #xiao scenarios

[alphabravocharliedelta]

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader VII

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter VII

Word Count: 6700

[Chapter VI] [Chapter VIII]

Summary: After somehow reconciling with Adler, Bell and the team are left to continue their pursuit of bringing down the undercover spy ring, but it proves to be more of a challenge as Bell struggles to move on from their Perseus-affiliated past.

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, drugs, needles, panic/anxiety attack(?)

Notes: A bit of a chill and slow chapter this time, thanks for your patience. Be sure to stay hydrated and to rest your eyes from the screen! 

[Y/N] "Bell" [L/N]

September, 1983

CIA Safehouse, West Berlin

“We’ve got a job to do.”

It was like a switch.

The trigger phrase you never heard for the longest time still had its grasp on you. You felt consciousness leaving the realm of reality, purging into the memories and digging them up. The headache from earlier only seemed to worsen.

Soon enough, you awaken to the smell of burned clothes. Something heavy lied on top of you, which you came to recognize as a fresh corpse. Pushing them off, you unbuckle your strap and fall onto the metal flooring, causing the helicopter sink a bit closer to the ground.

Even if you've seen this scene repeatedly, it was unnaturally real. The smell, the sweat, and false pain you felt would be parallel to the real thing. But of course, it wasn't. Everything was fragmented, pulled together and assembled like a puzzle from war clips and verbal storytelling. You were never here.

And yet, Vietnam looked so beautiful. 

"This will just be like last time, Bell. You woke up in the middle of a firefight." 

Jumping down from the chopper, you landed on the ground, pain shooting up your legs. Sucking it up, you found yourself surrounded in a jungle like terrain, a paddy in front of you. Around you were a few American soldiers struggling to break through the defense of the Viet Cong soldiers. Nearby bushes and trees were on fire, and the smell of smoke filled your nostrils. 

One of the troopers in front of you was caught off guard, getting stabbed by a bayonet. His companion kills the attacker, before tending to his colleague.

It was nothing new. You've seen it all, and could probably even risk closing your eyes and walking through the hell of it. 

"The crash survivors were defending against a VC attack. You ran forward and picked up an M16."

You find the aforementioned M16 propped up against a rock, and you did as instructed. Aiming down the sights, you took down your enemies one by one. It felt like you were doing most of the work, watching them all fall. Once there was an open opportunity, you trekked forward.

Water filled your boots as you wadded through, loudly splashing around as you made it across. You could feel your feet sinking in the mud with each step as you practically dragged your feet. Your fellow combatants seemed to disappear when you weren't looking, their voices fading away. There were five, then three… 

“The remaining VC retreated into the tree line. It was then you realized that you were the sole survivor. You set off to… Find the bunker.”

You made your way through a small path. The green leaves seem to encompass you, nearly covering the sky. Dew drops would come down from above, slipping off of the tree branches and creating wet spots on your uniform. Humidity made your uniform stick onto your skin, bringing an unwanted itch all over. The buzzing of mosquitoes and flies didn't help either.

A ruin revealed itself behind the shrubs. The stone was mossy and covered in vines, a couple of Buddah-like statues sitting on each side on pedestals. A lone torch was lit, lighting up a red metal door that stood at the ruin’s opening. It was beginning to rust a bit, the red paint peeling around the edges. There was a strong sense of longing and familiarity radiating off of it, and you approach it, locked in a trance.

"Forget the red door, we're changing it up."

The red bunker door was replaced with a dark wooden one, just as your fingers made contact with the handle. It was well kept, unfitting for its scenery around it. The knob was golden. 

"You said Nikitin was trying to make you remember something important. What was it?"

You walked in.

The room you stood in had peach walls and a concrete floor. It wasn't the main meeting room, but rather a side office. Your office. Boxes were stockpiled and pushed to the side, a few filing cabinets aligning the corners. There was a large billboard on the right wall, featuring a map of the world along with various pinned papers, and meticulous red arrows.

A nice change compared to the lifeless grey and white walls from before. The color brought a sense of believability and welcoming. Stepping through it all graced you in intimacy, memories slowly trickling out from the tightly packed dam that held it all.

Maneuvering around, you placed yourself behind a well polished wooden desk that was covered in papers. There were sticky notes on top of it, scribbled in your own handwriting, with warnings of telling you to stop. Your mind refused to give into the pressure, your endurance training from years before kicking in.

You peeled them away.

You needed to understand.

A black and white photograph was placed on top of the small pile, featuring a rather threatening man, whose face was scrunched up in anger. They lacked any facial hair, and the piercing gaze seemed to bore holes into you. The bizarreness of it was that their left eye was practically colorless, with a visible scar running down where dark irises should match.

"Their heart rate is spiking."

"Hang in there Bell."

Looking up, you see Perseus waiting idly at the door. He was a bit younger, with less gray in his hair and a face reformed with less wrinkles. Along with his uniform, he had an armband with the group’s symbol on it. 

He gestures towards the picture in front of you. “What do you think?”

"Depends on what he can bring to the table." Your body begins to move on its own, and you lift up the photo. "You said he used to work under Kravchenko?"

"He was in charge of the Nova Six production on Vozrozhdeniya. You heard what happened, I presume?"

"Operation Rebirth," you answer. Shoving a couple sheets aside, you open a nearby manila folder and bring out a couple of photos: One with a bald man with shades, and another with a thick goatee and eyepatch, labeled 'Jason Hudson' and 'Grigori Weaver' respectively.

"What the hell? That's the mission we did back in sixty-eight."

"So you know." Perseus paces over to the map, eyes darting around before pointing his finger at a certain spot. "He's being held in the gulag, here. I think he would be a good addition to our team. His knowledge of chemical weapons can be of great use to us."

You nod. "What do you need me to do?"

"I want you to—"

His voice began to drown out, slowing down and warping as each syllable was enunciated. You felt yourself getting pulled away, as if you were getting sucked into a vacuum. Everything seemed to pulse as the light started to drain away.

"No, fuck! FUCK! Bell, what did he say?... Goddammit. Lazar, we're doing another injection."

"But, I thought–"

"This is what Bell wants. They're onto something, and we're going to find out. This isn't going to waste."

You winced as you felt something poke and sink into your eye.

"We've got a job to do."

The crash site appeared before you again. It was dark, crickets singing from down below. There was the crackling of fire as nearby shrubs and leaves caught fire. Shadowy figures moved like ants at the paddy, on the lookout for any American survivors.

"Let's skip ahead."

They froze.

"You're in your office. Perseus is telling you about a man being held in prison. You ask him about his plans."

The peach colored office arose around you, replacing the night sky and semi-humid terrain. Noise levels were turned down to the whirring of a fan that stood to the corner of the room.

"What do you need me to do?" you repeated.

Perseus walks over to you, eyes glittering with passion and intent. His agenda and fixation is one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, and why you didn't hesitate to join in on the ranks once he asked you to join. With his strong resolve and leadership, you had no doubt then that Perseus would be the perfect fit to run the country. "I want you to lead a squad with me. Together, we'll break him out. And from there, we can work to rebuild the Union."

"Of course."

"Good. I trust that you'll keep this a secret between us. There's been talk of more moles, and we do not want the Americans interrupting this operation."

You look back down at the photo of the disgruntled man Perseus was keen on introducing to the group. "What's his name?"

"Vikhor Kuzmin, so I've heard. I hope you two will get along."

"Kuzmin…"

The scene begins to warp, colors beginning to blend together into one large mass. Perseus was frozen in place, blending into the peach colored walls. His green uniform mixed with it, spreading out and darkening the once vibrant room. The voices of him and Adler got farther and farther away, and you could only watch as the setting changed in front of your eyes.

"Bell?"

"What's happening? Stay with us, Bell."

"Shi—!"

There were brief flashes of the mission to the gulag. Breaching the doors open with a nice chunk of C4, a group of about four following your lead. Kuzmin was in one of the cells that was hidden away from the public, at the depths of the prison reserved for people like him. Radio chatter and shouts fill your ears. Underneath his torn orange uniform were muscular arms covered in ink, various tattoos embedded in his skin. He was true to the photo, not a detail amiss.

"I've been waiting," he says in a hoarse voice. 

You couldn't respond. 

The scene shifts. Thrown into a meeting, appeared in a confined room. Judging from the walls, you were underground in a hidden place, water dripping from the cracks on the ceiling and pooling on the cold floor below. There were two other people with you: Stitch, now out of his prison garments, and Perseus.

"Why'd you call me here, General?" you ask, closing the door behind.

“Stitch here is about to give an update to how our Nova Six arsenal is holding. I thought you would be interested.”

“Of course.”

You take a seat in one of the swivel chairs. Stitch eyed you with some interest, probably wondering why you were even called here. The guy practically covered himself from head to toe, so you couldn't read his expression. From experience, he wasn’t the talking type, the both of you barely giving each other a second glance if you just so happened to pass by in the hallway. But through the chance you did interact, it was always insults or arguing.

“We have a potential transport route for the cargo,” Stitch begins, resuming his attention to Perseus. “Jose Luis Menendez. I have a plan in mind that might interest him. By next year everything should be lined up if negotiations go well.”

Perseus nods. “Very good. Things have been running smoothly with production, I hope?”

“Yes.”

“We’re using a drug dealer to smuggle some gas?” you quote. It wasn’t a bad plan, but it was a risky move to trust someone not heavily involved within the organization. 

“You have something better?” Stitch challenged, and you beam at him, flipping the pen around in your fingers. 

“Nope. Sounds interesting. Are you sure you can handle it, tough guy?”

Stitch restrains himself from reaching over to choke you, and continues to describe his plan. “A friend of his is being held by the Americans. There’s been plans for his transport, January, nineteen-eighty four. Our bargaining chip.”

You give out an amused whistle, leaning back in your chair. “Not bad.”

"Kuzmin has also told me about a particular man that should be in our interest," Perseus adds, sensing the tension increasing between the two of you. "I had one of our agents pull up anything relating to them. And, I have to say, quite a mysterious man, I think you'll like him, [L/N]."

He personally hands you a blue file. Opening it, there wasn't much to behold. There was a picture of a middle aged man, with a scar that stretched across the left side of his face like vines. A nice set of aviators sat on his nose, hair neatly fashioned. The CIA symbol was stamped on the wall behind him.

Your eyes drifted off to another part of the page, and you found his name. Russell Adler.

You close the folder after reading what little information was provided. Perseus was right, you were intrigued. "What are your orders?" 

"Our friend Stitch has personally volunteered to handle him, but I assured him that you would be best fit for the job," Perseus admits, much to your colleague's dismay.

Glancing at Kuzmin, his already disturbed scowl was further darkened, a vein protruding from his temples. You gave him a scornful grin. "So, that's where your eye went. This American took it."

"You ought to watch your mouth, mutt."

"Is that how you talk to your superior?"

"[L/N]," Perseus warns, and you settle back down. "Please. You'll be working together from now on."

"If he isn't a nuisance."

You see Kuzmin’s hand twitch, unbeknownst to Perseus, who gives a nod. "Continuing where we left off, I want you to deal with the man in the file. Russell Adler. If we let him loose for too long, we may have to deviate from our objective."

"I'll get my team—"

"No need. We already have a plan in mind." 

You raise a brow in interest, waiting for him to continue. 

"One man shouldn't be of much trouble to you, no? He may be America's monster, but we have a few of our own." He nods at you. "Pose as a CIA agent. We'll have someone from inside set up a meeting with you soon, they'll get you in. Once we get a hold of the bomb, you'll clean up the rest."

"Do you have any preferred methods in mind?"

"I'll leave it up to you, [Y/N]."

"When do I start?"

"After the weapons get to Duga. Ensure that Arash doesn't stray from the plan, yes? Come back here when everything is settled."

You nod in acknowledgement. "I won't fail."

Satisfied, Perseus gets up from his spot and walks over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder, his grip a bit more tighter than it should. "I know you won't."

It felt more like a threat. 

With years of planning already under the name, there were no excuses for screw ups or mistakes.

“He may seem like a good person when working with him, but remember— Do not trust Adler.”

“He'll lie to you.”

.

.

.

.

You woke up gasping for air. 

It felt like you couldn't breathe. Attempting to inhale proved more difficult than it should have, your throat turning against you and constricting itself.

The sensation you felt when you were drowning came back, and your hands tried to go for your neck, just trying to breathe, only for the straps to hold you restrain you.

Where were you again?

Your left eye felt like it was on fire, a burning sensation settling in, and you could hear your own heartbeat echoing within your ears. Your heart hammered against your chest, just trying to escape it's prison. His final words bounced around your head.

"Bell?"

Everything felt distorted, becoming more rounded as if you were looking through a magnifying glass. 

"Let… Let me out." you gasped. Every limb felt heavy. Your attention directs to your left and next to the window, you were met with an unpleasant sight. A sense of dread overtakes you.

Perseus was standing still. There was a look of severe disappointment written on his face, the corners of his lips slipping into a frown. It was the worst feeling— failure to meet someone's expectations and vision. His lips part, forming words, but nothing was enunciated.

You failed him.

"Genera—"

"Bell," someone's voice cuts you off. A rough hand settles on one of your cheeks and delicately redirects your view back to your right side. Adler enters your peripherals, a cigarette hanging from his lips, nearly finished. "It's me."

There was his soothing voice again. It wasn't forced or demanding, instead taking on a calming and mellow manner, as if he were talking to a fragile thing. He wasn't panicking. It felt almost endearing.

"It's just me and you here. I'm going to take off the cuffs, got it?"

You managed a nod. Adler reaches over, unbinding both ends. Without hesitation you shot upward and doubled over, just trying to catch your breath, but it just came out in short pants. Somehow you brought yourself to a sitting position, but it felt like the atmosphere thickened as a result. You coughed, just trying to clear out the lump that resided in your throat, but nothing regurgitated. Adler catches you as you stumble over your feet.

Turning your head again, Perseus's figure was gone, yet you could still feel his lingering presence within you. 

"I can't…"

"Deep breaths Bell. Just copy me."

You watched Adler's torso expand as he took in air, his muscles tensing up underneath that black turtleneck sweater of his. Mimicking his action, you pull your stomach in as well before exhaling. 

Why was he so good at this? 

Adler's strange understanding on how to deal with your messy life and panic attacks was one of the few things that kept you sane. The Walkman, his presence…

Why?

He tried to kill you. 

And you were supposed to kill him.

"You're okay, [L/N]."

And yet he could pull shit like this, and it works. Every. Single. Time. It didn't help that Adler started to call you by your last name more frequently as well. 

“How… How long was I out?” you croak, diverting your attention away from him. Your heaving finally evened out, and the lump within your throat dissolved, leaving behind a slight aching in your chest.

“About two hours. You went into a submersion period, and we lost you right after you mentioned Stitch.” He gives you a cup of cold water. "How do you feel?"

The condensation of the water made you shiver. “I'm… getting better.” 

The setting finally meshed itself back to normal, the walls no longer slugging. Looking around the room, Lazar was gone. 

"Ready to talk?”

You took a sip, before fully downing it in one gulp. Wiping away the excess water with the back of your hand, you catch a hint of a rash at your wrists before trailing back to Adler. “First, tell me how you know Kuzmin.”

He takes a seat on the table. "He’s one of the people we captured from Rebirth Island. Also goes by the alias ‘Stitch’. I was in charge of his interrogation but the bastard never broke."

“You're the one who stabbed his eye out,” you recall. 

"I was just returning a favor for someone I know," he comments, watching your reactions. The color was slowly making its way back to your face, but you still had your left eye closed. "And you? You were reiterating how you broke the guy out of the Petropavlovsk prison. Elaborate."

You hum to yourself, sorting out everything you just remembered. "I led a strike team. Perseus would cover our squad as we went in. Really murky place, smelled like shit. Stitch was located on the deeper levels of the gulag, so we had our work cut out for us." You massage your wrists, trying to lessen the pressure that lingered. "The general was right though. His Nova Six project was something we were looking for."

"What's the plan for it?"

"I don't know. Last thing I remember was Kuzmin mentioning the Menendez trade routes to direct their supply to parts of the U.S.. There was something about a prison transport happening in January— He was hoping to use that as leverage to establish business with the drug lord." Your voice trails off to a whisper as you avoid Adler’s fierce gaze.  "Not only that but…" 

"Spit it out."

"We... were planning to make a set up of where I was a KGB defector who wanted to work for the CIA. I was supposed to gain your trust and keep them updated. Once we got a hold of Greenlight, I… needed to finish the job.”

"As in… kill me?"

"...That's one way of putting it."

You couldn't look at Adler when you informed him of the past ploy. How could you, now that you remembered that you were ordered to slice his throat open? You felt like a fool for becoming infatuated with him. Was the admiration you felt your own, or was it something you subconsciously convince yourself to feel in order to get closer to him? 

Dry laughing at your own idiocy, you gave out a disappointed sigh. "Arash must have caught onto our scheme. I bet Perseus didn't expect you to throw me into your MKUltra project. And now look how I ended up."

Out of all things, why did you have to remember that? You couldn't see Adler in the same light now, and you were positive he felt the same about you. It felt like the relationship you managed to build up between the both of you was about to come crashing down. "Nikitin was right."

"He may be right, but I'm still alive," Adler interposes. "You're one of us now, [Y/N]. If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by ages ago, regardless if you remembered or not."

Your heart jumped at the mention of your name, but it quickly retracted, the feeling of guilt taking over again.

He hands you your Walkman. 

"Come on. We got our work cut out for us." Adler states. His voice or facial expression didn’t even give a hint to his internal monologue, despite what you just told him. While it’s a reaction that you expected, it was one that didn’t make you feel any more better about yourself. "Sims took a crack at the disk for you, but he already got stumped."

"Anything on the news about the bar?"

"No. I had an associate cover our asses." He places a hand on the door and turns to you with a small smirk, some teasing affection behind it. "Good thing you have me."

"...Sure," you mumble dejectedly. Someone was a bit optimistic for someone who just found out someone close was supposed to gut him open.

"Team!" Adler yells as he opens the door, and the activity around ceases. You caught Hudson near the evidence board (when did he get here?). "New objective. We need to find the whereabouts of Vikhor Kuzmin. Gather any evidence relating to him, and pull up past files relating to Operation Rebirth, the Menendez family, and their associates. Get Mason and Woods on it too, cross reference everything we have to what Bell knows."

And with that, you were bestowed the highest honor of stress and workload. Everyone spent the rest of the night pulling out old dusty boxes from inventory and sorting out the sicking yellow manila folders. They dated all the way until Vietnam days to the most recent findings, and you had to split up the work.

With the assistance of Sims, you manage to extract the information from the floppy disk within an hour. It was filled with KGB daily reports, as well as some encrypted emails that you had the luxury of breaking apart. The contents further backed up your testimony, containing some documents about the Menendez cartel and their affiliation with Perseus. This type of treasure trove is what the CIA yearned for. While it didn't go into the specifics, it had the data of a few encrypted messages and layouts of what Perseus and his underlings were planning. There were mentions of a NATO base as well as the prison transport. No specific dates, unfortunately, so the team had to act accordingly. 

Your eyes were bloodshot as you worked nearly for two days straight, just trying to put everything together. At the same time, Nikitin's words echoed from the depths of your mind, along with his abhorrent mocking smile plastered across his aged face. A weird flavor would spread across your tongue just thinking about it.

The phial Nikitin had in his pocket that had been sent off to the analysis team and returned via paper results, confirming that it was one of the drugs the cartel was smuggling into the U.S. You never forgot the taste of it, and refused to even get near almonds now.

Now you just had to write down everything and present your discoveries. You made yourself comfortable in the inventory space, watching the arcade machine flash brightly with the title and demo of whatever game input it was set to. The music helped you focus, but, after sitting for hours staring at the same rotten pictures and text, you broke.

A fresh breeze nipped at your skin as you walked outside, and you took a deep breath of the crisp air. It was night out, and a few bugs were dancing around the old yellow light. The buildings in the short distance were irregularly lit, the color of the exposed walls hard to determine under the dark sky. The gravel crunched underneath your shoes as you went around the corner. Finding the rusted ladder, you made your way up to the roof.

You situated yourself around the middle and lied down, looking at the sea of black above. You turned the music low, finding a good balance between silence and the rhythmic beats. Leaving your work at the table, there was now nothing to bother you at this very moment, leaving you to stray into your thoughts.

Multiple times you had told yourself going through the scenarios again with Adler’s help would provide answers for everything you’ve been missing, but in the end it only conjured up more questions. Your sense of self was leaving your grasp, and you could only live in the past. There was an invisible tingling sensation around your wrists. You were never able to forget the scene of sitting in the lab, bound to the chair while Park and Adler tried to make you submit.

Breaking a subject’s will and erasing their mind is a difficult and painful process.

That’s a small price to pay.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You needed to stop thinking about it, but having to work around the people who brought the issue upon you served as a daily reminder of what you have been through. Adler was the worst of them all, and it didn’t help that you were developing feelings for the man. 

The effort of sorting out truth and falsification was mentally draining as well. You had to get used to the resurfaced memories and live by them now. Despite gaining more info about your past, you felt a bit lost on what the next step would be.

“Mind if I join you?”

Speak of the devil.

Opening your eyes, you see Adler’s head just protruding out behind the raised edge of the rooftop. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. You’ve been intentionally avoiding him the past couple days after finding out the truth, and with him here, you couldn’t exactly deny his company with nowhere else to go. 

You gave a small nod of permission, and he vaulted himself over. He brusquely walks over and takes a seat next to you. There was the usual smell of nicotine that followed him, but judging from the strength of it, Adler hasn’t touched a cigarette for a while.

“Nice view,” he compliments, gazing up at the sky. “A bit chilly, too.”

You sit up. “How’d you know I was up here?”

“Sims told me a while back that you used to come up here when things bother you.”

"Damn it."

He observes you for a moment. “You’re avoiding me.” 

“I’m not avoiding you—”

“Then why are you up here?”

You look at him as if his asked a stupid question. “How can you still talk to me, knowing that I was supposed to kill you?”

“C'mon Bell. As if we all never tried to kill each other at some point holed up at this joint.” He shrugs. "And honestly, I could say the same about you. I shot you in the damn heart, yet here you are still willing to talk to me."

“Mikhail did say that the bullet was two centimeters away from piercing the heart tissue.”

“You mentioning that only further adds insult to injury,” he retorts lightly. As soon as he did though, he realized that you weren’t in a joking mood. That brooding appearance of yours wasn’t pleasant to onlookers like him, and it only brought upon further worry. "Talk to me, [L/N]."

"How do you handle it?" you blurt. Nothing about Adler gave away his internal struggles and torment. For someone with his age and experience, there was bound to be shit locked up in there. "Stress, the PTSD… Everything. I just want to take a break for once without shit plaguing my mind."

He shifts position. "Well, for one, having someone to lean on is a good idea."

"Who would that be?"

"For me, it used to be my ex-wife. As of now, it varies. I would get a shrink like Sims, but I rarely make it to the meetings." Adler pauses, before adding: "Mason has periodic evaluations. Why do you ask?"

“I’m just… trying to sort everything out. Like, I thought I was finally coming to terms about myself, but then it turns out even I don’t know. It feels… fake, you know? Who am I, really? Lieutenant Colonel [L/N] of Perseus or Bell of the CIA?"

"Lieutenant Colonel, huh? That's a high ranking for someone at your age."

"I'm serious, Adler."

Underneath everything, you could feel your old cold-hearted self resurface whenever you held a gun. It kept you on edge, like a snake just waiting patiently for its time to strike. Nowadays you only kill when it's necessary, but Nikitin's provocation brought out that nature Adler and Park had tried to suppress. Adler's power and hold on you was faltering as you both now saw eye to eye, he could only do so much to keep your deviant behavior in check, and you were afraid of losing yourself.

His leniency only added onto the anxiety— letting your guard down was the last thing you would do if you were in his stead. "After Cuba, when you put me under interrogation… I heard Perseus. He was saying to not trust you. It didn't occur to me until now but… How would he know about you? I thought it was just my subconscious telling me about the truth, but it was more than that."

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"It's anything but nothing!" you yell. "How can you say that?! I spent so long telling myself to trust no one but myself, but even now I can’t do that now. How the hell am I supposed to keep moving forward if there's a chance—"

“Take a look around, Bell," Adler cuts you off. "You're here in West Berlin, surrounded by the best CIA operatives. Woods, Mason, Lazar, Sims, Hudson. If something were to happen, we got you covered. Hudson and I didn't go through the effort of having you back on this team for nothing."

“Even so—”

"Even so, if you're so concerned, and you shouldn't be, I already lived long enough to make a few enemies, Stitch being one of them. Having a target on your back isn’t fun, but it’s what makes the job a bit more thrilling in its own twisted way.

“I’ve worked with you long enough. You have your struggles, but you snap back at every opportunity you get, and you sure as hell won’t go down without a fight. If I were you, doubting myself is the last thing I would do. That’s basically letting Perseus get in your head, and I wouldn’t want to give him that sad excuse of a victory.”

You weren’t just a machine made to follow orders, Adler knew. Comparing the person who you were today, to the one he knew back in 1981, it was like flipping a coin. On one side was the once reserved and obedient agent he invented, the person he tried to distance himself from getting too attached; the other was the you of today. The temperamental, smart-mouthed individual who was struggling to set free from the chains that tied you back, trying their hardest to search for yourself. Yet, you managed to put everything else first before yourself, and he needed you to recognize that you were important too.

“What I said that morning still stands, and always will.”

There was the fuzzy feel again. 

You were always quick to judge how people might react. It was always better that way, to prepare yourself for the worse when it actually occurred, but it brought more harm than needed. 

Fighting off lingering predispositions, you yielded to his persuasion, bobbing your head once. Bringing your legs up to your chest, you hugged them as the breeze began to pick up. It was unusual: you just needed someone to reassure you, and with it, it felt like everything would be fine. Even if it was temporary. "...Okay."

You feel something drape over your shoulders shortly after, with the familiar smell of cologne and ash.

"Don't want to get sick again," Adler states. Without his jacket, the black dress shirt he wore underneath hugged his form tightly. Memories from September's mission flashed within the back of your mind, the image of you tugging at his shirt to dress his wound as he laid unconscious. For someone his age, he was well built.

You avert your eyes, pull the edges of the jacket closer. Those types of details about people never fascinated you before until now. "...You mentioned your ex-wife a couple times before. Was she beautiful?"

"Mhm. Of course she was." He leans back onto his hands, gazing up at the sky as he reminisced about his past woman. "But, she's an ex for a reason, so let's not tread there."

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious? I have you now."

Your heart practically jumped out. This charismatic asshole. "You don't mean that."

"I do."

"You can't."

Why were you so scared? Just the thought of someone loving you felt almost unearthly. The emotional baggage you carried was already enough, so to hear that someone was willing to take the time to help guide you through it, and lend a listening ear was too good to be true.

You could feel his blue irises piercing you underneath those shades. "Why not?"

"You can find better."

"I did. And they're sitting right here."

Adler wouldn't let you go. And it hurt. God must have had a fun time writing out your life story, making two people who, at one point, were at each other's throats now fall for one another. 

Stop fighting it.

It was something you kept denying, but with each passing day working alongside Adler, it became harder and harder to bury underneath. That man just strives to succeed in his goal, no matter what the cost, and if the goal this time was to get close to you, and break every wall you had put up in his direction, then he had succeeded.

"You must think you're real slick, huh?" you mumble under your breath.

Caving in, you rest your head in his lap, staring up at his faintly glowing face lit up by the outside lights of the safehouse. Adler stiffens at the gesture, caught by your sudden affection, before easing up. He places a hand on your cheek, and you lean into it, giving out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes, feeling the warmth spread. You couldn't avoid it anymore, small tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

K̴̦͍͑̀̚i̵̡̺̝͋̔͠l̴̝͎͕͒͋̕l̸͇͇̽͘͝. 

Kiss him.

It was something new. The intimacy and the casualty of it. Something like this wasn't comparable to the parental love you had when you were younger— It was a new experience, something of its own existence, and you couldn't help but adore it. 

A stillness found itself between the both of you. The awkwardness that would have followed never came. Adler pondered to himself for a moment. You could see his Adam's apple move underneath the stubble as he wondered what to say next.

"If it makes you feel better… Here."

He adjusts his weight slightly, shoving a hand into the collar of his shirt and pulling out something metal from underneath. Adler dangles his dog tags above you, waiting for you to hold your hand out. When you do, he lowers it gently.

You didn't even know he wore them. The tags were a bit rusted, dirt and dark spots situating itself into the little imprints of lettering and edges. Your thumb brushes over the protruding words, reading them. His name, blood type…

Did he want you to keep this?

Adler notices your complex expression as you gazed up at him. "What? Is there something on my face?" 

"No…" You grip the tags in your hands, afraid to let them go. Adler was out of his mind— for giving you a sentimental object like this, and for believing in you. But… If that's what he wanted, then you will respect his wishes. "Just thinking how I haven't seen you smoke for a while."

“Just trying to kick the habit,” he discloses. 

You roll your eyes. “Knowing you, it goes way deeper than that.”

He smirks slightly to himself. There really was no use hiding things from you. “Just thought it would be rude to do it around you, seeing how you reacted that morning.”

"Am I supposed to thank you for that?"

"Hey, I'm just helping you live longer."

"I don't die that easily."

He returns a small grin. "I know."

Whenever it was just the two of you, it felt like you were on cloud nine. With the walls gone, you found yourself falling heads over heels once again. It was such a complicated thing, and yet you felt more relaxed and stable, knowing that you didn't have to spend any more energy just being apprehensive. 

"What're you listening to now?" Adler asks softly, and you take an earbud out, holding it out to him.

To be able to spend a moment like this with him was something you never imagined doing in your lifetime. Much or less, falling in love with a person like him. You had spent endless days counting bodies and shooting guns since you were young, to a point it had hardened you emotionally. Climbing up the ranking ladder was a challenge on its own, as not everyone was keen on having a younger soldier commandeering their lives. There was no time to maintain deep relationships then; you were too busy for that.

But after meeting Adler, you felt more… Humanized. He was like your bridge to stability. One look at him and a wave of calmness would wash over you. 

Was this what Mason meant about Hudson and Woods keeping him grounded to reality?

Now it was just you two sitting on a roof in private, with one earbud in your ear, the other in his, just listening to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. Adler was humming to the lyrics.

"Russell?" you call.

"Hm?" He tilts his head downward, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. His striking blue eyes meet yours. He notices the corners of your mouth were upturned slightly into a small smile. The look in your eyes was something he wouldn't forget— filled with a new light, mixed with an unyielding devotion.

“Do you really trust me?” 

There wasn't a trickle of doubt in his mind. 

“With my life.”

#the next chapter there's going to be a fat timeskip #russell adler x reader #adler x reader #russell adler x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #call of duty x reader #bo:cw #text #fanfic #bell #russell adler #abcd briefing #call of duty imagine #these chapters are getting shorter and shorter again OTL #ahh i gotta stop lingering on chapters for too long or else they start to get cringey to read

[hawkwhore]

hi hi hi could i request a hawk imagine where it’s an enemies to lovers kinda thing, so hawk is still in cobra kai and y/n is in miyagi do. basically tori hurts her and he sees her after and gets protective over her, then they get close and kinda secretly date... something like that haha THANK YOUUU <33333

Do Better — Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Female!Reader

HI OMG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I literally had an entirely different fic at like 8k words for this before I decided it didn’t fit close enough to the prompt and I just completely started over and this one was even longer than the first so that’s why it took me literal ages LOL.

includes; swearing, fluff, fighting, so much angst

words; 11,394 (im sorry its a whole ass novel)

this takes place late s2, after demetri and hawk’s friendship ends but before eagle fang forms!

Most of your time in high-school you spent in a bubble, keeping to yourself and just your few friends. You didn’t involve yourself in other people’s crap very often, but when an all-out karate war happened at the end of your junior year, you couldn’t keep lurking in the shadows anymore.

Bullying was becoming heavy at your school, and while you weren’t usually a target, you grew tired of watching other people get hurt. Primarily, by a familiar face to you-- Eli Moskowitz.

Not that you knew him particularly well, but you remembered the shy boy you’d shared classes with, and you always tried your best to be nice to him knowing how others treated him.

You never would’ve thought that now he’d be the bully, destroying the confidence of other kids who were just like him.

“Look at this kid,” He laughed to his friend, Mitch. The two boys were standing in the hall, hovering over a small, scrawny boy who looked terrified. “You wanna be in Cobra Kai? Well, see, we had to be un-flinched first. We can do that for you right now, though. See how much you can take.” He teased, threatening a punch, watching the boy wince at his movement.

When you were in the halls on your way to your next class, you witnessed this horrible incident. You watched for a moment, before deciding that it was time for you to step out of your bubble. “Hey, leave him alone.” You said annoyedly, urging the boys to give it up.

Hawk turned to you and leered, and Mitch pushed the kid against the locker so he wouldn’t move while they dealt with you. “Be careful who you talk to like that, princess.” He moved dangerously close, and despite the feelings of anger you had towards him, your stomach dropped a little at the nickname.

Not letting it affect you, you came back bitterly. “Oh yeah? And who am I talking to, Eli?” His face contorted in disgust at the use of his real name. “You know, it’s sad, how you became everything you used to despise. I remember the other side of you, you were sweet..” You said, smiling to your self in remembrance. “And now look at you.” Looking at him in resentment, you finished.

Turning angrily on his heel at your words, Hawk punched the boy in the face and let him go running. He looked back at you with a look of victory, and Mitch smirked. “You better watch your back.” Hawk said threateningly, and knocked his shoulder into yours as he walked to his class.

Through the rest of the day, Hawk thought about you. He knew who you were; Y/N, the only girl to ever be nice to him during his shier days. He remembered the feeling he got any time you’d talked to him, and also how pretty you looked each time you did.

He had almost forgotten until then, how much he had always admired you. He even wanted to ask you out all that time ago, but now too much has changed. Way too much, clearly, because when the commercial for Miyagi-Do came out, you were quick to join.

It was that interaction with Hawk that really set you off, actually. You wanted to be able to stop the cruelty, and you thought that joining Miyagi-Do for defense would be a good start.

Little did you know, the rivalry would only grow.

As weeks passed, Miyagi-Do gained students and flourished. But in the meanwhile, Cobra Kai only got rougher, angrier, and just.. worse, in general.

You had done your best to avoid fights, (like a true Miyagi-Do would) but on a particularly bad day of yours, you were unlucky enough to find yourself running into Tory outside of school.

Being close friends with Sam, you knew to stay clear of Tory after hearing what she did to her. You thought Tory was a vile human being, though, and if she were to start anything-- she was probably the one person you wouldn’t hesitate to absolutely destroy.

When on your way to the dojo, you took a pit stop at a convenience store to pick up some snacks since you had some time to kill between after school and when practice started. You were met with an unpleasant surprise on your way out, when you saw Tory approaching the store.

The two of you made eye contact as you crossed paths, and you decided to ignore her and keep walking. Until, as you walked past each other, Tory stuck out her leg and tripped you over the concrete pathway.

“Are you kidding me, bitch?” You pushed yourself up, scoffing at her, and she smiled maniacally. “What’d you just call me?” She teased, obviously looking for a fight.

As much as you wanted to stay calm, you were pushed over the edge. “You heard me, bitch.” You repeated, letting her know you were not afraid. “What’s your problem? I keep away from you and you just can’t help yourself from starting something. I’ve never even done anything to you.” You confronted Tory, looking for an explanation for her behavior.

It was true, you’d hardly ever interacted with her-- but since you’re in Miyagi-Do and friends with Sam, she just didn’t like you. And Tory being Tory, if she didn’t like someone, she was going to be a bitch about it.

She laughed at your attempt to reason with her, and looked at you in self-satisfaction. “I just think it’d be fun to watch you bleed.” She seemed proud at the insult, stepping forward threateningly-- but you thought it was pretty lame.

Clearly, she had no real answer for the questions you asked her. She was far gone in her own world, using only anger to dictate her decisions.

You had let out a disappointed sigh, shaking your head, and turned to simply leave the situation, remembering that it wasn’t worth it. But Tory had other plans.

She grabbed your wrist, twisting it painfully forcing your body to face her. You quickly rotated it to release yourself from her grip, and punched her in the face with your newly freed hand.

“Leave me alone, Tory. This fighting for no reason crap is bullshit.” You said, stepping out of her proximity and holding your fists up in case of needed defense. Tory felt blood trickle from her nose, and as she wiped it from her face, she threw you a sickening sneer.

Seemingly avid on letting her rage out on you, she only continued. “You’re pathetic.” She cackled, taking a swing at you. You blocked this, but the movement left an opening for her to then kick your stomach, which sent you to the ground.

Before you could manage to get up again, she was hovering over you, punching your face repeatedly. It wasn’t until the pain was sinking in that you finally gained enough power to push her off, rolling forward and pinning her down tightly.

You grabbed a fistful of her hair, turning her face towards the ground. “Give it up, Tory.” She stayed quiet, breathing heavily, until she used her remaining strength to free her arm and dig her elbow into your side.

You fell back at this, and you were now both sat on the ground, mere inches from each other. “Seriously, I mean what’s the point? What are you gaining from this besides a couple of bruises?” You stood up, asking again.

You genuinely wanted to know, what could make a person so heartless. You had done nothing to provoke her, yet she was so intent on hurting you. Your question had unfortunately only sparked her rage again, the way you acted so ‘above it all,’ in Tory’s mind made her only angrier.

She rose, charging towards you for another strike, when the owner of the convenience store came out. “What the hell is this? Do I need to call the police?” The man asked. He had caught you in the blocking position of Tory’s attack, and she bitterly pushed herself off of you.

“You got lucky.” She spat, walking back towards the store she was originally on her way into. “Think about it, Tory! Why?” You yelled as she walked away, wanting your final words to sink into her.

You assured the owner that you were fine, and that he didn’t need to get the cops involved. You took out your phone and checked your complexion in the front camera, cringing seeing the cuts and bruises from Tory’s punches all over your face.

But remembering the bloody nose you had given her in your first punch, you smiled to yourself. Looking at your phone’s clock, you had certainly killed the time, but much more than you had wanted to. You were going to be late, so you texted Sam, alerting her that you got in a fight (sparing the details for later,) and that you would be late to practice.

You figured you could just clean up your cuts when you got home, it wasn’t a big deal, probably. But on your walk to the dojo, a passing car slowed at the sight of you. You started walking faster, instantly assuming the worst, but when the window rolled down, you heard a familiar, extremely unpleasant voice. Hawk.

“On your way to practice, huh? Still no car?” He taunted, knowing you still hadn’t saved up enough to buy your own. You glanced at him and rolled your eyes, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. How many enemies were you going to bump into today?

That was when he noticed your face. “Jesus, Y/N, what happened to you?” He laughed, fully stopping the car. You halted and responded annoyedly, “Tory happened. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late.” Turning back towards the walkway, you continued down the street.

But before you could get far, Hawk had gotten out of his car and caught up to you. “You’re not seriously headed to the dojo like that are you?” He said confusedly, trying to keep up with your pace.

You looked at him like his question was stupid, and continued walking. At your ignoring of him, he pushed his point further. “You need to clean those cuts.” He said, still following close behind you as you walked.

“Since when do you care?” You said irritated, continuing to disregard the boy’s words. At this, he finally stopped following. “You know what, fine.” He stood, speaking sharply, and you looked at him curiously at his abruptness. “Just trying to help, or, be nice or whatever.” He muttered aggravatedly, raising his hands in mocking surrender at your attitude.

You had ignored his concerns, because quite honestly you didn’t believe he was actually concerned. You had assumed it was some sort of set up for a new insult, or a way to just mess up your face even more.

“Oh yeah? That’s pretty unusual for you, isn’t it?” You said rudely, engaging back in the conversation. Hawk pursed his lips together and shifted uncomfortably.

You didn’t know it, but Hawk still cared about you. He may have changed, but his feelings for you hadn’t— as much as he tried to get them to. And right now, seeing you hurt, and since there was nobody around to judge him for it, he wanted to help you.

“Look, I’ve got some first aid stuff in my car. Let me help.” He stayed where he was, not wanting to provoke you, and spoke softly, nudging his head towards his car.

You narrowed your eyes looking at him, feeling skeptical of accepting the invitation. He noticed your hesitation, but did not back down, looking at you expectantly for an answer.

You let out an exasperated sigh, and walked towards his car without saying a word. Continuing to argue with him about it seemed like a waste of time to you at this point.

Hawk smiled to himself in relief that you gave in. Hurrying after you, he retrieved the first aid kit from the trunk of his car and ran to open the passenger seat door.

“You wanna sit?” He pointed at the seat, motioning you to take it. You dropped your bag and got in the car, still glaring at Hawk.

He seemed sincere in his intentions, but you really just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Who knows what he could really be planning?

As you took your seat, you reached out to take the kit from Hawk’s grasp. “Hold on,” he said, moving the box away from your reach.

You gave him a bothered look, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. “Have you ever even done this before?” He said, referring to cleaning up after a fight.

“No?” You shrugged, “It can’t be that hard.” You said impatiently, reaching for the box again. “Can you please just let me do it? I’ll show you how for next time.” He practically pleaded, wanting to make sure it was done right so you healed properly.

You didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him, but you were tired of going back and forth with him. “Whatever, just make it quick. I’ll miss all of karate class at this rate.” You complained, moving closer to the edge of the seat so Hawk could reach you.

The height of his car made you two the same height, so Hawk was face to face with you as you were seated. “Hmm, miss a Miyagi-Do lesson? I don’t see the problem.” He joked, almost making light of their rivalry.

You smiled lightly at that, playfully rolling your eyes, but not saying anything. He stood close enough to examine your face, and it was close enough to make you both nervous.

It was silent as he opened the kit and started to clean your cuts, but you broke it to ask a question that was burning in you. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked at you for a second, looking reluctant to answer your question. “What do you mean?” He dodged, continuing to tend to your bruises.

You laughed, knowing full well he knew what you meant, but deciding to answer him anyway. “Why are you helping me? We aren’t friends.” You said plainly, making sure to keep your face still.

“I don’t know, you just obviously needed it.” He brushed off the seriousness of the question, starting to dab the cloth over your lip so you couldn’t talk.

You pushed his hand away lightly. “That’s hardly an answer. You’d never help a Miyagi-Do, so why?” You snapped, not letting his hand near your face again until he answered.

He finally took a step back, and stared at you looking defeated. “You’re the only one who was ever nice to me. Before.. this.” He pointed to his hair, referring to the era of The Hawk.

You crossed your arms skeptically. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” You asked expectantly, and he rolled his eyes. “Demetri’s different, okay? He betrayed me. But you..”

He trailed off, struggling to maintain eye contact with you. “You were never anything but good to me. You deserve better.” He said, and your heart both stung and fluttered at once, trying to figure out what was going on with him.

You wondered if his actions were truly coming from a place of sincerity. It was very unlike him to be anything but an asshole, so hearing something like that come out of his mouth really made you think.

He tried to ignore the sentiment he had just said by walking back towards you and starting to tend to your wounds again, but you only pushed him back for a second time.

“I don’t understand what happened to you.” You said sadly, examining the way he stood. “I changed.” He said monotonously, trying to avoid matching your energy of seriousness.

His hot-and-cold temper was starting to annoy you, the way he would open up just to close right back down again.

“Yeah, and not for the better. Are you even happy?” You said, frustrated, looking at him hard. His face turned sour.

“More than I was before!” He yelled, stepping towards you threateningly. You were taken aback at his outburst, suddenly feeling small as he grew angrier. “My life was hell, remember?” His voice cracked, and he tried to calm himself as he saw the way you leaned back into your seat uncomfortably.

“Look, I’m sorry for keeping you, I probably cleaned you up enough so... just go.” He said softly, sounding regretful as he moved out of the way so you could get out of the car.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. You felt completely clueless on how he was feeling, and you didn’t want to leave it like this. “Hawk-“, you started, but he cut you off. “No, just go.” He pointed away. “I was stupid to think I’d get a second chance with you.” He muttered to himself, turning to walk around to the drivers seat of his car.

“Wh— second chance? What do you mean?” You shouted after him and hopped off the seat, grabbing his arm before he could get too far.

At your tug of his arm, he looked back at you with the most intense feeling in his eyes. Not wanting to use his words anymore, Hawk turned to grab your wrist from the hand that was already resting on his arm, and pulled you against him.

Hawk smashed his lips onto yours, holding you loosely in fear of your rejection. You weren’t expecting it, but you didn’t pull away. Your kiss continued and you subconsciously shuffled backwards, now being able to lean against the side of the car as he grew more passionate in his movements.

Being with him like this felt amazing, but it was confusing, too-- you had to pull away and clear up this situation.

Finally letting each other go, Hawk looked at you with glossy eyes. You had no idea where all of this came from or what to say, so you were silent as you waited for him to explain.

He knew what you were waiting for, and sighed deeply before expressing how he felt. “I just feel like after everything, I owe you my best.” Hawk said quietly, and you waited for him to go on, having not yet made up your mind on the whole situation.

You enjoyed the kiss, yes-- but you didn’t understand why it had happened, and that was something you needed to know before anything could proceed further. Hawk was a jerk, and he was going to have a lot of explaining to do for you to suddenly be able to forget that.

He moved even closer, and reached his hand out to brush your hair away from your face. “And I don’t like seeing you hurt.” He whispered, ghosting his fingers across the bruises on your face.

You felt a shiver down your spine as he touched you, closing your eyes in the moment. “And,” he pulled away from you, his voice changing to a more regular tone again, “I don’t ever want to be the reason you feel pain. Not after all those times you helped me escape mine.” He said, reaching out to hold your hand, as he referred to how you were there for him so long ago.

Pure concern and care for Hawk overtook you as the words left his lips, and you had never felt so conflicted in your life. It made sense to you now why he would often avoid you, whereas others he’d make it his mission to pick fights with.

He had just admitted to caring about you, and that he never wanted to be at fault for your hurt. He had a reputation to uphold, but he really did have a soft spot for you that never went away.

You felt like you were talking to Eli again, as though the sweet boy he once was had never left, but you also knew that once this moment was over, he’d go back to his corrupt ways again. And that terrified you.

All these new feelings for Hawk were rising in you, but how could you act on them when he was supposed to be your enemy?

He studied your expression, waiting for you to say something. He felt more confident now, seeing as you kissed him back, but he was still nervous for whatever you were about to say.

“What do we do?” You spoke shakily, your expression timid and lost. He caressed his thumb over your hand, noticing your own nerves. “What do you mean?” He asked, not expecting that to be your first question.

“I’ve always cared about you and you know that, but then you go through all these changes and become a total dick, and now you kiss me and tell me how you care too.” You say awkwardly, trying to point out the weirdness of the situation. “I’m confused, Hawk, and afraid. We can’t be together when everything about our lives will keep us apart.” You whimpered, scattering your eye contact.

His heart leapt at the mention of you two being together, but frowned once registering the context of the words. He suddenly felt guilty, seeing how distressed you were. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this, he thought.

But it was too late now, and as he released your hand to move forward and hold you, he never wanted to let go.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into your ear. He knew his recent actions since joining Cobra Kai weren’t exactly admirable-- he knew he should do better. But it was hard; and all he could muster right now, was an apology.

There was a lot to process in such a short moment of time, and you felt overwhelmed. You felt comforted and safe as he held you, but at the same time you felt wrong for feeling that way.

Maybe he was trying to do right by you, but would that be enough if he continued to act terribly when everyone else was around? You needed some time to think. “I should go.” You pulled away from his grasp, trying to be gentle even though your exit was abrupt.

“Oh,” he nodded, watching as you picked up your karate bag. “I just don’t want everyone at the dojo to worry.” You said, trying to rid the conversation of its tension.

He was trying to play it cool, but he was screaming on the inside, terrified that once you left you would never talk to him again. “Just promise you’ll fix that when you get home.” Referring to your still-slightly-messed-up face, he urged you, unable to refrain from making sure you took care of yourself.

You smiled sadly and nodded in response, feeling awkward about everything as you turned to walk back on your route towards the dojo. “And um,” You looked back at him once more. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You said, assuming he wouldn’t want his Cobra Kai friends to find out he had kissed a Miyagi-Do.

His heart broke when you said this-- you basically thought he was ashamed of you? In a way you were right, he didn’t want them to know. But the guilt that spread across his face at your words, showed how badly he wanted to tell everyone just how much he liked you.

Clearing his throat, he tried to pull himself together again. “Right, yeah. See you.” He said, and watched you for a moment as you walked away.

Getting back into his car, he fought the emotions threatening to spill out, and pushed them away as he headed home. He couldn’t stop thinking about his next move, and what would happen next time he saw you.

Obviously the first thing he would want to do is kiss you, and hold you, and touch you.. but he knew that instead he would likely end up being encouraged by his friends to attack you in some way.

He couldn’t just say, ‘back off guys, she’s cool, i like her now.’ because that would definitely earn him a beating and a seat at the rejects table. He had been fighting these feelings for so long because of this exact reason, and he was pissed at himself that he couldn’t have just kept it under control for longer.

It would have been easier for him, and you. Even you were worrying as you walked to practice about what you were going to do when you saw him again. Your friends may be more forgiving than Hawk’s, but you doubted they’d be particularly thrilled about any of this news.

They would surely tell you to be careful, not to trust him, that it was just a game to find a weakness in you. These doubts inflicted your mind constantly, and it sucked that you had to figure all of it out on your own.

You were a half-hour late to karate when you arrived, and luckily Sensei Larusso had the tools to heal the remaining injuries on your face. You explained what happened with Tory, but you didn’t tell them about Hawk.

Your classmates were angry, Sam especially, and you were too. But after everything, you knew nobody in Cobra Kai was really in their right mind. Tory was an out of control girl with aggression issues, and Hawk was constantly battling a feeling of pressure and pent-up rage.

The worst thing about being in Miyagi-Do, was knowing the right way to go, and knowing that the right way was going to be a long, slow, and difficult process. It was a waiting game at this point-- how many fights would it take for the Cobra Kai kids to realize that wasn’t what they needed to do?

How much pain would they all have to endure, to realize there were better ways to solve their problems? You had only hoped that Hawk taking this step towards you was a step in the right direction-- and that maybe the rest of the Cobras would soon follow.

But until then, it was a secret. And the next few times you saw Hawk were an extreme struggle for the both of you.

Each passing day that you’d make eye contact at school, you’d both immediately look away. Neither of you had spoken or even texted since the kiss, and you were both failing miserably at proper communication.

At first, you thought that maybe the whole thing had been a mistake, and maybe it should just be left alone. But recalling everything Hawk said to you that day, you couldn’t ignore how real it felt. You wanted to be with him, but you had no clue how to go about that.

You were waiting for Hawk to make the next move, but to Hawk-- the ball was in your court. You had left him there, with no definite answer on how you felt about it, and never got back to him since. It seemed to him like you wanted to forget about it, so when one of Moon’s parties rolled around that weekend, he decided to forget about it too.

You were coming to the party, but got there late; and what a wonderful sight it was for the first thing to see as you walk in be Hawk, face inches away from another girl’s, flirting the night away.

Of course, you thought, feeling disgusted at what was in front of you. Of course everything he said was bullshit. You couldn’t figure out for the life of you what his goal was in pretending to care for you, especially when he got basically nothing out of it except a stupid kiss he could’ve gotten from anyone-- but clearly none of it was as real as you thought it was.

It’d been a few days, sure, but you thought maybe tonight you’d finally just talk to him. You watched as the girl played with the string of Hawk’s hoodie, and feeling a pang of jealousy you decided to walk by them, making sure your presence was known.

It definitely worked, because at the notice of your movements he excused himself from the conversation and followed you out towards the pool, where you had gone to get away from the sight of Hawk and the girl.

“Hey.” He whispered, as you poured yourself a drink. “Hi.” You replied boredly with your back turned to him, not exactly feeling excited to have a conversation with him.

He looked around, scoping out who may be listening, but luckily the only others outside were heavily invested in the drinking game going on at the other side of the patio.

Hawk could tell you were bothered about the girl, but didn’t understand why, since you had so obviously been avoiding him.

“Can we talk?” He asked, still being cautious as to not attract any attention. “Go ahead.” You were being difficult, but quite frankly you thought he deserved it. He made you spend days analyzing what had happened between you, only for him to move on from it after a few days?

He stomped closer, and you looked up at him. “You know we can’t talk here.” He nodded his head towards the back of the yard, hoping you’d go with him somewhere private.

You scoffed, and looked at the spot doubtfully. You were upset, but still curious to hear what he had to say. “Fine.” You rolled your eyes, feeling disappointed in yourself for giving in, but you couldn’t pretend you weren’t dying to know what the hell he was thinking.

Hawk walked eagerly to the secluded part of Moon’s property, hoping to get some clarity from you. But before Hawk could say anything, your anger got the best of you.

“So what the hell is your problem?” You started, as soon as you knew you were out of earshot from the rest of the party. Hawk looked taken aback, his eyebrows immediately coming together. “Me? What are you talking about?” He said, offended.

You looked at him in disbelief, mouth dropping open slightly. “Are you joking? Are we going to pretend you weren’t just about to make out with that girl in there?” You said, feeling a twinge of hurt from your own words.

His face knotted in confusion and annoyance. “Seriously? You’re jealous right now? After I confessed everything to you, and you avoided me for days afterwards, I was just supposed to think you actually wanted me?” He tried to keep his voice down, but his emotions were getting the better of him.

“What? I just needed some time to think! It’s not like you bothered to text me either!” You whisper-shouted, now feeling like you were missing something.

“Well when you kiss someone and they basically run away from you, who’s responsibility do you think it is to reach out after?!” He threw his arms up in bafflement, looking at you expectantly.

Your face fell to a look of guilt, and eventually his did too. Suddenly you both felt like idiots at how far you jumped to conclusions.

“I was gonna talk to you today. But when I saw you in there with that girl, all these insecurities just came over me. I thought everything you said was just some Cobra prank and it never meant anything.” Your face drooped, feeling a little embarrassed to admit any of this.

His eyes saddened, and he shook his head. “And I just thought you hated me, and that no matter what I said it’d never be enough for you to forgive me.” He explained his own worry, and your eyes started to water at his words.

Feeling overwhelmed after finally being able to piece together what had been going on this whole time, you sprung into his arms, hugging him tightly. You both stayed embraced, enjoying the feeling of comfort from each other once again, until you finally felt strong enough to pull yourself away.

He kept a hand around your head, as though cradling something delicate. “I meant everything I said that day. It’s not a scheme. I want to be with you.” He told you, proving your suspicions wrong.

You smiled weakly, feeling warm at his confession, but nervous for what’s to come. “I’m sorry I never texted you, but I just don’t get how we’re going to do this.” You said, unconvinced. “We can’t tell anyone, and despite whatever we have, there are a lot more reasons why we won’t work than will.” You look away, your mood of happiness faltering at the idea of being realistic.

“I mean, you know I like you Hawk. And maybe it’s different for us, but, I can’t exactly support the way you treat other people.” You say reluctantly, trying not to sound rude. Hawk gulped, looking down shamefully.

Not wanting to think realistically right now, he ignored what you said and pulled you closer. “We’ll figure it out.” He said sweetly, and moved his hand to lift your chin, kissing you tenderly. As nervous as you were about all of it, the way he kissed you somehow seemed to make all your worries disappear.

Just then as your lips met, sirens went off nearby. “Shit, cops?” Hawk said, breaking apart from you. You giggled at the unfortunate turn of events. “You go that way,” you pointed him in the opposite direction of where you were planning to exit, not wanting others to notice you were together. “See you around.” You said playfully, and he caught on to your plan.

Before he could give you a final peck or even say goodbye, you were gone around the corner of the house, and he wondered longingly when he’d finally be able to kiss you again.

The next couple days at school you’d both done your best to avoid looking suspicious with each other. There were many stolen glances, and lots of private texts, but you both somehow managed to keep whatever fling you two had completely under wraps.

Though you had been initially uncomfortable with the whole secret-dating-thing, you eventually gave up on worrying about what would happen if others found out. You were happy, and having a lot of fun sneaking around with Hawk.

You noticed he had even toned down some of his bullying, and your heart felt full at the thought that he might have done that for you. Of course, there were always a few ‘slip-ups’.. but he made sure you weren’t around to see those.

Even if it was difficult, it was thrilling in a way-- having make-out sessions in his car when no one was around to see, and slipping in through each others’ windows at night to see each other... 

It was fun, pretending to hate each other by day, and then not being able to stay away from each other by night. It felt like the whole school was being pranked, and you two were the only ones in on it.

It had been a few weeks now since you admitted to liking each other at Moon’s party, and you were now headed to the sports shed near the soccer field where Hawk had asked you to meet him after school.

You’d came here and gotten a little wild with him twice before, so at the invitation you fully expected to be met with an aggressive Hawk, ready to hook up. But instead when you opened the shed door, he was standing shyly and gave you the sweetest smile.

“Hey,” he said, taking a small step forward to meet where you were standing. “Hi, baby,” you grinned and kissed him chastely, taking note of the more innocent energy coming from him today.

He wrapped his arms around you, his eyes examining your face adoringly. “Um,” he said, radiating nervousness and backing up slightly. “What’s up?” You smiled at him curiously, taking his hands in yours.

After only a moment, he released his hands from your hold, and you suddenly felt concerned. Why was he acting so weird? You watched confusedly as he fiddled with the inside pocket of his jacket, not saying a word.

Pulling out a small box, he opened it to reveal a simple but beautiful silver necklace. “Hawk!” You gasped, looking at it in awe. He felt more confident at your reaction, and felt safe to say something again.

“I thought that, since we always have to act around each other, you could wear it as a reminder of how we really feel.” He said, searching your expression for some sort of approval.

You stared at him in admiration, not yet able to find the words to respond. “It’s simple, so nobody will think it means anything, but, we’ll know.” He spoke again, hoping for it to grant a response from you this time.

Your face began to bloom with happiness. Taking the box from his hands, you kissed him passionately. “I love it. Can you put it on me?” You asked cheerfully, and Hawk smiled brightly. “Yeah,” he nodded excitedly, turning you around.

You did your best to move your hair out of the way, and Hawk gently pushed the few stray strands to the side. Feeling his fingers brush across your skin, you breathed heavily. You could feel his own breath hot on your neck, as he clasped the two ends of the jewelry together.

With your back still against his torso, he placed his hands around your waist, starting to leave soft kisses against your ear, and down towards your collarbone.

You closed your eyes, soaking in the feeling, until the door of the shed barged open. You stumbled away from each other in shock, and looked to see Tory standing in front of the both of you.

“I knew it! What the hell is this, Hawk?” She screamed, prowling towards you. Feeling completely unprepared from the utter suddenness of the situation, you stepped back in fear. “What are you doing here!?” Hawk shouted, ignoring Tory’s question as he blocked her path from getting to you.

She sneered at the both of you, stopping as she noticed his protectiveness over you. “I’ve noticed how you sneak off at the end of school. I finally decided to follow you here.” She said matter-of-factly, giving you a glare.

“So what is she, Hawk? Your girlfriend?” She taunted, starting to circle you. Out of everything she’d said so far, that was the thing that actually made you the most nervous. You hadn’t actually used that word before... ‘girlfriend,’ you hadn’t really made it official, despite how much it felt like you already had.

You weren’t sure how Hawk would react now that he was caught, but you desperately hoped he would say, ‘Yes, she is, and I love her.’ But that was nowhere close, to what he said.

“What? No! We’re just having some fun, alright? It doesn’t mean anything.” He forced a laugh, stepping away from you. Your heart ached. This is what you were afraid of. You knew it was probably for the best for him to have said that, but you couldn’t ignore the hurt you felt when you heard him say it.

You wished he would’ve right then and there just admitted it, stood up for himself, and chosen you. He could’ve just told the truth, and left Cobra Kai, and been with you. But you weren’t enough. He had a reputation to uphold.

“Oh, really.” Tory scoffed, barely believing his lie as she looked between the two of you. “You can have fun with anyone, Hawk, and you a choose a Miyagi-Do?” She spat, staring him down, and his usually-confident demeanor diminished instantly. “Break it off, or I tell everyone.”

Storming off, her threat lingered in the air as the two of you stood alone, unable to meet each other’s gazes.

“Maybe we should just end this, Y/N.” Hawk spoke meekly, finally breaking the silence. Your eyes widened in horror, forcing yourself to look up at him. “What?” You said, your voice faltering. “So that’s just it then?”

Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes again as he met your stare. “We don’t have any other choice!” He shouted angrily, getting in your face. Your mouth fell agape at the way he was acting, your expression hardening.

“Yes, we DO!” You shouted back, and sobs started to escape you. You of course meant the choice being he stands up to the Cobras, and fights for your relationship. You understood his dilemma in the beginning, but at this point none of it seemed worth it to you anymore.

His eyes were fixated on you intensely, and his mind was running a mile a minute trying to figure out what to do.

“You can easily stand up to them, the Cobras! You’re stronger than all of them combined. Why won’t you fight for us?” You cried, searching for any sign in his face that showed he regretted his words. He had never said so, but you could tell the only thing holding him back was the fear of the Cobras’ reactions.

His insides scrambled with guilt watching you cry. But he had to stay strong. Unaffected, unfazed, completely unbothered. That’s how he forced his expression to appear as he turned and left the shed, leaving you alone and in pain as you watched your worst fear come true.

“Hawk!” You yelled after him, but he only kept walking. “What happened to never wanting to be the reason I felt pain?” Your voice cracked, and you wiped your tears from your face, giving up.

Your words cut into Hawk like a knife. If even possible, Hawk was hurting more than you. Each step he took farther away from where you stood, he felt his heart scatter into another piece. He wished things could be different, too-- but you were too much of a risk.

Cobra Kai may be a large reason for his troubles, but it was also the only reason he was still on top. He wanted you so bad, but he was too afraid to let go of everything else just to have you.

It was safer this way, he told himself. If nobody knew, you’d be safer. You wouldn’t have to be involved in the drama that would come from it, you wouldn’t have another reason for the Cobras to come after you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

Hawk repeated these things to himself over and over to make himself feel better about the way things ended. But no matter what he told himself, it was never enough for him to fully believe that he made the right choice.

Feeling helpless, you called the only person you thought might understand. “D-Demetri?” You spoke into the phone, taking a gasp for air between sobs.

“Y/N? Are you ok?” He answered, sounding worried. “I need to talk to you, can you-” You paused, trying to catch your breath. “Can you come get me?” You were nervous he wouldn’t be able to, but you needed someone in person, not over text.

You and Demetri weren’t particularly besties, so for you to call him out of the blue, crying, was extremely worrisome to him. “Uh, yeah, okay sure. I only just left so I can turn back.”

Letting out a shaky breath of relief, you thanked Demetri and hung up, walking out of the shed and towards the front of the school to where he would be meeting you. Hawk was supposed to be your ride home, but clearly that was no longer an option.

When Demetri arrived, he didn’t wait for you to get in the car, he immediately got out and walked over to you. “What happened?” He said cautiously, becoming nervous about having to deal with others’ emotions.

He was never particularly great at consolation, being the awkward and blunt person he is-- and he really didn’t want to make things worse for you.

“It’s Eli,” You said, trying to hold back your tears. “I did something really stupid.” Your lip quivered, feeling embarrassed talking about it. You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about you and Hawk, but at this point, you had nothing left to lose.

Demetri looked at you confused. “What do you mean?” To his knowledge, you and Hawk barely conversed, and there should be absolutely no reason whatsoever for you to be crying over him.

The closer you got to explaining it, the harder it got to contain your emotions. Despite knowing Demetri wasn’t very keen on hugs, you ran into him, desperate for the feeling of comfort.

At this point, Demetri’s level of concern was on the rise. Why on earth would you hug him? That’s never happened before. “I just thought you’d be the only one who would understand... if I told someone.” You spoke, words slightly muffled as you were pressed into his chest.

Reluctantly, Demetri accepted your hug and rested his arms around you. “Okay, Y/N, you’re scaring me. What did he do?” He asked, looking down at you.

Gaining the courage to explain yourself, to Demetri’s relief you let go of him and steadied your breathing. “A few weeks ago.. Hawk and I kissed.” You said hesitantly, preparing for the worst.

“What?” Demetri’s face scrunched into the most confused and offended look you’d ever seen him wear. “I know, okay, just wait.” You told him, hoping he would hear you out.

“I thought it was just a stupid mistake, or something?” You began, recalling the uncertainty you felt when it first happened. “But then he said all this stuff about how much he cared about me, and it turns out we actually have something real.”

Aware of the weirdness of what you were saying, you looked to see how Demetri was handling it. He showed a look of understanding, but you could tell he was simply masking the discomfort he was truly feeling. “It was really confusing at first, but then we started secretly dating.. because we knew everyone would flip if they found out.” You continued, the awkwardness worsening with each sentence spoken.

Demetri’s eyebrows rose. “Dating?” You visibly cringed at the reaction, but carried on with your story. “And he even started being nicer to people!” You mentioned, hoping to make the situation seem like you weren’t a complete idiot for allowing it to happen. “Because, I told him I didn’t think I could be with him-- with the way he treats people, you know? And things were actually going well until today--”

You took a moment, preparing the end of your explanation in the hopes you wouldn’t start to cry through it. Demetri looked at you impatiently.

“When Tory found us together and threatened to tell everyone about us if we didn’t break it off, and then Hawk just left me there and said that we should end things because he’s a coward and can’t do what’s right because HE WANTS TO LOOK COOL.” You shouted, running through the sentences fast and furiously. Instead of getting sad like you thought you would, you got angry. Ah yes, another stage of grief.

Demetri looked slightly scared of you at your sudden tantrum, but having heard your story, he did understand what you were feeling-- because in a way, it had happened to him too. This time, it was him who reached out to hug you, and you appreciated him for it. Hugs always seemed to make you feel calm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know how it feels. He’s stuck right now, but we can’t give up, okay? He’ll come around.” He said honestly, awkwardly patting your back. You laughed a tiny bit, seeing Demetri trying to console, but you were grateful for his presence.

You released each other from the hug, and you wiped any leftover tears off of your face. “Thanks, Demetri.” You said, smiling sweetly. He nodded, placing his hand on your arm in reassurance, and motioned for you to follow to his car.

The ride back to your house was quiet, but your thoughts were busy and loud. That’s how things were for awhile after that day. You kept to yourself again, and though you tried to look alive, you felt like you had retreated back inside the bubble you worked so hard to get out of.

You went to school, you went to karate, you did whatever responsibilities you had to do-- but for the rest of your free time, you spent it alone in your room, wondering what it would take for Hawk to come back to you.

It was unhealthy, really, how you would wait everyday for a sign of acknowledgement from Hawk, and decline any other social invitation because you never got one.

You even wore the necklace, everyday, in hopes that he’d notice and remember how much you meant to him. But it never worked. He never came back.

You got away with the isolation for awhile, but people were starting to notice how you’ve been pulling away. At least you had Demetri to cover for you once and awhile, to help keep up the facade that you were okay.

Because, you weren’t. You wondered if Hawk was, though. He certainly seemed like he was okay, but he couldn’t be. For your own peace of mind, you had to think he couldn’t be. To think that he was doing just fine while you were spending your days miserable, wouldn’t be fair.

He’s stuck right now, but he’ll come around. Demetri’s words echoed in your head, wondering if they were even true. Would he ever really come around? Is he in too deep? The thoughts scared you beyond belief, but as more days passed, the more you believed them.

You eventually forced yourself to stop caring. To stop thinking about it, and to just give it up. You’d spent too long waiting for him, and you were done letting his actions control your happiness. Although there was a part of you that could never really stop caring, you convinced yourself that it was gone.

After a few weeks, you stopped wearing the necklace. When you showed up to school without it on, it was the first time Hawk had noticeably looked at you since the breakup. He always avoided your eye contact, but that day he locked them onto yours as you passed him in the hall. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your neck, and you could see the glum look all over his face.

As much as you wanted to give in to the hope that he missed you, you ignored it. You weren’t going to let any of those thoughts in again-- not when you already worked so hard to let go of them.

Hawk watched you make your way through the corridors, hardly caring who noticed. While you may have had the ability to attempt to move on, he didn’t. It was his fault any of this happened after all, and it was completely up to him whether or not he could fix things between you.

The pressure of knowing he was the only reason for your and his despair was agonizing, and with the necklace no longer around your neck, he realized he was running out of time.

Time is what he thought he had, to turn things around for himself, and you. But his window was closing, and he was panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, Hawk waited a few blocks away from where you trained at Miyagi-Do, knowing he’d catch you on your walk home.

Making your way down the sidewalk after practice, you were completely unsuspecting when Hawk jumped out of his car and jogged towards you.

Things had really come full circle now, hadn’t they? You, walking home on that same sidewalk, pure disgust for Hawk in your veins as he tried to catch up with you.

You stopped short as Hawk stood in front of you, blocking your path. You were nervous and confused at his intrusion, and decided not to bother avoiding him right now.

His stare towards you was intense, and you only glared back, waiting for him to say what he needed to say.

“You stopped wearing the necklace.” He said it so plainly, you couldn’t tell what kind of response he was looking for. It seemed almost like a question in disguise-- why did you stop wearing the necklace, perhaps?

He was looking at you eagerly, though trying to hide the desperation behind the statement.

“Yeah, and?” You laughed at him, matching his tone of carelessness. He looked like he didn’t understand, so you continued. “What’d you expect? That I’d just keep waiting for you?” You said unpleasantly, with a hint of sadness in your own voice.

A shameful look glossed over his features, but you only kept going. “It’s obvious you’re not coming back, Hawk.” You smile at him mockingly, enjoying the feeling of guilt you were giving him.

He tried to stay strong, but every word you spoke was like a hit to his built-up walls, and they were so close to falling down.

“I spent weeks wondering what I’d have to do to get you to come back to me. To choose me.” You said, your voice calm, but the rest of you not. Your body was shaking with anger now, but your eyes were brimming with tears.

“Until,” You sniffled, gaining a tone of indifference, “I finally realized there was nothing for me to do. You just weren’t coming.” You were almost smiling through the pain, and Hawk looked at you in a loss for words.

You appeared so fragile to him, he just wanted to wrap you in his arms and spout apology after apology for what he’d caused. Seeing your eyes squint in attempt to hold back the waterworks, physically pained him.

“So yeah, I stopped wearing the necklace. But you know what?” You stepped forward confidently, despite the single tear that had just fallen down your face. “I think it hurt more wearing it than it did taking it off.” You finished with hardly any emotion in your voice, and Hawk looked mortified seeing you try to act so unaffected.

He had been silent through your whole exchange, because he knew there was nothing he could say now to make things better. He had done too much damage, and he had caused you too much pain. He did exactly what he said he’d never do.

You waited for him to say something, anything-- but as your eyes bore into his strongly, he couldn’t find the courage to speak. The disappointment was immense, and feeling hopeless once again, you pushed past him to go home.

Panicking at your leave, Hawk grabbed onto your arm. “Y/N, Wait, please-” “No!” You cut him off, looking at him coldly. His face was red, and his eyes were stinging now, too. Ignoring the feeling you got when you saw him like that, you ripped your arm from his grasp. “I’ve waited long enough.”

You turned to leave again, and this time, Hawk didn’t follow. There was only one thing Hawk could do now to get you back, and you knew he wasn’t ready for it. There was no use in you hanging around for him anymore, you deserved better. You deserved someone who cared enough that they’d do what it takes to be with you, regardless of social status.

You didn’t even care if he stayed in Cobra Kai, you just wanted him to stand up to his friends and be proud that he was with you. Didn’t he realize that he was one of the strongest Cobras, and that he could get through any of their shit? If his biggest problem was Tory, he hardly had any reason to stay quiet. You knew deep down he could do better.

Hawk hadn’t understood that then, but as he lingered on you walking away, something clicked in his head.

Maybe he really could do better. He wanted to, for you. He was still terrified at the idea of coming clean to the Cobras, but whatever he’d deal with from that couldn’t be any worse than being without you.

He liked the power he had being in Cobra Kai, and he hoped that he could keep it-- but if losing the power meant gaining you, at this point he was totally okay with that risk. But, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least try to negotiate with his friends first.

“Y/N!” It was a new day at school, and you were walking side by side Sam heading to your lunch table when he called your name. You shared a look with Sam, glancing towards him with a bothered look upon your face. “Come here!” Hawk shouted again, apparently not caring that the whole cafeteria had his attention.

A look of dread spread across your face, and you slammed your lunch tray on your friends’ table in defeat before stomping over to where Hawk and his asshole friends sat. Your friends watched from afar, completely clueless as to what Hawk would need you for, and Demetri struggled to pretend he was just as lost as they were.

“What.” You said bluntly, staring him and the rest of his table down. “Yeah, seriously, what are you doing calling her over here?” Mitch asked, looking at you in revulsion, and you rolled your eyes at him.

Hawk looked between you and his friends, struggling to keep his confident manner in tact, and sighed uncomfortably. “I know we don’t like the Miyagi-Dos. And we don’t like the way they run their dojo.” He stated, hoping to hook his friends in by starting negatively towards their rivals.

His friends looked at him in reluctance, wondering where he was going with this-- and you did too. “But I love Y/N.” He said loudly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and looking around at his friends. He was more nervous to see your reaction than theirs, so he barely looked at you once he said it.

“What?” The words came strongly from not only his friends, but you, too. He had never told you that before, and your heart melted at his declaration. When you spoke, he gathered the courage to look at you, and you’d never seen him so nervous.

“I love you.” He repeated, looking you in the eyes. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and on top of that he was announcing it to the whole school. You glanced over to see Demetri, mouth ajar, observing the interaction like it were a movie.

He meant it, and you could tell. He was waiting on you for a response, feeling more stress than he’d felt in a long time as he studied your bewildered expression.

Before you could say anything, Bert interrupted the moment. “You can’t love a Miyagi-Do. They’re stuck-up pansies who think they’re better than us.” He said, completely convinced that Hawk was out of his mind and needed a wake-up call.

Hawk cringed a little at the feedback, but was surprised when you decided to bite back. “I joined Miyagi-Do because I was tired of people getting bullied. You all choose violence when it isn’t needed, so I just wanted to be prepared.” You defended your intentions, fearlessly.

Tory snorted. “Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” She jabbed, trying to make fun of your self defense skills. Before you could retort, Hawk slammed his hand down on the table and leaned in towards his peers.

“Listen! I’m with you guys, but she’s right. We’ve been reckless.” He said carefully, trying to keep a balance between who’s side he was on. “Sensei told us to fight smart, and we haven’t been.” He locked eyes with Tory, clearly sending her a message.

You watched as Hawk tried to reason with them, admiring his every move. Keeping up his confidence, he set down what was going to happen, and there’d be no arguments against it. “You guys can hate the Miyagi-Dos all you want, but I’m going to be with Y/N, and I’m staying in Cobra Kai.” 

Interlacing his hand with yours, he looked at you pridefully before turning back to the outraged looks on his friends’ faces. “From now on, if any one of you touches her, you deal with me. That’s of course if she doesn’t kick your ass first.” He said smugly, and you smiled widely, feeling content at his speech.

Your heart was jumping out of your chest at the gesture he made, and you wanted to smash your lips onto his and tell him how much you loved him back-- but you kept yourself restrained for the sake of the situation.

Most of the Cobras nodded nervously at his announcement, not wanting to challenge Hawk when he was so sure of himself. But Tory wasn’t having it. “You guys can’t seriously be okay with this?” She snapped, death-glaring the entire table.

The group looked like they were trying to decide whether they were more afraid of Hawk, or Tory. You smiled to yourself, knowing that no matter their reaction, you had won this, because you were with him now. It would certainly be a bonus if you gained their acceptance, though.

Mitch looked around in uncertainty about what he was going to say, but stuck up for Hawk. “Come on Tory, I mean, I get it... she’s hot.” He said referring to you, and you laughed a little at the shallow but positive response.

Hawk wasn’t as pleased with it though. “Hey.” He threatened, pointing a finger at Mitch. You giggled slightly at his jealous reaction, but pulled him back from Mitch by the hand you were holding his with. Mitch raised his hands in surrender, and Tory stood from the table, getting close to the both of you.

“You’d better sleep with one eye open, assholes.” She spat, and stormed away from the table. It went better than you would’ve thought, truthfully. Everyone else was loyal to Hawk, and you didn’t really expect anything less from Tory. Again, having Tory be your only threat seemed like small potatoes now that you two were together.

You nodded at the rest of the Cobras in respect, and with that whole thing being over, you tugged him by the hand towards your table of Miyagi-Dos. Hawk groaned, realizing where you were taking him, but did his best to stay civil.

Chris glowered at the both of you, and Sam looked a little disappointed, but she tried to look supportive. “So.... yeah. Sorry.” You said sheepishly, knowing that they had already heard everything.

“I’m glad it finally worked out.” Demetri said through a sad smile. You felt a little bad, knowing that Demetri still needed to work out his relationship with Hawk, and here you were rubbing yours in his face. That would be your next mission, you suppose-- operation get Demetri and Hawk to be friends again.

“Thanks, Dem.” You said appreciatively, and Hawk looked suspiciously between the two of you. “Wait, did you tell him before?” He asked defensively. The whole table looked to you and Demetri curiously, and you crossed your arms sassily.

“Uh, did I call someone to come get me after you left me alone in a shed? Yeah.” You recovered, your facial expression sly as you knew he couldn’t come back from that one. The others looked at him exasperatedly at your response, and his face dropped instantly. 

“Oh my god, Y/N I am so sorry about that.” He cowered, immediately dropping it, and you laughed at the remorse he was finally showing. You already knew he was sorry, but you guess it was nice to hear him say it.

He didn’t understand why you were laughing, though. He felt awful. And he also really needed a chance to completely apologize to you in private, now that he had already confessed his true feelings.

Suddenly, he picked you up entirely, arms holding your legs and you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively. “Whoah, what is happening?” You laughed, looking at your friends who all looked just as puzzled as you.

Without saying anything else, he took off out of the lunch room carrying you, and made his way to the nearest exit to the outdoors. “Babe, where are we going?” You cackled, amused at the adventure he was taking you on.

Finally outside and alone, he let you down gently in front of him, and took your hands in his lightly. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I was a complete idiot for letting you go. You knew all along that we could do it, and I was too busy being a pussy to even try. And I’m really sorry for everything that went down today, I hope you aren’t mad, I literally told you I loved you in front of everyone and that must’ve been awkward, I mean you didn’t even get to respond, which, now that I think about it maybe you didn’t want to, or--”

You silenced his rambling with a forceful kiss, grabbing the sides of his face with your hands. “I love you too, Hawk.” You said, pulling away from the kiss quickly, to give him the response he had been looking for.

He smiled big in return, and it turned your insides to mush. “You know, I realized we never got the chance to make things official.” He looked up at you cutely and you smiled back, knowing what was coming.

“So, will you be my girlfriend?” He asked charmingly, his face mere inches from yours. Blushing furiously, you nodded as you touched your forehead to his. “Mhm,” You said in agreement, grinning.

He took a moment, just admiring the look of you so happy, and with his manner still playful, he reminded you of something you had said before. “See? I came back to you.” He said proudly.

You looked at him lovingly, feeling a little emotional at the sentiment. His expression turned serious now, and he parted from you only slightly. “I’m gonna do better for you, Y/N. I promise.” He spoke lowly, and you put your hands on his shoulders, beaming at him in acknowledgement.

You stepped forwards again, getting closer to him. He gave a seductive smirk at your movement, and you subconsciously traced your fingers along his neck, fixated on his face more than anything.

Hawk stared back at you affectionately, his attention flickering down towards your lips. Feeling bold, he placed his hands dangerously low on your waist, and pulled you in roughly for another kiss. You quickly reacted, letting your hands travel to the nape of his neck, your mouth opening slightly-- allowing Hawk the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Your lips stayed connected as Hawk’s hands made their way up your back, his chest pressing closer to yours. As much as you wanted to continue, you were in broad daylight right outside the halls of your school-- and you really didn’t want a detention for too much PDA.

“Mm, Hawk-” You giggled, breaking away from him. “Hm?” He smiled, his hands resting loosely on your waist as he pecked your lips again before letting you free. “If we don’t go back in soon we’ll miss the whole lunch period.” You said, disappointedly.

“Eh, that’s fine with me.” He shrugged, smirking at you as he clutched you closer. You scoffed playfully, hitting him lightly, and gave him one last kiss before escaping his grip.

He pouted at you, and you looked back at him mischievously. He missed your touch already, so he snaked his arm around your waist as you walked back inside to satisfy his need of holding you.

You felt on top of the world with him by your side, now having full confidence in him and his feelings for you. “It’s a good thing I still have the necklace, huh?” You teased, looking back up at him, and Hawk smiled, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

Though your comment may have only been a joke, both of you felt whole at the idea of you wearing the necklace-- and as you walked joyfully through the halls with him, you knew you’d never be taking it off again.

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i just wanna talk about real quick how much i cringe when writing like its actually terrible how much i cringe at myself so idk if i’ll keep doing fics or not HAHAH but y’all can always send requests and i’ll get around to them if i can. hope yall liked this one tho and made it through the whole thing cuz yikes.

#cobra kai #eli moskowitz #eli hawk moskowitz #hawk #jacob bertrand #eli hawk moskowitz cobra kai #eli moskowitz cobra kai #hawk moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai hawk #hawk moskowitz cobra kai #eli moskowitz imagine #hawk imagine #eli hawk moskowitz imagine

[nekoramen]

indelible;

kageyama tobio. angst, post-breakup au, timeskip. 1,166 words.

will this be inaccurate to possible canon personalities / schedules / lives of the schweiden adlers? perhaps.

(♫) — being left by zico feat. dvwn

it had been so long since kageyama’s infamous reign at kitagawa first that he’d forgotten the feeling of being left behind. he never imagined that the person who’d remind him of that lonely, numbing void would be you.

kageyama wakes at 5 am. he hasn’t used an alarm in a long while, not since you had moved in with him, but he didn’t bother setting up the clock again after your departure.

at 5:15 he trudges through the kitchen after a quick shower, munches on a banana, and downs a glass of milk. he brushes his teeth and finishes dressing by 5:30, and before he leaves, he lets himself glance at the living room of his apartment.

the sliding door to his balcony is still cracked open just the slightest, and the bouquet remains neatly wrapped on the coffee table, though there are a few new petals on the glass today. the sight outside is nothing to behold, completely absent of any balmy hues when it’s this early. it was dreary that day, too.

finally, he steps outside with his gym bag and makes his way toward the schweiden adlers’ gym. he still hasn’t broken out of the habit of walking down the path you both took on the days that you managed to wake up alongside him—kageyama staying on the edge of the sidewalk closest to the road, as always—even if it adds an extra ten minutes for him to get to practice. his hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, the tips of his fingers eagerly seeking warmth as his mind turns over the last memory he has of you, frigid and clear.

perhaps he had known that day. he recalls the clench in his stomach when he bought those flowers; when he breathed in their delicate, soothing scent before he turned the handle and walked into your shared apartment; when he gingerly set them down on the table after you’d said your piece and closed the door behind you.

perhaps it’s time to throw them away, he thinks after a shiver and a sneeze. it would be nice to be able to relax on the couch again without something beautiful and bitter within arm’s reach to haunt him.

“kageyama?”

he stops. was he at practice already?

“captain,” kageyama greets his senior standing outside the gymnasium with a bow of his head, the corners of his lips pressed back.

“kageyama,” hirugami repeats sternly and holds up his hand before kageyama could take another step forward. “you’re drenched.”

kageyama’s brows furrow. he looks down and notes the puddle at his feet, then he glances back at the curtain of rain hammering the concrete past the overhang of the gym’s entrance.

“ah,” kageyama says when he turns back to the older man. “i forgot my umbrella. it’s okay, my bag’s waterproof so i’ll just change into my extra clothes.”

hirugami claps a hand on kageyama’s shoulder before he can pass through. kageyama doesn’t glimpse at the captain. “would you please listen to me this time and rest?”

“i’m fine,” kageyama returns immediately, voice soft and almost pleading. he keeps his gaze fixed forward.

hirugami sighs and gives kageyama a final pat on the back before following his junior into the building. “take your time.”

kageyama is on the court and warming up with everyone else within five minutes. some of the adlers send careful glances in their setter’s direction during the drills. the frizzy, dampened locks and atypical practice attire are new; the way the ball’s trajectory increases in power while gradually losing the normally consistent accuracy when under kageyama’s control is, as of late, anything but.

in the locker room after practice, kageyama heaves a long sigh into his towel. everything aches.

“here.”

kageyama uncovers his face to see ushijima with his hand outstretched toward him. he reaches out, the reddened skin of his palm and fingers facing upward, and he intakes a short breath when he feels the sharp bite of an icepack against it.

the two men blink at each other for a moment, warm olive eyes boring steadily into fractured blue irises.

“i don’t know what is the best thing to say,” ushijima says finally, “but i—we are here for you. we’re all family off the court as well.”

kageyama takes in the rest of the room, the onlooking sets of earnest gazes and gentle smiles, and he feels a swelling in his chest. he opens his mouth but his throat is tight, so he musters up the best smile he could to show his gratitude before quickly looking away. the past few days have been more than enough time to get acquainted with the burning sensation in his nose and what would soon follow. but beneath the security and warmth that kageyama’s team blankets over him, today’s cry leaves him feeling a bit lighter.

by the time kageyama arrives at his apartment, it’s well past sunset. he kicks off his shoes, drops his bag, and passes right by the balcony door and wilting bouquet, the plush of his bed welcoming him with open arms. the sky seemed even more inky and endless tonight. when he peered up at it, he tried to remember the stars in your eyes, but each attempt was replaced by the image of your pupils that fateful night. when had they stopped dilating at him? when had you begun looking at him no different from when you’re reading the paper, or sitting in traffic, or cleaning your car?

when had you stopped loving him?

for the umpteenth time, kageyama can’t seem to pinpoint the exact moment he stopped being special to you. so once again, at precisely 9:30 pm, he scrolls through your past texts and listens to old voicemails. at 10:15, he clicks the power button on his phone and sets it aside, his eyes puffy and tired. a whisper of a chilly breeze from the balcony settles against the stinging warmth of his cheeks, but like the past few days, he doesn’t bother to get up and close the door or grab another blanket. maybe a part of him believes that if he gets sick, then he’ll wake up to you, just like that one time when you had gazed down at him so fondly with a smirk on your lips and a mug of hot milk on the nightstand.

yet he knows it’s nothing but a dream.

kageyama lies in the middle of the bed and spreads his limbs out in an effort to make the space seem even the slightest bit less empty. as he closes his eyes, he wills himself to quell the memories of unfinished plans and finite promises, at least enough to keep the sob in his throat at bay.

at 10:45, kageyama finally succumbs to the night as he pretends that the comforting voice in his mind that says he’ll be okay isn’t yours.

#kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama imagines #kageyama scenarios #kageyama x you #kageyama x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #kageyama angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfiction

[faulty-writes]

[ So I felt like I needed to do another Taishiro piece. So this is partly inspired by the songs Chocolate and Be Kind To Yourself. I hope you enjoy it!]

[ Not quite a hero and yet not quite a villain. You have gone by the proud title of 'Vigilante' for years now and for years Taishiro Toyomitsu otherwise known as 'Fat Gum' has been chasing after you and...protecting you? Huh, that's weird. But it looks like he's going above and beyond this time and he may have broken his word for your sake. Either way, you find yourself listening to what he has to say. ]

Pants filled the air as you continued to run down the now wet streets of Tokyo, pushing down innocent bystanders that stood in your way while the sky above you continued to rumble causing the already present rain to fall harder, hitting the ground in large bursts.

You could still hear the loud stomps behind you as members of the police force continued their chase to try and apprehend you. The bag of stolen goods was still clenched tightly in your hand and you used your free hand to catch yourself when you slipped on the wet pavement.

Luckily you decided to take a small detour through a back alley and climbed up a fire escape before you proceeded to jump onto several rooftops in an attempt to make it to a safer location. Once you heard the noise of the police force fade away, which was oddly fast in your opinion.

You slowly made your way down another fire escape and slumped against the brick wall of another alleyway. The rain continued to pour down and you glanced up, the sky was dark and there was no hint of sunlight. You pressed your hand to your chest, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure.

“Hm?” That's when you noticed the faint cut across the back of your hand. But, that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering you had minor cuts and scrapes across the length of your body. Not to mention the fact that your clothes were currently stuck to the surface of your skin.

“Pff,” you reached up, pushing your bangs out of your face and allowing them to stick to the top of your head. Then you paused, making sure it was still quiet. Though it was a tad hard to hear any outside noise due to the pounding rain.

“Well…” you shrugged and stepped away from the wall, assuming that all was safe. “Let me see what I got…” you wrestled with the bag for a moment before finally managing to open it. But just as you were about to peer inside to see all the goodies you had gathered.

Heavy footsteps sounded from behind you which prompted you to close the bag and turn quickly on your feet. You expected to see more members of the police force and kept the bag hidden behind your back.

But as soon as you laid your eyes on the rather large individual that stood before you, your defensive stance relaxed. “You know I’d like to see what you got in that sack too,” you narrowed your eyes and took a step back. “Fat Gum,” you stated as you continued to back away with your eyes locked on him.

Taishiro Toyomitsu or “Fat Gum” as you knew him as was someone you had run into a couple of times before and while you were well aware he was a hero and he was well aware you were a vigilante with slight villainous tendencies.

He had a bad habit of wanting to protect you and trying to convince you to fight for the side of justice, but that wasn’t at all something you were willing to do...again. Thus the game of cat and mouse continued. Your thoughts broke when he chuckled and began to casually walk towards you.

“That’s the name, glad you still remember,” he spoke in a teasing tone but you weren't amused and tightened your grip on the bag. You refused to back down to anyone, so you straightened your posture while casting a glare at the oversized hero.

But as he got closer you noticed that his clothes seemed dry or rather that the rain slid off of the fabric as opposed to absorbing into it. However, you noticed those small strands of blond hair sticking out from under his hood and cocked your head to the side.

“Looks like you’re a bit wet there, not to mention those injuries of yours,” Taishiro said as he continued to loom over you, that large smile of his fading as he once again began to show the same concern for you he always did. But, you rolled your eyes.

‘Here we go again, the hero complex,’ you thought but didn’t exactly notice the frown that was playing across your lips until Taishiro pointed it out. “I’d rather not see you frown if it’s all the same to you,” he said, his voice deepening and you recognized there was some pitiful tone to it which caused you to growl.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do!” you snapped as you pointed your finger at him, once more your bangs seemed to come back to stick to your forehead and impair your vision. Your knuckles were slowly turning white as your grip on the bag tightened.

You didn’t register the fact you were no longer hiding the item behind your back. “Hm,” Taishiro reached up, scratching the side of his head with one of his abnormally large fingers. “That might be a problem,” he confessed, but his tone was light and you knew this was yet again something that normally happened between you two.

You’d do something, Taishiro would find you and proceed to give you a speech about how good you were in hopes you’d change your ways. The fact that he felt the need to protect you was...well, you felt a mix of emotions when it came to that.

“I’m gonna need you to give me that sack, please” you flinched, looking at him with a bewildered expression which wasn’t so surprising considering you wouldn’t just hand it over. Taishiro frowned and took a step closer before he leaned over and brought his arms up, almost like he was expecting you to hop away.

“Come on, I would never hurtcha knowing you’re already injured,” he said, the fact that his tone was filled with concern only made you angrier. “I am not giving you my bag!” you hissed before taking a step back. Even as Taishiro continued to loom over you, both of you seemed to know what you were about to do.

“Don’t,” he ordered, which was almost amusing considering his voice didn’t hold any sense of authority. You pushed your foot against the slippery ground and made a foolish dash towards the entrance of the alleyway. Of course, you should have expected the way to be blocked.

Actually, you should have expected Taishiro to have made a secure plan that would prevent you from leaving the alleyway until he got what he wanted from you. Just as you were about to reach the entrance, something bright flashed through the rain.

“Look out for the gun!” Taishiro’s voice broke through the sound of the rain and the scent of sulfur filled the air. “Ah!” you stumbled when you felt a blast of heat near your foot where the impact of a bullet made a hole in the concrete. However, instead of falling to the ground.

You felt someone grab onto your wrist and pull you against a squishy surface. “Damn it,” you cursed under your breath, already knowing who had a hold on you which meant escaping was going to be tricky. Especially with the police who were not only sealing off your escape routes but appeared to be trigger happy.

Yup, you were effectively trapped. The very opposite thing you wanted. “Let go!” you demanded as you stepped forward and attempted to pull your wrist out of the hero’s grip, but he kept a firm hold on you. Even with the rain, it seemed you couldn’t easily slip away.

“Sorry about this,” he reached over, and despite you still desperately holding your bag of stolen goods to your chest, he so easily ripped it away from you. “Hey!” you snapped as you tried to reach for it, but considering how tall Taishiro was. It was an almost impossible task, even when you stretched your arm to its limit.

“I got it!” he declared as he held the bag up for the police force members to see. “You boys can relax now,” he said and sure enough you watched as that police line up broke apart and started walking towards you. Another growl escaped and your free hand curled into a fist.

“Give it back!” you demanded, once more stretching your arm out and jumping to try and take it. The display was a little pathetic, you could admit. Jumping up and down to get something you wanted when someone else was holding it just out of your reach. Another cry left you when your foot slipped and your body fell to the ground.

A hiss followed when you felt the skin of your elbow tear against the rough texture of the pavement, despite the rain washing away the blood that came. You still felt the small amount of pain that coursed through your now broken skin. “Hey there, you better be careful!” Taishiro said as he leaned to one side and placed the bag down.

You completely ignored the fact that the police were now standing just a few feet from you, their guns raised as if you were actually attempting to do something. Well, you did try to lunge for the bag that was now on the ground.

Of course, you were stopped by Taishiro who grasped the back of your shirt. “Sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you continuing to injure yourself or try and take that bag back,” he stated and you cried out when you were suddenly lifted up.

You began to kick your feet, attempting to aim for Taishiro’s face. He didn't seem to take too kindly to this considering he was frowning, but what he did next threw you off-guard. He began to lower you down onto his stomach and you could feel something pulling at the bottom of your shoes.

“Stop it!” you exclaimed as you found yourself in a battle with his quirk which was currently sucking you into his body. You knew exactly what he was doing as you had seen him do it before. He could effectively absorb people or hold them in place with his quirk.

It was a way to disable and prevent them from doing any more harm to themselves or others. You tried moving your arms and legs but it was no good, it was almost like your body was being submerged in a pool of putty. “Fat Gum…” you hissed out, your body or at least what was still seen of it, began to tremble.

“Sorry, I wasn't too rough with you. Was I?” he questioned as he looked down at you, effectively trapped and safe within his fat. You couldn’t help but glare, but at least in a way, the rain wasn’t bothering you. However, your soaking wet bangs were still hanging in your face.

You grumbled as one of the police force members walked over to the bag and curiously peeked inside before looking at you. They wore a tan trench coat with white gloves and a matching hat. You could make out their black hair and dark eyes.

"Is this everything?" they asked and you opened your mouth to speak or curse him out, but Taishiro answered for you. Flashing a smile, he raised his arm with a confident nod. “Should be Tsukauchi,” he replied and you raised your eyebrow.

‘Naomasa Tsukauchi...should have known’ you thought. ‘Guess I didn’t recognize him in that getup,’ Naomasa was the police detective of the police force and someone you had dealt with countless times. Needless to say, you didn’t favor him much.

"Hm," he turned his attention to Taishiro. "Do you need an escort to the police station?" he questioned and you scowled. “Police station!? Again!?” no surprise you had been there countless times, sat in those tiny interrogation rooms for hours.

However, Naomasa didn’t answer you. He didn’t even bother to glance at you, rather he kept his eyes locked on Taishiro. “Nah,” he replied before patting his stomach and you could feel the slight vibrations course through your body as a result of the motion.

“This big ol’ body wouldn’t mind a little more exercise, I can take them in myself,” the rain continued to hit the ground, creating a random but somehow rhythmic sound that eased the current anger you felt. Naomasa looked at Taishiro with some concern before he nodded and turned to one of the officers who took the bag.

"Let’s wrap this up and go!" he said before walking away. However, he paused and looked over his shoulder at Taishiro. "Thank you for continuing to protect Japan," he said as he tipped his hat and resumed walking. Taishiro must have heard the rather animalistic growls coming from you.

But you knew he couldn’t see the way your eyes were narrowed and your teeth clenched together. Wishing that Naomasa would burst into flames at any moment, but you were quickly distracted away from your hateful thoughts when Taishiro turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.

“You alright there?” he questioned, his voice was back to its cheery tone and you knew he was smiling as he walked. You kept quiet, refusing to answer him as he rounded the corner out of the alleyway. Why should you even talk to him when he was only going to take you to the police station?

Or at least that’s where you thought you were going until you began to realize. “This isn’t the way to the police station,” you pointed out, though you had some doubt. You knew the streets of Esuha City well enough and you knew something was off.

You tried to glance up at Taishiro but the task was impossible considering you couldn’t fully turn your head. Taishiro chuckled and for a moment you thought he was laughing at you, but this wasn't the case. “I knew you were smart enough to catch on!” he replied and you growled yet again in annoyance.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, the question coming out with a hiss as you tried once more to wiggle your way ‘out’ of Taishiro. But stopped when a series of lights began to irritate your vision. The pouring rain didn’t help as it caused the light to glare which, in turn, caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Those lights are annoying,” you pointed out and Taishiro came to a stop. Raising his hand up to press against his forehead as he looked at the large building ahead of him. “Yeah?” he questioned before laughing once more. “This is where I live,” he said casually, despite the fact your jaw dropped.

“...what?” for a moment you didn’t think you heard him correctly. That is until he started walking to the door, it was a tad bizarre to see a scanner attached to the outside wall. But Taishiro seemed prepared for it, considering he reached up to remove his glove.

You watched as he pressed one of his fingers against the screen of that scanner which then became illuminated by blue light. A few seconds later, the two sliding glass doors unlocked and Taishiro walked through. Humming softly to himself as he slipped his glove back over his hand.

“Mm,” you grumbled from your position. Your hair was mostly dry now, though your bangs still stuck to your forehead and it was a little irritating you couldn’t simply push them out of the way. You tried to ignore it in favor of taking in your new surroundings. The entrance of the building was rather well-kept.

The tiled flooring looked polished and there was fancy furniture everywhere. You could hear the faint sounds of individuals talking somewhere off in the distance mixed with the continued rainfall. ‘He lives in a place like this?’ granted Taishiro didn’t seem to be one that spent his money on large mansions and such.

He was social, so maybe he would prefer living in a place that had people. "Uh!" you shook your head, jeez. Were you getting soft? You tried to focus on your surroundings once more, and took note that there was an elevator but surely Taishiro wouldn’t use an elevator given his height and weight, right?

Sure enough, you felt the motion of him turning and watched as he entered through another door. It gave somewhat of an eerie squeak as it opened and you found yourself staring down a rather large and empty-looking hallway. How odd.

However, your thoughts were shattered when you felt Taishiro lean back and, in turn, you jolted forward. Hitting the floor with a soft thud, you felt moisture across the length of your arms and your clothes were still sticking to your skin. “What the hell!?” you snapped before frantically standing on your feet.

Your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed in a glare toward Taishiro. He gave a nervous chuckle and reached up to rub the back of his head. “Sorry bout’ that,” he replied before once more grinning, not that doing such a thing made you any less angry at him.

“There’s a big ol’ elevator at the end of this hallway," he said. "Sturdy enough to support you and me,” he claimed as he patted his stomach. “...elevator?” you questioned as you looked over your shoulder. “Mmhm, let’s go,” Taishiro urged as he laid his hand on your shoulder which you didn't take too kindly to.

You attempted to flinch away but his fingers took firmer hold. "Didn’t think I’d let you run off, did you?” a growl rumbled in your throat, but Taishiro didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Rather, he just smiled and proceeded to pull you along despite your continued attempts to wiggle away.

A familiar ding sounded when the elevator arrived and Taishiro pulled you inside with him. The elevator bounced some underneath his weight and for a moment you were expecting the cord to snap and for both of you to spiral downward.

Luckily that didn’t happen and he released his hold on your shoulder as soon as the elevator doors closed. You grumbled in response and reached up to grasp your shoulder, though Taishiro’s grip didn’t hurt you couldn’t help but pout.

First, you got caught, then you got your things taken away, and now you’re being brought home by a hero. What else could go wrong? What hero did things like this? “Mm…” you glanced up at Taishiro who had his elbows bent and a happy expression on his face, why was he always so happy?

“Why are you doing this?” you questioned and Taishiro turned to look down at you. Somehow he knew that no answer would satisfy you. So he wouldn't stress himself trying to figure out what he could say. Instead, he glanced forward. Watching as the light just above the door continued to change, indicating each floor you passed.

“We’re almost there,” he said, and you noticed his voice sounded a little flat, almost like he was disappointed. But part of you expected that more than likely he wasn’t planning on spending his night with a vigilante. Still, you were a little annoyed he didn’t answer your question.

“Fine then…” you said as you crossed your arms and turned away from Taishiro, somewhat acting like a child. But at the moment, you didn’t care. When the elevator finally came to a stop and the door opened, you had debated about running.

But chances are Taishiro would catch you again and you really didn’t have anywhere else to go. Still, you were surprised to be greeted with what looked to be a rather large living room. There were several pieces of furniture including a couch which sat in front of a large flat-screen television.

“Well come on in!” Taishiro exclaimed cheerfully as he stepped off the elevator and you heard the wooden floor give a creak underneath his weight. You took a step back, once more debating if you should try for an escape. It would be so easy, just push the ‘lobby’ button and you’d be on your way.

You raised your hand, ready to reach over and enact your plan. But froze when Taishiro turned around, blinking when he saw you in the elevator. “Heh,” he placed his hands on his hips. “What are you still doing in there?” he questioned before he extended a hand out to you.

“Uh…” your arms pressed up against your chest and you looked down at that offered hand. It could be debated that it was a strange gesture, but somehow you felt as though Taishiro was always offering a hand out to you.

If it wasn't his hand, then he always appeared as though he were looking for any excuse to touch you. Maybe one day you’d get a real answer from him, but it seemed no matter what his answer always revolved around thinking you were a good person or that if you changed your ways you’d make a great hero.

Maybe he was trying to convert you, undo all the previous damage you had been through that led you to the path of a vigilante. Still, you couldn’t deny that he was trying to make some type of connection to you and despite the many times you had been caught doing this or that, Taishiro always let you go.

You partly wondered if he’d get in trouble for this, harboring a vigilante in his home instead of taking them to the police station as he said he would. You latched onto your lip before giving in and slowly laid your hand in his and once again you were reminded that despite Taishiro’s size, he was awfully gentle with everything he did.

Including clasping his fingers over your hand and guiding you into the living room. You couldn’t help but glance around, taking a full scan of the room. You never thought Taishiro would be one to hang pictures everywhere. But there were several picture frames lining the surface of every table and some were even hanging on the walls.

One, in particular, caught your eye. Taishiro was standing in the middle of the frame with his agency building behind him. But what struck you as odd was the young boys standing on each side of him. One had a white and yellow hood with dark hair and seemed as though he were trying to cover his face as the picture was being taken.

Then the other seemed rather enthusiastic, sporting a big toothy grin though he looked like he had sharp teeth as well as spiky red hair that stuck out at several points. Taishiro must have noticed you were staring at the picture and chuckled before releasing your hand.

“Those are my chick-lings,” he stated confidently, snapping you out of your small trance. “Huh?” you turned to look at him, blinking once or twice. Who refers to anyone as a chick-ling? Well, actually maybe you should have expected such from Taishiro of all people.

Still, you couldn’t help the confused expression on your face. “...what?” you questioned causing Taishiro to chuckle. Seconds later, he reached out and ruffled your hair. “Ah,” frantically stepping away, you pressed your hands against the top of your head. “Don’t do that,” you said flatly, but Taishiro must have chosen to ignore you.

“Those two are the best work-study students I’ve had, our little Suneater is going to be my official sidekick next year! That is if we can work on those delicate nerves of his,” he commented as he pointed to the boy hiding his face in the photo.

You raised your eyebrow and stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the photo. ‘Sidekick, huh?’ you had never met Taishiro’s little helpers, but you often pulled your misfit adventures at night and if those boys had school. Well, it would make sense why you never saw them.

You continued to stare for a few more minutes before you heard Taishiro...sniffing something. You slowly turned your head, seeing that he was bent down to your height. That sniffing continued as he leaned closer, in turn, causing you to lean back.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, slightly bewildered at the man’s behavior, but he seemed to come back to reality a few seconds later. It was strange having him so close, though you noticed his yellow eyes seemed to stand out, especially against that black mask he always wore.

A few blond strands still stuck out from under his hood. You often wondered if his hood somehow hurt him considering it looked awfully close to his scalp. “Hm, oh sorry just…” he leaned back, suddenly acting a little shy as he glanced away from you causing you to tilt your head. Why was he acting so strange?

You flinched when he suddenly looked back at you and swiped his tongue over his lips which would have concerned you if not for his next set of words. “Well...you smell mighty sweet,” he claimed, and before you had time to properly react.

You felt his hands slip underneath your arms and let out a cry as you were lifted off the ground. You kicked your feet when Taishiro leaned close and you could feel the way he buried his face into your unruly hair. He then proceeded to sniff once more causing a chill down your spine.

“Your hair smells sweeter than chocolate, gotta confess it’s making me a little hungry,” he stated and you looked at him bewildered before he lowered you back onto the floor. “That’s a compliment,” he stated shortly after as if you were supposed to thank him for the fact you smelled like candy.

“...thanks?” you replied, still unsure of what Taishiro’s motive was. “Are you still a little wet from the rain?” he questioned as he placed his hands on his knees and once more leaned down to your height. “How about I getcha a towel or a fresh set of clothes?” you raised your eyebrow, despite the fact that you were mostly dry.

Your clothes were still sticking to your skin and had dried into uncomfortable creases and wrinkles. You latched onto your lip, almost angry that you were going to accept the kind offer from a hero. But, not all heroes were bad and Taishiro was proving exactly that.

Yet, you couldn't help but think that eventually...one day he would turn on you and end your vigilante days once and for all. But at the moment, you couldn't spend your time worrying about your unknown future with Taishiro. “No towel, but a change of clothes if you have anything that would fit me,” part of you doubted that.

But Taishiro proved time and time again he could surprise you. He seemed happy with your response. “You got it!” he said with a playful wink before he turned to walk away, once more leaving you wondering why he seemed to put so much trust in you. When he disappeared down the hallway, you turned to look over your shoulder.

Glancing at the elevator that you could so easily make a run for and finally escape. But for some reason, you felt compelled to stay where you were. You heard the distant shuffle of clothes echo in the background which was more than likely Taishiro searching high and low for something that could fit you.

“Mm…” the floor continued to creak underneath your feet as you walked towards one of the windows, the sky was painted a dull gray but even then Esuha City continued to flash its usual display of bright colors. But unlike most days, there weren’t many people on the streets below considering it was still raining.

You wondered when it would let up and got lost as you continued to watch the rain come down. So much so that you didn’t notice when Taishiro walked up behind you. "Hm?" he looked at your reflection in the glass and chuckled softly before he leaned down to your ear.

“Pretty ain’t it?” you jumped and quickly turned around with your hand clenching your chest. “Oh!” Taishiro took a step back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said and you responded with a growl which he seemed to yet again ignore.

“I found something for you to wear,” he stated as he held up what looked to be one of his standard hero suit hoodies. But there was something slightly different about this one. It looked significantly smaller for one thing and though it was still orange, the letters across the front of it were yellow with a white and black outline.

“Uh…” you raised your eyebrow, at least it would go past your thighs or so you assumed. “This is from when I first started my hero career, I fooled around a bit with colors since then…” he said with a sheepish laugh before lightly shoving the hoodie into your arms.

“Hm?” you blinked and held it up by the shoulders before pressing it against your body, trying to see just how well it would fit you. “I got a bathroom down the hall there, just past the closet. First door to the left,” he instructed as he pointed and your eyes followed that finger.

You glanced back at the garment in your hands, allowing your thumbs to run over the fabric. It was smooth and almost had a slippery surface, did that help with his quirk? You weren't sure and you were almost mad at yourself for even wanting to inquire about his quirk.

You latched onto your lip. “...thanks,” you replied before you ducked your head and quickly scurried past Taishiro and down the hall. “Huh!?” he seemed rather surprised by your actions and the fact that he had to step back as you scurried past him. He shifted his gaze to the hallway where he heard the bathroom door slam shut.

He reached up, scratching his head as he was clearly confused by your actions. He partly wondered if anyone had ever gifted you anything before, then again maybe he was coming off too strong. A click sounded as you locked the bathroom door behind you and turned around, slightly startled by the sight before you.

The bathroom itself was rather large and had a stand-in shower with sliding glass doors with one corner squared off to make a bathtub. The counter of the sink was well-organized and had a large square mirror hanging on the wall. You blinked. ‘Well...maybe I was wrong…’ seemed Taishiro did enjoy certain aspects of being a hero and making a lot of yen.

Regardless, you shook your head and proceeded to the sink counter, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your hair still appeared dried out and slightly curled, your clothes looked crusty and had several stiff creases in them. "Mm..." you lifted your arm, glancing at the elbow that had gotten torn.

The wound itself still looked fresh and the skin around it inflamed, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Overall, you certainly looked like someone who had spent too much time in the rain. You could still hear the gentle drops echoing as they hit the roof of the building.

You couldn’t help but glance at the ceiling, allowing yourself to get lost in the sound of the rain. You would have much preferred to have gotten away with your bag of goods. But instead, you were here. You then let out a sigh, once more holding up the hoodie you were given.

“Mm…” you laid it out on the counter before you went about removing your clothes. But you struggled as you tried to pull your shirt over your head and trying to wiggle out of your pants was a short-lived nightmare. You stumbled into the sink counter before kicking your shirt and pants away.

Then you quickly grabbed the hoodie and slipped it over your head, it was still a little big on you but the extra room felt cozy. The sleeves were a little too long and hung off your hands, leaving extra fabric to sway. But at least it went past your thighs and your hair didn’t look too bad when you pulled the hood up.

“Huh…” you glanced at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that as you tried to decide how much you favored how Taishiro’s hoodie looked on you. “It’s not bad…” you said to yourself before you quickly gathered your clothes off the floor and cradled them to your chest.

Once more the thought of escaping entered your mind as you stepped out of the bathroom and glanced up and down the hallway. “Lookin’ good!” Taishiro suddenly exclaimed, causing you to jump and stumble back. Your clothes falling to the floor in the process and you stared at them a moment before going to yell at Taishiro.

However, your mouth immediately closed when you were greeted with the sight of someone you didn’t recognize. However, they were dressed in Taishiro’s clothing and had similar hair and eyes. But they were rather skinny and muscular. You blinked, and your stance remained stiff as you stared at them.

“Everything alright?” he questioned and you watched as he leaned down. Positioning himself onto one knee in order to pick up your clothes. “Sorry if I frightened you,” he said as he folded your clothes and stacked them on top of each other. “Here you go!” he said cheerfully as he held them out to you.

A smile was on his face and you raised your eyebrow. “Taishiro?” you questioned, trying to ignore how weird his name sounded on your tongue. “What...what happened to you?” you had never seen him like this before. Was this part of his quirk? Did it somehow malfunction?

You slowly reached to take your clothes back, being a tad clumsy considering the sleeves of Taishiro’s old hoodie got in the way. “Oh, this?” he said as he pointed to himself before standing on his feet once more. “Well, I figured I was going a little too fast so I thought I’d start from the beginning," he explained with a chuckle.

"That way, maybe we could get to know each other better?” you raised your eyebrow. “What?” you replied as you placed your hand on your hip, your other kept hold of your clothes. “That doesn’t answer my question, what happened to you?” Taishiro laughed, though it sounded a tad awkward.

“Well,” he began, “this is my standard form, without all that...extra,” he said as he patted two hands against his stomach. “Either way, most folks seem to prefer this form but if you ask me, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he stated before he lowered his hands and leaned slightly in your direction.

“Which is part of the reason I’d like to get to know you,” he said as he reached his hand out for your shoulder but you smacked it away. A soft growl rumbled in your throat before you took a step forward, stomping your foot against the floor.

Despite the fact that Taishiro was at least three or more times bigger than you, that didn’t stop you from pointing your finger up at him. “What the hell do you mean beauty is in the eye of the beholder?!” you wanted to make a point that you disagreed with Taishiro, especially knowing he was talking in reference to you.

Your fingers were curling into your pile of clothes, slightly trembling and your hood had fallen down. But you could care less about how unruly your hair looked at the moment. “Well the way I see it is, you seem like someone who’s bottling themselves up” you lowered your finger, tilting your head to the side.

“S-So what…” you replied before quickly turning your back to him in order to scurry down the hallway. “It’s not like...it’s not like I can be someone else you know!” you suddenly snapped as you once more found yourself in the living room.

It was one thing to assume someone was going to be your friend just because you may have shown them a little kindness. But it was an entirely different thing to assume you knew someone’s life story. Taishiro didn’t even ask! But...you couldn’t deny he was correct in a sense.

You had tried to be a hero once upon a time and maybe it was just bad luck, but you quickly discovered that some heroes could be just as bad as the villains they were sworn to protect others from. That’s what caused you to take the first few steps into becoming a vigilante. Taishiro ducked some as he exited the hallway into the living room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” and you didn’t mean to roll your eyes. “Hmph!” you replied, almost like a child as you reached back and pulled the hood over your head once more. Then you crossed your arms, your back still facing Taishiro as he continued to speak.

“It’s just...I’ve been noticing that you’re treating yourself like a villain..." he trailed off a moment. You imagined he was trying to gather his thoughts, despite how crazy they were. "I can’t help but disagree with the way you’re treating someone I like,” your arms dropped a little and you felt that familiar insecurity begin to rise.

But you refused to allow yourself to show it. “...what?” you questioned as you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Taishiro. For once, he wasn’t smiling and you flinched slightly as he stepped closer to you.

“I like you,” he repeated, “...y/n,” he added a few seconds later and you couldn’t help but feel your heart accelerate when he spoke your name. A low heat began to fill your cheeks and you quickly turned your head back to stare at the wall in front of you.

Your fingers curled into the sleeves of the hood you wore and your knees were turned inward, you refused to speak. “Which is why I can’t let you continue this war between you and yourself, I suppose what I’m saying is...you should be kind to yourself even if you’re angry at yourself or what happened to you," he took a deep breath.

"I know some people aren’t so nice in the world,” he continued as he reached out to take your hand and despite your attempt to jerk it out of his grip, once more he proved he could be stubborn when he wanted to be. His fingers curled tightly around your hand and he narrowed his eyes.

Maybe it was the hero in him, but there was also some part of him that didn’t want to see you spend your life in this harmful cycle. Maybe he could continue to try and steer you back onto the path of a hero, but he knew that would take a long time. But he couldn't deny it would be worth every step.

After all, he wasn’t going to let you go anywhere until he at least got through to you a little. Despite knowing that he'd be in hot water by the end. Yet, isn't that what a hero was for? Sometimes sacrificing yourself for others was the noblest thing you could do.

His fingers continued to tighten around your hand, but he was careful not to hurt you, especially when he pulled you forward which caused you to cry out. Once more your clothes fell to the floor and at this point, you could care less about them. Rather you found both your hands preoccupied.

One held securely by Taishiro and the other curling into the front of his hoodie which now felt baggy and too loose for his ‘standard form.’ You still didn’t fully understand how he could switch between forms so easily like that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. You bared your teeth up at Taishiro with a growl.

But he simply blinked in response as though he weren’t the least bit threatened by you and he probably wasn’t. Rather you felt him guide your hand to place over his heart and he leaned down. His eyes locked with yours which didn’t help the fact your face was growing hotter.

“You gotta learn to love your enemies too, so why not start with me?” he questioned with a smile. “Then maybe you can learn how to do it for yourself and I’d be more than happy to help you,” the sound of the rain continued outside but you could tell it was fading and more than likely would stop at any moment.

“...I...” you were speechless as you stood there pressed up against the hero with your jaw hanging open and your eyebrows tilted in confusion. There was a burning anger building in your stomach, but you knew you couldn’t actually be mad considering he was correct in some aspect.

You clenched your jaw and pushed against his chest with your free hand. “I don’t need your help!” you snapped as you ripped your hand out of his grip and proceeded to pound your fists against his chest. But it didn’t seem to affect him considering his quirk could just absorb the damage.

Taishiro frowned and reached his free hand out, cupping the side of your head. Allowing his abnormally large fingers to slip through the strands that made up your hair. You paused and your eyes widened. "I know you don’t, but I’d like to offer anyway,” he stated and you noticed the uninterrupted silence between you two.

“Hm?” you blinked and turned your head, looking out the window to see the rain had stopped just as you suspected it would. The gray sky was slowly being replaced with small patches of sunshine. You imagined the people down below were slowly coming out of hiding to once more go about their normal day.

That anger that was previously brewing in your stomach slowly faded and you turned back to Taishiro, your stare directed at your hands that remained against his chest. You slowly unfolded your fists and pressed them flat against him.

“You heroes don’t take no for an answer, do you?” maybe it was the hero complex, you weren't sure. But either way, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away from Taishiro. So was accepting the situation as it was, better for you?

No matter how hard you fought against Taishiro, both in the past and present. It seemed he remained the same, constantly chasing after you until he finally caught you in his web or in this case his arms. His soft chuckle sounded once more. “I suppose not,” he replied before smiling.

“What do you say?” he questioned and you glanced away, once more allowing silence to fill the space between you. “I’m...not going to stop,” turning your glance back on him, you continued. “Being a vigilante is the only thing I’ve known since…” you paused, wondering if you really wanted to confess why you choose to be a vigilante.

But maybe it would help Taishiro understand. “The world of the heroes is not all that it’s cracked up to be,” you glanced down. “Some are just as bad as the villains and those are the ones I need to stop," you stated as your hands began to tremble. Then you looked up at Taishiro.

"I know one of your so-called heroes was eyeing that store and could so easily be handed whatever they wanted even when they didn’t deserve it. So I needed to prevent that from happening,” you stated despite knowing that your explanation might not make sense to Taishiro let alone any hero.

Taishiro however, looked a tad confused but he knew that some people did strange things for strange reasons and he couldn’t blame you for trying to do what was right in your eyes even if it was wrong in the eyes of the law. He frowned and reached over. “Hey!” you exclaimed when you felt his fingers take gentle hold of your chin.

He slowly moved your head back to face him. “Sorry,” he said, “I know some heroes must have done you wrong, but I can promise you I won’t be one of them," he said with some sadness in his voice. "I wouldn't let any hero capture you," those set of words caused you to raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?” you questioned as you jerked your head back, reaching up to massage your chin despite the fact that Taishiro was being extremely gentle. “If anything happens involving you...I’ll be the first on the scene, don’t you worry about that,” you assumed this was yet again another one of his half-hearted attempts to convert you.

To show that he’d always protect you and yet you still couldn’t understand why, other than the fact that Taishiro somehow ‘liked’ you. ‘I might have to make that harder for him,' you thought before shifting your glance to the floor. Then a chuckle escaped you which seemed to surprise Taishiro.

“Is something funny there?” he questioned and you shook your head before taking a step forward. “I think I’m going to enjoy this game of cat and mouse,” you stated before reaching up to lay your hand against Taishiro’s cheek, getting somewhat amused as his eyes widened.

Was he truly surprised that you made an affectionate gesture towards him? Somehow it made your smile grow and you stepped away before turning your back to him. Though he was still slightly flustered, he kept his eyes locked on you and the way your hand ran along the top of a nearby shelf.

Your fingers slowly came to one of the picture frames Taishiro had and you traced the side of it before picking it up. "You know..." you began, catching Taishiro's attention as you continued to stare at the picture.

"You really shouldn't trust a vigilante," you said before your fingers grasped the picture frame tightly and you reeled your hand back. The picture frame flew out of your hand towards Taishiro who instinctively put his arms up.

You smirked and quickly grabbed a flower pot, you didn't bother to see if it was real or not. But you didn't picture Taishiro having a lot of time to take care of living plants. Regardless, you used it to shatter the glass of the window.

The thought of how far you'd fall if you were to jump out of said window crossed your mind for a second. But at this point, you'd take your chances. "Hey now!" he lowered his arms, his eyes wide as he felt the cold air come in from the now broken window.

You grinned and quickly jumped onto the shelf, managing to avoid Taishiro's arms that attempted to grab you. The extra fabric of his hoodie seemed to prove useful as you crossed your arms and took a leap of faith out the window.

Despite feeling the remaining shards that stuck out from the corners of the window shred through the fabric of the sleeves. A cold rush of air surrounded you as you descended towards the busy streets below. "Y/n!" Taishiro screamed as he ran towards the window and stuck his head out.

He glanced around before eventually spotting you and judging by the way you were waving, one of two things was clear. Either he was going to chase after you or for the moment, you had won. "Little troublemaker," Taishiro said as he turned and rushed for the elevator. "I'll catch you yet!" he declared with a determined but happy smile.

#fat gum x reader #taishiro x reader

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter seven - “the king is dead”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: shuri has awful news. the reader is terrified but bucky is strangely calm. the world is turned upside down, and not in a good way.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this was so fun to write omg get ready it’s finally getting interesting!!! (as always, OC on my wattpad @ / typicaldaze)

Months had gone by since that day at the lake. Countless therapy sessions had been endured, several hard questions asked, many many issues worked through. Bucky suffered through a few more anxiety attacks along the way, but they never hindered his resolve, thanks to (Y/N). They had made progress, good, solid progress. Bucky was pleased; (Y/N) was thrilled. It's hard to see change when you're the one going through it. However, to the person guiding that change, every step forward is recognized. She was proud. She was genuinely proud of him. He wasn’t “fixed,” he still had struggles, but he was a lot better off then before.

There was something peculiar, though. Their relationship was strictly professional, (Y/N) knew that. However, she couldn't help but feel as though along the sidelines of their progress, they had grown to become friends. She knew that, clinically, this was not appropriate, but there were no corporate guidelines she was working under. She was helping him. So, what would it matter if after all this was over, they were friends? What would it matter if his therapist also operated as his friend? Hell, she didn't even have an official therapist position here! Sharon just sent her to help. (Y/N) had decided she didn't care about the boundaries being crossed. Nothing ever went wrong with someone gaining a friend. It's fine.

Regardless, the two of them had thoroughly addressed the anxiety and the PTSD, and he now officially had both diagnoses. He understood himself and his brain so much better, and with (Y/N)'s help, he not only acknowledged his disorders, but accepted them. She taught him to not see them as the enemy, not something that was wrong with him. They were just a part of him, same as his brown hair or blue eyes.

Bucky was so much more open now. He was less on edge and more comfortable, especially around her. In all honesty, he was usually his most comfortable with her. He had coping skills and everything!

This was all grand and good, but (Y/N) hoped with everything in her that it wouldn't be ruined by the present disaster.

-

"I thought he was automatically supposed to be king?" (Y/N) asked, confused.

She was at her weekly meeting with Shuri for Bucky's treatment plan, and the young genius had just told her she couldn't make it next week due to T'Challa's coronation.

"He is," Shuri started, "but it's Wakandan tradition to open the position up to a dual. So, his rule isn't set in stone."

"Oh... What if someone... challenges him?"

"Then they will fight! However, I have no worries. T'Challa is a great warrior, and though I doubt anyone would challenge him, he would win if they did."

(Y/N) admired the faith Shuri had in her brother. She could tell their bond was strong.

"Couldn't you technically challenge him?"

Shuri revealed a kind of devilish smirk that only a sibling can muster. "Oh, I have thought about it. But I am much more useful in my lab, and T'Challa wouldn't know what to do with himself if he wasn't in charge."

(Y/N) looked back on the memory anxiously as she stared in horror at the look on Shuri's face. A wicked mix of fear, grief, and stress drained all the color from the princess' normally dark, beautiful skin. Shuri had always radiated confidence and composure; seeing this change worried (Y/N) deeply.

"The King is dead."

Her face became void of any expression and all she could process was fear. She thought she gasped but she couldn't remember breathing out again. Her brain was frozen. (Y/N) was in a foreign country that just lost its monarch. She was alone, and all the people she was relying on to protect her just had their kingdom invaded and taken over by someone with the word kill as part of their nickname. She was almost certain that this would be her end.

"Dr. (Y/L/N)?" Shuri said unsteadily. "Did you hear me?"

"Y-Yes I... What are we going to do?" her voice was weak and small. Pathetic and afraid.

Then, thoughts of Bucky crossed her mind. What would happen to him? He could fight, she supposed, but he doesn't have any weapons or gear and he'd be against an entire regime. What if they killed him? What if they tortured him? Different scenarios quickly flashed through her brain, but she could only one concrete thought.

I have to find him.

"My family and I have a plan, but we can't take you with us."

Any remaining semblance of hope dissipated from (Y/N)'s body, and she swore she could feel her veins quiver with apprehension.

"What?"

Her voice felt far away.

"It is not ideal, and I'd never leave you unless I had to. But Agent Everett Ross is here. It's a long story, but as you know, he can't find out about Sergeant Barnes. He can't know that either of you are here. If we take you with us, it could compromise everything we've been working for," the nervous princess explained.

"So... what of me and Bucky?"

"Again, it's a long story, but there's a... sort of fallout shelter - I guess you could call it - that was built years and years ago when the first tribes of Wakanda were constantly at war with one another. I will give you supplies and directions, and you two must go there and remain hidden until this is all over."

Fantastic. (Y/N) would get to play Cold War nuclear fallout in Wakanda.

"How will we know?"

Shuri gave her a somber look. A look of uncertainty and immense guilt.

"I wish I could apologize enough, my partner, but I do not know. I promise I will try to contact you as soon as I get any information, but for now we must hurry. We do not have much time."

With that, Shuri took (Y/N)'s arm and quickly led her her outside. It was late afternoon and the air was beginning to cool. They ran, locked together, until they met the Queen under a large tree among the outskirts of a nearby forest. The woman looked just as shaken up as Shuri.

(Y/N) could see bags of different shapes and sizes at the base of the tree. She could only hope whatever was in there was sufficient for survival.

Shuri immediately embraced her mother, but the moment was short lived as she then bent down to gather the bags.

The Queen placed her hands gently on the sides of the psychologist’s face. "I am so sorry, child. This does not involve you in the slightest yet you are swept up in the middle of it."

Shuri handed her mother the bags and they both geared (Y/N) up with all her supplies. It was heavy. Really heavy. She realized she was carrying supplies for two. Then, there was panic.

"What about Bucky?"

"Barnes doesn't know about any of this yet. I thought it best he heard it from you," Shuri expained, "and we cannot afford anymore delays. Us or you. You must go now, tell Barnes what is happening and go. I wish I could be more help, but we simply don't have the time."

(Y/N) nodded, trying to process all the chaos. She was internalizing every bit of it. As a result, she was once again, frozen.

"Dr. (Y/L/N)!" Shrui exclaimed.

Her head shot up, snapped out of it.

"Go! You must go!"

And with that, (Y/N) took off. She had been in Wakanda long enough to know her way around the castle's surrounding land. Her speed didn't last very long as she was carrying for two, but she tried all she could to keep going as quickly as possible.

Eventually she found herself outside of Bucky's living quarters. She didn't know what to do, so she knocked.

An array of different emotions went through Bucky's face. At first he looked pleased, but then he saw the horror etched into (Y/N)'s features, and the bags she was carrying. He could tell something was wrong.

"What happened?" he asked, surprisingly calm, while immediately taking some of the bags from (Y/N). He still only had one arm but that really didn't seem to matter to him.

She was out of breath, face flushed and eyes wide.

"The King is dead," she said breathlessly. "Someone... someone killed him a-and took over."

Bucky didn't look as scared as (Y/N) felt. In fact, he looked... totally fine?  She was so out of it she wanted to curl up in a hole and allow natural death. How was the anxious man she was accustomed to so at ease? The world was flipped upside down and (Y/N) had no control. She wished there was a word stronger than fear because she couldn't even describe what she was feeling.

"Okay," Bucky said, gently taking another bag, leaving her with only one to carry, "What did Shuri say? What do we have to do?"

She shook her head, trying to regain her breath and her composure. "There's um - there's a fallout shelter thing we have to go to. Here."

She handed  him a crumpled up piece of paper that Shuri gave her. A map with directions. (Y/N) knew he would've been better at locating it than she could at that moment.

"Alright," more of the calm voice filled her ears. "Anything else?"

"There are more details, but - we don't have time," she sighed, restlessly. Her voice began to shake ever so slightly. "Bucky, I'm so sorry. We have to go now. I promise I'll tell you everything."

"Okay," he said again. He bent down slightly, looking her directly in the eyes. " (Y/N), we're fine, okay? We're good, and we're gonna be fine. I will get us there. Are you ready?"

She nodded, steeling herself.

Bucky looked at the map, then glanced up in the direction of the shelter. He took (Y/N)’s forearm firmly. She gave him a look, confirming she was ready. And off they went.

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #marvel #steve rogers #bucky reader insert #bucky blurb #bucky drabble #bucky fic #marvel fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #winter solider edit