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fastcardotmp3 · 23 days

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Wheelingham; S4 AU; Outsider POV (Max); Presumed character death (but not real character death); 1.9k Written for @strangerthingsfemslash week day 3: secret relationship read day 1: different first meeting read day 2: women over thirty

Max goes to Nancy first.

The lights flicker and the cops roll in and one of them is whispering about— The Cunningham girl? She’s probably dead by now.

So. Max goes to Nancy, partially because at first she thinks she’ll knock out two Wheelers with one stone before she remembers Mike is already on a plane to California, but also because it’s Nancy.

Because for the entirety of this past school year, Nancy has managed to bulldoze her way over all of Max’s carefully constructed walls and forced her to keep one of them in her life, at the very least.

She’s a force of nature, Nancy Wheeler, and the first time she showed up at Max’s trailer with dinner on a night her mom was working a double, that had been apparent, but not everything had been.

Not the reason Nancy was determined to insert herself in Max’s life; not the underlying despair that Max has learned chases that girl from one fight to the next.

Max goes to Nancy because Nancy knows what to do when the world ends, in more ways than one. Max goes to Nancy, because she doesn’t realize that saying—

“I overheard the cops talking, they think she might be dead.”

—she’ll be knocking loose the mask of resolve that Nancy puts on with her hair clips each morning, knocking it straight to the floor and stomping on it hard.

“They think…” She's small, but normally she takes up mountains of space in Max’s life. She’s got this presence to her which Max can barely admit to herself is grounding, but it is. She actually seems small in this moment though. Wound up and tiny. “And you’re sure— did they say Chrissy? Did they say Cunningham? I don’t… I just—”

“That’s what they said,” Max feels like she’s watching something she’s not supposed to, like when she still lived in California and her mom still cared about the ratings on the movies Max rented from the Blockbuster. “And usually I wouldn’t put too much stock in what the Hawkins PD has to say, but… The lights were… I know what lights like that mean.”

Nancy clenches down on her jaw and something in her eyes shifts and Max has spent a lot of time with this girl in the past six months.

Long enough to recognize that there’s a lot Nancy doesn’t talk about, even when she’s actively trying to be vulnerable to make Max feel better; long enough, too, to know that just because Nancy is a force of nature doesn’t mean she’s not also still barely eighteen years old.

Nancy swallows thickly and her fists clench and unclench around the fabric of her skirt until it's wrinkled and Max wants to ask, but before she gets the chance Nancy is steeling herself and sending Max to the car and telling her to radio Dustin to meet them at the Family Video.

Before Max has a chance to really get a gauge on what’s going on with Nancy at all (because something is going on) she’s being forced to walk through exactly what and who she saw last night four times over on the fifteen minute drive.

More than anything, Nancy’s haste reminds Max that they’re in it again. It reminds her that none of it was ever over and she was right, in a lot of ways if not all of them, to expect another shoe to drop.

The problem is that it’s a lot easier to focus on something going on with Nancy than it is to think about the nightmares that have been haunting her since long before she watched Billy die. He’s starred in her nightmares before, but this is different, this is new, this is so entirely old by now.

No, it’s easier to let the rest of them try to make sense of what’s going on while she watches the looks on Steve and Robin’s faces when they hear the name Chrissy Cunningham.

They look at Nancy on instinct, without a beat of hesitation. They look at Nancy.

“Chrissy…? Shit, Nance—”

“Don’t,” she snaps, pushing past Steve’s big and welling eyes that clearly know more than Max does to begin typing away at the computer behind the desk.

He doesn’t let her run from him though, visibly putting himself between Nancy and the rest of them as he speaks just under his breath enough that Max can’t hear him over Dustin’s own plan-making, but can see the way Nancy’s shoulders tense up and her fingers falter across the keys.

If Max were, say, Dustin, it would look like the kind of sign that the two of them were starting something up again, but Max has broken up and gotten back together with Lucas enough times to recognize that this isn’t that.

This is its own thing. This is Nancy on the verge of something else Max has been keenly aware of for too much of her young life: a nervous breakdown.

Nancy Wheeler is terrified, but not in the same way the rest of them are, not because the world might be ending again. Hers is a different sort of terror, only Max can’t place it. She might even be wrong about the whole thing, looking too hard for a distraction from the pulsing ache at the center of her skull, but there’s something about the slices of conversation she catches that tells her otherwise.

“... might not actually be…”

“... no way for you to know that, Steve…”

“... not the same as…”

“...don’t have time to… need to focus on this…”

But again, too much is happening with too quick a turnaround for Max to really dig in and find the answers to her queries.

“Eddie wouldn’t hurt someone,” Dustin is saying with the sort of forceful defensiveness of someone who is being put on trial himself rather than defending a friend. “He wouldn’t. Something else killed Chrissy—”

Max’s eyes train in on the shift in Nancy’s posture, the thick swallow she takes as she turns halfway away from all of them like protecting her soft bits from coming blows.

“ – or probably something,” Dustin insists. “Which means Eddie is in danger too if he was there.”

“Why would Chrissy have even been at Eddie’s trailer?” Robin asks, the question broad enough to seem as though it’s angled at all of them, but Max can see the way she looks at Nancy, the direction she means for it to land.

Nancy seems to feel it too.

“They’re friends,” she says without meeting anyone’s gaze, arms crossed and eyes downturned. “Ever since she broke up with Jason, it’s been— hard. At school. And Eddie’s just— he’s been a friend, so…”

“So maybe she’s with him,” Robin says, but it’s less like a suggestion of theory and more like the kind of thing meant to ease nerves, softer around the edges, almost imploring in nature.

Nancy’s grip around her own biceps is tight enough to make her skin go white, and by the time they have an address for Reefer Rick, any proximity that Max gets to her feels like the air is vibrating at a different, but not unfamiliar, frequency.

When Max stepped out of Starcourt on that night in July, the air had tasted like ash. When she had sat unblinking and trembling in the back of a parked ambulance, she hadn’t been able to feel Lucas’s hand in her own past the shake of the world around her.

“She’s your friend?” Max asks, a murmur of a question just for Nancy after having forced her way into the front seat of the station wagon for their trek across town, letting the other three keep themselves occupied in the back.

Nancy’s lips purse and what Max can only imagine is an involuntary hum chokes its way out of her throat.

“I was— I shouldn’t have been so blunt about it,” Max says. “About what I overheard the police saying. I should have said it differently, because we don’t even know if she’s really—”

“She is,” Nancy says stiffly, grip tight on the steering wheel as they turn down a path that leads to the lake. “That’s how these things work. She is.”

Max doesn’t have an argument for that.

In her experience it’s the truth, the only truth, that the worst case is the actual case.

It keeps her quiet in the passenger seat until they’re parking, all the way up to Rick’s front door, through Dustin’s incessant knocking, until she notices Nancy wandering towards the boathouse and hurries to follow behind her.

The door creaks when they open it, windows mucked up with algae and the general wear of time to the point where even the fading light of day doesn’t permeate the space. The floorboards groan under their feet and the lap of water against the bottom of the boat at the center of the room makes the whole thing eerie.

Eerie and nerve-wracking and bad, the whole thing has their collective adrenaline pumping right up until a number of things are happening at the same time.

The toss of a tarp, the guttural scream of a man, the pushing and shoving and trapping of Steve up against the wall as the rest of them merely try to keep up and act on their feet and prepare for an attack and—

“Nance?”

It’s quiet, but it cuts through the chaos.

It’s quiet, but it seems as though it has physical weight in its effect on Nancy.

“You’re—?” the sharp choking-off of a question, the near-buckling of knees, something starts to click into place as Nancy seems to move a woman-possessed across the boathouse until she’s got her hands hovering over Chrissy Cunningham’s shoulders, drifting down her arms, searching, searching, searching for— “are you hurt? You’re hurt? You’re— oh my god, are you real?”

Chrissy’s got what appears to be Eddie’s leather jacket tied up around one of her arms like a sling, the stain of dried blood smudged on her cheekbone just under her eyes, but she smiles as she places her available hand on Nancy’s cheek.

Wet and nervous, but a smile all the same.

And things are clicking into place, because Max has broken up with and gotten back together with Lucas quite a few times.

“Um, some stuff is— is happening and I don’t know how to explain—” Chrissy shakes her head, lifting her gaze to meet Eddie’s as he drops his attack stance from Steve, “but we’re okay. And you’re here now, so, so that’s—”

“They said you were dead,” Nancy blurts, chin wobbling and voice thick and cracking. “They said— I thought you were dead, I thought—”

It’s bold, when Chrissy cuts her off with a firm kiss to the mouth, right there in front of all of them in the middle of the dark.

It’s bold, but Max sees the fondness on the older kids’ faces, the clarity that they’ve known the whole time.

It’s bold, but pretty fucking cool, Max thinks. Proof, maybe, that it doesn’t always have to go the other way, that maybe sometimes their people can get through to the other side, scared and hurt but okay. Not lost. Not entirely. Close enough to be found.

“Wha– Wait, what the–?” Dustin balks, confusion radiating off of him as bright as the sun beside Max, almost blinding in its comical nature. “Did you know about this?” he looks to her, face all twisted up in not knowing something more than actually having a problem with it.

Max looks at him, looks at the gentle way Chrissy swipes away Nancy’s tears as they press their foreheads close and relish in the finding.

And then she looks back at Dustin and shrugs. “It was kind of obvious, dumbass.”

#dot fic #wheelingham #nancy wheeler #chrissy cunningham #max mayfield #femslash week #stranger things femslash #once upon a time i wrote a ficlet about nancy and chrissy meeting during s3 and this is a psuedo sequel to that In My Heart

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donottouchredbutton · 1 year

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This is a Legal Rom-Com Part 2

Part 1

augustus “pug” pugliese x gn!reader, matt murdock x gn!reader, matt murdock x jennifer walters

1.9k words

Pug tries to be supportive about your dilemma with Matt, until Matt steals his plan of getting you alone to talk

To say you were worried about how the conversation about your dating history with Matt was going to go would be an understatement. To find out that the guy Jen had been hooking up with (allegedly multiple times) was your ex wasn’t ideal, but to be reunited after so many years was also not great.

Okay, enough sugar coating things. You were freaking the fuck out. In the short time you had known them, you knew how blunt Nikki could be and how she could be bad about boundaries. Especially with something as juicy as this. You loved her, but you knew her questions were going to make this whole situation even more unbearable.

Unknown to you however, Pug was also nervous. Sure, he had known you longer than the other two women, but that didn’t mean he knew your every secret. After all, he was much better at boundaries. There were certain things that you would reveal on your own time, and he was fine with that. He didn’t want to pry, but it looked like the situation called for it. Meeting your ex was the last thing he had expected.

Since no one was in a rush to start the conversation, seeing as you were keeping yourself busy with your drink and Matt was silently keeping his gaze trained on the table, Pug decided he would take one for the team.

“So,” he started, “where did you guys meet?”

You were pretty surprised that Pug was the first to speak. He held a polite smile on his face that you could tell was forced. When you caught his eye, he tried to make it more encouraging with a tiny thumbs up. You appreciated the gesture, but you did not want to unpack everything in front of the guy you were into. Part of you felt a twinge of disappointment, too. Maybe he really didn’t like you the way you did if he was asking.

But thank god he started with an easy question. You glanced at Matt briefly, and he nodded to let you take the lead. “Um, in-in college. We, uh, went to law school together. Always planned to open our own practice, too, which we did.”

“And how long were you guys together?” Nikki asked.

Twiddling with your hands, you answered with a quiet, “Seven years.”

Pug felt his stomach drop. He had known you were in a committed relationship before coming to L.A., but seven years? Most couples are married by then or planning on getting married. He had to compete with that? With him? Shit.

“So then what happened?” Nikki’s next question.

And suddenly it didn’t matter what Pug was thinking because he saw your shoulders tense more than they already were. You held your arms close to your chest, looking anywhere but the people in front of you. You were shutting down.

“Hey, don’t - you don’t have to answer that if you’re not comfortable,” Pug assured. He knew it was an awkward conversation, but that was too much.

You shook your head, though. “No, um, it’s… it’s fine,” you said. You flashed him a weak smile in thanks. “We just, uh… We both agreed it would be best to part ways. No hard feelings.” Nikki opened her mouth to pry, surely not satisfied with that answer, but Jen interrupted first.

“We don’t… We don’t have to ask them anymore-“

“How come you-“

“Actually, I have a question.”

Everyone at the table turned to watch Matt, the man who had remained quiet since he saw you. His unseeing gaze was trained in your direction, and had been since the questioning began. His words silenced the onslaught of questions that were only just starting to bubble over.

He turned to face the rest of the table. “Can I steal them away for a moment? Just for a few minutes.”

You had half expected the question, but it didn’t stop the anxiety from filling the pit of your stomach. Wringing your hands again, you looked toward your friends for an answer. They looked between each other as well before looking back to you, and slowly, they all began nodding. Great.

“We’ll just be outside then,” you said slowly. Hesitant. Unsure.

You and Matt both stood up, and you held out your arm to him even though he didn’t need it. Even after all these years, protecting the ruse was second nature to you. The two of you walked to the closest exit, the bustle and chatter of the bar drowning out to a mumble as the door shut behind you.

You were on him in an instant. “What the hell are you doing here, Matt?”

He floundered for an answer, and you felt a twinge of pride you could still get him to act this way. “I told you. I was invited.”

“You know what I mean!” You were glad you had stepped outside so you could raise your voice without turning heads. “Why are you in L.A.?”

Matt huffed out a sigh before leaning his walking stick against the wall. “I’m here for work.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t realize Nelson and Murdock had jurisdiction in California.”

“Well, we do when it concerns superheroes.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions because that just didn’t make sense, and suddenly it came to you. Jen’s most recent case with the wannabe superhero turned amateur villain. She had voiced her opinions about the opposing attorney on the case, how something about him didn’t sit right with her. She had been livid about the case and about Luke and especially about his attorney, and then all of a sudden, everything was fine. She and Luke were okay again, and the other attorney was an afterthought. She had assured the team that he was just some guy, and that you would never have to deal with him again.

She had conveniently failed to mention that the “some guy” attorney was blind and that she slept with him.

“The moron in the frog costume and the costume dealer with the attorney who demolished her,” you concluded, your eyes closing at the oncoming headache.

“Well, I didn’t say ‘demolished,’ but-“

“Matthew.” You had only ever used his full name when you were upset. To let him know you were serious. “He made you something. A new suit. Didn’t he? That’s why you’re here.”

He tilted his head down, shoving his hands in his pockets and nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, he did. I was the only one he trusted to take the case.”

“Does she know?”

He… hadn’t been expecting that question. Your arms were crossed over your chest, and he could practically hear your blood boiling from the way your heart was thundering in your ribcage. He knew you were talking about Jen, and he knew you well enough to know that if she didn’t, you didn’t want her getting involved with him. You both have seen how much pain it can cause.

“Yes,” he answered, but he didn’t know if that was any better. “She does know.”

It was times like this he wished he could see your face. You were still and silent for a moment, and the only sounds filling his ears was the chatter from inside and the power of your heart. He hated when you did this.

“Good.”

Huh?

His brows furrowed. “Wha-what do you mean ‘good’?”

“I mean good,” you repeated, and by the sound of your voice he could tell you were starting to smile. “She might be one of the only people that can handle you.”

Back inside the bar, Pug was shitting bricks. Don’t get him wrong, he hoped that your and Matt’s conversation was going well. He hoped there were no wounds reopening outside or any hands being thrown - he knew you could if the situation called for it. He hoped you guys were being civil.

However, a small and selfish part of him hoped it wasn’t going too well. It was him who was supposed to be outside talking to you, not Matt. At the beginning of the night, he had every intention to finally get off his ass and ask you out. But that plan went out the window the moment you said Matt’s name. Now, Pug was pretty secure in himself. He was a confident guy, and he found that as of recently, only you had the power to get him nervous like he was a teenager in love again. But depending on how your conversation outside was going, he might have to kiss any chance with you goodbye. And the sad part was, he understood. How could he compete with someone you had at least seven years of history with.

“I can’t believe you fucked their ex!”

It was Nikki’s words once the three of them were alone that pulled him out of his head. She was staring at Jen with eyes wider than saucers, her mouth hanging open in speechlessness.

Jen wasn’t any better, though. Her eyes were just as wide, if not bigger. If Pug didn’t know any better, too, she looked like she could vomit. “I-I-I had no idea,” she breathed.

Nikki was stuttering, trying to find her words. “How the- I mean, did you- did she- did she know? Did you tell her? Did he say anything?”

“No!” Jen answered. “Non-none of us knew, obviously. It’s just... wow. What are the odds?”

The two women looked over at Pug for his own input, and it wasn’t exactly surprising to see him so quiet. No doubt drowning in his thoughts (which he was), they struggled to figure out what to say that would pull him out.

“I, uh, wouldn’t worry too much about them out there,” Nikki said, giving Pug’s arm a gentle pat. “Neither of them looked too happy to be here.”

“Thanks, Nik,” Jen rolled her eyes. She was the one to invite everyone, after all.

Nikki turned back to her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

It was about another ten minutes of awkward conversation before you and Matt walked back into the bar, and the team was pretty shocked to see you both smiling. You seemed friendly which was a good sign, but not too friendly which was another good sign. You led Matt back to the table, but neither of you sat down.

“I think I’m gonna take off for the night,” you told them. “I’m sorry to cut the night short, but I can feel a migraine coming on.”

Jen looked at you apologetically. “Hey, you don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry. Let me walk you out, okay?”

You nodded, causing her to stand up with you. You looked at the others and gave a small smile to them, your eyes lingering on Pug out of habit. “Sorry, guys. Don’t let me ruin your night. I’ll see you at work.”

Pug was already shaking his head. “Nah, you didn’t ruin anything. We’re sorry for all the questions.”

You smiled gratefully at him, and he was happy to see it finally reach your eyes. You waved to the table before joining Jen by the door.

Matt calling your name caught everyone’s attention, though. “Take care of yourself.”

You nodded at him before turning to walk out of the bar with Jen. Pug hated seeing you go.

Damn you, Matt Murdock, for stealing my thunder.

long author’s note (sorry): sorry this took a while, but work has been ass and i’ve struggled to find the motivation to write. however, once i did, i could not stop at all, so there’s definitely a lot to come. it’s becoming a much bigger series than i had expected, but i’m excited! there’s going to be a lot more backstory about matt and the reader in future parts bc i didn’t want to reveal everything right away, and a lot more of pug x reader developing as well. our boy pug deserves all the love in the world! i know i revealed the makings of a lot of backstory in the first part, but there will be more explained in future parts. a bit of explanation about how long the reader and matt were together though: i couldn’t find an in depth timeline of the events of the daredevil show that included when matt and foggy in college/before the events of the show (but if you have one let me know...), but i determined that from law school, matt and the reader could have been dating anywhere from 5-10+ years. i chose 7 because it made the most sense to me. if you have any thoughts about that, let me know. anyways, i do want to write more pug x reader outside of this series, so if anyone has any ideas of what they want to see, my inbox is always open! consider pug hours officially open. let me know what you think about this part though - i’m always open to feedback. i hope you’re enjoying this silly little series :)

#she-hulk #she hulk #she-hulk: attorney at law #pug x reader #augustus pugliese x reader #augustus pugliese Fic #augustus pugliese imagine #daredevil imagine #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x reader #she hulk fic #marvel reader insert #mcu reader insert #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #matt murdock x jennifer walters

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

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The Dignity of His Choice (17)

Identity, Part Two (see previous or series)

Summary: Tony, Pepper, Nat, and Bucky brief you and Steve on the group that caused this mess.

Warnings for coarse language and description of an evil plot (including kidnapping and torture, threats to women and children), not graphic. Quite a lot of arguing (and Tony's shit).

Before we get started though, I'd just like to apologize for this part taking so freaking long to come out. Never intended for there to be a three-week hiatus in the midst of healing the angst, so thank you to those hanging in there. I appreciate it! And now for FIC--

You take it back. Maybe you don’t want to know because it’s bleak even when Tony tries to sell it as good news. Well, not good news, but a win. Actually, Tony seems twitchy while he rattles off details of the raid. The pictures on his projector look like a modern, dystopian Inquisition facility—all the equipment and room to keep a person clinically alive but little else. More terrifying still is how few people needed to be on the premises to run the damn thing.

Four victims were saved from active holding. Another seven kidnappings were planned. No ransoms. No one wants money for them…for you; they want control of someone else, someone powerful, and thus, influence over thousands of people. Possibly more.

“You were one of the seven, mind you, but your file was marked ‘declined.’”

“That’s one way to put it,” you mutter.

“And then of the other six…” Tony drops two tiny objects onto the cluttered coffee table. “Recognize those?”

You and Steve pick up one each.

“The tracker thing from my necklace?”

“Yeah, want to guess where I found the second?”

Steve looks back up at Tony, silent.

“Star-Spangler,” he turns to you.

“I don’t know…”

“No, in Star-Spangler.” Tony purses his lips while his chest goes completely rigid. “Inside the pony keychain from Morgan’s book bag. They were tracking my daughter—“ his glare bores into the top of Steve’s lowered head “—could have taken her at any time, and I wouldn’t have known a damn thing about—“

Pepper touches Tony’s tense arm. “Luckily, Tony has been very involved, very close to Morgan since…you…since Steve,” she ends in a whisper, a weak smile.

“If you had told me, I could have protected my kid—“

Natasha cuts him off this time. “Hold up. We had it under control. We made sure there were no movements to get at—“

“Don’t think I don’t see that you lied to me again,” Tony snaps at Bucky.

That’s not fair, and you know it. “Back off, Tony,” you snap. “He only did what Steve asked him to.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“She’s right,” Nat mutters.

“Yeah.” She can’t get off that easy though. “No one expects Barnes to say no to Steve, but you--“ your finger juts out toward Nat “—should have known better. How could you not tell Tony? He could have helped. This shit wouldn’t have lasted three GODDAMN months—“

Steve jumps up just as Natasha opens her mouth and steps forward.

“This is why she’s my favorite,” Tony whispers to Pepper who tries to help Steve wrangle you two.

Bucky lounges silently in the rocker, eyes wide.

“Enough,” Steve bellows. “It’s my fault. It was my choice.”

“Shut it, martyr,” Tony spits. “You’re not special. You’re selfish. We did this to each other. We all kept her in the dark. We all thought we could handle this on our own. We all thought our way was best—except, frankly, my way would have—“

“Tony,” you and Pep warn simultaneously.

He puts his hands up, huffing, and glares at Steve again. Eventually, Tony lowers his hands as slowly as Steve lowers himself back onto the couch.

Natasha’s eyes scan everyone while she crosses her arms over her chest. “So…next steps. Now that the Keepers are scattered—“

Your head whips up with Steve’s.

“We weren’t gonna,” Tony whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, uh, the organization loosely called themselves…Keepers.”

“Fuck off,” you groan.

Steve growls. “What she said.”

Tony’s brows raise high. “I wholeheartedly agree. See, we’re on the same side. Look at us. Fuckin’ team-ing again.” His smug expression is not reciprocated, so he turns to Pep. “Honey, we’re so adult right now, it’s crazy, like he didn’t put our kid at risk—”

“We aren’t calling them Kee—that, are we?” Bucky sits up and scoots to the edge of the rocker’s seat.

“Right, all in favor of never repeating that one unless absolutely necessary,” Tony asks, clearing his throat.

The entire room choruses ‘yes.’

“Great. I think I can keep that out of the press.”

The glares are sharp and biting.

“Ok… I—I see what I did wrong there. That’s on me.”

Natasha yanks the tablet from Tony’s lax hand and continues his projected presentation. “If—and that’s an actual if because this may have been a centralized facility, but the operation is extensive—so if we got enough of them to scare the rest off and abandon the cause, then we won’t be hearing about the…the—“ she stalls.

Tony’s still pondering away. “They aren’t technically Ten Rings or Hydra or any of those. This thing runs like the shadiest business I’ve…ever seen…”

“I’m voting for ‘the Assholes,’” you offer with a hand raised.

Bucky points at you in agreement, a proud, thin frown tugging at his lips.

“Seconded,” Pepper, of all people, gets out before Tony. Her husband is stunned.

“I have never been third in my life.“

“Either way,” Steve pipes in, “what about Costa?”

“The Faceless Terror?” Tony’s brows raise excitedly.

Bucky snorts while you roll your eyes hard.

“Costa,” Steve says again firmly. “How was he able to go undetected for so long? He’s been here years, and he referenced being part of this organization for at least that long.”

“Ramone, or I guess we could say ‘the Fisherman,’ was—“ Nat jumps in “—and this is a technical term—so fucking average that he would tick exactly none of the boxes for candidates who could do this…or might do this… considering he did.”

Irritation visibly flares in Steve. He’s taken most of this in stride because it justifies his original fear, but Costa made it too personal. He got too close. “How is that possible?”

Nat remains calm and matter-of-fact. “He missed days. He didn’t make some promotions. He didn’t try to befriend us directly. He didn’t stand out, but he wasn’t a recluse—“

“One hot day and I’d have known,” Bucky grumbles, rubbing at his upper arm.

“My god, he killed three of his own cohorts,” Nat argues, “and Tony gave him a prize.”

Stark’s not happy about being called out. “They—the Assholes, I mean—they had programs. Programs that look a hell of a lot like Zola’s algorithm. It stands to reason if Hydra could use it to predict people’s behavior, they could calculate behavior to avoid suspicion.”

Just for fun, because he’s said over ten serious words in a row, Tony adds, “she’s up to two baddies now.” His attention lands on you as he exclaims, “wha'd’ya think of ‘Double Trouble?’”

“No,” Steve grumbles.

“What about Slapstick?”

You scoff. “I think I’m not due another nickname for at least a year.”

“Sad,” Tony frowns dramatically. “Missed opportunity.”

Why is it so easy to just fall into old habits with these people? It should be difficult, shouldn’t it? You were an alienated widow for the last quarter of this year, and you were never part of the team before this one conversation if this even counts.

Everyone in this room looked out for you though, the ones who knew, the ones who didn’t know, the ones who didn’t have to. They have been your team for a while, it seems, even if compartmentalized. All except Steve, that is, but he’s back now. Life can resume.

“Now for something a little more pleasant,” Pepper starts, her tone a smooth pressure on buzzing nerves. “We are ready to bring you back from the dead. Legally.”

Steve looks up to her beneath his shaggy hair, propping his jaw in one tense and giant hand.

“None of the paperwork has been officially filed, but it’s complete for when it’s time to announce you’re back.”

Pep smiles even though Steve doesn’t. Nat and Bucky eye each other across the coffee table. You’re very relieved you refused any army benefits.

Tony barely looks up before rambling, “and then symbolically, Wilson returns the shield, you shake some hands—“

“No.”

You grew too comfortable in all that banter, and Steve’s response blind-sides you like a punch to the gut. What did he say? The rest of the room is silent in confusion.

Bucky starts slowly. “Tony just means that Cap—“

“I know what he means,” Steve barks, not looking away from Tony. “I’m not taking it back. Sam is Captain America now.”

A bomb may as well have gone off in your apartment. Everyone except you is on their feet and yelling. You’re…well, you’re just…What?!?!

Finally, it’s Tony’s voice that rings loudest. “Then who are you supposed to be?”

You can’t seem to feel your legs, and your eyes won’t move from the coffee table. Between the two tiny black trackers, reflected on the glass surface, you see your husband hang his head.

He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “Steve. I’m Steve, and I think it’s time to give it up, to pass on the mantle. Simple since he’s already been doing this for months.”

You’re frozen, completely numb, mind blank. It won’t process. You’re blinking. All autonomic function persists in your body, but that’s it. The ringing comes back to your ears, this time in a low, swimming bass. They keep fighting, but the words are garbled, gestures thrown your way without explanation.

Your head tilts slowly to the door as your mouth falls open.

“Can we do this another time?”

You said the words but don’t remember thinking them. You’re having trouble thinking of why you might have said them, but the group snips at each other while everyone leaves, Steve kept safe well away from the view of the hall. As you shut the door, your back turns to the wall and slides down, legs crumbling beneath you on the floor.

He’s there in an instant.

“Keeps,” Steve whispers, and it wakes you as if from a dream.

“Yeah?”

He looks at you expectantly, brow knotted in concern, but he doesn’t say anything else. Steve watches you breathe heavily.

You thought you were doing so well. Plot to kidnap you? Fine. Children threatened? Awful but happens. Disastrous nickname choice? Weird it wasn’t Tony’s pick. Traitor in your midst? Apparently, nothing new. But Steve? Steve Rogers giving up the mantle of Captain America? The man who put it to writing that he would not give that up even as he professed his love for you? You cannot wrap your head around it, so you try to think back. Maybe you missed something in all that information.

“Is it always like that?”

Steve props himself up on the wall beside you. “More or less,” he grunts. “That was…a lot, and I wish it had a better—“

“You can’t quit.” Your voice may be small but stops him all the same.

After a long, loud exhale, he wraps his hand over yours, not breaking the death grip you have on your knee. “If it gives me a real life with you, it’s worth it.”

“You won’t be happy.” Your vision blurs with escalating tears. “You—you’ll get bored and bitter and resent me.”

“Honey, I could never—“

“I’m serious, Steve. You can’t do nothing.”

He pries your hand free to bring it to his lips. “I won’t do nothing, love. I just won’t be Cap anymore.”

The view of those two photographs at the funeral presents in your mind: two different people, Cap and Steve. All you wanted was Steve back, and you got him. He’s telling you that Captain America can remain well and truly dead, and that should be fine because he wasn’t yours.

Steve Rogers is yours. He’s yours and right beside you, warm and brooding, stoic and naïve as ever. He’s real and he’s really home. Real enough to squeeze his hand in recognition. Real enough to rest your head on his shoulder. Real enough to pinch his side playfully.

“If the last few days taught us anything, it’s that you need a job, Sketch.”

“Artist then?” He kisses your hand again after jolting away. “Hey now,” he exclaims at your huffed laugh.

“I mean that you love to fight for the little guy, and you love to help people. You’re a strategist. I know you love art, but you know that wouldn’t be enough, not when I work here, too.” You never thought you’d have a conversation to convince Steve Rogers to stay with his family. “You know you can’t give them up,” you finish, weaving your fingers through his and letting them fall between your legs.

“I would for you,” he mumbles before planting a kiss on the crown of your head, his beard mussing strands of hair.

“That’s not what I want. I’ll get used to it—to all that—“ you wave behind you to the door “—I promise I will if you promise not to quit. That’s the kind of choice that got us into this mess.”

Stupid Steve Rogers, bless him. Because this is just that: a big, life-altering, knee-jerk reaction that he hasn’t thought all the way through. To his credit, the world—or his world, rather—used to be more black and white. It was easier to be Captain Morals when good and evil were differentiated by genocide. Perhaps it will become easier to deal in subtleties when he’s not dressed in a flag, too, but you know one thing for certain.

Steve Rogers is a hero. He can’t just disappear. He tried that, and you never let him go. He’s too important. You love him too much. The world isn’t ready to say goodbye, this year or any other, so you hold his hand, press closer in, and get ready to bring him back into the light.

“Ok, love,” he whispers again. “Whatever you want.”

[Next Part]

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this please consider liking, commenting, and/or reblogging. It makes my day and encourages me to churn out more content for you. 💋💋

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

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kdraababy · 1 year

Text

mostheartlessbitchiknow;

What kind of a monster could be so heartless just to shut down their babysister from any chance of closeness to a “normal” family.?Female version of Lucifer damn near barely begins to explain the evilness that lies in my “sister”. For someone who can be a big sister to people who don’t share the same blood, name, mom, looks, etc... Sure as fuck never gave me the time of day. Hated me since birth, I didn’t deserve to not have her. Being a lost sad lonely girl all by herself in this fucked up world I really NEEDED YOU. You never loved me nor cared. I would have done anything you asked me to do, I woulda killed for you, I looked up to you... Now I look at you with a level of HATE I've never felt so strong in my heart it’s saddens me that I ever had to feel this... but I'm so broken inside because of you. You are the fakest bitch that I know, I could never turn away my family like you did. you think your better then everyone and you run from your problems worse then a drug addict does. for fucksake you move all the way across the states to hide from them. you’re gonna end up just like grandma Vicki did.. I should have known letting you know I found MY baby sisters that you would be so evil to ruin their own opinions and cloud there heads with fake ass shit that you think that you know anything about when in all reality your so naive and have no clue but think you have it all figured it out. You’re a selfish, jealous, drama filled cunt. You have no idea of half the things MY mom, has been through you think you got her all figured out huh? WRONG. you don’t even know her, you couldn't ever live through a week in her shoes, let alone ever measure out to half of what she is. How dare you do that to your kids? they loved her and you keep them from her cause your immature and can’t handle the fact it’s not your way so you make them suffer and try to make it seem like she’s fucked off for leaving them when you couldn’t honestly expect her to live with you forever..hahah good joke she’d beat your ass after another couple months if she would have to stay longer. She has stage 4 cancer and it is slowly spread to other places... she lost all of her hair twice, she has a port that they inject chemo into her entire body thats in her chest and goes up to her neck... She lived in a tiny house with no warm bathroom while undergoing some of the most painful parts of her treatment with a smile on her face.. It took me a lot to get her to move in with me and stay with me and Grayson cause she’s so stubborn and didn’t want us to see her like that. Thats when she needed her kids most... Did you even give a fuck that the women who gave you life was going through that? probably not. how someone like you ever came from her makes me wonder how? I never understood a lot of things either when I was ten years old, and I broke a promise to myself, and to you that I'd never do drugs, but you know what it taught me more then you will ever learn in your entire life... I don't care how many books, websites, doctors, or tv shows you hear or see, you will never know what being an addict is like... once I became an addict I understood so much more about the things that lead up to everything that we thought that we knew about us getting taken.. by any means I'm not excusing any of it but you know what people make mistakes, and thats okay, because we are only human. and let me tell you how much my kids love her, and she's an amazing grandma... at least I know when she's not here anymore I never turned her away, and let my kids know their REAL BLOOD FAMILY. but I'm here to talk about me enough about my mom. when I lost both of my parents to prison, why weren't you there for me? why didn’t you ever love me? you just gave up on me so easy... I could never do that to you... I had to teach my self everything I know, from how to do my make up to how to pick out bras, to my first heartbreak, to my first pregnancy... you never were there for any of it.... I used to cry myself to sleep feeling so abandoned by you and even mom sometimes.... I had to get on anti depressants because my grandma Nicky was scared I was gonna kill myself.. why do you feel the need to ruin my life and try and make people think im a monster? please tell me one thing I've ever done wrong to you? to my niece and nephews that don’t even know me, to my baby sisters that I didn’t see for 17 years that you’ve turned against me... I didn’t have to tell them about you, that you were alive, I coulda said you were fucking dead like you have been preteneding I am to you for about 10 years now.... but I couldn't EVER DO THAT TO YOU OR THEM. but I'm sure that you could have done it to me, in a heartbeat and used some weak ass justification like “ your protecting them from the heart break you had to deal with”.. you don’t even have a heart so I know for facts you don’t know the half of what a fucking broken heart feels like. here I am almost 30 years and still crying over my “big sister” not loving me cause it still fucks me up worse then any pain you’ve ever known... you make me sick to my stomach I hate you for not being there for me, for not loving me.

#devilsistermustabeenswitchedatbirthdevilinc

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tonberry-yoda · 1 year

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Hey there! :DD

I saw your requests are open and I was wondering if I could get an (romantic or platonic, it’s up to you) Overwatch Matchup? Headcanons, or a small drabble if you prefer (cooking or shopping together?)

Sorry, this is gonna be all over the place, but:

I’m a demigirl and gay asf (women iykwim). A bit taller and kinda chubby? My hair is pretty short and I have a tendency to impulsively dye it with wash out colours. I’m also an audhd kid lmao. Born and raised in Austria, so I’m fluent in german as well as english (I know a tiny bit of spanish too!)

I live for cute things!!! It’s round and soft? I need it!But I come of as kinda scary because I dress more punk/alt, which is a shame because I’m touch starved and want a hug real bad. I also have a very strange sense of humor, which I’d need a partner who wouldn’t mind that.

I love vocaloids and goth music and I think that sums up my personality perfectly haha (my favorite musician rn is Shilpa Ray!!!) I listen to music pretty much 24/7.

Ideally, I’d like someone who’s fun to be around, yet still respecting of my boundaries. My love languages are gift-giving, parallel play and physical touch and I’d need a partner who would be excited about randomly getting leaves or just memes from me. I love baking and cooking for people I care about!! I also draw a lot, alongside other creative things like sculpting, photography, cosplay and writing. I tend to stim when really excited and if someone joined me in doing that, it’d actually make me want to marry them or keep them in a glass terrarium to observe their activities. I also just LOVE shopping, even if I don’t end up buying anything.

To sum it up: scary looking chubby girl with a love for cute things and way too many hobbies who makes too many jokes for their own good

I hope that’s alright? Also no pressure to write this at all!!

(Btw I love your writing style!!! <3)

hi there!!! this was perfect!! it was super easy for me to pick a character for you!! and seriously, thanks for asking for an overwatch matchup because i do not do enough overwatch requests lol. alright im rambling, now onto your character!

the character I chose for you is...

MEI!!

like women you say??

LIKE CUTE THINGS YOU SAY???

this is the cutest woman in town!

plus y'all are both a lil chubby making cuddling THE BEST

like cuddles are the absolute best with this girl!

she will 100% help you dye your hair

round and soft you say???

here's your new girlfriend!!

she doesnt mind if you come off as a little scary, if anything, she's obsessed with the dynamic of the both of you

she's super cute and wears just soft outfits and you look all grunge and punk

it's awesome

she likes the music you listen to, but it definitely isn't her go to, so just know that she will be putting on lofi and you will be groaning in the background, waiting for the aux back lmaooo

she LOVES to laugh

she doesnt mind a weirder sense of humor because she definitely has a goofy one

like those really random gen z memes are her shit

send her those at 3am and she will be laughing for hours lmfao

SHE NEEDS PHYSICAL TOUCH AS MUCH AS YOU DO

i mean, she is cold all the time, so warm cuddles are what she needs the most

expect a lot of random hugs from out of nowhere

she loves baking and cooking just as much as you do (that's what your mini fic below is gonna be about tee hee)

please tell her about your hobbies

she loves to see you excited

and please ask about hers

she loves talking to you for hours <3

she thinks it is sweet when you stim, so she will grab your hands and jump in the air with you when you're both excited

definitely not bothered by your adhd at all

she will help you when you need it most

she will 10000% go shopping with you and even end up buying you stuff even when you say she doesnt have to

and you will do the same lmaooo

just know that she loves you with all her heart and couldnt ask for a better girlfriend/partner!! <333

NOW FOR THE MINI FIC TEE HEE

MINI FIC

You giggled and watched Mei as she was fully focused on icing the cake you two had made together. Her tongue was slightly sticking out to help her focus and she had a dot of white icing on her nose.

She pulled back for a second to look the cake over and you needed to help get rid of that icing that was annoying you so much. You kissed her on the nose and licked off the icing making her giggle. "Ew, don't lick me!" She said jokingly, lightly pushing you away.

"You had icing on your nose." You said, taking the piping tool from her to finish up the details on the cake.

"Did I really?" She asked, her face going a bit red.

"Yeah, but it was cute." You stopped icing for a second to give her a kiss on the cheek, making her smile.

"You know, I think this is the best cake we've made yet," she said, putting her hands on her hips proudly. "What do you think, babe?"

"Oh, definitely!" You finished icing the cake, satisfied with your work and stood to admire it for a moment before taking a picture.

"Are we gonna eat the crap outta this thing?" Mei asked, already grabbing a fork.

"Oh hell yeah we are!"

~~~~~

matchup rules --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

#i really hope you like it!#mei is such a cutie and it just fit perfectly #writing #fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #<3 #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 x reader #ow #ow2 #ow x reader #ow2 x reader #mei #mei overwatch #mei x reader #mei overwatch x reader

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aquagustd · 2 years

Note

the gasp i let out when i found out sora is yang's daughter.... are u FUCKING fr jungkook ??? FUCK HIM FUCJ YANG AND FUCK HER TOO !!! this is so sick and twisted. his stupid hot headed ass blowing up on everybody oh my god get a load of that! embarrassing!! im not gonna lie that situation looked really bad for oc and i feel sad for jk because she did end up moving on from "waiting" for him but then again how could he ask so much of her?? to abandon the baby?? even if he wasnt his. shitty asf. he failed the good man test. like dude u really left for two years with no contact! you couldve been dead!! and what the hell dude now this mess with the hacking omg. idc if jk knows it was her he had it coming. im about to be team tae 100% because hie jungkook is so damn stupid. stupid ass mf. hes fucking up his own life and better have some sort of BIGGGG redemption arch otherwise this wont do. im over his tiny goldfish brain. this changed EVERYTHING in my book and i was lowkey rooting for u jk we all were!!! 😭 ugh despicable! now u have some nerve playing both women. and he fucking sucks bringing junho around all that violent shit. if he escaped yang then why the actual fuck would he still have even the slightest connection to that damn family. hmm lets see NICE ONE JK!!! lets just get engaged to his DAUGHTER. lets put ur son in continuous danger. how u gonna run away then come back. bruh. 😐im starting to think hes nothing but a fucking coward. running away from everything!! SICK!! "sora and i wouldnt have happened if u had agreed to come with me" LEWSERRRR!!! STILL BLAMING UR FAMILY FUCK YOU YOURE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT THEM NOT FLEE!!! LIKE DID U EVEN LOVE HER? GOD IF U JUST WANT A FUCKING SIDEKICK THEN YEAH LEAVE 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻did u see how FAST he switched up too?? kissin sora and callin her baby i hate u fr

cant believe this is affecting me sm 😭😭😂😂 goinf through sm grief lord. i want jk bad bc hes hot and technically the father but now im just so appalled. poor oc. poor junho. even yoongi man. breaking my heart 💔 this is the juiciest most beautiful story ever. i guess we will see who survives....

pls rio i feel so shitty i’m only seeing this now 😭😭 ALL YOUR FEELINGS ARE VALID !! HE LEFT WITH RADIO SILENCE. then expected oc to just leap into his arms 😭😭 up to today he’s still up to shit. trying to toy with oc’s feelings but planning a wedding too 😒

jk just ran tbh. ran from his problems and a coward like you said 🤚🏻🤚🏻 ahhhh thank u babes 🥺 ig we’ll see who makes it in the end 🤩

#pls you made me laugh and cry and laugh again reading this #fic: hie #squishies #anti sora club

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girlypsyop · 11 months

Text

I'm going crazy I need somebody to read this conversation I overheard on an airplane in 2022. I totally forgot about it until I found it while going through my notes.

It is a bit long but it was just so surreal and beautiful and something something humanity ok?

u ever just overhear one of the most touching interactions of your life in the back of a airbus a320

So I'm gna explain this really bad and it was kind of a "had to be there" situation but just imagine a completely dark airplane, no lights, no open windows, except a single one in the row behind you

In that aisle there's a middle-aged man sitting on the aisle. He is traveling alone. 2 women are sitting next to him

Across the aisle from them are 3 guys

So this middle aged guy. his name is Roy:)

He sits down next to the two woman and as we are shuttling to the runway, he asks if they can open the window because it's his very first flight.

They open the window

They ask him about his destination

He says he's going to Chicago when the plane starts taking off. He YELLS "Woah! Full throttle baby!" (Imagine this in the most southern accent you've ever heard)

Everyone in the back 3 rows cracks up

He laughs and says "yall got your windows closed? Not the least bit curious about what in the hell just happened?"

Everyone at a window seat who could hear him opened their window for a bit

For a while he points out things in the window.

"First time I stepped outta my podunk little town and saw the city it seemed so massive. Just... skyscrapers you have to crane your neck to look at, I'd never seen anything like it. But look at it... you can see the entire city from up here. Look at those teeny tiny little buildings."

....

"Are all those squares down there farms?"

"I think so yea"

"....if aliens ever visit they're gonna think someone got to us first"

....

"I thought there'd be more trees. There are trees everywhere where I'm from. I mean ive seen pictures of deserts and whatnot. Just never seen it with my own two eyes. How do people live like that"

"well it is January. Maybe they're all just dead"

"Oh right. No shit............. that's worse somehow."

....

"This is gonna be a stupid question but is that a cloud down there? Or just fog from a different angle or something, I dunno! Nothing looks like it does down there, I don't trust my own eyes"

"Yes its a cloud"

"That is so awesome. I was hoping we'd see some clouds. I looked up pictures on the internet, but they don't compare to the real deal"

After that he gets a bit nervous, says he doesn't like how the plane feels so still, as if we aren't even moving. He asks if we get drinks on this flight, they say yea usually. He tells them to wake him up when it happens.

When the attendant is a few rows ahead of him, they wake him up. He asks them if they've got bourbon. They laugh and say "not for the poor people" then they ask him if he likes ginger ale he says

"I mean sure"

"If you like ginger ale you'll love it on an airplane"

"Why in the... why the hell does it make a difference on a plane?

"I don't know, the carbonation the ginger it settles your stomach. And it just tastes better somehow. Trust me, it's almost a tradition."

"Well gee there's something you don't read about.. ginger ale on airplanes.."

...

He gets the ginger ale

"It tastes like a ginger ale"

"Yea but it's ginger ale on a plane!"

"If you say so"

A few minutes later he says

"Yknow maybe my expectations were just too high. I was expecting it to taste like. I dunno God's spit or something."

The guys across the aisle lose it

"Man that's what I'm calling airplane gingerale from now on. God's spit"

He goes back to sleep after that. As we start our initial descent he wakes up. one of the girls asks where's he's from

"Lousiana. Small town, I never left it once."

"Wow you must have really loved it"

"Ha. Something like that. I'm a rehabilitation counselor there. Have been for 3 years. Got a big fancy promotion last year, now I'm a bit of a team leader. Who would have thought. Have to wear a tie and everything. Never pictured myself someone's boss. Normally I'm... normally I'm the one quittin after a few months and slashin the boss's tires"

"Oh yea? You ever piss someone off enough to get your own tires slashed"

"Not yet but a man can dream"

A minute passes

One of the guys across the aisle, he's wearing a tie tells roy

"I was in and out of rehab for nearly my whole life. What a thankless job, nobody likes you until long after they've left"

"Ah well. We don't do it for the thanks. It's rewarding to see people turn their lives around. Not all of them not even most of them. But every now and then...."

"Well I hope you know even the ones who don't quite make it are just grateful someone gives a shit about them, even if they're being paid to."

"Oh I'm well aware son. I'm In recovery myself. It's why I could never leave my town. My mom died birthing me and my dad... well it's hard for him. He's got health problems and head problems probably. I think losin her really fucked him up. He did what he could but.... Well I don't wanna bring down the room.....bringing down this particular room would be terrorism I think"

I died at that one

"This is the first time in my life I've had a paid vacation. I never married or had kids and. Well I'm taking this trip for me, but those folks back in the facility are what push me to do this. It's hard sometimes to convince them it's worth it to cross the finish line when I can't show em proof of a better life."

"So why chicago?"

"Well... I never said it out loud but I used to read about those old prohibition bars. Those were big in Chicago. I always wanted to go. Secret entrances and passwords and all that. So I looked it up and there's some those old speakeasies that you can still go to. It's a bit kitch

....

"My ears hurt real bad don't they control the pressure in these tin cans?"

"I guess not very well. Try opening your mouth a bunch it'll pop your ears"

"That's.. disturbing"

#i shed like 2 tears during this convo #im so glad i wrote all this down i really hope roy is doing well #smth about love being found in unlikely places....#i hope he found his funky bars and told everyone about them #i hope he told everyone his exciting airplane story #i hope everyone in those last three rows has a beautiful life #some people would be annoyed but eb was just... therr together... remembering how crazy it is to fly....#anyway this was like a poem to me #like reading it back it sounds like a 'then everyone clapped' story but sometimes.... there is beauty....

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vannybarber · 3 years

Text

Eyes Forward

Summary: Let's face it, long haired Chris is irresistible. So you take your chances.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f to m), handjob, rimming (f to m), LONG HAIRED CHRIS, fluff 🥺 this gif can absorb me 🥵.

Watching the two beautiful brown skinned goddesses grind and makeout on the screen, you couldn't help the puddle forming in your panties. This wasn't the first time you and your buddy Christopher have watched explict films together. In fact, it was one of you guys' favorites genres.

You and Chris had found a show called 'The Wire', which has a 9.3 rating on IMDB. A rating that high on such a stingy app had to be good. A sex scene between the two women had arrived, which threw you both off because of how unfiltered it was. But you weren't complaining. Neither was Chris.

He was fixated on the TV, watching the view before him, a boner visibly formed through his grey sweats. Trying to adjust himself, he fails as he gets distracted again by the close up of them.

Getting a sudden burst of bravery, you maneuver your left hand onto his bulge and rub it in a slow motion. He whips his head at you, puzzled, but somehow absentmindedly grinding himself onto your hand.

You put your index finger to your mouth and point back to the screen with a small smirk. He follows your silent orders without protest. It's not like he could form words at the moment anyway.

The scene gets more intense as the woman straddling Sonja, the actress, breasts show on the screen and she takes them both in her mouth. Chris sucks in a breath, which is quickly covered with a cough as you add pressure to his covered length. You let a giggle escape from your pressed lips.

You turn your body so your front is fully facing his right side and switch hands, laying your right one back on his pants and your left around his neck.

"Y/N..", he says through gritted teeth.

"Shh and keep your eyes foward." You nibble on his ear and squeeze him to affirm your instructions. Moving your lips down to his neck, planting long but soft kisses, he groans, thrusting himself up in your grip. Getting at his hints, you push your hand inside his pants and slowly smooth a soft but firm way down his shaft. It almost shocked you how long it took your fingertips to reach the head.

You look up at Chris and his eyes are slowly closing so you squeeze him in your hand. He shoots his eyes open and looks at you.

"Do not close your eyes. Keep them open and watch the TV" you command in a rather stern voice. "Don't they look amazing?" He nods his head in agreement.

"The one with the short hair has beautiful tits." You smile because he's absolutely right.

"Yes, she does. Look at the way she's sucking them." As you comment on the scene, you rub your hand up and down his cock as much as possible, but grow frustrated with the restriction of his clothes. "Take your pants off."

He moves to shove his jeans down and kicks his feet out the holes. Getting a better view, he is well endowed. You take both hands and stroke him. He can't help but watch, but the scene is over so you don't scold him.

"You like that baby?" You coax him, moving a little faster. You both make eye contact and he breathlessly lets out a 'yes'. You bit your lip and smile. Catching him off guard, you dip your head down and take him in your mouth.

He maneuvers his right hand onto your ass, giving it a squeeze. You moan around him, making him groan and thrust up into your mouth. Suddenly you pull back. He quickly gets worried.

"What's wrong?" You cup his cheek.

"Oh nothing. As much as I love you feeling on my ass, I want you to see me sucking your cock."

With that, you slide off the couch and on your knees in between his legs. He sighs, appeased and adjusting himself so he could get the perfect view.

"Hope you weren't worried there." You joke, smiling and winking at him. He grins, shaking his head. He's still rock solid and throbbing when you grab his cock again and sliding your mouth back on it.

After bobbing your head up and down for some time, you take him out and push his legs further out to drag your tounge from the very bottom, swirling around his tight hole. You let out a hot breath over it, resulting in him letting out a small whimper while you pump him faster.

You move back up, tongue still on him and lick up his wide shaft and take him back in your mouth, finishing him off. A few more seconds and you feel him twitch.

"Fuck, I'm 'bout to cum" he groans out. Warm shots of his seed score in your throat and slide down your tongue. Satisfied, you suck up and off him, making sure you collect every drop. You open your mouth, and show him the mess he made in you. He nods with approval.

"Swallow."

You gulp down all the sweet content and smile at him. Getting off your knees, you strip from your clothes, pussy aching from the need to have him inside you. He watches as you remove everything, all your forbidden parts coming into view.

"Like whatcha see, Evans?" You smirk at him.

"Yeah, but I'd like it better if it was inside it." He doesn't have to say any more. You climb on his lap and pull his shirt over his head, ginger locks falling back into place.

"Ya know, I'm really loving this look. You should keep your hair like this." You comb your fingers through his silky hair, mesmerized with it.

"If it makes you do shit like this, I'm just might." He traces his fingers on your thighs and moves them up your hips and on your back, pushing you towards him. Your lips plant on his, moving in perfect motion, not missing one beat.

Mouths staying connected, you grab his cock and meet it with your entrance and sink down slowly to feel it stretch every wall. You suck in a breath and moan, fully seated on him. After getting comfortable, you pull away and start moving on him. Looking in his eyes, you search for his breaking point. The move that's gonna do it for him.

"You like that baby? You like when I bounce on your cock?" His eyes shift almost at your verbal attack. He slaps your ass in response but also a warning. You just grin. It's working.

"Gotdamn Y/N, you're so fucking tight." His face crunches up, head thrown to the cushion of the couch. You squeeze him as a thanks. Workouts pay off.

"A tight, wet pussy and a big ole cock, what'd you expect?" You kind of laugh as you move faster on him. You could feel him touching every spot inside you, that sharp ping of pleasure hitting you everytime you slide back up.

"Fuck, daddy you're gonna make me cum," you whine out, not being able to handle the feeling, like you asserted before. You flatten your palms on his shoulders and try to bounce as fast as you can, but the ecstasy is weakening your ability. Chris takes notice and quickly solves the issue.

Pushing you towards him, he adjusts your knees up a little closer to his hips and grips your ass and starts fucking into you. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and drop your head down beside his.

"Mmm Chris that feels so," you let out a whimper when he hits your spot 2 thrusts in a row, "so good."

"Mhm you thought you were the one in control, didn't you sweetheart?" The sound of your ass hitting his thighs accelerates your want to cum. You need it so bad.

"Shoving your hand down my pants, tryna seduce me, but who's the one getting her pretty little hole fucked??" At every word, a thrust gets harder and your mind goes even more blank.

You can't even form words, only adorable tiny noises and moans leaving your vocal box. He grips your waist roughly, not satisfied with your answer.

"You better fucking answer me or I'll stop right now and make you suck me off again and this sweet little pussy won't get to cum." He slaps your sore pussy and you inhale a single, but deadly breath.

"I am! I'm getting my little h-hole fucked," you scream. It was humiliating, but that's what made it more arousing. You tried to be in control, but failing effortlessly once he was deep inside you.

"Good baby. Daddy's fucking this hole way better than anyone else could, so it's only fair that it belong to me now, right?" He looks up at you and grabs your face to look him in the eyes. "This pussy is mine, yeah?"

At this point, fuck it.

"Yes, Daddy my hole belongs to you! All my holes are yours." You could feel that familiar pressure rising in the pit of your stomach as he fucks up in it. You grow excited, but more determined to make it last.

"I'm gonna cum," you moan as he lets your face go, but not breaking eye contact. "Make me cum, Daddy. I wanna cum all over your cock. I want it so bad. More than anything!"

"Just let go, baby. Let go for Daddy." His voice is soft and encouraging. You do as he says and let your orgasm take over your body. He could feel your hot cum spreading all over the head of his cock.

In retaliation, he shortly follows, filling your pussy to the brim, quite more than he ever has before.

"I feel so full." You sigh, content and fulfilled. A dopey smile is on your face and your body is limp. He rubs your back and plants kisses on the side of your face and on your shoulder blade.

"I'm gonna go give you a bath. Alright, bear?" He turns his head, waiting for you to look at him and give the 'ok'. You lift your head.

"Can we just stay here for a little bit longer please?" He kisses your nose and wraps his arms around you, securing you to him.

"Of course." You lie your head back down and close your eyes.

You could get used to this.

I know I said I was gonna finish this a long time ago, but I got distracted per usual 😭 hope you guys liked it 🧡

masterlist

#chris evans #cevans #captain america #avengers #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #steve rogers #andy barber #ransom drysdale #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #smut #vannybarber

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Storge

Yandere!Childe x reader

CW: Yandere themes, swearing

Requested by anon, I am not going to post the ask, since it will spoil the fic

It’s snowing when you finally escape.

Snow and thin layers of ice like rustle under your bare feet as you run as fast as you can, uncaring of whatever injuries you’ll get in the process. Servants and guards scream and run after you too, eager to catch you before any of the news reaches Childe.

“Стой! Стой кому сказал!”, a lumping and balding middle aged man screams after you. You can’t understand the words yet recognize the desperation it was said with - this man can’t afford to fail, lest he loses his job. Too bad for him - you also can’t afford to fail, lest you lose your freedom and you are a better runner than him.

“Eat shit”, it escapes you, raw and hopeful and despairing at the same time - the freedom you yearned for months is here, you just need to push a little more, run a little faster. You don’t know to whom these words are addressed to - to the man behind you, Ajax you’re running away from or the world, that is so cold and unfair, constantly giving you a shorter end of the stick.

Fate proves itself a cruel mistress once again, as you trip on the ice, bones cracking upon the impact of your body against the ground.

“Вот тварь, побегать любит”, the man bends in half from the exhaustion and then comes closer to you, grabbing you from behind and yelling something to the couple of women catching up to you. You, of course, writhe and hiss in his hold, like some feral and disgruntled cat, scratching and biting their hands when the occasion rises. They mutter something unpleasant in Snezhnayan, yet don’t retaliate, afraid of what He will do once he learns of their slight.

You curse them and their entire bloodlines as they drag you back to the mansion.

He comes back from whatever bloody business he has the same day, when the Sun almost settles and dyes everything in purple-red hues. You look at this view from your room, seated in the comfy chair near the brightly lit fireplace and tightly bundled in the multiple layers of fur blankets. Your left leg is also covered - in bandages and herbal ointments, meant to soothe the pain.

You also got sick - maybe it’s because you bolted in nothing but your nightwear, or maybe because people who returned you back to your cell were dragging your unwilling body on the snow and at the end of your “journey” you were wetter than a recently used mop. Maids gave you some herbal tea for that too, and now you were nursing a warm cup, awaiting his arrival.

“I’ve heard that someone misbehaved again”, Childe enters the room, a manic and creepy smile plastered over his face. Seems that this “talk” will be as much of a test to your sanity as any other.

“Ajax”, you say in exasperation, more to yourself than to him - he rarely reacts to your sighs or glares, his overblown ego making him blind to your obvious discomfort.

“I’ve also heard that this someone got very very far. Almost naked. In the middle of the winter”, he continues, coming closer to you with each word: “I wonder who would be crazy enough to abandon this beautiful and majestic estate to return to their sad, miserable life”.

“At least I don’t have to see you in my sad, miserable life”, you quip and turn in your chair away from Ajax as much as you can. It’s hard to do with one injured leg.

“Oh, is it? Well, you don’t see anyone in your horrifically miserable life”, he quickly steps around, appearing in your vision again.

“Shut up”, you can sense what he’ll say next, already seeing red. Childe’s grin turns even wider. How does he always manage to do and say things to get under your skin?

“You have no friends to spend time with, you don’t even have any family. Whom will you return to? No one is waiting for you there”, and with this he leaves, shutting the door just in time to avoid the thrown cup of tea and you have to simmer in your own anger alone.

***

The boy appears on the next day, when Childe leaves for work. Ginger, pale and blue eyed, he doesn’t leave you even a shadow of doubt who his relative is. You plan on ignoring the boy just for this fact, yet the child proves himself just as stubborn as your captor.

He pesters the maids and other servants, who don’t rebuff him which proves your relation theory even further - who would be allowed to behave like that except you, Childe and his relative? When bothering staff proves itself fruitful, yet unsatisfying he turns his attention to you.

You sit on the sofa this time, your injured leg preventing you from escaping from that mini-Childe and the maid assigned to you pointedly ignores your pleading and threatening gazes. You have no choice, but endure.

***

Ajax’ little brother, Teucer as you learn turns out to be a way better person than you imagined him to be. It’s harsh to talk like that about a prepubescent child, but you can never be too sure or lax when it comes to Childe and his family.

He’s loud and stubborn in the way his older brother is, yet there’s no hidden malice or motive in his words, no mental game to test you with. As you already said it’s crazy to think about a little kid like this, like some manipulative and cunning bastard, yet you can’t. Living with Childe stripped you of it too - you can’t not just relax and trust everyone you meet, especially if they happen to have ginger hair and blue eyes.

You end up humoring Teucer as he tells you of his adventures with Tonya and Anton, and how he misses his big brother Ajax. A short, yet awkward pause ensues, as a boy casts his gaze down, sadness coming off of him in tangible waves and you do something unexpected.

You ruffle his hair and offer to play with him and he beams at that, his smile rivaling Sun with its brightness.

Servants bring a couple of board games - you can’t really move and participate in something more intensive, and the two of you spend several hours just playing.and enjoying yourselves. You get so engrossed by the game in fact that you miss the moment when someone else enters the room. You realize this once Teucer lifts his head and gasps, his eyes shining.

“Ajax! You are here!”, he squeals as he runs into Childe’s arms.

“Of course I am! Once I heard my dearest baby brother visited my house I dropped everything to come here”, Ajax effortlessly lifts the now laughing boy and spins him around, his eyes crinkling as he does so.

Teucer immediately shifts his attention from you to his brother, and while this is something very predictable, the hurt at this disregard is not. You never expected to get attached to a random kid just by spending a couple of hours with them, but here you are: watching your captor play with him and wishing that you could join too.

The boy leaves in the evening as Childe orders his men to take him back, yet before that Teucer runs up to you and hugs you too, thanking him for the time you spent with him and your heart flutters. Warmth the kind you never felt before washes over your soul, you feel complete.

You watch how he departs, your eyes trailing carriage until it turns into a tiny dot on the horizon and Childe watches you.

“If you behave I will invite Teucer more often”, he says on the next day. How can you decline such an offer?

#yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #yandere childe #yandere genshin x reader #Yandere tartaglia #Yandere tartaglia x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere x reader #Male yandere #Yandere imagine #My writing #Flexing my russian skills because I can #And because I didn't learn it for years for nothing

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Rabid.

The brainrot was real, guys. Hope you like it :))

Kyoutani Kentarou x female reader

tw blood, violence, implied minor character death, non-con, smut, nsfw

There’s blood splattered across the back of his hands the first time you make the unwitting mistake of catching Kyoutani’s attention. He usually can’t be fucked wasting time wrapping his fists; the skin across one of his knuckles is split and raw from his last job, but most of the blood isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

But he wouldn’t have noticed – it comes with the territory and he’s never really given a fuck whether there’s blood on his clothes or not – if it hadn’t been for that tiny gasp.

That soft, sharp little intake of breath, and like the rabid dog they claim he is, he snaps to the threat.

Nobody else at the table notices, and you seem to realise your mistake, freezing up the moment those honey brown eyes flash and zero in on you. Your throat bobs unsteadily – you look like a deer caught in headlights. Startled. Terrified.

Kinda fuckin’ adorable, if he’s being honest.

“I– I’m sorry, sir,” you mutter, ducking your head as you set down his drink with a tremor in your hand.

Vaguely, he registers Makki’s choked snort at the honorific – nobody’s ever called him sir before – but he can’t really find it in himself to give a fuck that the two of you have drawn an audience.

Not when you’re still frozen, hardly daring to draw breath at his side.

You’re new, that much is painfully obvious, but not stupid. You know who he is – who they are, and despite his reputation, he’s never been one to get off on fear or some fucked up version of a power trip; Kyoutani simply likes the feeling of lashing out, beating the absolute shit out of some asshole just because he can.

Because it feels good, gets his blood pumping.

Nobody would lift a finger to help you if he decided to take offence to your little slip up. And truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit – he’s used to people being on edge around him and it’s not like you’ve reacted any other way than how you’re supposed to.

It’s natural for you to be startled, scared even. But not here, not with them. Here you should know better, because here is filled to the fucking brim with men like Kyoutani. Oh sure, they might be prettier, polished and charming like Oikawa, but you’d have to be a goddamn idiot to think the man hasn’t stepped over bodies he’s put in the ground to get where he is.

At least Kyoutani never has to pretend to be anything other than what he is.

But a little blood in a place like this shouldn’t raise an eyebrow, and the way you’re staring at the table, eyes cast down and wide; Kyoutani can almost hear you cursing yourself out for your own stupidity. And it strikes him as he stares at you, drinking in every subtle shift in your body language, wondering why you don’t just tuck tail and run off like you so clearly want to, that you really don't belong in a place like this.

“Something the matter, Mad Dog?” a silken voice purrs, and he tears his eyes away from your trembling form to glance back at his boss, sitting at the head of the table. The brunette’s smiling idly, appraising the two of you and Kyoutani feels you stiffen beside him.

You don’t dare open your mouth, don’t so much as twitch, not even as Kyoutani returns his attention back to you. By now the entire table has quietened down, most if not all of the gathered men staring at you and you – pretty eyes filling with tears, hands clasped together and trembling in front of your dress – look like you just want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. And somewhat selfishly, there’s a part of Kyoutani that wants to keep you there like that.

Not afraid, exactly. Just… there.

He can’t explain it, doesn’t know why he hasn’t just told you to fuck off back to the kitchen, dismissed you with a grunt like he would have if any of the other servers had made the same mistake. He has bigger shit to worry about than some perceived fucking offence, but he finds himself pausing, drawing this little moment out for a lifetime before finally putting an end to it, “No.”

He jerks his chin, breaking the moment between the two of you to reach for the drink you’d set down before him, but still you don’t move, glancing between him and Oikawa like you’re afraid to move – as if you’re terrified that you’ve read this situation wrong and one wrong step and you’ll just make things worse. It’s so fucking endearing that he almost snorts, but it takes Oikawa’s voice, calm and level and almost kind to shake you out of your frozen state, “Run along now, cutie.”

You scamper off without a backwards glance, and if anybody notices Kyoutani watching you out of the corner of his eye while he nurses his drink, they have the better sense to keep their mouths shut about it.

And honest to god, it’s the last he expects to see of you. He’s not so stupid as to think you landed the job because you genuinely wanted it; people don’t end up in places like this because they have choices, they end up here because somebody somewhere along the line fucked up.

This city’s filthy, full of irredeemable pieces of shit like him and it takes innocence like yours, chews it up and spits it out. If you were smart, you would have left after your little run-in with him, so why the fuck are you right back in their private room less than a week later, nails biting into your palm and resolutely refusing to meet his eye?

Oikawa’s busy rattling off a list of drinks he wants, but this time it’s Kyoutani who’s frozen in place, staring at you with a scowl that has you shivering even as you nod at the Oyabun. He knows Iwaizumi at least is watching him with some kind of morbid combination of curiosity and concern, can’t find it within him to care as you try and slip from the room, giving him as wide a berth as you can without it seeming rude–

Not wide enough. Before he even registers that he’s moved Kyoutani’s reaching out to grab your forearm – his grip not tight enough to hurt, just to stop you from running off on him again. And the little squeak that leaves your soft looking lips sends a ripple of something electric jolting down his spine, but you know better than to try and pull away.

God, he can feel your pulse racing beneath your skin, every terrified thump of your heart. It’s addictive, he thinks, the feeling he gets just from touching you.

“Gimme a beer,” he grunts, waiting until you finally meet his eye.

The nervous little nod you give strokes some part of him he hadn’t realised existed. Kyoutani likes you like this; all timid and obedient. A little too much, maybe.

There’s a sharp elbow in his side courtesy of Yahaba, and he reluctantly releases his grip on you, leaving you to scamper away once more. Cute.

Yahaba makes some snarky comment under his breath and he barely fucking registers it, fixated instead on the skin of his palm; still warm and tingling from your touch. His hands are rough, scarred and calloused, the skin over his knuckles split from another job last night, a little red and bruised – even as he tightens his fingers into a fist they sting just a little.

Guns have their purpose, he’s not against a knife if he’s feeling particularly fucking vindictive, but Kyoutani’s favourite has always been his fists. There’s something about the feeling of skin and muscle giving way beneath his blows, taking all that pent up rage and aggression and letting loose with his fists. It’s a kind of euphoria he’s never found anywhere else; not in women or men or drugs or alcohol. Nothing comes close to the feeling he gets straddling some pathetic piece of shit and beating the absolute fucking crap out of him.

Sometimes if he goes a few days without a fight, he gets a little jittery. Not like the tweakers do, it’s not withdrawal so much as… a building up of restless, rabid energy. He gets on edge, snaps more, lashing out over petty shit until some poor asshole makes the mistake of looking at him the wrong way and Kyoutani just fucking looses it.

He feels it now, that same burning itch under his skin. He’s never thought of his hands as anything more weapons, but touching you, the warmth of your skin, how smooth and soft it was–

Kyoutani wants to do it again. Wants to touch more of you. And he’s not so fucked up yet that he doesn’t realise how twisted this all is, how a guy like him doesn’t belong within a thousand miles of some sweet, cute innocent thing like you. But the world ain’t fucking fair; you’re here and for whatever reason Oikawa’s taken a liking to you and so whenever they’re at the club, you’re the one management send to make sure they’re happy.

And Kyoutani wonders, golden eyes burning a hole into your back as you hastily clear away their empty glasses, whether you realise that if any one of them asked for a dance or for you to get on your knees and blow them, you’d be expected to do that, too.

You might as well be on Seijoh’s payroll now, just be thankful that as far as that side of things go, they’re not the monsters that the rumours make them out to be.

Not that he hasn’t noticed Mattsun’s gaze drifting to your ass when you lean over the table to grab something, the older man shooting him a salacious wink when he notices he’s glaring.

Not that he hasn’t let his own imagination take hold, leaning up against the glass wall of his shower first thing in the morning. His fist pumping along his throbbing cock, wondering what it’d be like to see you on your knees, those pretty eyes full of tears, staring up at him as you swallow him down like the good girl he knows you are.

The thing is, he’s never made all that much of an effort to hide his feelings from the others. He doesn’t give a shit if it makes him the butt of their jokes, doesn’t care what they think about the way he watches you – his attention snapping towards you the moment you slip past the door, purposefully trying to avoid his gaze. Not that it ever does you much good.

Oikawa hasn’t said shit, and that’s enough of a go-ahead as Kyoutani needs. It’s none of their fucking business anyway.

You’ve managed to get under his skin, push him to the fucking brink when he goes more than a few days without seeing you. He knows you don’t want any part of this; that you’re still fucking terrified of him. Kyoutani’s never been one to chase after somebody who wants nothing to do with him – there are plenty of women more than willing to spread their legs for Seijoh’s big bad Mad Dog if he wants an itch scratched. There’s no good reason why he can’t get you out of his head, why you’ve sunk your teeth into him and refuse to let go – even when it’s clear that that’s so fucking far from what you intended with the blonde.

It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, it doesn’t change shit; you’re his, whether you’re willing to acknowledge that or not.

And maybe he’s just living with his head up his ass, but he doesn’t quite realise how fucking inadequate this whole arrangement is until he needs a piss one night and ventures out into the club only to see some asshole trying to cop a feel and tug you down to his lap, his friends drunk and howling with laughter as you try to politely escape them.

Distantly he registers that he recognises the piece of shit as some low level fucking drug lord who’s been all but sucking Oikawa’s dick trying to get a bigger piece of the pie, but in that moment, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck who he is.

Kyoutani just sees red.

Nostrils flaring, steam practically pouring from his ears, he storms over. And adrenaline’s surging through him with every pounding beat of his heart, every synapse in his body’s electrified, ready to lay into this piece of shit for daring to lay a finger on what’s his.

He wants to beat him bloody, wants to fuck up his face – to whale on him until muscle and bone give way and there’s nothing left but bloody pulp where his head used to be. Him and his fucking friends.

But Kyoutani has his priorities, and he reaches you first, grabbing you by your elbow and ripping you away from them, a muscled arm curling protectively around your waist. And he’s deaf to whatever protests you have, to the excuses the pieces of crap in front of him offer up, can’t hear a goddamn thing over the pounding in his head as he fixes them with a snarl and all but drags you back to their room, shoving you less than gently in through the door.

“Stay here, don’t move until I get back,” he orders, and he loves you, he does, but when you open your mouth to argue, something inside of him tightens and snaps. He grabs you by the jaw, jerking your face up as he crowds in over you, golden eyes ablaze, “Not a fucking muscle, understand?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, crashing his lips down on yours to steal the kiss he’s been waiting fucking weeks for before stalking back out.

Kyoutani is beyond caring about ramifications, Oikawa’s always given him a fairly loose leash to do as he pleases and if this is what puts an end to that so fucking be it; he’ll take you and go. But he hears Iwa and Mattsun on his heels and neither one of them are trying to stop him as he storms back towards the drug lord and his little cronies, so he figures the boss ain’t too fucking bothered with what he’s about to do.

And maybe if he’d had a clearer head, he might’ve found it funny how quickly the floor clears when he vaults the couch, grabs the asshole by the front of his silk shirt and heaves him forward, sending him careening face first into a table full of drinks.

With the taste of you on his lips, the memory of this piece of shit’s hands all over you, Kyoutani doesn’t hold back.

The others are gone by the time he, Iwa and Mattsun return, it’s just Oikawa casually leaning back in his seat, you sitting rigidly in the one beside him, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair.

Kyoutani’s eyes flicker tensely between the two of you – he’s still on edge, still not right. He needs something more to feed that rabid fucking monster lurking beneath his skin, and his Oyabun knows it.

Oikawa smiles genially, patting your knee for just a moment (and oh, how Kyoutani hates the flash of jealous rage that rears its ugly head when he leans over and whispers something in your ear) before standing up.

“Mad Dog,” he says, eyeing him with a shrewd look he recognises all too well. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He nods at the two behind him and without another word the three of them exit, no doubt to try and smooth over the mess he’d just made.

Leaving Kyoutani alone with you.

And there’s a part of him that’s pissed off, because this was always gonna happen, but fuck, he was gonna make an effort. He’d wanted it to be nice for you… romantic, or at least as romantic as somebody like him was capable of.

You deserve that much.

His blood’s still thrumming, remnants of blind fury and jealousy and possessive need still burning through his veins. The fight wasn’t enough to sate him; it should’ve been – he’d left them in fucking pieces – but then again you’ve been toeing this line for a long, long time, and Kyoutani’s patience only goes so far.

He should at least take you back to his apartment, try and salvage this disaster of a night, but he knows deep down he can’t make himself walk out of here with you without taking what he needs.

He’s still not entirely in control, breathing hard as he stares at you, watches you fiddle with your hands in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze. “Stand up,” he says, his voice a rough growl.

On shaking legs, you obey, eyes flickering towards the doorway behind him, and distantly he wonders what you’re thinking. You’re foolishly naive, he’ll admit that much, but he doesn’t think you’re stupid. You know where this is going, and you must know that there is nobody and nothing that’s gonna stop what’s about to happen. Not even you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and now he’s the one to draw in an unsteady breath. “Strip.”

You blanch, eyes widening in pure panic. And there’s a part of him that feels guilty, that knows he’s scaring you right now and hates himself for it, but any chance of rationality winning out fled the moment he saw somebody else put their hands all over you.

“Strip,” he repeats when you make no move to start taking your clothes off. “Or I’ll rip that pretty fucking dress off myself.”

Kyoutani adores that little catch in your breath, the way you bite down on your bottom lip as you give in, meekly reaching for the zipper at your back.

You’re so fucking beautiful, every mouthwatering inch of you. Tentatively, you glance up at him after your dress hits the floor, as if you’re hoping that that’ll be enough, that he doesn’t want to see all of you. Any other time, and the sight of you in your matching set of lingerie might’ve been enough to calm him, but it’s not what he needs tonight.

His scowl deepens, and you’re clever enough to read between the lines. Your bra goes first, pretty lace panties joining the small pile of clothes on the floor a moment later.

Good girl.

His eyes darken as he stares, hungrily taking you in. Soft tits, nipples pebbling under the cool air, he’s dying to touch them, suck on them, mark them up nice and fuckin’ pretty. The gentle swell of your ass, smooth, supple thighs he can’t wait to get his hands on, and that cute little cunt of yours, all his. His to play with, his to tease, his to claim. Fuck, this is better than all the images he’s conjured up of you in the heat of the moment, stroking his cock to get off with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He wants to compliment you, tell you how perfect you are, how cute you are – trembling naked in front of him, but he’s beyond words right now, hanging onto his control by a fucking thread as his cock twitches in his pants, all that blood rushing south.

You look like you’re about to burst into tears as you swallow, taking in a quick, hitching breath. “Kyoutani,” you begin in a soft, tiny voice–

And that last little thread snaps.

He’s on you before you can stop him, spinning you around and roughly slamming your hips up against the table. There’s no time to be soft or gentle, no time to even take off his pants, he just shoves them down to his thighs and reaches for his cock.

Fuck, he’d wanted to eat you out, to stuff you full of his fingers and make you cum on them first, get you nice and stretched out, but he’s still too wound up. Kyoutani needs to be buried inside of you, needs to fuck you – he’ll make it up to you afterwards, he swears it.

He’ll treat you like a fucking princess, just be good for him now.

And the scream that shatters that calm night air should tear at him – he doesn’t want to hurt you, not ever, it’s his job to protect you – but he can’t focus on that when your pussy’s clamping down around his fat cock, a dizzying heat enveloping him as your walls flutter and squeeze against the unwanted intrusion.

It feels like fucking heaven. Kyoutani’s hands are everywhere; your tits, your ass, squeezing reassuringly at your hip when a broken sob leaves your lips. And he’s kissing at your shoulders, nuzzling at your neck even as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, desperate to be as close to you as he can as his hips draw back and he pounds back in, grunting like a beast in heat.

He fucks you savagely, your hips slamming against the table with every thrust – there’ll be bruises no doubt, but he’ll look after those too. He swears to fucking god, he’ll take such good care of you. You’re gonna be his girl. You are his girl.

It’s easier than it should be to drown out your agonised cries and pleas for him to slow down, to chase his own pleasure within your tight, wet heat, his cock ramming up against your cervix with every stroke.

He loves you, loves the feeling of being inside of you – fuck, Kyoutani doesn’t think he ever wants to leave. His fingers find your clit and you cry out, a shudder wracking your body that almost has him seeing stars with the way your pussy tightens and convulses around him in response. He loses his rhythm as he nears his end, hips jackrabbiting into your poor, abused cunt as his balls tighten.

You’re slick now, cunt drooling around him as he fucks you hard and fast, lewd slaps echoing out with every brutal thrust. Kyoutani knows he’s holding you too tight, knows it’s probably hurting but he can’t fucking care when he’s so close and you feel so fucking good–

His teeth sink into your neck as that blinding pleasure takes hold; his entire body seizing up, abs tightening as his orgasm slams into him. Kyoutani cums with a hissed snarl, crushing you against him as thick, warm spurts fill your perfect little cunt right up. He fucks you through it, a slow, lazy grind of his hips against yours as he milks his orgasm for all it’s worth, pressing gentle, soothing kisses along your collarbone while you sniffle and sob pathetically.

“Love you,” he grunts quietly – truthfully – letting your exhausted body collapse back against the table. And it’s now he regrets not having taken you home to do this on an actual bed, just so he could lie you down somewhere soft afterwards and curl up beside you.

Still, there’s not much he can do but try and comfort you as best he can, rough fingers running soothingly up and down your back as he waits for you to calm down. He pauses after a moment though, staring oddly at his hands.

There’s blood smeared across his skin, caked under his nails, splattered up his tattooed forearms. And Kyoutani can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips as he leans over to kiss your shoulder again, his cock still stuffed inside of you.

Most of it isn’t his.

And the other guy got off far, far worse.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kyoutani #yandere kyoutani x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou x reader #yandere kyoutani kentarou #tw blood #tw violence #tw implied minor character death #tw non con #i love the angry tennis ball

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kkusuka · 3 years

Note

CONGRATULATIONS FOR 3K!!!! i am really happy for you! i love your writing and i believe you deserve each of your followers.

please, headcanons for jujutsu kaisen! i'd like king of curses sukuna, where he marries the reader, which is a princess from another continent to expand his territories (we all know that if sukuna wants territories he would just take them by force, he is the king after all, but that's just a detail) — unaware that he would find a tough woman, who does not like the idea of marriage and hates him. it would be funny to have some dynamics queen x king. like hate sex; an important dinner with the court and they start throwing food at each other; the reader doesn't like the idea of concubines and send them away; how would he react? how did they fall in love? you don't have to write about everything i said, choose tree of them by the rules, but just seeing this idea here would be incredible! oh, and she/her pronouns please. thank you so much!!!

a/n: I……….. love this. I really hope I did the ask justice!

Well firstly, he probably takes a wife because he needs someone to clean the temple, and he’s sick of the town’s sacrifices. And what better for him than taking more land! That’s where you come in, lovely princess Y/n of the northern continent!

He was sure you would be some frail, shy little lamb that would do anything he says. Like a little maid for him to order around.

So his first opinion of you was that you were going to be a bore. And, in his defense, you gave him no reason to think otherwise. The first day you were there, you didn’t say a single word… to anyone. Not even a maid. So he really thought he would just kill you and tell everyone that you went missing.

He tried, on the sending night in the mansion he invited you to a diner with him. (aw, your first dinner as a married couple!) well- that’s if you had bothered to show up. For an hour, 12 minutes, and 17 seconds he waited for you to arrive in the dining hall. He was just fed up. How dare you? Did you know who he was? What he could do in a split second?

He was at your room door within seconds--- since you both refused to sleep in the same room-- and you opened the door like you hadn’t done a thing.

“Where the fuck were you?” -- he was already barging his way into your room, you calmly closed the door and waltzed back to your couch. Where he assumed you had spent your time before he came. “When I invitee you to dinner, you will be there”

“And if I don't want to?”

“Excuse me?” He was shocked. Angered. Deadly. Turned on? He really didn’t know but he was truly infuriated you even spoke back to him, never mind questioned his authority.

“I said,” you sighed. sling over the arm of the couch, tilting your head to the Demon before you, “what if I don't want to? I had no intention to entertain you over dinner this evening, nor do I any other time. So if you are here to berate me or spout about your authority, I suggest you take your leave.”

Spoiler alert (not really, just the expression) - you guys fucked until the sun came up, all over the same couch.

Somehow this became a common occurrence. Him doing something o annoy you, you doing something back, then taking your anger out on the other in a night full of moans and the sound of skin slapping.

And you held your word too, you didn’t show up to anything. But you did start sending people to tell him you wouldn’t be coming and repeatedly told him how disgusting you thought he was and how you hated him. Eventually, he was just fed up, he didn’t care what you thought of him and if you were only going to fuck him when you were angry, he would just firn another lady to fuck.

And, lord knows you hate him, but you were fucking married. And if you really hated one thing, it was infidelity. Your father had multiple concubines and you saw what it did to your mother and you would be damned if you let the same happen to you.

“Who the fuck is this, Sukuna?’ you were livid. The bastard looked so proud of himself, having some random commoner on his lap.

“This is Yui. I plan to make her a concubine this coming Sunday.” in all honesty, you should have expected this. A true heartless monster he was. You knew all about his womanizing way and how many women he went through, and you couldn’t exactly say he couldn’t have a concubine.

You really were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Reminded of your mother, you take the action you wish she did, “Fine, but if I see her- in any sense- I will have her head.” his laugh echoed down the hallway until you reached your wing.

And true to your word, only two months later, she was seated in your seat at the dinner table. Unfortunately for her she never got to see the rest of the meal- a new lesson was learned, your warnings were not to be ignored.

Now, there was one event, not even you could evade; the monthly council dinner party. The most annoying party either of you had ever been to.

It was boring and was clearly just a hoax for nobles to get in your good graces. But, somehow, you both bonded over how much you hated it. You spent the whole time making fun of people’s outfits and how fancy all the food was- small portions really are the worst.

“Who let her walk out of the house like that?” you laughed into your wine glass. Sukuna doing the same, eyes darting to a woman fake laughing somewhere in the corner of the room. Clad in all brown the woman was an eyesore at best.

“The same person who allowed Dutchess Haruknuka out in that hat.”

You guys really just spent the night fooling around and talking shit. It was also the time you started playing games with him, predicting who would finish their food first, seeing who could catch more cheese cubes in their mouth, how much wine you could down in one go.

You still held a strong resentment against him, but he was becoming more and more tolerable.

So, falling in love wasn’t really falling. It was more like a crash through a glass store window into a china shop.

It didn’t happen often, but the mansion gets attacked by some “heroic” people trying to save the people from the demon king.

But this was the first time they had directly attacked your wing of the mansion. It was late before he heard a word about the attack, rushing over to protect his queen- when he began to call you that he didn’t know. The sight that greeted him was you fighting off grown men- covered I their blood, with barely a scratch, though he knew you beginning to be fatigued.

Just as you struck another man down, you let your guard down and was open to a blow to the back of your head, if he hadn’t stepped in the shielded you with his own body- the man falling dead at your feet.

Something in your eyes told him that protecting you with his life would become a pretty common occurrence.

A tiny little headcanon bonus:

Your first baby was a son and when he first learned to walk Sukuna would push him down every time he stood up near him and the only way you could get him to stop was by throwing baby toys at him.

tags: @diamond-3 @rinsangel @heyheyitsne @angelalje @monisi @crystal-lilac

#sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #i love this man

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ayuki-ikuya · 3 years

Note

I come bringing ideas and headcanons.

OK, so we all already know what The Three oldest archons abilities. So I’ve come up with my own ideas we could use for the younger archons! (And yes I’m grouping Ei, Venti and Zhongli as the older siblings since Ei Is 1000 years old Venti is 2,500 and Zhongli is 5,000-6,000 and the other archons are still in the hundreds I think)

Again these aren’t canon just stuff you can use for future Requests for Twisted wonderland x Teyvat God! Reader

For Dendro archon!Reader

Definitely a Bow User. And Is a Healer. But the their Ult can cause damage

I have a theory That during the Archon War The dendro Archin created the Regisvines to fight for them, and only two were left. I also Headcanon The dendro archon can bring plants to life and overwrite what each plant can do. (Maybe even bring mushrooms to life 👀).

Maybe They can create a giant plant from the ground that spreads Healing energies and since this is a god where talking about can Cure Curses (Ahem Vils Curses Ahem) and major Diseases and what not.

For Their Ult maybe a giant plant monster (kinda like how Gouba and Oz exists ) that will attack for them (could make for fun combos with different elements like if the dendro archon was wet Hydro Plant monster)

For Hydro archon!reader

Polearm or sword (theirs way too many Hydro Catalyst) Healer and Dps, Why? Cause I say so.

You’ve mentioned how Hydro archon summons a giant wave? I’ll do you one better and their E skill summons a giant sea creature of your choosing to soak the fighters (A cool visual is their polearm turning into a big dream catcher then going swoosh and Baam Maybe like A giant Water Koi fish finna drown your ass *ahem ace ahem*)

Now mihoyo likes to reference Their character form honkai impact into genshin impact (and since they took a characters look from Honkai and another characters abilities with the whole Dual ego thing for Raiden shogun and Ei) I’m gonna base this Ultimate Skill From a character from Honkai (for research search up Herrsercher of Sentience)

Since the Hydro archons whole thing is about Justice. Now here me out here. WATER WHIP. Just a giant whip of water that can go on for miles (maybe it’s salty maybe it’s like fresh water depends on our readers mood lolol). Like, It’s whip of water strong enough to cut diamond or whatever it would be very cool (Kalim would wanna see if he could do something like that with his UM Que jamil trying to stop him)

Maybe their hair turns into water too.

Pyro archon! Reader

Claymore. A Big strong war god needs a big strong weapon. Dps and Defense.

Now It’s not just one claymore, It’s DUAL-CLAYMORE, why? Cause it’s a war god that’s why!

I like to think the shield is like Xinyans and XiangLings combined and it’s constantly sending off tiny Fire Discs. Or just symbols shooting fire like what the Pyro Abyss mages can do

For Ultimate I like to think it’s like Childes Daggers but Bigger and on fire just a huge sword made of fire.

The pyro archon doesn’t think just BURNS. and STABE

Cryo archon! Reader

I can’t really come up with much for Cryo archon. But maybe a Catalyst that can summon a giant blizzard that drops down giant ice swords (kinda like Ganyus)

Definitely a sub DPS.

Maybe a healer too since The Tsaritsa is The archon of love?

What do you think about these abilities? Since you mentioned that the students and staff would assume their just strong mages I tried to be very creative with these abilities.

Also how I think the lore could go is maybe somewhere after leonas overblot and before azuls, Crowly has found a way to send Yuu home reluctantly. Yuu, grim and the aduece duo, and maybe some of heartslaybul or savana claw whoever you want come with them to the office to send them home. But Yuu is contemplating whether or not they WANT to go home now. But something goes wrong, maybe grim messes up the spell for the portal to work becuase (although he doesn’t want to admit it ) doesn’t want Yuu leaving, and their greeted with a surprise guest. Now this gives Yuu time to decide if they genuinely wanna go home and when teh archon finally has the materials they need to create a portal Yuu will tell them to leave the portal open (maybe put it into a tiny pocket mirror like the how we have the teapot) because they wanna stay for a little while or just until grim graduates (Que a happy fire cat ) and the archon whose grown attached to some people here was like ok “let our friends visit whenever they want, only if their headmaster allows it”

Now onto the headcanons

Anemo Archon! Reader and Mondstadt! Yuu

Everyone expected a lot of things not a person with Green eyes and (H/C) hair with green highlights. And an odd thing about them was the glowing stone on their person, Yuu didn’t have that?

Everyone’s freaking out because they’ve accidentaly taken another person from Yuus world.

And since Venti Is a well known famous bard In teyvat let’s say or Dear (y/N) is also a known bard and is not at all freaking out about what’s going on in fact let’s say our dear reader recognizes Yuu! And so now (Y/N) is now a new student (and a new headache for Crowley) in the ramshackle dorm! Yup! Just an ordinary human bard, Ehe~.

I’ll leave the rest of this up to you, Where Yuu has to explain what the world of teyvat is like (and why Yuu doesn’t have a phone (and a vision) because Twisted wonderland is far more advance in Technology and teyvat has JUST invented the Camera)

Also I head canon that people with Visions can summon their weapons and object with their visions, ok? Ok. To make things make more sense when reader pulls out a lyre from floating glitter.

Geo archon!reader and Liyue! Yuu

Same things happend here, but hey! We’ve summoned a Funeral Consultant! A very (ahemATTRACTIVEahem) Wise funeral consultant at best!

Our dear Friend (y/n) is very calm about the situation as well. After all everyone and liyue knows their god was killed and The Adepti are watching over them

So Our dear reader is seeing this as a free vacation 😊

Electro Archon!Reader and Inazuma!yuu

Since the god of Inazuma isn’t “Dead” or hasn’t left and the people know what their beloved archon looks like, Yuu will definitely Be Freaking the fuck out

“YOU DIDNT BRING ME HOME YOU JUST SUMMONED MY PEOPLES FUCKING GOD OH SHIT”

insert the meme of the womens face that gets zoomed in on the second panel “the. WHAT.” 😃

And y’know how Eis “Hello” voice line where she makes the traveler her guard she says the same thing to Yuu except “I recognize you are one of my people as your archon I shall be your guard and keep you safe from any danger in this Foreign world” and let’s say The puppet will not be used and Reader will be in control becuase they don’t have to worry about erosion right now so the puppet will be resting while (Y/N) is in control protecting their Precious Inazuma citizen is ok.

Well until They can get the materials they need to open a portal. I’ll let you figure out the rest, but congrats ramshackle you now have a god in your abode 😃✨

-Plot Anon 💗

PLOT ANON-SAMAAAAAAAAAA ILY!!!!!!!!! Thank you for your hard work sob

Anyways, for skills of the archons-

Dendro Archon

I think they'd use a sword or a catalyst tbh, if the skills you listed, it makes a little more sense to have them be more of a catalyst

For their elemental skill, I think they'd summon/throw something similar to Klee's and Aloy's elemental skill except they heal if someone in your party is nearby, their healing could scale by their EM or ER.

For their burst, I like your head canon for the Dendro Archon, so I might go off from that and your idea for their burst, just more tweaking. The dendro archon would be able to summon a large plant that heals AND deals Dendro damage by sapping mobs hp. The amount of life sapping it does and the healing would scale off their original HP (artifacts that give hp won't be of use)

Hydro Archon

I agree with hydro polearm or sword. Too many catalysts

Mmm... To be honest, I think you should have the burst be her skill... The whip idea is intriguing, but I think it would work more for a skill which can allow them to use it several times before waiting for the CD to go down. I think the whip skill would work better with Crit as well.

AND AS FOR THE MENTIONS OF WAVE AND A SEA CREATURE, I'LL DO YOU ONE BETTER BUT FOR THEIR BURST!!!! They summon a large tsunami which takes form of a monster/animal and lunges at the mobs (similar to Zhongli tossing down a dumbbell), however the amount of damage the burst can do is depending on if they are afflicted by the wet status the mobs are afflicted by. If already afflicted with hydro, the mobs would receive double damage while those with other elements afflicted on them would receive the element combination DMG and normal DMG while those that aren't affected by an element, they would receive normal damage. The amount of damage the burst does is scaled by EM.

Pyro Archon

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA CLAYMORE

Hmmm.... I think the skill would be they set an AoE with magma, mobs will receive damage from it and will continue to receive damage if they stay on it, but those who are in party, they will receive an ATK boost that scales from HP.

For the burst, I think I'll use a character from Honkai Impact with their special move which is Murata Himeko in Vermilion Knight: Eclipse battlesuit. Pyro Archon uses their claymore and another claymore but made of pyro and is far more larger and their cut scene has the Archon raise the pyro claymore above their head and slam it down to send pyro erupting from the ground (similar to the pyro axe wielding hilichurls)

Cryo Archon

I agree with catalyst

Mmmmmm.... I'd say her skill would beeeeee... Trapping several mobs or so in ice. They can either do 2-4 ice traps depending if you got their c1. (The ice traps are similar to Mirror Maidens traps BTW but it deals or affects the mobs with cryo)

For burst, I like the idea of summoning a blizzard/swords, but it's similar to Ganyu's. SO I'LL DO YOU ONE BETTER!!!! Cryo Archon will summon a blizzard which freezes mobs without having to use hydro, the freeze status lasts for a total of 15 seconds or higher if you got their c3

Hmmm... I like the idea, but imma tweak it a bit. The archon was in fact summoned through that portal because Grim decided to mess it up just for Yuu to stay a little longer, and so the Archon now resides in Twisted Wonderland as well in order to aide them until they can return back to their world. That way it makes more sense and makes it more fun.

Anemo archon

Yuu would be a bit jealous about them because they got a vision.

Crowley needs to hide his money

Sam has been strictly told to not give them wine that Sam stores in his shop...

Vargus is conflicted about them because they legit float without magic

Trein recurved a major headache

Divus is praying to whatever god existing to take them back

Ehe

EHE TE NANDAYO!?

Geo Archon

Yuu feels awkward meeting the consultant of the funeral parlor having to meet the Director...

Crowley is praying for dear god for them to go away.

"STOP TAKING MY MONEY YOU GORGEOUS FIEND" - Crowley

Train + Crewel + You = Besties

Sam was literally threatened to not joke around with you with business.

You legit did not fuck around with people when in contracts.

"Osmanthus wi-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP" - everyone

Electro Archon

Yuu is literally terrified in "your" presence.

Shogun malfunctioned due to being in an entirely new world so you had to disable Shogun's rules and create new ones regarding this world.

Yuu is still unaware of Shogun being a puppet

Crowley is no longer safe.

The staff (specifically Crewel) is supporting Shogun/You to beat Crowley's ass into shape.

Only the Diasomnia dorm knows your predicament with you and your puppet(s).

You are the definition of Queen/King/Royalty of the school. If you search up NRC, your picture literally plastered on it as the definition.

#twisted wonderland #genshin impact #twisted wonderland x genshin impact #archons #NRC

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dabilove27 · 3 years

Text

How Far We've Come

Paring: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Smut (female-receiving oral), A Cocky Dabi, Cussing, A lot of Pet Names

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile Apocalypse Collab! If you have the time check out some of the other amazing pieces! Everyone has worked so hard to make some beautiful fics!

Thank you so much to my wife @lady-lunaaa for reading, encouraging, brainstorming, and helping me the whole way from start to finish. I have said it before but I will say it again. You are absolutely amazing and this fic wouldn't exist without you! 💜 Also thank you @/deathcab4daddy (not sure if you want to be tagged) for taking the time to read through and for your advice!

You've seen all those movies, the decaying zombie hoards, the massive explosions that wipe out nations, or an unexpected illness that mysteriously kills off the population. But you had never really expected for any of those apocalyptic things to become true in your own world. They were just fiction, never something that could actually occur. Yet here you are faced with the reality of a hoard of rotting zombies. Like you have been thrown into one of the many movies or TV shows yourself.

People aren't even sure how it happened, especially in a world full of quirks where this should be somewhat controlled, right? Wrong, whatever caused this zombie apocalypse also seemed to nullify quirks over time. There was so much speculation whether it came into the water supply or passed through the air. But none of that really seems to matter anymore when you are fighting for your life every day.

And as the mass of decaying, walking corpses steps closer and closer to you, it seems like your end is near too. The smell of organs exposed to the air and sun stink up the room. You can see the blank, milky white eyes of the undead that somehow can still find you even though they can't really see. You've had a partner, at least—the man who has stood with you during this entire shit show.

He stands close to you, a single rusted knife covered in stagnant blood, not nearly enough even combined with whatever you could find for fighting off the seemingly endless mindless bodies coming your way. He's covered in burn scars and rusted staples that pull at his healthy skin. People used to jab at him for looking like the walking dead before all this went down. His firepower from before would have solved this problem in an instant. This rotting mob wouldn't have stood a chance.

But instead, it looks like it's the conclusion for the two of you. Memories flash through your mind. A memory of escaping the daily struggle of your mundane life by sharing take-out on your old couch. Or how his kisses always felt like burning flames against your lips. Your regular life consisted of trying to numb the pain of the past with alcohol or working endless hours. Even though you didn’t have a traditional relationship where you could go on public dates, being in a relationship with a well-known villain was worlds better than this. But if you were going to die, at least it was together. Solidarity in times like this seems to help the never-ending dread that the Reaper looming around every corner ready to take you. Every moment in this new hell had you wished you had more time to develop your romance with him instead of the tragedy that was about to befall you. You wished you had more time with this romance and that it wouldn't end in tragedy. It's hard to believe that there was ever a time when you couldn't stand this man, but even now, that's a fond memory for you. You would give anything to return to that old bar where the two of you met and relive all of these memories.

It really isn't a surprise that you met Dabi in a dark, run-down bar near Kamino. No, not the "bar" run by Kurogiri; everyone who lived in this area knew that it was just a setup. This bar is a tiny little hole in the wall with paint chipping off the walls and where the seats were hardly held together anymore, but that didn't really matter to people who lived in this area. You didn't come to this bar for a luxury experience.

The main reason people came to this bar was its location. It sat deep in a seedy area which meant no police patrolling nearby so you wouldn’t need to look over your shoulder constantly. Plus, the cheap liquor was enticing enough.

Every Friday night, you were perched on one of the worn-out bar stools as you nursed your gin and tonic. This was your place to unwind after another hellish week of your mundane job. It was still early enough in the evening that the bar wasn't thoroughly packed with bodies trying to get their drink. The music was still soft, later it would blare whatever song was currently sitting at the top of the Billboard charts. You were able to turn your brain off and listen to other patrons' mindless chatter in the background. You could just sip your drink, maybe take a shot or two if you felt like, and then head home to pass out.

You relished this little getaway, an oasis in the slums that made up your small world. The bartender and regular patrons didn't bother you, so you could have your own peace. But your Eden got interrupted by a cocky, fire-wielding asshole who had set his sights on you.

You didn't stir when said asshole plopped himself down in the barstool next to you with a thump. It wasn't until the jerk actually spoke to you that you were brought out of your mindless daydreaming.

"Hey, pretty girl, what are you doing in a place like this?" He said with a smooth tone. You didn't even have to look at him to know he had an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Who the fuck does this asshole think he is? The irritated thought instantly pops into your head. Anyone who frequented this bar knew you were from around here. You weren't some soft, delicate flower that wasn't supposed to be "on this side of town." Preparing yourself by putting on your best "I'm not interested face," you maneuvered your body to face him, ready to tell him off.

Your words caught in your throat as your eyes met his two endless pools of cerulean. Your gaze shifted to take in the burnt skin clinging onto the shining staples that were rooted in his healthy skin. A familiar black coat spread across his frame that was even more recognizable than those eyes, and the patronizing smile that you wanted to slap off his face. As much as you wanted to throw up your middle finger at him and tell him off, you knew who this was. Hell, everyone knew who this was.

The League of Villains didn't necessarily keep quiet around here. They didn't have to. This is the area where they recruited people to join them. You didn't just flick off and ignore a LOV member. Especially the infamous Dabi, who wasn't really known for his kindness or compassion. More for his ability to burn anyone who defied The League to a crumbling crisp.

But still, who did this asshole think he is? Waltzing in here like he owned it and saddling down into your escape from the world only to tell you that you don't look like you should be here? Fuck that nonsense, League member or not.

You swallow down a bit of the initial anger as your eyes narrow into a glare at the cocky asshole. "Thanks but no thanks, I'm not interested in being involved with the League. So if you don't mind going somewhere else to scout, that would be great." You try to say without a tremble in your voice as you wave your hand in a "shoo" motion.

You aren't sure what you expect Dabi to do next., burn down the whole bar you included? Tell you that you have no choice but to join, and you're coming with him? Rip you out of your seat and reprimand you for disrespecting The League? But instead, none of those things happen. Instead, he does something you don't expect, and his grin grows a little wider as the staples begin to pull more at his healthy flesh.

You can feel your anxiety rising. Get out, get out, get out, this asshole will kill you, leave NOW, your mind is practically sending off every warning signal it can.

Your chest tightens when Dabi lets out a low chuckle. "Oh no, sweetheart, you've got it all wrong." He says with a dark tone. "I'm not recruiting you for work. My interest in you is personal." Dabi points at you and then at himself and finishes with an infuriating smirk that seems to be mocking you. He's moved his hand and placed it on your forearm that was resting on the smooth bar top.

A shiver runs through you as the mismatched textures of his skin and the cool metal of the staples. You feel your anger bubbling up again. How dare this jerk think that you will just fall for him like a desperate fangirl. You are livid at this point, frustration coursing through your veins, fuck the niceties and preservation. He needed to be put in his place.

"I know you think you are some big shot because The League is doing so well right now but fuck off asshole. I'm not a League groupie that will just kneel down and suck your dick just because you want it." You spit out at him while shrugging off his hand and moving your body to face the way you were initially sitting. Grasping your drink and lifting it to your lips, you try and down what was left so you could leave immediately, any extra moment around Dabi was a moment you didn't want to have.

You were sure Dabi would have given up or at least killed you by now. You can't imagine that he is used to being rejected by women. He's handsome in a way that doesn't fit with the norm. He fills in that bad boy check-list like it's his job, which it practically is given his profession. Again though, Dabi surprises you with his response. He doesn't yell, he doesn't use his quirk, and he doesn't kill you. He lets out another dark chuckle like he's enjoying this and continues the conversation you had tried to cut off.

"I didn't say anything about sucking dick, but if you're offering, who am I to turn down a gift?" That smooth tone is back as he moves his hand to your hair and runs it through his fingers.

Bewilderment overcomes you, and you can't even stop yourself before you are turned towards him again, glass in your hand, ready to throw what's left of your drink on him.

As if he anticipated the response, Dabi moves quickly and grabs your wrist in a tight grip. "Now, why would you want to waste what you have left, doll? That's not a very smart choice." His grip tightens a little more around your wrist, and you can feel the staples begin to dig into your skin as he lets out a deep chuckle. He moves your hand back down to the bar but doesn't let go even after your glass has left your hand. "There we go, good girl. Now let's talk just a bit." He says sweetly, loosening his grip just a bit, but not enough for you to move your hand.

If looks could kill, Dabi would have died a cruel death by now. You are seething at this point. But instead, you're stuck there as he continues to do whatever it is that he’s trying to accomplish. "What were you drinking? I'll buy you another one and then leave, okay doll?" He says playfully and with a cunning grin on his face as you mumble out your drink order. You just want him to leave, and you really hope he plans on keeping his word.

Dabi motions for the bartender's attention, gives your drink order and plops a few bills on the bartop. He still hasn't let go of your wrist, and each and every moment he is even touching you, you can feel your annoyance continuing to build. You want to ask him if he's done yet and will kindly get the fuck out, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he likes the cat and mouse game, which would just lengthen the amount of time he sticks around.

The bartender finally delivers your drink, and it takes everything in you not to rip your wrist out of his grasp and grab the new glass to pour over Dabi's head. "Okay, one last question, and then I'll leave." He drawls out as you put all your focus into the condensation forming on your glass. You stay silent, waiting for his stupid question so you can move on and never see him again. Dabi continues with that condesending tone that is starting to cause your head to ache, "How often do you come here? I'd love to see you again."

Your heartbeat picks up, and little shots of adrenaline start to flow through you as you contemplate how to respond. Of course, you don't want this asshole to know when you come here. This is your escape from the world. You never want to even see Dabi again, but something from this interaction tells you Dabi isn't going to give up easily. So you tell him your regular time that you show up at the bar every Friday.

Dabi squeezes your wrist a little bit before letting out another "Good girl, sounds like a date. I'll see you then." You never want him to know how those few words send a shiver down your spine. He saunters out of the bar without having a single drink himself. Patrons stare dumbfounded between you and the doorway that Dabi just exited, trying to comprehend what just happened.

You let out an exasperated sigh before leaning your head down into your folded arms. The bar top isn't necessarily the cleanest of places to lay your head, but it’s pounding and racing with thoughts, and you can't really bring yourself to care right now. You try to formulate a plan so you won't ever see him. You'll just move your regular day to Saturday instead of Fridays. But then that stubborn anger flares inside of you again, and you sit up straight, glancing at your newly unwanted drink as the ice slowly melts, lifting the remaining liquid in the cup. No, I'm not going to let that asshole ruin my spot for me. He can come around here every Friday, but I'll turn that jerk down a million times. You think a little smugly to yourself. We will see how the big bad Dabi feels being turned down over and over. Maybe that will sting his ego.

And so you and Dabi play this game of cat and mouse. He comes every Friday when you are there without fail, buying you a drink, chatting to you with sentences filled with pet names, and planning another "date" each time. And every time you tell him you aren't interested or to go away, or really anything to try and get that stupid fucking smirk off his face. But it always remains cemented there as he watches you get fired up. And what you don't realize is the two of you are getting to know each other. Dabi adds in little questions, "what's your favorite food, least favorite, what do you do for work?" And the questions go on and on. You don't realize your walls coming down as the two of you find similarities in each other. And if there is one thing anyone who sees these frequent interactions between the two of you can say, it is that Dabi is determined.

You are so used to Dabi's Friday visits that they don't bring headaches anymore, and you realize something more has developed when he doesn't show up one week. A mixture of feelings rests in you, anxiety, confusion, anger. You wonder if he's okay, or has he finally given up. And then anger if he has. You don't want to admit it, but you miss his company, and you don't even have a number to reach out to him. You feel a sense of loss in your chest. How could he just give up? He's been trying for months! You think as tears begin to sting for a moment in your eyes.

You leave the bar that night not feeling uplifted or relaxed but sad and angry. And you aren't necessarily looking forward to returning the week after, but you do come back to your regular spot and hope Dabi will show. Your heart almost stops in your chest when you see him walk through the entrance of the bar, and before you can contain the words, they tumble out in a frantic sound, "where were you last week?" You are standing in front of him now, looking up at that little grin he always has on his face whenever you get annoyed with him. You cross your arms over your chest and exclaim, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Aw, did you miss me, baby girl?" His poker face never falls, but his grin grows a tiny bit wider as he stares into your fiery eyes. And without warning, he wraps one of his long arms around you, pulling you into a tight side hug.

A small eep escapes you at the movement, and you move to push him off. "What the hell are you doing? Answer my question, you jerk!" You practically yell as you push away from him. He doesn't let go and just pulls you tighter to him, and you find yourself not struggling anymore as you take in the weathered texture of his coat pressed against your arm and the smell of cigarettes on him. You feel your walls starting to fall entirely, "I was really concerned about you." You let out in a whisper, not really wanting to admit it to him, but you weren't sure how you would feel if something like this happened again.

"Aw, babe, you did miss me." The delight in his voice makes you shiver a little. He gestures you over to your regular spot at the bar, and the two of you sit down in the weathered chairs. He puts a calloused finger under your chin to bring your gaze to his. You stare into his cerulean depths that you used to hate and find yourself softening a bit. "I had to do something for The League, but I don't have your number, love. So I couldn't call and let you know I wouldn't make our date." His face relaxes a bit as he watches your frown turn into a bit of pout.

"Okay, well fine, I'll give you my number. But don't just text me randomly, okay?" You huff as you lay your palm flat and motion for his phone. Dabi chuckles and shakes his head before handing you the phone without another word. Lifting the phone, you type your number into the cracked screen and hand it back to him. "Okay, now text me, so I have yours. " You say, moving to grab your phone to wait for his upcoming text.

"Hmmm, I don't think so, doll," Dabi says, taking in your furrowed brow and then relishing in the way you roll your eyes at his taunting.

"Fine, whatever, Dabi. Just text me next time you can't make it." You say sourly while searching for the bartender to order your drink. You don't want Dabi to see the slight sting of hurt in your eyes because he won't give you his. The rest of the night goes as expected, drinking and talking, and you find yourself laughing more, not realizing how much you truly enjoyed this time with him.

The two of you depart with another hug, this one much shorter than the first, but you find yourself leaning into the warmth that radiates from him instead of wanting to push him off. As you begin walking down the street home, you feel a buzz in your pocket. Pulling out your phone, you unlock it to the message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey babe, see you same time next week - D

A small smile comes to your face as you type a response back.

The following year you grow in your relationship with Dabi. There are never really any titles between the two of you. Just that the two of you are together. You never meet The League. Dabi is insistent you aren't involved with them in case things go awry. But you spend a lot of time together when work or villain work doesn't take up the time.

Your relationship together comes to a head at the very start of the apocalypse. The two of you sit snuggled together on your worn-out couch watching the news as a young reporter stands in front of a local research building in town and goes through the facts of citizens becoming "mindless and violent in a matter of hours." And how they have people under lockdown who are experiencing symptoms of this "mysterious illness."

A slight shiver goes through you as the reporter goes on. "That's really scary. No one knows what's causing it," you reflect aloud while you lean in closer into Dabi's outstretched arm that is resting around your shoulders.

"Aw, babe, don't be scared. Those mindless fools wouldn't stand a chance if they tried to lay a hand on you while I'm there," Dabi says with a glint of amusement in his voice. He always sounds so condescending, but you know it's the truth. Remembering a time at the bar when a guy wouldn't take no for an answer-not that Dabi really followed that either- but Dabi didn't hesitate to let the guy know you were already taken. He flirts and likes to jab a lot, but there’s a complete shift in the atmosphere when he's serious.

"Ugh, Dabi, you know I don't mean them attacking us. It's whatever is causing it that worries me. What happens if one of us gets it? There's no cure right now," You say and worry your lower lip between your teeth.

Dabi picks up on your anxious state, and his cocky facade fades. He pulls you on his lap so that you are fully facing him with legs pressed on either side of his. Dabi holds one large hand on your waist, and the other he presses to your cheek. Leaning your cheek further into his hand, Dabi moves his thumb to trace over the slight marks in your lip where your teeth were just placed. "Hey, listen to me, nothing is going to happen, okay? I won't let any of these maniacs hurt you, and we won't catch whatever they have," Dabi says tenderly as he gives you a small smile.

It's nice to see him like this- when his mask of superiority disappears, and he's focused on encouraging you. It doesn't happen often because you like to keep walls. Comfort from Dabi doesn’t need to happen often but you can’t say you don’t like it when he does. You enjoy these softer moments with him that only you get to see.

You pull Dabi into a light kiss. The gentle pressure of his mismatched lips fit seamlessly against yours. You pull away after a moment to look into his deep blue eyes that now captivate you. Dabi has that coy smile still on his face, and as his eyes meet your in that moment, it's like the horrible events of the world aren't happening anymore. All that seems to exist is the two of you, not the TV still prattling in the background or even the noises outside your city window.

Dabi lightly caresses your cheek down to the length of your neck and finally ending near where your collarbones sit. Everywhere he touches leaves behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Even with these simple touches, you can feel yourself starting moving against him, trying to create a bit of friction. Dabi knew how easily he could rile you up with simple touches. It was frustrating at times, and you wished you could have the same effect on him.

"I love you, babe. And no matter what, I won't let anything hurt you," Dabi tells you, and you swear his voice seems to be cracking, but the moment is gone before you can think about it. Dabi lives on being mysterious most of the time, and you rarely get to see this vulnerable side of him. Even if he doesn't say it behind that mask of cockiness, you can feel that there is fear of what's happening right now. Or at least that's what you think the fear is from, but Dabi will never admit the fear is from losing you to whatever this is. He isn't sure he could survive this hell of a life he's been given without you.

Your heart aches at his sincere words from earlier, and you whisper back, "I love you too, Dabi." Drawing him into a more intense kiss. Dabi begins to run his fingers along the hem of your t-shirt and delicately brushes the skin right under with his fingertips. You feel a moan bubble up inside of you, but his mouth moving against yours swallows the sound.

"I want you so bad, doll. Let's just forget what's going on right now, let the world fall away," he says in a husky voice after breaking away from the kiss.

You nod to him before letting out a content sigh and letting your eyes fall shut while Dabi continues to trace his hands over your body. Dabi trails his massive heated hands under the thin shirt you are wearing and down to your hips. You can feel the bulge of his cock through his jeans as it begins to press against your clothed core.

Opening your eyes, you meet Dabi's half-lidded lustful eyes and bite your bottom lip and allow yourself to give into Dabi taking over you.

You can feel your heart beating a little faster, watching Dabi drink in every ounce of you. Dabi is one of the only men you have ever trusted like this. To have you so totally vulnerable. It's strange how someone you didn't want anything to do with for months has become someone you rely on for everything- love, comfort, pleasure.

Dabi places open-mouthed kisses along your neck that leave you breathless. "Fuck, I'm obsessed with every inch of you," Dabi growls out before returning to kissing and sucking your neck and exposed collar bone.

You grip Dabi's shoulder to ground you back from floating away into complete bliss and tip your head out to give him more access to your neck. Dabi's mouth is like a flame that licks at your sensitive skin as he continues to trail his mouth all over. You could be trapped in this pleasure forever.

Dabi grasps the back of your head and roughly brings your lips back to his. With your mouths slotted against each other, you moan as Dabi finesses you to where you are lying on your back on the old couch, and he is hovering over you.

You break the kiss to quickly pull off his jacket and expose Dabi's scarred arms. And just as you have only trusted Dabi fully with yourself, he has done the same. Of course, the two of you have had sex with other people, mostly with lights off clothing still left on to hide the imperfections. But with each other, there is no more hiding.

Heat begins to pool in your belly as you watch Dabi pull off your shorts and slide his warm hands all the way back up your leg and massage the plush skin of your thighs. Once your shorts are removed, Dabi brings himself back to your face and, with a lustful sigh, traces kisses on your jaw and neck.

"Just relax and let me take you away from all of this, love. I want to hear every sound you make." He growls as he moves down towards your pussy and lays himself between your spread legs. Dabi lifts your thighs to rest on his shoulder as you let out a little gasp. You can feel the excitement and heat rising in you.

Dabi kisses down the inside of your soft thighs and stops to suck at certain spots, leaving minor marks in their place. He stops for a moment until you are looking directly into his captivating gaze, and then he licks a stripe up your pussy over the cotton of your underwear. You let out a breathy moan at the sensation. That jerk knows precisely what he's doing.

Dabi then grabs the thin material of your underwear and rips them away from your body with a tear. Groaning, you are about to curse at him for ruining another pair but are cut short when he sleekly licks up your folds. A delicate, playful moan leaves your separated lips. Your eyes close, and you cling onto his white shirt to ground yourself.

"Baby girl, you're soaking wet," Dabi teases as if you weren't aware but cuts off any retort again with a quick suck to your aching clit. You can't hold back the loud moan that bubbles up in your throat.

Dabi smiles against your lower lips and continues his ministrations. His mouth is open wide, so he can move back and forth from quickly licking up and down your sensitive pussy as well as suck softly on your clit. You feel light-headed at the extended sensations, little whimpers and moans falling through your lips. Dabi has always been able to leave you speechless with just his mouth.

"Dabi please," Your breathing hitches, and you moan out as he flicks his tongue repeatedly over your small bud. You can feel that hot pressure building in your stomach as Dabi continues. He laps at you like you are holding the only source of liquid left in this world, his tongue working wonders on your dripping hole.

Dabi pulls back and looks up at you as you eagerly meet his blue eyes, begging him to continue. He smirks before lowering his mouth back down and laps at your sopping core teasingly. Fucking bastard. Always a tease from day one.

Dabi licks his lips before returning to eating you out even faster as a series of cries and obscenities continue to fall out of your mouth. You can't hold them back. His mouth is so hot and wet against your core.

With another curse, you tell him you are close. A sigh escapes your lips, and your head tosses back onto the cushy arm of the couch. Dabi pulls away but inserts two fingers inside of you in place of his mouth.

"Fuck, sweetheart, as much as I want to hear you beg and plead for me, I want to taste you right now." Dabi lets out with a rough voice filled with desire. You whimper as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. He smirks at your blissed-out face and then returns his mouth to your pussy. His tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly as whines and cries continue to be let out of your mouth. Back arching, you bite at your lip, barely able to even process the words that came out of Dabi just a moment ago.

"Oh, fuck, Dabi, please. Please, I'm gonna cum soon." The words fall from your lips, and your mind feels numb to everything except the feeling of Dabi's tongue on your pussy.

Dabi grunts and gives another hard suck to your clit before pulling away just a bit. "Hell yeah, babe, come all over my face."

Your eyes roll back, and your mouth opens with another cry as your legs begin to tremble as the tension starts to rise in your stomach. One more lick, and you know you'd come. Dabi's continued suckling of your clit sends you careening over the edge. Your cries fill the room, and your back arches as your legs try to squeeze around his head. Dabi continues to suck and lick as you orgasm. Panting and with your eyes twisted shut, you cling to his shirt as you start to come down. A final curse gently leaves your mouth as you wait for your legs to stop shaking. Dabi takes one last long slow lick before sitting back and wiping his face with the back of his hand. You can't bring yourself to move from the couch, still panting and weak.

Your mind starts slowly coming back to you as the bliss begins to leave. The realization of everything happening in the world washes over you. But you were thankful Dabi took the time to distract you from the horrors of what's going on. You move over so Dabi can cuddle with you on the couch. It isn't much room, but it feels good to be this close with him, wrapped in each other's arms. You both slowly start to drift off to sleep, but you don't miss Dabi's final words mumbled into your hair, "I'll never let anything happen to you."

Shortly after that, the world seems to descend into madness. The illness grows more and more rampant. People are getting infected every day. Whether it's through the original source of contamination or by those contaminated biting or scratching someone. Panic spreads throughout the country. But through all of it, you and Dabi stick together.

From the moment it was declared an emergency Dabi was banging at your door, insisting the two of you find somewhere safer than your run-down apartment. Because while the two of you needed sleep, whatever these things are could go non-stop, and your apartment was not fortified.

You and Dabi lost your quirks a month after the emergency declaration, along with the rest of the population. People couldn't fight these zombie-like creatures off anymore. Like all the movies and TV shows, the bodies became more zombies than actual living people.

After a while of jumping around from a destroyed place to another, the two of you found yourself in an apartment building that had a sturdy enough entrance that the zombies couldn't break through. The daily struggles were still hard, though. Finding food and water to survive became a daily task for the two of you. Through all of this, he never left your side. He always insisted the two of you stay together. And so you did. Fighting the living dead, but sometimes the living too when things got even more terrible, and scavenging was your everyday routine now.

You lost track of time and could only follow when the seasons changed. But Dabi was really the only thing getting you through this. Seeing people destroy one another for food or shelter destroyed you inside. Never knowing if these zombies you were killing were someone you had known at one point, or just another faceless dead person tore at every corner of your brain. Dabi stayed strong for the two of you. Holding you every night on the ripped blankets, you could gather for the strange bed the two of you slept in. You would sob into his muscled chest about how you couldn't live in this world anymore, how you couldn't kill another person, alive or dead.

But Dabi would never let go. He would hold you close and let your never-ending tears stain the only shirt he had now. He would rub your back with his warm hands; even though his rusting staples would catch on your shirt and rip from his skin, he still did it. He would hold you until you fell asleep, whispering how strong you were and how he could never do this without you. And after all the tears, you were thankful too. Because without him, you'd be dead or alone. You knew that without Dabi, you would have never survived this long.

But you could see Dabi was hurting too. You couldn't find supplies to treat his decaying skin. He hid his daily pain from you, but when Dabi thought you weren't looking or listening, he would hiss at the pain of another staple pulling at his burnt skin or let out a huge sigh when he would try to put it back together, but it wouldn't cooperate.

The only hope the two of you held onto was each other and that possibly a cure would come soon. Not that either you could really access that information with no electricity; there wasn't any way to get information other than hearsay. You survived the best you could in this world.

And as much as this wasn't what you would have picked for either of you, at least you had each other. You tried not to think of a time when you wouldn't be together, even though the chances of that happening were high- it hurt too much. To survive in this world without Dabi would be too fucking much.

It's almost as if fate chose to play a cruel game with the two of you. It seemed like a "normal" trip out to scavenge for food and water. The two of you had to expand your search area since places closer were mainly empty.

This time you found yourself outside of a convenience store, a reasonable distance away from your home. It hadn't been completely destroyed by some miracle and was not overrun by the zombified people. Still, in a state of decay, though, Dabi was quickly able to kick his heavy boots through the door and get the two of you in.

Sauntering through the gas station, you quickly begin to pick up canned food and stale bags of chips and shove them in your worn backpack. Dabi is doing the same on other aisles until he lets out a chuckle. "Hey babe, look what I found." He says with a cocky voice holding up a few boxes of wrapped condoms above the aisle for you to see.

You roll your eyes. "Thanks, Dabi. Is sex really what we want to be thinking about right now? Let's just get this shit and get out." You let out with an annoyed huff and continue to push the limits of how much your bag can hold.

Dabi comes over to your aisle and snakes his arms around your waist with your back pressed to his chest. He places his chin on your shoulder and whispers in your ear. "Yes, all I can think about is getting your beautiful body back home and finally being able to finish in you, and with these, I can." He lets out a dark chuckle as he pulls you closer against him and bucks his hips playfully.

"Okay, horn dog, let's get this shit done, and then we can do whatever you want back home." You let out with an eye roll. It's hard to stay mad at him. You know he's trying to keep things light for you, to keep you happy because he can see how hard this is. And his regular teasing is one way he knows will bring a smile to your face.

As you are finishing up trying to take inventory of anything else in the store that you can take back, you spot the clear plastic that holds the cartons of cigarettes behind the cashier counter. While you didn't necessarily want Dabi smoking, you knew he missed the vice. Cigarettes were just as hard to find as medicine in this new world. Smiling to yourself, you move behind the counter and reach for the plastic flap to lift it up.

As you try to lift the latch, it doesn't budge. You look around for what might be blocking it before seeing the tiny silver keyhole to one side of the compartment. Crap, of course, it's locked. You really wanted to surprise Dabi with this. Maybe you still could. The key had to be here somewhere, right? You think while scanning around the counter. You try searching through the counters for a hidden key but no luck. Letting out a heavy sigh, you call Dabi over.

Dabi wanders over to your annoyed face and can't help but smile at your slight pout. "I wanted to surprise you! But I can't open it. Can you get it, please?" It comes out almost like a whine as you gesture to the cigarettes.

Dabi's smirk turns into a genuine smile, and he pats the top of your head before saying, "My sweet doll. Thank you for thinking of me. Let me help you out." You could smack him, but instead, you watch as he hastily rips the plastic covering away and slips his hand below it to grab one of the wrapped cartons.

At that moment, everything changes. The fun times the two of you were having shatters as a loud alarm rings through the store. Panic floods your system as you stare at Dabi wide-eyed. "There is no electricity. What's happening? There shouldn't be an alarm." Horror is laced in your voice as words spill out of you. Every walking corpse within miles will be here soon with the sound.

"Fuck, must have had a battery attachment. Come on, let's go." Dabi's usual playfulness is gone as he abandons the cigarettes and grabs your hand. He's grave now. Getting the two of you out of here safely is his only goal.

You follow Dabi quickly, a hand grasped tightly in his as he runs towards the broken-down front door. And that's when even more terror settles into you. Zombies are pushing their way through the open door. Their rotting bodies and white eyes focused on the area where the alarm is coming from. There weren't many around when you broke in, but now it seems like they are multiplying by the moment.

"Fuck fuck fuck." Dabi curses under his breath, quickly turning around and pulling you towards the building's back exit. You follow behind adrenaline surging through your veins fueled by your flight response. Dabi grasps at the metal handle to the back door and shakes it only to find it locked. "Damnit!" he shouts before kicking the door violently.

Your heart is pounding, and you feel helpless as you stare at Dabi while he continues to slam himself at the door. While the front door was glass and flimsier, this door was only budging slightly. With all your focus on the door, you don't notice the continuously growing herd filtering into the gas station. Not until you feel one brush against your shoulder.

Your eyes widen as you feel a scream bubbling in your throat. This is it. This is where the two of you die and either become fodder for a herd of living dead or turn into one yourself. Your brain is pure panic as thoughts fly through faster than you can catch them. You don't even realize you have screamed out Dabi's name until you see his face turn towards yours.

His typically blue eyes are almost entirely covered by his dark pupils as he takes in the monstrosities behind you. But unlike you, he doesn't hesitate. He pulls out a knife he keeps in one of his pockets and slams it into the decaying skull of the zombie that is right behind you. Splurts of dark blood hit your cheek as he pulls out the knife, and the creature behind you crumples to the floor.

"Keep trying the door! I'll keep them off you." Dabi shouts, pulling you into the spot he previously stood. Your heartbeat is so loud you can feel it in your head, and you can't even make a coherent response as you begin to slam your body against the solid surface. You can feel it give a little more with each push of your body, and everything in you is screaming not to give up. Doing your best not to glance at Dabi's grunting and movements as he continues to try and put down zombie after zombie.

You can't give up; this can't be the end . Desperately your brain is screaming as you continue to feel the door give more and more. Your shoulder hurts from the continued impact, but you aren't letting it slow you down. You can feel it; it's almost there.

Suddenly the door gives, and you can see the sun shining through on the other side. You cry out in relief and turn back to tell Dabi to come with you. But as your eyes meet, fear fills every ounce of you.

He's still fighting them off, but there is a gaping bite wound on his right arm— rows of teeth marks embedded in his skin. You feel like you're going to be sick. There is no coming back from this; there's no known cure. At any point within the next twenty-four hours, he would be another one of the walking dead, no sense, no logic, and looking to consume others. This can't be happening, this can't be happening. Your heart is sinking with every second that ticks by.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Get out! Get out!" Dabi screams at you as he embeds his knife in another zombie.

"No, no, I can't leave without you! I-we can find something. I'll find something, please! Come on, Dabi, I can't do this without you!" You are sobbing now, hot tears streaming through the dirt and blood mixed on your face. An ache in your heart starts to form. You know you don't know how to help him, but you'll do anything to not leave him behind.

Dabi lets out a grin despite the feral dead people closing in on him. And gives you a wink before saying in a voice that seems too calm for the situation, "Come on, doll, you are the most intelligent person I know. You have to go. Live for us, babe. Look at how far we've come. Go show this world that it won't ever break you down. I love you, and I'll come to find you wherever you are in the afterlife and annoy the shit out of you. Now go!"

It's like your heart is being ripped into a thousand pieces. Your breath comes out in short huffs, moving towards hyperventilating. You want to go back to Dabi and cling on for dear life, but you won't let him die in vain. Not after that speech. That would be an insult to everything the two of you have overcome. So with all your strength, you give your lover, the man who has come so far with you, the last look before letting out a final "I love you too" and burst out the door.

You don't look back, aching feet propelling you forward as tears continue to stream and fall off your face. When you first met Dabi, you would have never thought you'd miss him. But you will , you'll miss every snarky comment, every flirty glance, and the tender way only he has loved you. The man that you were sure was just some asshole trying to get laid became the love of your life and sacrificed himself so you could live. And you could never let that go to waste.

#smut pile collab #Dabi x reader #Dabi smut #tw: character death #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #Dabi fanfiction #my fic #how far we've come

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thecousinsdangereux · 3 years

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the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

#bumbleby #writing #rwby #bees racer au #for #corvophobia #<33333 #just a little something for a birthday treat

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itsblissfuloblivion · 3 years

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Prompt #69 for @clarensjoy‘s Hinny FicFest 2021: "His pickup line wasn't as good as mine. Just saying"

Ao3 // FFnet

hey, tis us, last kids joining the party. hopefully it’s still alright!

It’s a Tuesday, so the din of the pub is a bit muted in comparison. Loud and full enough that nobody will get ideas about getting to know their table neighbours, but quiet enough that you don’t have to shout to be heard. Harry’s boot sticks to the floor as he steps inside and for a moment he’s about to let loose some colourful swears about arseholes who don’t understand that spent gum belongs in a bin, but his attention is quickly pulled away by another arsehole at the bar trying to flex his flirtation muscles.

If Harry reads the bloke’s mark’s facial expression correctly, said flex has been wholly unsuccessful so far. And Harry’s made his own study of the current focus of said bloke, since Sixth Year in fact, so Harry’s comfortable saying he’s something of an expert on Ginny Weasley.

Slowly - with a slight drag on his gummed left heel - Harry picks his way through the shadowy bits of the pub towards Ginny as she continues her valiant attempt to scan the menu. Soon, Harry’s close enough to join Ginny’s ‘enjoyment’ of her current companion.

The bloke is mid-build, just shy of Harry’s height, and almost as into his boy band hair as he is to excessive use of perfume. Things he apparently is not into include reading body language, accepting personal space boundaries, and wearing hats correctly. Harry winces - half for Ginny’s nose and half for whatever this stranger is about to have done to him - when Perfume Lover leans in closer to Ginny. “Hello, beautiful! No need to check that out, I already know what’s on the menu - me ‘n’ you.”

Harry’s suppressing his snort, and a bit of horror, at the line when Ginny leans in close, eyes sharp. If Boy Band knew what was good for him, he’d pay more attention to Ginny’s blood thirsty look than the fact that she’s drawing close. But honestly, Harry can’t fault him too much - for getting distracted that is - because one whiff of her hair and the simple warmth of her as she draws near still sends Harry’s heart pounding. That’s about where Harry’s ability to relate to Ball Cap begins and ends.

As expected, the content of Ginny’s low whisper is less ‘want to get out of here’ and more ‘guts for garters’ because the pick up artist is soon backing away with a shocked expression, stumbling over barstools and an innocent busboy.

With a grin, Harry steadies the busboy on his feet and swipes a paper napkin to drag the bulk of the gum from his boot. He doesn’t break stride as he tosses the napkin in a bin and makes his way towards Ginny, who has returned her attention to the menu and the tiny red straw between her lips.

Somehow, he doesn’t end up sprawled on the floor when she twirls it, or when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, or even when the waitress returns with a new drink. Instead, he keeps pace to end up with one arm draped around Ginny’s shoulders just as she’s left alone at the high top table. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?”

Ginny snorts, nose crinkling as she stabs at the ice with her straw. “Reckon I’m sticking with the other bloke tonight.”

Harry frowns even as he claims the free stool closest to Ginny. “His pickup line wasn’t as good as mine,” he swipes her drink, ignoring her indignant ‘Oi!’ and takes a sip, “Just saying.”

“How about get your own drink, Mr. Just Saying?” Ginny grumbles, though the blow of her grousing is softened by the quick press of her lips to his.

“I can’t decide between the burger and the stew.”

Harry raises his hand in the hopes of beckoning someone with relevant resources to bring him a pint. He receives a nod from behind the bar and soon turns his attention back to Ginny. “Is the new Firebolt nearby?”

Ginny tears her eyes away from the menu. “Pardon? No - we’re on the Cleansweep - ”

“Oh,” Harry shakes his head, “Must’ve just been my heart taking off.”

“If you promise to shut up I’ll do that thing you like so much,” Ginny manages to mutter with a roll of her eyes, pausing only once the waitress arrives with Harry’s drink. He takes a long sip while Ginny orders - apparently having decided on the burger. When the waitress turns to him he gets the same - though changing medium rare for medium well. Plus he adds, “And can we have the stew to share? With some bread.”

Once they’re alone again, Ginny nudges his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“You got me all hyped for it too,” he shrugs and slips his arm back around her, “Besides, I’m not above asking for a takeaway box.”

“Glad you seem to know the real path to my affection, that line was bloody awful. Time to move on,” Ginny winks, “I’ll keep my promise.”

“No, no. You said Boy Band had better lines than I do and now I’m proving you wrong,” Harry takes another swallow and swipes at his upper lip. “I’ll earn that thing I like the real way.”

“Which is?”

“Wooing.”

Ginny sighs. “You won’t let it go, will you?”

“Nope,” Harry pops, sitting a little taller in his chair.

“Anyhow,” Ginny says, fiddling with his fingers, “How was the meeting with Kingsley?”

“Relatively unnecessary,” Harry shrugs, “At least I think so. But you know how they like to get input and whatnot. Which means lots of almost shouting and then Kingsley puts on that face and says, ‘You’ve all given me a lot to think about.’”

“Does he change his mind much, pre to post meeting?”

“Depends who offered alternatives,” Harry answers, taking another swallow of his ale. “Which is for the best. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit people say.”

“What did you ever do to make Robards hate you so much?” Ginny asks with a chuckle when Harry’s forehead connects with her shoulder.

“I dunno, but he must. Either that or he really values my ability to half take notes and mostly doodle magical creatures.”

“Do you take requests? I want my face on the body of a harpy.”

The din of the crowd briefly increases and Harry leans close enough that Ginny’s soft flowery scent overcomes the smell of stale beer and miscellaneous fried foods. “Gin, your face is already on the body of a Harpy.”

“Har-har, you know what I mean.”

Harry shakes his head and tips so his nose nearly touches Ginny’s. “There’s something wrong with my eyes,” Ginny perks up, rapidly searching him for any injuries she neglected to notice and he continues, “There must be. Because I can’t seem to take them off you.”

She groans, shoulders slumped back against her barstool. “Harry, you have terrible eyesight. And that might have been the worst line yet.”

“Noted,” Harry nods like she’s just given him a tip on a case, “I’ll keep trying.”

“Please don’t.”

“I love a challenge.”

The waitress returns with their admittedly overdone dinner order and Ginny nearly spears Harry with the prongs of her fork. “Do not make me sick up, this smells too good to waste.”

Harry scofs. “Right. We both know you’re tougher than that. Should I remind you that your secret weapon was the Bat-Bogey Hex - a hex largely based on snot?”

“And it still is,” Ginny grins after she swallows an impressively large helping of her food. “Talking about gross, though,” she follows, eyeing Harry sideways, “any specific plans for my brother’s stag do? And don’t tell me you’ve cracked under pressure and let George organise it.”

There’s something very Molly Weasley-eque in her expression as she says it, freckles alight and splattered over her cheeks and nose in a way that always has Harry’s insides twisting and burning, without failure. So he smirks, leaning in closer.

“Which brother is that?”

Ginny kicks at his shin, wobbling on her barstool. “The one with the big nose and lanky limbs?”

“Oh, that one,” Harry widens his eyes in mock realisation. “Right, yes. No, I’m doing it."

“And?”

“And?” Harry parrots, sipping another spoonful of stew.

“Remember the bogeys, Harry,” she scowls, huffs away a red strand of hair falling on her cheeks.

His elbow planted firmly on the bar, Harry offers her his most dazzling smile, green eyes glinting mischievously behind his round glasses. “Aw, Gin, it’ll be nothing much. Just your regular boys’ night out - a little bit of getting pissed, a little bit of going to a strip club.”

Ginny laughs throatily, her head leaned back and her long, red hair grazing over her waist, eyes closed shut. “Can’t wait to read Skeeter’s take on you visiting a strip club. Honestly, Harry?”

“Nah. But we will get pissed at George’s though.”

“Figured. Good for you, you deserve it,” Ginny smiles and tops it off with a bite of warm bread. “Thanks for the laugh.”

“I aim to please,” Harry smiles back and, for a while, they both eat in contented silence, the pub’s buzz fading in the background as they enjoy each other’s presence and the feeling that they’re safe, and seen, and loved.

Later, there’s a clatter as Harry pushes his empty plate further up the bar and scans Ginny promptly before he says, “Alright, hear me out - one last try.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, bored, swishing her spoon in his direction. “Shoot.”

Harry clears his throat.

“Kiss me if I’m wrong, but Snape was so fond of me he tried to adopt me, right?”

Ginny’s forehead promptly connects with the bar top.

“That’s it,” she grunts, ginger hair pooling over her arms, spread over the black countertop, “we’re leaving. Check, please,” she raises her head to speak, voice heavy with distress.

“Women,” Harry pretends to roll his eyes, “nothing ever pleases them.”

Ginny sticks her tongue out in response. She then hops off and strides towards the loo, hair flicked over her shoulder.

Harry shakes his head, grinning; he rummages through his pocket, thumbs brushing over the hardwood of his wand, feels the cold metal of the coins piled in there. Five silver ones rattle along the counter and the barman nods his thanks.

A whiff of flowery scent floats near him, her lips suddenly close to his ear as she whispers, low, “You must be absolutely knackered, because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

Harry dips his chin slowly, green eyes connecting with her mischief-laden brown ones, a wide, playful grin on her face. “Ginny Weasley, was that a pick-up line?” Harry whispers back.

“Sue me,” she winks.

“No way. I’m rather turned on, actually.”

“Good,” Ginny follows, evilly, her lips still close to Harry’s ear. “Bathroom? There’s a private space in the very last one.”

“Fuck yes,” Harry exhales, as though he’d just received a punch to the plexus, and lets her drag him after her.

#clare's hinny ficfest #hinny #harry x ginny #canon compliant #banter & flirting #conversations at the countertop #hinny being hinny and loving a challenge #itsblissfuloblivion writes #gryffindormischief #fightfortherightsofhouseelves

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