#where are they most content? or are they merely looking in on the average life as a viewer? who knows. are they doomed to feel like this?
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Moriarty the patriot x male reader chapter 1 ..
A small child around the age of 4 with (h/c)(h/t) hair and soft (e/c) eyes was stood in front of a tall building that was looming over this cornor of london.
The snow sprickled over the land,the wind whirled causing the snow to dance in the sky.The sky was darker then soot and the street was lit by rigid lamps with a shape of an upside down L.
(y/n) wore a beige scrapped up shirt with ripped trousers that resembelld more of shorts than trousers.His clothes damp and cold.His skin covered in goosebumps.His socks damp against the snow.Any longer he would get frostbites.
His (e/c) eyes had sunken as a few crystal loose tears escaped his eye sockets.His mother had told him to wait there by the elevated building.
He wanted to run home and crash into her warm, safe imbrace.He wanted to eat her mouth watering cooking as she told him all about her day and how megan steals her clients.He wanted to embrace snoffy his chick plushie that his late gran-gran had made him.
He wanted to go home.
y/n hated being alone.
y/n legs sent a pulsating pain through his spine.His knees where threating to buckle
y/n mother told him to not follow her or move until she comes back.
He wanted to cling onto her leg and beg her to let him wait outside the stores but he knew that he would get into more trouble
If y/n had to describe his mother he would say that she was the most beutiful person in the world.
Y/n's mum had deep brown eyes and (h/c) hair that bounced every step she took .She was fairly young in mid 20's. and was an average height..
She had a bright and happy-go-lucky personality.She would turn the most broodiest of storms into rainbows.
However,the was another side (y/n) knew,he never liked pondering about her other side.Therefore he never chose too,that side was a different person, entirely.The other side was mean,she yelled and hit (y/n) for ruining her life,that if it wasnt him she wouldve been treated as if she was the highest of high class."If only....if only..." she would cry out as she lashed her anger out her hands making swift movements that crashed onto the arms on her only child.Yelling,screming faster and faster.
.
.
Then she would wake up as y/n called,back to his mum not her she would cradle him in her chest apologising for her wrong doings.Y/n would always bring his cubby hands to her soft face,he would peer into her loving eyes,y/n would softly mutter the words with round eyes and a soft smile.
"I forgive you"
A couple more hours had passed and it became dark very quickly. M/n had seen many nobles strode past with their head held high,and snarky looks. y/n envied them in this moment as they hadfancy warm coats and high snow boots that shelted them from the harshness of the weather.A noble with a green coat and a stubby gait decided to spit on y/n laughing with his femal companion at him as they strode passed. Calling him a 'bug' or 'wasted space'.
Soon came to be a family of nobels,a man a women and 2 perfectly dressed sons.
The noble women went as far to poor alcohol on the poor boy.
She took a bottle of expensive red wine opened it,and removed its contents by spilling all the insides all over the boy. Her laugh echoed into the street.The giggles of a blond child around the ageof m/n.Walked up to him and swiftly kicked him with his freahly polished leather.His giggles turnes into loud laughter treating it as if it was the most funniest of joles in the world.y/n body made contacted with the icy ground.Snot and tears poured out of him.His whimpers seemed to make the mother gleam in happiness.The older boy with brown hair styled elegantly and green eyes stared at the boy in pity.He couldn't do much for m/n but the moment he saw the poor shivering boy he wanted to protect him from the evil nobles,his family and the world.
M/n knew the injustice that people had,he knew that nobles where the chosen ones and that he was a mere bug in society but he wanted to change this.
Why should he or anyone else suffer just because they werent nobels.
Even as a young boy he knew the systems of the world.He knew his place in the class systems.He knew that he was at the bottom.He wanted that to change.He wanted the world to change.He dripped the snow beneath his arms and vowed to never let this mistreat meant carry on.
He just wanted to be happy
Is that too much to ask for?
#x male reader#william james moriarty#albert james moriarty#sherlock holmes#louis james moriarty#Moriarity x male reader
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Too Old For This - Chapter 1 - Part 1
*Warning Adult Content*
There are a lot of regrets in life Leroy Adkins had but at this exact moment in time with him walking down the street to take the bus, the only one that really stood out was his decision to do communications as a major.
Not only was his current job only enough to live but not save for the future... it also had no signs of upward mobility since it was a small marketing start-up with a limited budget and a client list that showed no signs of growing.
Something Leroy also regretted was not paying too much attention at university or studying for exams and now he was stuck with a below B average that was frankly not enough to get into a post-graduate program.
So, sadly, he was stuck working a low-paying job and living paycheck to paycheck while paying off an ever-growing student loan debt.
It was funny how those worked.
He could have sworn it was only twenty thousand when he had graduated but now, after just two years of monthly payments, it was somehow sitting at thirty thousand.
Leroy sighed, shaking his head as he continued on his way to the bus stop.
It was a deserted place, seeing as it sat just at the edge of a suburban street.
He still lived with his mother and sister and paying a bit of rent allowed most of his money to go into other things... like his video game addiction, Vietnamese food and books.
"Oh shit," he said, squinting and then sighing when he saw the bus, he was supposed to be on drove past the stop at the end of the street without a second thought.
It didn't even pause for a second... for goodness' sake, Leroy was just two minutes away.
The young man blinked back his frustration, sucking in his lips as he tried to decide between taking an Uber or just calling home sick.
To be honest, he could also just tell his supervisor what had happened.
She was an understanding and nice older woman nearing her sixties.
The young man sighed, pinching the middle of his thick dark brows before turning around and making the slow walk of shame home.
Wisps of his brown hair, about two shades lighter than his brows, occasionally found their way dangling in front of his eyes.
He would push them away and each time taking that as a reminder that he needed to go into the city for a haircut.
It wasn't that Leroy couldn't drive... he could.
He passed his driving test sometime in the middle of his university days and remembered taking his mother's car to the gym, clear as day.
It had been his first time truly driving alone and he had backed it up into another car when trying to parallel his park.
That had been his first and last day taking out the car and also, his last day at the gym but he didn't like to think about it much.
Leroy found his current state in life embarrassing but he wasn't too embarrassed by it to do anything about it.
Or, it was more than his long stings depression and self-sabotage didn't have a lot of those brief moments of mania and self-confidence where he would be super studious and focus on one of the many skills he'd picked up over the years.
Growing up, he'd had better confidence but hitting high school and realizing it took more than just being smart to pass classes, began to humble him.
Slowly but surely, he accepted that he was average and maybe a little less than average, not just academically but looks-wise too.
He had watched as his classmates grew taller, leaving him behind at a mere 5'6.
He had also watched them bulk up become more athletic and grow facial hair.
He had held out hope, feeling that he maybe was a late bloomer but now twenty-five and still the very lean, short man who couldn't grow much of a beard was something he was starting to accept.
He would say dating was hard but he barely even tried.
He had two friends... one he had met online and met up with once every other week because they had to take a one-hour train to meet up with him and the other who was more of an acquaintance from childhood that he called his best friend.
Even though really at this age where they barely spoke or met up was starting to feel more like something they declared more out of habit than reality.
Leroy hadn't made a lot of friends in university but he'd added people from classes to his social media here and there and it was an indescribable feeling of shame to scroll through pictures of people celebrating graduating with honors or getting accepted into high-paying reputable jobs.
The young man made his way down the street, paying attention to the rows of old suburban houses that seemed to have been erected sometime in the sixties.
Many of them had neatly trimmed yards with fancy lawn ornaments, while some of them hosted gardens.
There was one, however, that was coaxed in the middle of two larger buildings... a small bungalow that hosted a basement with small windows just sitting under the deck.
The lawn had long grass and wild sunflowers over three feet tall.
The short fence was also covered with wrapping weeds.
The house looked unoccupied with the dirty white brick walls and ominous feeling but sometimes when Leroy would pass by, he would see the outline of someone from the sunroom door-length windows.
There was also a wheelchair ramp that looked well-used.
Leroy did know that sometimes he saw a cat or two walking through the grass or perched on the fence.
It was almost never the same cat and Leroy couldn't decide if they belonged to the house owner or were just strays that were just attracted to the property.
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I recently read the "The 10X Rule" book of Grant Cardone and absolutely loved it. This is not the only book I have read from Grant, but this is my favorite so far so I wanted to share some of my favorite sentences/expressions that I have underlined myself on the book.
I am going to organize them using bullet points since I am not writing them by importance order, but they are ordered by the number of the page starting from the beginning to the end.
Before you say, "I do not need extraordinary levels of success" or "success is not everything" or "I just want to be happy" or whatever else you may be mumbling to yourself at this very moment, understand something: in order to get to the next level of whatever you're doing, you must think and act in wildly different way than you previously have been.
Why get merely "good" at something when you know the marketplace only reward excellence?
Never reduce a target. Instead, increase actions.
Any target attacked with the right actions in the right amounts with persistance is attainable.
The more actions you take, the better your chances are of getting "lucky".
Anyone who minimizes the importance of success to your future has given up on his or her own chances of accomplishment and is spending his or her life trying to convince others to do the same.
You have to approach the notion of success the way good parents approach their duty to their children; it's an honor, an obligation and a priority.
Don't be confused by what looks like luck to you. Lucky people don't make successful people; people who completely commit themselves to success seem to get lucky in life.
There is no such thing as an "overnight success". Success always comes as a result of earlier actions - no matter how seemingly insignificant they are or how long ago they were taken.
One of the reasons why it is difficult to discuss politics or religion with people is because exchanges about both tend to suggest shortage - which then causes inevitable disputes. For example, if your political beliefs win, then my politics lose. If one party gets what it supports, then the other group must suffer.
If you are not first, you are last.
People who refuse to take responsibility generally don't do well at taking much action and subsequently don't do well in the game of success.
To get where you want to go in life, you must adopt the view that whatever is going on in your world - good, bad, or nothing - is something caused by you.
Good things do not happen to victims; bad things do - quite frequently - and all you have to do is ask them.
Nothing happens to me, it happens because of me.
Those who do nothing will insist to their friends and family that they are happy and content and that all is right with them, which only serves to confuse everyone because it is evident that they are not living up to their full potential.
If you do not create new problems then you are not taking enough actions.
The second you start hitting it big you will immediately be judged by the mediocre.
No one is going to come to your house and make your dreams come true.
Average never yields anything more than average and usually much less. Average thinking and actions will only guarantee you misery, uncertainty, and failure.
Surround yourself with exceptional thinkers and doers. Let your friends, family, and work associates know that you treat average like a terminal disease.
Never set realistic goals, you can get realistic life without settings goals for it.
Do not compete, dominate!
Most people make only enough effort for it to feel like work, whereas the most successful follow up every action with an obsession to see it through to a reward.
Show me one person who has achieved greatness without being obsessed.
I suggest that you become obsessed with the things you want; otherwise, you are going to spend a lifetime being obsessed with making up excuses as to why you didn't get the life you wanted.
There is no failure unless you quit!
The only way to increase time is to get more done in the time you have.
Criticism is not something you want to avoid; rather, it's what you must expect to come your way once you start hitting it big.
"You should enjoy life more! It's not all work, you know." These are the kinds of thing that people say to you to make themselves feel better - because your abundance highlights their deficiency.
Weak and overwhelmed individuals respond to others' success by attacking it.
The best revenge is massive success.
Excuses are never the reason for why you did or did not do something. They are just a revision of the facts that you make up in order to help yourself feel better about what happened (or didn't)
The first thing to know about excuses is that they never improve your situation. The second thing to know is which ones you use on a regular basis.
If you make success an option then it will not be an option for you -- simple.
Anything that is plentiful has very little worth.
No one values a person who not only doesn't have the information but doesn't want to know the information.
The more you win in life, the higher your potential will be and the more you will grow to love challenges.
Being a 10X-er requires thinking and acting unreasonably. Otherwise, you will end up the same way everyone else does -- forced to survive on successful people's leftovers.
Think in terms of creating money and wealth, not salaries and conservation of funds.
The unsuccessful talk about a plan for action but never quite get around to doing what they claim they're going to do - at least enough to ever get what they want. Successful people assume that their future achievements rely on investing in actions that may not pay off today but than when taken consistently and persistently over time will sooner or later bear fruit.
I would prefer a person who is able to fully commit over one who is completely educated any day. Commitment is a sign that someone is pledging him - or herself completely to a position, issue or action.
Until an action is turned into a success it is not done.
The more frequently you can do things that scare you a bit, the more others will label you as courageous - and then gravitate toward you.
Successful people invest time, energy and money in improving themselves. As a result, the don't focus on how hard the work is but rather on how rewarding the results are.
If you do not stay focused on your goals, you will spend your life achieving the objectives of other people - particularly those who are goal-oriented.
Successful people dream big and have immense goals. They are not realistic. They leave that to the masses, who fight for leftovers.
Dream big, go big, and then figure out how to go bigger than that! Read everything you can about great people and great companies' accomplishments. Surround yourself with everything you can that inspires you to think big, act big, and reach your full potential.
You can only do as well as the people around you. If everyone around you is sick, under performing, and struggling, then sooner or later, you will become afflicted like everyone else.
The most successful people I know read everything they an get their hands on. They approach a 30$ book as thought it has the potential to make them a million dollars. Unsuccessful people, on the other hand, simply worry about the cost of a book or seminar without ever giving consideration to benefits it will provide.
Getting too comfortable, too relaxed,, and too familiar causes a person to become soft and lose his or her creativity and hunger to stay out front. So be willing to be uncomfortable, and do what makes other people uncomfortable as well.
The goal has to be more valuable than the risk - or you have determined the wrong target.
People are so caught up in their own negativity and losses that they give up on creating the future they want. Others feel the need to criticize other peoples' ventures as a way to justify giving up on their own.
I am sharing here just some of the parts that I liked the most. I must say that the books as a whole is a masterpiece.
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From Concept to Creation: How Norfolk's Web Design Companies Bring Your Ideas to Life
In the digital age, having a strong online presence is paramount for businesses and individuals alike. Your website is often the first point of contact with potential clients, making it crucial for it to be visually appealing, functional, and user-friendly. This is where Norfolk's web design companies come into play. They possess the expertise to bring your ideas to life, creating websites that leave a lasting impression. In this article, we will explore the process from concept to creation, shedding light on how these professionals work their magic.
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User-Centric Approach
Great web design revolves around the user's experience. Norfolk's experts ensure that your website is intuitive and user-friendly, making it easy for visitors to navigate and find what they need.
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Once the design concept is approved, it's time to turn it into a functional website. This phase involves coding, testing, and fine-tuning every element to ensure a seamless user experience.
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In today's mobile-centric world, responsive design is non-negotiable. Norfolk's web design companies ensure that your website looks and works perfectly on all devices, from desktops to smartphones.
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To maximize your online visibility, SEO (Search Engine Optimization) is integrated into the website's structure. This helps your site rank higher on search engine results pages, driving organic traffic.
From Concept to Creation: How Norfolk's Web Design Companies Bring Your Ideas to Life
At this stage, your website is ready to launch. Norfolk's web design companies take pride in delivering a final product that not only meets but exceeds your expectations. Your ideas have been transformed into a digital masterpiece.
FAQs
How long does it take to create a website with a Norfolk web design company? The timeline varies depending on the complexity of the project, but on average, you can expect a website to be completed within 6 to 8 weeks.
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Do I need to provide all the content for my website? While it's helpful to have some content ready, many web design companies offer content creation services to ensure your website is engaging and informative.
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Conclusion
In the digital era, your website is your digital storefront, and Norfolk's web design companies are the skilled architects who can bring it to life. From concept to creation, they navigate the intricate world of web design with finesse, ensuring that your online presence reflects your vision and captivates your audience. So, if you're ready to turn your ideas into a stunning reality, look no further than Norfolk's web design experts.
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Ex_Machina (2014)
Film review #566
Director: Alex Garland
SYNOPSIS: Caleb is a programmer working at the tech company Blue Book, and wins a contest at random to spend the week at the remote home of the company's reclusive CEO, Nathan Bateman. When Caleb arrives, he learns that there is more to his visit than he first realised, as he is being invited to meet an A.I. Nathan has built and to determine where he thinks it possesses true conscience...
THOUGHT/ANALYSIS: Ex_Machina is a 2014 sci-fi thriller film. In the opening, we see programmer Caleb Smith, who is working at the largest search engine company in the world, Blue Book. He is selected at random out of all the employees to spend a week at the home of the company's reclusive CEO, Nathan Bateman. Upon arriving at Nathan's remote home, Caleb learns that he is not there to merely hang out with Nathan: he is to meet Nathan's latest invention, an A.I., and to evaluate whether he thinks it possesses consciousness. The film takes place over the course of the week, with Caleb's conversations with the A.I. named Ava, as he (and us, as the audience) possesses intelligence. The film also keeps an element of suspense, as Nathan's true intent opens up a number of questions about what Caleb is doing there, and who (or what) is real and what is an artificial intelligence. There's not much action in the film, and it instead focuses on suspense and mystery. There's also a lot of focus, as you might expect, on discussions around A.I., and the film invokes many theories around the subject. There's a balance between exploring the subject in depth, but also keeping it interesting enough so that the average viewer doesn't tune out, and there's definitely times when that balance was not hot for me: I know a fair amount of the different conversations and arguments around A.I. , so I personally didn't need too much of an explanation for everything, but when the film mentions things like the "Chinese Room," or drops names like Wittgenstein without any follow up, you get the feeling that this film is oriented more towards those who would understand these things. Nevertheless, I think there's enough content and intrigue regarding the set up to make it watchable for a more general audience, but not if they're expecting something with a decent amount of action.
The characters present themselves as a fairly mixed bag: Caleb himself is pretty bland, and we don't really see much of a personality, but I think this may be a deliberate choice to make Ava seem more human by comparison. Nathan is clearly meant to be a pretentious "tech-bro" CEO and unlikeable from the off, and they certainly succeed with that. He is actually very annoying to watch. Ava as a character has an element of the typical A.I. archetype you see in films, but also the film keeps open the question of what she is programmed to do, and what she herself intends, which adds a layer of mystery and intrigue. It's perhaps no coincidence that Ava comes off as the most human character in the film. Nevertheless, all the acting is quite good, even if you don't like the characters.
A lot of the film's aesthetic and dialogue choices are very deliberate, but perhaps it's easy to miss them. A lot of the dialogue between Caleb and Ava takes place with a glass partition between them, and it seems to be a recurring theme that there is always something that is separating the characters. Whether this is meant to signify that the two are two individuals that can never fully understand one another, or that there will always be a barrier between A.I. and life, is perhaps purposeful. The contrast between the expansive landscape shots that surround the house, and the tight corridors and windowless rooms again create a feeling that the house is a prison or labyrinth where the questions raised are somewhat disconnected from reality and experience. Ex_Machina is a slick, polished film that clearly has a had a lot of consideration put into how it looks, and how each aspect of the film invokes its themes. It tries to balance an in-depth exploration of its subject with also giving more casual movie-goers something to watch, but I'm not sure that balance is really there. The twists and developments of the film just weren't too interesting or surprising, and I'm not sure the film has aged enough to provide any lasting significance, since the field of A.I. is changing and evolving very quickly. Maybe some people would find it gripping, but it didn't quite hold my interest to make it entertaining.
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Want to work abroad at your desired destination?
Working abroad can start your international career and open doors for new prospects worldwide for being a wonderful experience. With these additional soft skills, your language abilities will rise your cross-cultural proficiency will flourish. If you are serious about working abroad, get a consultation from the experts. At Panache Immigration and Education Consultants, we provide complete legal Immigration Consultation. We are known as the excellent Best Immigration Consultants in Jalandhar to get your visa hassle-free. You must focus on vital steps that are necessary for your starting journey.
An Important step to keep in mind to start your journey to abroad
Learn more about visas and work permit
Your ability to work abroad, no matter how well you prepare and plan, will ultimately rely on the ability to obtain a visa or work permit. Consequently, learning what documents you'll need and how to get them will be the first step in obtaining the right to operate lawfully abroad. Be careful about spending time and money. You should also be aware of how long you can keep the documents on an issue; are they related to work, or are you allowed to keep them permanently?
Examine the cost of living concerning your payment.
Finance is the second-most crucial factor to consider. You may not know how much money you will make each month, but you should be aware of the average and how it compares to the cost of living. You'll need to calculate how much money you'll have left after paying all your monthly expenses (rent, bills, taxes, and so on).
Learn how to look for a job and a place to live.
After you've decided on a location, look into how simple it will be to locate work and a place to live. Examine how individuals move and how it affects your budget and expectations. (Things may be easier if you merely want to move to a country and are more flexible about where you'll work, but you'll still need to be able to find work and have a residence to live.)
Understand how locals find work.
Various cultures handle job searches differently; some choose a more formal approach with loads of paperwork, while others prefer face-to-face connection. Investigate how the locals get work and determine whether you will be able to locate anything on your own or whether you will need to go across a recruiter or agency.
Learn how to write CVs and cover letters.
So now you know how to locate a job, you must prepare everything to begin the process: Find all there is to know about the format, content, and formalities of preparing a CV and cover letter for your country and profession. Make sure how much personal information you will need to provide and what documents/references you to submit.
Prepare for things to be different.
Learning something new is the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Broadening your views is hopefully some of the reasons you want to work overseas - but we'll say it anyway: Make sure you are prepared for some cultural shock, homesickness, and "but why" queries that are met with "that's just how it is" answers. That happens to the best of us, so take it as a sign that you're growing, getting more fantastic, and on your way to creating memories to last a lifetime.
Prepare a backup plan. (Just in case.)
We don't want to avoid any of your plans, but as a globe traveler, you know it's always a good idea to have a backup plan in case situations don't go as expected. For example, it’s essential to learn how long you can spend and are allowed to stay in the country without work. It is important to know how much money you want to save to build an emergency reserve for rainy (and stormy) days.
Conclusion
Working abroad may seem impossible, but it is possible if you set your mind to it and refuse to give up. Splitting the process down into smaller parts, like the one described in this blog, will make it less stressful and, trust us, definitely for it.
The new and higher knowledge you'll gain by joining an international workforce is unlike any other travel experience you've had. Working in another country rather than simply visiting helps you to immerse yourself in the culture and have a more meaningful experience.
We at Panache Immigration and Education Consultants, the Best Immigration Consultants in Jalandhar provide complete knowledge and end-to-end support regarding immigration matters. We, as the best Visa Consultants in Jalandhar, first look up all the possibilities related to your quick visa process to be approved. If your visa application is suitable we will start your procedure without hassle. We mainly deal with UK work visas.
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#find the best burial insurance plan#what is the best burial insurance company#best burial insurance#best burial insurance plans
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What is the best way to find keywords for a new website?
Keyword research has become harder and harder as Google continues to cover more information from webmasters. If you’re new to the world of SEO and online marketing, you’ll not remember a time when you were able to see every keyword that drove traffic to your site through search engines — and how much traffic each keyword was generating.
Unfortunately, quite 90% of that information is now presented to webmasters as simply “(not provided).” So what are webmasters and SEOs to try to do in this age of unknown and incomplete data?
The good news is that search engines are much smarter than they used to be and are able to understand the intent of what a user is searching for, without having to use “exact-match” search results. due to this, content publishers can focus more on the experience of their readers than on stuffing keywords in content in order to be found in search engines.
That being said, utilizing proper keywords on your website and in your content remains extremely important and can still be useful in achieving greater search engine visibility.
Let’s explore some methods that are still available to webmasters, SEOs, and online marketers which will be extremely helpful in identifying the best keywords for optimizing content.
1) Google Auto-Populate
While you would possibly be thinking how difficult Google is making your life by not providing valuable keyword data, there are still features like Google’s auto-populate function that can help searchers complete their thoughts while at the same time providing valuable keywords to webmasters. Searchers will often start by typing during a particular query only to end up choosing what Google auto-populates in the search box.
This is the best place to start your research, as you’ll most likely want to find out what kind of content already exists about the topic you are crafting content around. this is often also a useful method for identifying long-tail keyword phrases that may be more difficult to identify in keyword planner tools. Who better to offer you suggestions about keyword opportunities than Google?
2) Google Related Searches
Similar to the auto-populate function, Google provides “related searches” on the underside of most SERPs or “search engine results pages.” This could also be one of the first things you look at when starting keyword research.
Don’t be afraid to look for multiple variations of keywords and keyword phrases. This is often also a helpful exercise to start understanding how the search engine is thinking about certain words and what words are being associated with one another.
3) Google Ads Keyword Planner
The Google Ads Keyword Planner is where most webmasters start their more in-depth research. you’ll start by searching for a new keyword of your choice.
You will then be presented with the average monthly searches, competition, and suggested bid for the keyword you typed in also with other suggested keywords and phrases. The amount of alternative options usually depends on the popularity of the subject.
For example, you’ll see far more alternative suggestions for “keyword research” than you will for “cogeneration plant engineering.”
Unless you’re putting together a pay-per-click (PPC) campaign, the sole truly useful information presented here is the suggestions and the average monthly searches. The competition is merely broken down by low, medium, or high and is most times, not a reliable metric for determining how difficult it’ll be to rank for a particular keyword. Instead, I might recommend Moz’s keyword difficulty and analysis tool for this.
4) Google Search Console
There is a place where the true webmasters live: Google Search Console. this is often where you find the top queries that are being searched for as well as the top web pages that are being found via search.
You can find the top queries that have driven traffic to your site over specific periods of time with this tool. you’ll also see the content that has driven the most traffic to your site over the same amount of time.
5) Google Trends
Google Trends are often useful in choosing the correct variation of a particular keyword. This tool will display the general “interest over time” of a keyword and also includes a forecast for certain terms.
Interest over time is represented as a variety between 0–100 at certain points over time. It reflects what percentage of searches have been done for a particular term relative to the total number of searches done on Google over time. They don’t represent absolute search volume numbers.
Below may be a comparison between the terms “search engine optimization” (blue), “search engine marketing” (red), and “content marketing” (yellow). Notice that “search engine optimization” has been a more well-liked search term than “search engine marketing”.
6) Google Analytics
While most of the keyword data found within the organic section of Google Analytics is labeled as (not provided), there’s a section under “Acquisition” that contains your Search Console data if you have linked up both platforms.
It is located under “Search Console” → “Queries.” This information is analogous to what you will find in Search Console.
Even with Google hiding most of its keyword data in Google Analytics, there are still many resources that Google offers (for free) which will be extremely useful for webmasters and SEOs to identify relevant keywords for optimizing their content.
Start by using these tools to assist identify useful topics and keywords, then create and share great content that appeals to your audience. Remember, if your content isn’t useful and shareable, it doesn’t matter what percentage of keywords you can identify. The goal, in particular else, is to drive traffic to your content and have others naturally share and link to your content.
#seo#seo2022#seotips#digital marketing#digital marketing2022#organic seo#content2022#digitalmarketing
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oo if u havent done one for them already what abt a zer0 web weave :0 ?
Charles Simic/ Philipp Igumnov/ Enomoto Seifu-Jo, tr, by Kenneth Rexroth and Ikuko Atsumi /Euripides / Miles Cleveland Goodwin
Image Description below the cut.
Image One: [White background with black text of a quote from Charles Simic. It reads: “The stars know everything, so we try to read their minds. As distant as they are, we choose to whisper in their presence.” END ID]
Image Two: [A painting by Philipp Igumnov. It features a blue sky and a cloud in the center of the painting. The pale white cloud has four windows, one at the top, and three in a row towards the middle. The bottom holds a brown door, mimicking a home made of a cloud. The ground is a field of yellow and green grass with a white fence in the foreground. Their are small green mountains in the background. END ID]
Image Three: [A haiku translated by poet Enomoto Seifu-Jo. It reads: Everyone is asleep, there is nothing to come between the moon and me. The last four words are highlighted in a pale blue, the page is white and the ink is black. END ID]
Image Four: [An exerpt from Euripides play Hecuba. It reads a quote from Hecuba that says: I died long ago, nothing can touch me now. END ID]
Image Five: [An oil painting by Miles Cleveland Goodwin. It features an orchestra in the foreground, with four members playing various instruments- one is a violin, the other a clarinet. The last two instruments are not made out clearly. Stands sit in front of each member, the members dressed in black with a dark gray curtain behind. The curtain is parted by a skeleton peaking out, only it's hand visible and pale against the dark background. END ID]
#asks#ewbie weaves#aliensmoothie06#I TOOK AN INTERESTING TAKE ON THIS I THINK. Zer0 and discovery of what there is to life left. they've done so much already#explored pandora the universe killed people... but what exactly is there left to do? to love? to explore? to find a purpose? or do they#already have one? who knows! certainly not us and certainly not zer0!#the cloud resembles how their life is always changing- from various assassinations to killing hj to vault hunting to being at atlas.#where are they most content? or are they merely looking in on the average life as a viewer? who knows. are they doomed to feel like this?#or are they merely admiring the spectacle of life?#also the poem is a haiku! its just been translated and this lost its 5/7/5 rule :)#anyway. percieve zer0. or dont. who knows what they'd prefer
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quarter past midnight.
pairing: chan x reader | breakup!au
word count: 6.107 words
genre: angst, smut
tw: heartbreak and break ups, reader is confused af, nsfw content — cunnilingus, overstimulation blowjobs, deep throating, face fucking, unprotected sex. this is just some angsty smut.
note: an old work i edited because i needed to write something angsty with chan and hurt myself, yes. <3
apartment 5005.
you stare at the door for as long as you know, your heart tingling, stretching apart to tear and shatter within you and you know this for sure — you are clearly mad. you are absolutely crazy, but love makes people do crazy things. beyond love, survival instincts to protect oneself in the long run makes people do disastrous things. you are confused, lost and heartbroken. isn't that why you are here? for some clarity in this mist that fogs your mind.
you insert the duplicate key you had into the keyhole and open the door to the abode you once called home, not because it was four walls that provided you shelter but because bang chan lived there.
it was the spring of 2016 when you had fallen in love with this man - the entirety of this man with a crooked smile so cute and a giggle that could open dimensions to him. he stood before a cherry blossom tree with two cones of ice cream, one for you and one for him and asked you out on a date —"let's watch cherry blossoms together, y/n," - and you agreed with not much reluctance. because you were enamoured of chan at the very first glance. a little boy with endless passion and boundless potential all ready to win your heart.
it was a gradual fall from there — falling in love with chan was so easy, so precious. every small action of chan's made you fall for him harder and the fall was steep. you toppled and tumbled happily but the impact of the crash was hard.
It was hard enough for you to have forgotten what breathing was. It was claustrophobic in a room that was wider than an average one. bang chan slowly seemed to have no time for you. so caught up with his own life and to sort that out, he took out his anger at you, the anger he bottled up in front of all the people — almost as if that was normal. funnily, you thought it was normal.
chan loved you. chan loves you. there was no way anything could have changed. the emotions were strong — the emotions are strong — however, it almost seemed like it was contaminated. like the strong colour of potassium permanganate that changes the whole liquid. so exactly, where in the world did you go wrong? how did your relationship reach this stage — this strained stage of your threads ready to snap and let go?
and staring at his open door, you want to know the answer.
you had walk in the rain to reach here. the weather was disastrous. it had rained heavily enough to make you feel more void than you already felt. the rain had hit your body with a certain impact that momentarily snapped you back to reality; yet, you are quick to drift away. with every step you had taken, the world feels like time had drifted to the past, aeons away. the rain merely grows even more intense and your heart sinks.
the rain has left you drenched. your hair strands stick to each other with droplets of water falling from the ends. your vision was blurry and all you had know was to get to chan quicker than ever. like your body being pulled to a force. you had to reach bang chan quick, to ache this void.
and when you do, your heart skips a beat. you take a step back as an act of cowardice and you do not want to knock on his door. you stand in front of his room, puddles of water collecting by your foot from the water that drips from your clothes and your hair. how could you knock when you were conflicted yourself? you couldn't leave chan but you know you had to if you wanted to try finding happiness again. probably with the man himself years later when you both grow up.
it was in the winter of 2016 that you grew to love bang chan for the person he was. that you knew were in love. the innocent, star-eyed boy waited in front of your house unexpectedly in the strong winds of winter. when you come back home late after your work at the grocery store, you find him there, still waiting for you. your heart had ached for the man who sat in front of your house, leaning against your door with his body shivering and his teeth clattering. he was half asleep, holding onto his thick overcoat tightly in an attempt to escape the cold.
"chan," you had called out to him. "chan, baby, wake up."
his delicate eyelids had fluttered open only to see you. the man quickly sprung to his feet, stumbling and losing his balance for a split second. chan fell into your arms and nuzzled himself into your warmth. he looked delicate and everything chan usually tended to not display - of vulnerability, a certain pastel and ethereal kind.
and when his pale arms had wrapped around your waist carefully and weakly and you held him up, you knew for sure that this always chirpy and optimistic man (albeit all the layers of insecurities he had) was going to steal your heart. and he did.
probably that is why it is so hard for you to knock on his door now. the fact that you could set the world on fire with the love you had for him and yet you knew that you had to untie the knot you had in your relationship to find happiness for a while. to find yourself all over again.
after much thought, you knock on his door. you feel cold, both physically and mentally. the water you are drenched in is soaking into your being and you know you are going to catch a cold for sure tomorrow. however, that is the least of your concerns at the moment.
the door is pulled open only for you to come face to face with the man you have fallen so in love with.
bang chan's face instantly morphs into one of concern as soon as he sees you drenched in the rain. he catches hold of your arm and pulls you into his small studio room of his. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his warmth. you nuzzle into his chest and he gently rubs your back.
"are you crazy?" he asks so softly, that it almost does not feel like he is scolding you. "you walked all the way here in the rain. you are most definitely crazy."
you do not respond, however. chan holds you close and notices your silence. you tug at his shirt and chan keeps you close. it's this warmth you reckon you will miss. for the years you step back, you'll feel like a tourist. you pull apart and you look at him with tears in your eyes, "chan."
he looks at you worriedly. this isn't normal. this isn't normal. this is definitely not normal. you take a step back before continuing, "i'm leaving you."
there. you said it. it's out in the open and you hear it out loud too. the thought that screamed in your head is finally freed and normally, you should have felt lighter. so why is it that you have never felt your heart heavier than this?
you had promised yourself that you wouldn't shed tears yet here you are, unable to stop all those droplets falling from your eyes like a cascade of all those memories.
"what?" chan looks broken.
"i can't do this anymore, chan," you say, looking down, shifting your balance from one foot to another. "it's heartbreaking to be in this relationship. every time i take one step forward now, you hardly have the time to even take two steps back."
"you know my work entitles me to this lifestyle," chan reasons. his voice is cracking and seeing chan this hurt merely makes you want to go to him and shelter and protect him for as long as you live. however, that very act makes you feel lost. not right now. what the two of you need at this minute is a break.
"i know," you look at him with guilt. "i know and yet i can't help but feel a little bit nervous of you never being there. i can't help but realise that your career is definitely way more important to you than i am. i understand that but i can't help but realise that maybe you don't love—"
"don't." chan's voice turns icy. he takes a step forward and you shudder at that moment. why did things turn out like this? why could the two of you not be like any other normal couple out there?
"stay, baby," chan pleads. his hands hold your arms fiercely and he leans over to look at you in your eyes. "i beg of you. stay. we'll make this work, somehow."
"how much more can the two of us try, chan?"
"enough to make this work. you promised me a lifetime of happiness. don't go back on your promise, baby. please."
chan is vulnerable, like a glass ready to crumble into fine dust and you realise how human this man — who seemed to be very nonchalant once — was all his life. in all the time you had dated him, chan had been rarely vulnerable and every time you saw him like that, it made you wonder how the world could ever be cruel to him to put him in such a state. the joke is on you this time for it is you who was hurting the one man you never wanted to let go of, the one man you never wanted the world to hurt.
"i'm hurting, chan. every day i go back home waiting for that one call of yours that never comes. i lay in bed wondering how it was perfect only months back when you pulled me close and rested your head on top of mine as we drifted to sleep. chan, we are not working," you gesture at the two of you, "this relationship is strained, toxic and potentially damaging to our mental wellbeing."
you are crying. your eyes burn and your cheeks are wet. chan looks at you in a shock. his eyes are red and he takes a step back from you, dropping his hands on either side of his body. he looks lifeless for a split moment and you are hurting too much to sort this issue out.
"do you want me to let you go?"
"yes," you say with much pain and sorrow from every word that can rip you away from chan.
"okay." chan takes two steps forward, edging closer to you, "okay. but do me one last thing before leaving me."
you look up at him, wondering if it could be anything that could revoke more memories and hurt you more than it already was. chan couldn't do that. he was in pain too. the two of you manage to be hurting at the same time.
"stay with me tonight. one last time before i say goodbye."
chan closes into you and cups your face delicately. he leans close enough for you to feel his breath fan on your face. his eyes are glassy and they shine in the light. his brown eyes with specks of chestnut hues look pretty. he is so devastatingly pretty.
how is that chan looked so painstakingly pretty to you right before you were about to leave him?
"chan," you sigh his name out like an airy breath of fresh morning hopes. "no."
"why?"
"because then i would want to stay," you whisper into nothing. your heart strings drum and beats quicker. your eyes burn so badly and you want to leave instantly and cry out loudly.
chan presses his lips against yours instantly. his softness melts into yours as you kissed him and he to you like nothing else mattered. you sigh within and bring your hands up only to find home in his soft brown hair. he is everywhere, infiltrating your mind slowly and creeping into everything subconscious.
every contact of his reminds you of everything you had and everything you were ready to miss out on. chan leans closer, and suddenly he is kissing you harder, deeper with a fervent urgent need you had never known.
"chan," you pull away and lean back slightly. "chan, what are we doing?"
"let me make you stay," he whispers into the crook of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.
"but I won't stay," you mumble, sadly. "i can't."
"then, allow me one night to remember everything," chan rasps out. his mouth has found its way to your neck. parting his mouth sinfully, he latches onto the skin at the crook of your neck and sucks. your eyelids close and your eyes roll back.
with chan, it is the small oblivious bliss. with chan, it is possession and yet not. with chan, it is being loved and cherished. with chan, you feel complete and yet crave for so much more.
like the air you blow into a balloon with a hole.
you pull chan closer by his hair and you hear him moan against your skin, the shudder of euphoria running down your spine and only enhancing the heat you felt at your core. yout body needs him as much as your mind craves his being.
chan pulls apart and looks at you, studying your face, every curve and every dip. he wants to remember everything. he begins, "i—" but never continues. rather, he holds your waist and lifts you up. your legs wrap around his waist automatically and almost in an instinct. you wrap your hands around his neck and lean forwards.
your cold thumb grazes the expanse of his cheekbone and your chest contracts. everything is too painful. chan's hand squeezes your waist and you lean forward for your foreheads to touch.
chan still smells like fresh morning with mist and beautiful dew. you blink the tears that threaten to spill as you cup his face. you peck his lips, once, twice and again till you can remember how his lips were with your eyes closed.
chan parts his lips for a sigh and you kiss him. you press your lips against his and you feel him loosen, his arms still on your waist, but this time, his fingers grazed ever so slightly. you let out a whimper when he pulls apart.
the next thing chan does is take you to his bed. He carefully walks across his room, still carrying you and you're looking at him. you look at chan's eyes and you look at his nose. you study his face and your heart aches with every minute you stay.
he places you delicately on his bed and and you watch him stand and pull his shirt up to remove it. the moment seems familiar, the emotion however, is not.
chan matches your body form and you instinctively arch upwards, moaning in the contact of his body heat against yours. you kiss him again and you feel him relax against you, lips softening as he permits you to take his lower lip between your teeth. you suck against his lower lip, moaning into his mouth as he pushes his tongue against yours.
chan's hands trace the sides of your torso, cradling your curves as he finds home in your neck. chan has always liked your neck. his licks, kisses and sudden bites only further enhances your point. your hands go to his hair as you hold him more firmly against you. the swelling of him beneath you makes you gasp and your thighs rub against each other.
chan pulls back for a minute, his fingers playing with the ends of your shirt. you whine greedily and move your hands to pull the shirt off your body. chan helps but he is so slow that you pause and look into his eyes. chan wants this moment to last forever.
he removes the shirt off of you and looks at you, unsure when his fingers trail to your shorts. you place your hands over his and together, you unbutton your shorts. you pull yourself upwards and kissing chan, you say, "i'm staying the night, chan. i'll stay tonight."
the two of you discard the rest of your clothes, undergarments still on, only for him to pause and stare at your breasts, "how did i not notice you not wearing a bra when you were soaked in the rain?" and then he realizes how, pausing for a while. you quickly pull chan closer.
chan rushes to latch his lips back on your skin, sucking and kissing his way from the crook of your neck to the top of your left breast. you rock your hips against his, desperate for some friction. your clit has swollen, moisture already dampening the fabric of your panties.
chan's hands travel to your arse, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers and grinding you down against the bulge growing in his boxers. a moan escapes your lips even before you could hold it and chan looks distinctly pleased.
"chan," you whine. "chan, please. i need you. touch. kiss. anything. please. i need you everywhere."
he smiles and removes the grasp on your arse, your skin feeling bruised over how tight he was holding you. his fingers trail upwards only to loop around the strap of your panties and he pulls it away from your body slightly only to release it. the strap hits against your skin and you wince.
"you're so delectable," he mumbles and pulls your panties away. you rub your thighs together, feeling your wetness spread. his lips gently graze over your hip bones and land right over your clit, grazing it almost unnoticeably. the sudden contact leads you to grip on chan's arm and cover your mouth to smother your groans.
"do you like this, baby? do you want more of this?" he kisses the skin on your hips, so close to where you craved his attention.
"chan—"
"you could have more of this if you stayed. y/n, just stay, please," he peppers more kisses around, moving his hands up and down your thighs.
"chan, no," you place your hands on his head, tangling your fingers into his hair. "i—"
"why not?"
and then chan's lips find your lower ones and you moan so loud that you didn't know you even had it in you. you pull his hair up of surprise and chan licks your lips up and down slowly and in the most gratifying manner.
"c-chan!"
he doesn't respond. he merely brings his hand down and places his thumb over your clit, pressing down on it as he licks you. he pulls apart to lightly kiss your inner thighs and the sudden loss of contact makes you whine.
"why can you not stay?"
"because it hurts to be with you when you're never around," you sigh, tears rolling down your cheek and chan looks at you from below. he sees you vulnerable and broken and he blames himself. he is as responsible for leading himself to this situation as much as you are.
he holds tight on to your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he plants soft kisses on your dripping core. he sucks and nibbles on the lips before parting them with his tongue, swiping one big stroke and resting on your sensitive nub.
"chan, more, please," you whimper. his sinful tongue feels like heaven on your hot core, and you leave your hands to move around to look for places to grip onto; moving from your hair, to the edge of the bedsheet, until they find their way to his hair again where you make your final grip. you always did like gripping on his hair during sex. it edges him and steers him to do as you pleased. you instantly entangle your fingers through the strands of his locks as you start to move your hips in the same motion as the movements which his lips and tongue are now making.
chan keeps his action of devouring you with hunger, moving his tongue skilfully in and out of you, humming as he went. the vibration only makes you edge a bit more. you close your eyes and focus on feeling him and his motion. and right at the moment, chan feels your grip on him getting tighter. when your whimpers sound more desperate, he moves two fingers inside your walls, curling deep while sucking at your clit. he keeps biting lightly at the swollen nub, making you cry out his name. the moment when he feels you tightening around his fingers, he latches his lips around your clit tightly and sucks, all while thrusting his fingers deep onto your sweet spot, relentlessly, until you see sea of stars from under your eyelids.
"ch—" your breathing shortens and you quake, "oh my god! baby!"
however, bang chan never stops; even when your whole body starts shaking and quivering on his bed. he continues the work of his fingers and his hot, sinful mouth all moving in the same pace, letting you ride out your high until it slowly subsides and you are left, gasping for air, on the brink of overstimulation.
chan finally lifts his head as you open your eyes and you notice. his lips glistening and his eyes sparkling. he runs his tongue across his lips, taking in the last of the remnants of your high. you gulp, admitting that the scene before you is hot. chan doing anything will always be hot.
"fuck my life, i'm so in love with you," chan says and your eyes widen.
"no," you mumble. "you should not be."
"isn't that my decision, baby?" chan says. you lean forward and holding onto his arm sockets, you move him backwards allowing yourself to climb on top of him. you position yourself over his leg and frantically pull his boxers down and away.
"you shouldn't though," you take his cock into your hands. chan stifles a moan. his fingers softly hold your head and stroking your hair as you tease him with your tongue on his shaft. your eyes keep looking up at his face while you drag a slow lick along the base of his member, before swirling your tongue around the tip, earning his subtle grunt and unsteady breaths while he looks at you with darkening eyes.
you lock your gaze on chan and dragging one excruciatingly slow lick, you take his head into your mouth before pulling apart almost instantly. you drag your tongue over your lips and tease, "tell me what you want, baby boy."
chan smiles widely at you and your sudden voice of confidence. he strokes the back of your neck and says, "i want you to stay."
"you're such a buzz—"
"but i know you won't. so i'd rather, just for tonight, have you as a whole. i want your pretty little mouth on my cock, wrapped around it and sucking it. i want you to look like a mess, baby, for me."
you smile at him softly and almost apologetically. shaking your head of any sad thoughts, you place another kiss on the swollen tip of his cock, before giving a long and slow lick at the base of his shaft, coating his member with your saliva, and finally take him completely in your mouth. you hum gladly as your lips move and sink down slowly, adjusting yourself to the size of him, only stopping once you feel his tip touching the back of your throat. the depth and your constant move gifts you with a couple of deep groans coming out of his own lips. you look up to see him, supporting himself up and leaning his head back, enjoying the way your mouth is sucking him tightly. once you are adjusted to the size of his girth, the muscles around your jaw relax a little, permitting you to move your head and sink down low. hollowing your cheeks, you keep sucking him on your way up with flattened tongue, stopping by the time you reach his tip only to sink yourself back down.
"fuck, fuck. fuck, y/n, baby. your mouth feels euphoric," chan groans, his head dropping and his eyes screwing shut. you let out another hum in acknowledgement and respond with another bob of your head up and down his length.
the sound of his ragged breath and his whimpers makes you aware of how fucked out he was. you keep your pace while raking his thigh with your nails from one hand, while you use the other to cup and graze the skin of his scrotum and his uncovered base. until suddenly, he looks down on you while gently stroking the sides of your face with his thumbs before he moves his hips upwards, thrusting deeper into your mouth.
you gag in surprise with his length reaching all the way down to your throat. you whimper against his cock. you keep your tongue still flat and presses against the base of his cock to give him more sensation as he keeps fucking your mouth at a distinct pace. you hold on tightly onto his thighs, scoring them, ignoring the soreness on your jaw and throat to let him chase his high, until he finally explodes inside you. the sudden appearance of his thick, creamy release filling your mouth has you gagging. when chan slows down, you are finally able to carefully swallow every single drop, a few dripping down by the corners of your mouth.
"ah, fuck," he suspires, gradually slowing until he stops and pulls himself out of your mouth. "i'm so sorry— i'm sorry, baby," he tells you between his ragged breaths, sitting up and rubbing his thumb on your face and neck lovingly, over and over again. "did i hurt you? tell me i did not. fuck, i got carried away."
you take hold of his hand and kiss his knuckles, letting out a small chuckle. chan pulls you closer and hugs you and you sit in his warmth. you mumble against his chest, "i hate to be evil, but i hope that no one can give you a blow job or a mind-blowing sex like i could."
chan sighs and holds you tighter, "don't you already have me in your captive?"
the back of chan's hand moves around the edges of your face before he pulls you in and kisses you slowly. he touches the tip of his tongue to yours, teasing at first, before entwining your tongues together. his hand moves down your back and pulls you closer, your core pressed against his cock and you moan against his mouth.
"i'm going to make you come all night. when you tire out, i'll let you rest and have you again," chan whispers against your ear as he pulls apart from your lips.
this was why leaving chan was hard. he was addictive. the taste of his lips, the deep moan he exhaled when he deepened the kiss. you let him intertwine his tongue with yours, let him taste your mouth while you press your palms on his chest to feel his warmth. chan's hand runs freely over the curve of your arse, earning a gasp to escape from your lips, stopping the kiss unexpectedly.
he pushes you back once he had calmed down from his last high and climbs on top of you with a smirk, "i could eat you out again but good lord, you look so fucking delectable that i need to have my cock inside of you — right now."
you gulp and you feel your throat parching. he continues kissing you while settling himself between your shaky legs, groaning against your mouth the moment he could feel your wet folds brushing the tip of his shaft. he leans forward to catch your erect nipple between his lips. he did the same thing to the other breast.
he firmly holds your name and kisses every single part of your body, murmuring softly against your skin, "need to remember. need to remember. fuck, i need to remember you."
you cup his face softly and look at him, breathing slowly in order to force him to do the same, "chan, I love you."
"but you can't stay."
"i can't."
"i need to be inside of you. i need to remember how you felt. i need to engrave it till i know how much you've captivated me and left me miserable," he whispers softly between your kisses, and you buck your hips upward to meet his as a response. you are still mildly sensitive but so needy to feel him inside you.
exhaling, chan pushes his throbbing length between your swollen lips, ever so slowly delving into your hot sex with a low grunt and moan. you instantly hook one leg around his hip, placing both of your palms on his back as you guided him inside you. your soft, hot walls enveloped his length, pulling him in deeper as he thrust his hips against yours and when your being finally envelopes him, he grunts in content.
"i missed this so much," he whispers to you, pressing your foreheads together as you pant softly against his lips, trying to regulate your breathing. "i'll miss you, baby."
chan waits until you adjust yourself to his length. no matter how many times you have had sex with him, his girth still surprises you. you notify him by pecking on his lips with your eyes flickering up to him and staring at him with lust and want, and chan knows you are ready.
he moves slowly in and out of you in a calculated rhythm, almost like he was playing his own music, never looking away. he pulls his hips back and then thrusts forward, filling your hole as much as possible once your body recognises his being.
"fuck," chan grunts. beads of perspiration have formed on his neck and slowly they drop down and you watch. chan looks precious and for a minute there, you want to stay. you want to stay with chan forever, marry him and have his kids. you want to be there in his highs and lows. but you know you shouldn't. he deserved better and so did you.
"oh god, y/n," he moans, gripping your thigh harder. he keeps on grinding his shaft into your wetness with more fervour and all you could do is —
"chan!"
scream his name out for everyone around to know.
he sighs, moving his hips into yours a bit faster as you begin to meet his thrusts with the movements of your hips. he lets go of you and drops both of his hands down to the bed on either side of you, holding himself up and increasing his range of motion; pulling nearly all the way out, then rocking forward to push all the way back into his base.
your fingers keep holding tight on his shoulder and his upper arm, lightly scratching your nail on his skin. he leans down to press his mouth to you, kissing you hungrily. he moves into you harder and even faster, scrunching the sheets up under his palms while driving his shaft deep into you.
your soft moans grow higher in pitch and you bite into your lower lip harshly. you become louder as you feel your high approaching. "chan, baby, fuck," you rasp out and chan kisses your clavicle and licks a stripe, leaving a bruise by its end.
"let go, baby," he moves his hands back on your hip with a tight grip, helping you to move in the same rhythm as his. you grip harder on his arms for leverage. you feel him grinding your clenching walls with his shaft inside of you until you can not take any more, and your entire body shakes from the second climax of the night.
chan starts to slow down yet keeps thrusting forward, so gently and disoriented. he smiles before kissing you deeply once again. he groans at the feeling of your walls clenching hard around his shaft, your orgasm lingering even after your body had stopped shaking so much. leaning down, chan presses his body hard on you while he kisses you, and you can feel his member throbbing within your depths and his heart pounding fast in his chest. his brown eyes look softer tonight and his eyes are glassy. you cup his face and kiss him repeatedly. you hold him steady while he pushes into you languidly. you can't seem to part with him — is this what love does?
you move your hips. you can feel your desire still dripping hot in your core and more than ready to continue on. "keep going. i want to feel you come inside me, chan."
his hips, hitting against your clit repeatedly, makes you woozy with tensed and excess euphoria. it is too much but you couldn't stop. you guide him into you, over and over again even when your walls seemed to scream out of exhaustion. you needed to feel chan in you, fill you up.
you wiggle your hips and raise them to meet his warmth. smiling, you bend your knees up to help him reach his high quicker.
you hold onto the moment he starts to move his hips one more time, drilling inside of you with both of his hands planted on the bed once again for grip. this time, you keep your eyes opened. you gasp and enjoy how beautiful his toned body looks, moving above you fluidly. silently admiring how his skin is glowing from the illuminating moonlight which enters the room through the opened windows, how they had fallen perfectly on his sweaty chest against the background music of the rain hitting the window panes.
you let your eyes capture its beauty, memorising him and everything else the best you still could in your mind. just so you could keep the image of him making love to you for as long as you possibly could in your memories. after all, this is it. this was the end of the lane, the last page in the chapter you shared with him.
you graze chan's chin and watch how he moves into you. you close your eyes for a second - just for a second - to hear distinctly of the squelching sound of his cock entering you and his hips slapping against yours.
he tilts his head and gives you a few sloppy kisses by the edges of your neck and then your mouth. your eyes screw shut with the overload of euphoria. you are oversensitive and tears spill out from your eyes. chan thrusts a few more times into you before reaching his own orgasm that washes over him like a wave. you feel his cock pulsate and a shiver of pleasure runs down your spine. his movements become slower. he grunts and moans in each motion of his and you lean forward to kiss him. after a few deep and long kisses, he steadies himself and pulls out of you carefully. he kisses you a few more times — your lips, neck, clavicles, breasts and everywhere.
chan falls besides you and sighs. he cups your face and looks at you. your eyes are closing in exhaustion and you whimper, "i'll miss this."
chan remembers that this is the last time and pulls you closer, a lone treacherous tear falling on your face. he watches you carefully and you softly smile, "you should sleep. you have practice tomorrow."
"no, it's my last day with you. i'd rather watch you than waste time sleeping," he sounds sad and you move closer into his warmth.
"i really do love you, chan."
"i know and so do i. our circumstances just weren't right. don't beat yourself to it," he mumbles, pushing a strand of your hair from your face.
"nor should you. promise me that you won't overwork yourself?"
"i—"
"chan!"
"just go to sleep, baby. you look tired. i love you," chan coos and you yawn almost immediately. he laughs and rubs your back soothingly and you fall asleep. chan does too, soon after.
and when his eyelids part the next morning, the bed feels cold and his heart feels the void. you are gone and chan is lonely as he has been always.
#straykidsland#chan smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids hard hours#skz hard hours#kpop smut#bang chan smut#bang chan#stray kids#skz#chan x reader#chan fic#chan scenarios#chan imagines#skz imagines#skz scenarios#writings.rue
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BUTT-DIAL? NO, BOOTY CALL | tony stark
explicit, 5,4k words. wrong number text, family shame & wedding drama that isn't even his and a ruined first date. despite the implications of the situation, both reader and tony are very entertained. meet-ugly series, part three.
[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]
💚 masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq 💚
Another sunny day spent wasted in a conference room full of boring, old, conceited chairmen. Tony Stark vehemently refused to commiserate with them, their boring speeches and blunt, straightforward thinking. Sitting through a meeting was like walking on nails barefoot: painful, pointless. Mind-numbing.
His phone beeped loudly and he reached into his pocket, pretending to not see Pepper's disapproving look. Both of them knew he was hoping for a sudden Assemble call - that would surely get him out of the meeting - but as much as he hoped, they never struck at the right time.
Except, this time it wasn't a call for assistance, and neither it was an automated spam message with Pizza Hut promo codes. Tony's eyebrows drew close and his lips upturned as he read and re-read the obvious rant written on his screen, typing up his answer before he managed to resist the morbid curiosity that was fueled by his boredom.
Whoever it was, they were justifiably angry and the whole situation was almost too comical to be true, except he'd known people exactly like the runaway bride, selfish, greedy and stupid. He totally understood the woman's desire to just go and load up on tequila shots somewhere - so he bid her a haste farewell, all the while snickering to himself.
"It's Rogers," Tony offered in the way of explanation to a glaring Pepper, locking his phone away and settling in to continue pretending he was listening as another old, crusty white man offered his input on topics he was too much of a dinosaur to even really know about.
He couldn't stop thinking about the incident over the days, the story making him snort more times than he could count as the memory randomly crossed his mind in the lab, at the coffee pot or during dinner. So when a message came through from that very same number, the smirk snuck up onto his face before he even read its contents.
A brief crash course in memes from Parker had turned out to be more useful than ever. Irritating Rogers with pictures got old very fast, however, in moments Tony got rendered speechless they proved to be the perfect substitute for trying to articulate all his thoughts on the matter.
Celebrity appearance, she said? More likely than one would think. The engineer had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter when she'd texted him that; obviously, the woman had no clue who she was texting with and he decided to further indulge in his curiosity by asking for her name: Friday did the rest.
A phone number and a name, ten minutes, and all her social media were free for him to stalk. Investigate- uh, observe. With little effort, Tony found both her and her brother, the unlucky groom, and the runaway bride and even her step-dad. On paper, they all looked like average middle-class families. Nothing seemed amiss.
It didn't mean anything, but Tony caught himself thinking about the woman. Perhaps it might have been the mischievous gleem in her eyes that was easily spotted in every picture or perhaps the raunchy sense of humour not much different from his own. Pretty, witty and smart - what's there not to like?
"So that's why you've been going around, smiling like a middle-schooler with a crush," Natasha's voice whisper-shouted in Tony's ear as the spy discreetly peered over his shoulder into his phone. He had the chat pulled up, debating on starting a casual conversation-
"Jesus Christ, Romanoff, somebody needs to put a bell on you," Tony snapped, startled, pressing the button to lock his phone immediately.
"Uhuh," The redhead replied, side-eyeing a snickering Barnes. "Who is she?"
Tony rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep in. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and the rest of the team acting like children wasn't helping the matter. "I got a butt-dial text about some wedding drama. Some chick's brother's fiance was fucking her own stepdad and ditched the wedding for her old man."
Stunned silence settled briefly into the room as Romanoff's eyes widened and Barnes choked on his orange juice. Serves him right, Tony thought, and continued his coffee-making process in quiet irritation.
"Wait, wait, hold on," Wilson half-laughed half-yelled. "You gotta spill the tea, man, this sounds too good to be true. Stories like that just don't fall into your hands."
With a sigh, he recounted the woman's story and read the texts aloud, silencing his snickering enough to be able to keep a straight face - but not for long, Rogers decided it was the time for another one of his Captain America Is Disappointed In You speeches and Tony himself couldn't even disagree.
Now that he thought about it, he came off as a kind of asshole. She and her family was going through something traumatic and he went and treated it like free entertainment. Which, to be fair, it was, but she didn't deserve to be treated like a circus clown. She actually seemed like a good sister and friend.
"Just text her," Natasha rolled her eyes at him, grabbing the coffee pot out of his frozen hand. "You're not Steve, you can keep a decent conversation via text."
Being compared to Steve and his pre-historic messaging habits really did a number on Tony's ego; the eyeroll he gave Romanoff was truly out of this world, all but teleporting him to his lab where he tried to find a way to approach the woman without coming off as incredibly creepy, as if the fact that he'd stalked her on social media didn't already put him firmly into the weirdo category.
Most likely, Tony would have spent many many days on overthinking before just grabbing one of his suits to make a truly impressive landing on her small balcony downtown; thankfully, fate had intervened and saved him from making another epic mistake. He'd made a note to ask Thor about it sometime, settling down with his tablet and popcorn bowl to watch TV on the team's movie night.
Or, more precisely, Tony settled in to watch the drama unfold as the various members of the team fought tooth and nail for the film that they wanted to watch. He never cared about it much, dozing off halfway through most of them - his teammates had the worst taste in movies - so he didn't bother joining the scuffle except when it was Peter's turn to pick. For obvious reasons.
"If you can't decide I'm gonna have someone else pick a movie," Natasha rolled her eyes, equally fed up with fully grown adults acting like spoiled toddlers.
With a stutter of his breath, Tony's hand reached for his phone as he had an Idea.
Seconds tickled as the "typing..." bubble appeared and disappeared multiple times. She must think he's just a thirsty frat boy; Tony's brow furrowed, but the curiosity was far too strong in him. Something about her vibe, her feisty nature captivated him and kept him thinking about her.
The agreement came as a surprise. In the two minutes the woman had spent thinking up her answer, Tony prepared himself to be rebuffed gently, or, worst case, be called a creep. But no - she agreed, but not before vehemently insisting that if he would end up being a creepy serial killer, she would haunt his ass for the remainder of his life.
Friday couldn't come soon enough. Tony spent most of the day loitering between his lab and the penthouse, glancing at his phone every now and then to make sure she wouldn't cancel on him last minute. The engineer wanted to see the witty, no-filter-having woman in the flesh.
And see her, he did. He'd pulled up in front of the hole-in-the wall Ramen&Bar place Clint had been raving about weeks prior - contrary to popular belief, Tony was perfectly fine with going to places that didn't have Michelin stars - and leaned against the door of his Audi R8, eyes immediately taking note of the figure calmly walking down the street, head tilted down where she was typing up a reply to him.
Tony smirked as she lifted her face up to see him, mouth immediately falling open. The shock was obvious; it lasted mere seconds until her shoulders dropped and she sighed almost... In disappointment. He frowned.
"I jinxed it, didn't I? Here's my celebrity appearance," The laugh was a little nervous and quite sardonic. "Hi, Tony, nice to finally see you."
He smiled, unsure, quipping back easily. "Let's face it, I'm not the worst famous Tony out there." Opening the door of the building for the woman, she stepped in eagerly enough, eyes immediately falling on the bartender and the few dimly lit tables in the back.
"Not by any means," She turned towards him, walking backwards. Tony met her stare; it was just like he'd imagined it to be, curious, mischievous and a little daring. She didn't even attempt to play subtle, raking over him from head to toe. "Not at all, I think," She gave another teasing smile, finally turning around, addressing the bartender and rattling off her order without as much as looking at the menu.
Tony couldn't stop staring. He was aware it was creepy, she was aware of his clever brown eyes barely paying attention to their surroundings or the beer or the food. The woman just quirked an eyebrow every time she caught him. His curiosity couldn't wait any more. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He blurted out, cursing himself out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.
"My almost-sister-in-law was fucking her own stepdad," The woman deadpanned. "I ran out of fucks to give, sorry." She thoughtfully chewed her food, briefly looking to the side. "Not to sound like an asshole, but don't you have enough people fawning over you? Doesn't it get old?"
Tony nodded, choosing to stay silent on the matter besides offering an amicable, "That's valid."
The mischief lit up again in her eyes. "You look taller on TV," She snorted, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at his face full of outrage. He sputtered, muttering something about audacity of some people, which made her only laugh harder. "Here's a pro tip from my 4'11 bestie: when someone calls you short, you snarl at them and say you're fun-sized. She swears by it," The woman remarked conversationally, grinning a two hundred watt smile.
Tony was glad at least someone was enjoying their little... Date. "And you know all about fun, don't you?" He aimed for grumpy; it came out as teasing. His famous smirk made a return appearance as he watched her throat bob.
The atmosphere between them had changed at some point; the same old routine of teasing and dancing around each other, but this time, Tony all but purred in satisfaction, finally meeting someone who was an even match to his wit and charm.
"I do," She replied with that cocky confidence, her devil eyes lighting up, lingering on his face. "Got a problem with that?"
The plate was pushed away, napkin falling into the food carelessly as he gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "As a scientist, I cannot confirm whether a theory is true until I have direct evidence," The bullshit flowed easily from his mouth, but the woman appeared to be amused by it - for a change. "M'fraid I'm gonna need that evidence," His fingers drummed on the table, impatiently, inches away from her hand.
"Of course, Mr. Stark," Her voice dropped, she was fully aware of what she was doing by calling him that. That, and those deep, magnetic eyes made Tony's trousers feel a little too tight for comfort.
His phone rang loudly, dissipating the atmosphere they had created with a shrill noise. Captain Cockblock struck again.
Fumbling fingers, Tony tapped the green icon, shooting an apologetic look to the woman. "Rogers, there better be another alien invasion or I'm revoking your phone privileges," The woman chortled, taking a sip of her beer, trying hard not to seem like she was listening in and failing spectacularly at it. "Today, out of all days? Can't Strange fill in for me?" The engineer palmed his face, running a hand through his neatly done-up hair. It would be covered in soot and sweat in an hour anyways. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Romanoff better be hauling Barton's lazy ass out of Bed-Stuy." With a frown, Tony poked the red icon and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, looking for all and all, like an angry adolescent.
The woman, however, didn't indicate any signs of displeasure. Her hand timidly reached out for his, giving it a brief squeeze. "Go, save the world, Mr. Stark," Her smile was sympathetic. They both stood up at the same time, Tony watching her incredulously as the woman untied a scrap of red fabric from around her neck and placed it around his wrist, tying the fabric with a loose but, frankly, pretty knot. "I like that bandanna, would be a shame if you didn't return it," She explained, shrugging her shoulders.
Tony snorted, fondly rolling his eyes, before beelining for the door, activating his Iron Man suit on the way out. Turning around before take off, he noticed her throw a couple of crumpled bills to the server who was too busy ogling him.
He forgot to pay for dinner, Tony realized as he made his way to the other part of the city. Well, fuck, he would definitely have to see her again.
---
An alien invasion during her first good date in ages - scribble, scribble, sigh. She couldn't do much more than that - just as she thought her string of bad luck had ended, the world turned around and flipped her a juicy bird, all but laughing straight in her face. Like that already wasn't enough, oh no, she groused as she spied the debris and random abandoned cars on her way home - it looked like some portion of the battle had been close to her home and only the sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from her life being turned upside down during the last month prevented her from having a full-on freak-out in the middle of the eerily quiet street.
Truly, the fucks she had to give had been expired.
The gloomy mood was interrupted by a cry - for help or of outrage, she didn't know, but the kindness in her, the very values she'd been raised with didn't allow her just to walk by, and with another resigned sigh, she tucked the nice blouse she'd put on for the date under her warm sweater and set off in the direction of the sound, finding the culprit in little under a couple of minutes.
Freeing the trapped civilian wasn't easy but, thankfully, neither it required super-strength or any kind of heavy machinery. The man thanked her and with him in tow, both of them set off to inspect nearby nooks and crannies. Logic won that day - if there's was one person, there could be more.
Hours later, sweaty, sore and bruised, the woman greedily chugged the water bottle someone had passed onto her as the amount of medics and firefighters had finally reached the threshold of when her help wasn't needed anymore. While her date and his colleagues fought whatever nasty that thought NYC was a sandbox battleground for their amusement, the woman found herself helping out with retrieval & evacuation of the civilians that didn't make it out of the neighborhood before the heat of the fight reached it. There were no deaths registered as of then and deep inside, she felt proud, knowing that she had contributed to the statistic at least a little.
Her phone was dying, her body was covered in dirt and scratches from head to toe and the bruises were beginning to ache. Tony's worry-worting was cute but the tiredness overcame her, making her brain sluggish and her demeanor short, so she hastily pocketed the phone, trailing over to the closest man in uniform she could spot.
"Sir?" She addressed him, eyeing the unfamiliar logo on his jacket. "Can I go, please?" She pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the makeshift medical station.
"I'm going to have to see your ID first," He replied apologetically, tapping away on his tablet.
With a sigh, she dug through her purse, giving it to him and using the brief moment of respite to smooth back her hair and dust off her clothing. There was a cloud of concrete and dirt surrounding her.
"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet, Mr. Stark left strict instructions for you to be picked up by him personally," The agent gave the ID back with a suspicious glint in his eye.
"Oh c'mon," The annoyed whine escaped her lips before she registered it. "It was our first date," She offered to the puzzled agent, only succeeding in making him lean back and inspect her with a raised eyebrow. "Bye," She replied none too kindly, walking off to find a place to sit down.
The time passed in a strange way. The aches and pains and exhaustion made it stop, and if someone would have asked her, she wouldn't know how much of it has passed until her eyes reluctantly cracked open at the sound of a familiar voice, coming to see a pair of expensive shoes covered in dust. At least she wasn't the only one that looked like she'd taken a roll through someone's gritty attic.
"Morning, you Tasmanian Devil," Tony sounded jovial, all things considered.
"Hello to you too, Tin Can," The woman greeted him on par, without missing a beat.
"Now, now," He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully, before pulling her to her feet. "I come with peace offerings. Your building is under quarantine and I've got a perfectly good bed and a shower with thirty settings on it at my place. Whatcha say?"
She only pretended to think about it. Her reply was haste. "I don't make a habit of going into strange dudes' towers but I'll make an exception this once." A shower and a bed sounded heavenly.
Finally getting the chance to look at him, Tony appeared to be unhurt but equally exhausted and dirty. A few scrapes on his face and arms, he was missing his blazer, and had a weary tone to his face. Some parts of his Iron Suit were still on him - like the chest plate - but besides that, he was whole. The red of the bandanna she gave him was equally dirty but still neatly tied around his wrist, just like she left it.
"How's your relationship with heights?" He asked her and all she could do was blink, watching curiously as his body was enveloped by the red and gold, crawling over his skin like a swarm of shiny termites. That was all the warning she got before the metal arms - quite literally - sweeped her off her feet. "Faster this way," She could hear the nonchalant shrug in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. "Now hold on."
Awe and fear culminated inside the woman but the weariness had long since surpassed comfortable levels and all she did was give a weak nod and close her eyes as Tony lifted off, gusts of wind making her skin break out in goosebumps and her hair stand up wildly on her head. During the short trip her eyes fluttered open only once just to close back up immediately - all she saw were clouds, white and fluffy, like marshmallows, and the shining beacons of NYC skyscrapers somewhere far away.
The paralyzing anxiety fully dissipated only when her feet found purchase on the tiled floors, Tony's arms never ceasing to support her swaying frame until the breaths she took were her own and not the result of her fluttering heart and muted panic. "You with me, Wonder Woman?"
"Yes, Weird Science," She mumbled. "Thanks for the heads up," The annoyance had to find a way out and that it did.
"You're welcome," The cocky smirk returned to Tony's face as his suit receded, leaving him barefoot, dirty jeans and a torn tee. He stretched with a sweet groan, gesturing towards the door. "Friday will direct you towards the showers. Feel free to grab a t-shirt from the closet."
The woman nodded, too awestruck by the man and his hospitality, eyes darting all over the tastefully decorated room, the expensive knick-knacks scattered everywhere, the absolutely enormous sloppily made bed. Tony Stark liked to live luxuriously - even the shower was a state of the art technological wonder.
Dirty pants and dusty blouse went flying somewhere in the back of the bathroom as the woman stood up on her tippy toes, reaching for the sky, stretching her sore muscles. The glass wall of the shower had began to fog up from the hot water. The knock went barely noticed by the woman who jumped as Tony's voice startled her out of her daydream.
"Forgot I ran out of towels here..." He trailed off, voice dropping as he spotted her only in her underwear. She turned, responding with a lopsided grin, spying the stack of fluffy grey in his arms, the arc reactor in the middle of his bare chest. He smirked, "Damn. Can I join you?" Giving her what only could be described as a respectful once-over.
Tired as she was, her sense of humour and wit didn't go down for a much needed nap just yet. "I don't know, you tell me. Can you?" Turning back around, the woman made a short show of unclasping her bra and tossing it in the general vicinity of her dirty clothing pile. She'd worn a cute matching set of undies that day and the fact didn't go over Tony's head, she was sure.
The door clicked shut just as she raised her face to the stream of water, feeling calmer with each second, muscles relaxing themselves as the hot stream washed away the dirt and the dust off her body.
"And I thought this evening was ruined," Tony's voice insinuated from behind her. A hand reached for the soap, his body heat scorching compared to the steaming water. He stayed just a few inches away, enough to feel him, enough for her body to respond and crave more. "It's nice to be wrong for a change. Refreshing."
The woman hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through her wet, knotted hair. "First decent evening in ages. I wasn't gonna let some uninvited Predator knock-offs ruin it for me," She was more than a little peeved at the space invaders interrupting her nice date. Tony was a great conversationalist, it was easy to talk to him and he had a brilliant sense of humour. Not to mention the obvious, he was easy on the eyes.
"That's the spirit," The voice was closer now, almost in her ear. Even though her eyes were closed, the woman was aware he was reaching for something, letting him butt her hands out of the way to lather her hair, scrubbing at her scalp meticulously, until the sounds that left her mouth bordered on embarrassing. Once that was done, Tony moved onto her body, running his hands over her back, the outside of her hips. "M'not stepping over, am I?" He asked quietly, touch faltering every time he brushed over a scrape or a bruise.
"No, you're doing great, Tony," It wasn't exactly conventional - sharing a very intimate shower after an interrupted first date, but then again, nothing about this man was conventional and her life had already been turned upside down no less than twice recently. The woman didn't lie, the gentle, caring touch felt soothing.
Arching her back, she lifted her arms to repay him with the same, raking her fingers through his hair, leaning into the shudder that ran throughout his body. It was nice to bask in whatever they had going on, so the motion to face him was almost reluctant. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and his eyes were tired but not in a way that suggested he'd kick her out first chance.
Their kiss was sweet, slow, like they already were familiar with each other in a special way. The woman tugged on his lip with her teeth - such was her character - and he pressed closer to her, raising a hand to hold the side of her face. In muted curiosity, she couldn't help but wonder if there ever had been someone that waited for him once his battles were over.
Tony's eyelashes, the very same that had no business being this long on a man, fluttered against her cheek as they stood under the shower, letting water wash away the day.
"I've always wanted to kiss in the rain, like they do in the movies. This is the closest I've gotten," She whispered, gently kneading the arch of his shoulders. "Feels better than it looks, to be honest."
Tony snorted, reaching for the knob to turn it off. "Cheesy," He teased her, wrapping a warm, fluffy towel around her body. Both people made quick work of drying themselves, exiting the fogged up bathroom, making way into the bedroom, padding soft on the carpet and falling down on the bed carelessly.
"I'm the queen of cheesy one-liners," The woman raised her eyebrows, scooting under the sheets next to Tony who opened his arms wide, a smirk on his face. She didn't give him the chance to reply, slotting her lips over his instead and groaning as their heated bodies once again rested against each other.
She ran her hands over Tony's defined pecs, glossing over the arc reactor, raked nails over his tummy, eating up the sighs leaving his mouth at the gesture. He was a beautiful man, she wasn't going to lie to herself. The warmth that settled low in her belly grew, spreading throughout her limbs and temporarily overshadowing the exhaustion.
The engineer, too, was quite excited - his erection poked her hip - and content to be steered to her wishes by the hand in his hair. Groans and sighs left his moist, parted lips as his eagerness bled into his hands, grip firm and steady on the panting woman's hips.
Adrenaline did something to her body, caused it to ache sweetly, a hunger to be satisfied only by a lover's touch. And touch she did; her mouth tasted him, alternating sucking gentle marks onto his throat and nibbling on the skin stretched thinly over his collarbones. Tony's sighs grew in depth and volume with every silent action of worship.
No inch of his body was left untouched, the woman was an all-hands-on-deck kind of lover, happily making her way down until soft lips wrapped around the crown of his cock, making his hips arch into it, hands fisted in the soft white sheets. "You devil," Tony gasped out, limbs turning to jelly, watching the woman all but devour his cock.
She popped off minutely, a trail of sticky saliva running down her chin, sticking to his glistening cock. "The power of Christ compels me?" With a smirk, her tongue trailed from his balls to the very tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum, making Tony shudder and gasp out an embarrassed laugh.
"Uh-uh," Stripped of his usual snark, he was but a man at her mercy.
"It's not very compelling," The predatory stretch of her lips widened as she took mercy on him, giving his cock a few slow tugs with her hand. Her mouth, her hand and his cock were dripping. "Gonna let me do all the legwork, Mr. Stark?" She sat up straighter, inadvertently drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs where the woman's sex glistened in the dim light, lips swollen and inviting.
It sounded like she was mocking him, teasing him, egging him into a lustful frenzy none of them had the energy for but craved anyway. Tony Stark wasn't the one to back down from a fair challenge so he relented, flipping them over with ease, landing between her spread legs, eyes drawn to the momentary bounce of her breasts. Tony wasted no time in suckling a hard nipple into his mouth, humming in response to her choked-off moan of surprise.
"Tony," Her body arched into his touch, tender skin hot under the callouses on his fingertips.
"Yes, demon, dear?" A lopsided grin and laughter in his eyes preceded the wet stripe Tony licked down to her navel. "Wasn't there something about not telling demons your name? Guess you have power over me now," He trailed off cheekily, soft breaths puffing over her mound.
The woman bit her lip, peering down to rake a hand through Tony's hair, snagging a fistful to gently steer him towards her pussy. Tony's smile was one of satisfaction as he obediently followed her silent order, nosing along the line of her cunt, dipping his tongue to run slow, sloppy lines through the soaked folds.
"Fuck," She mumbled, spreading her legs without shame. "Yeah, right there," Her fingers turned white at the agility of Tony's tongue on her clit. He was swift and relentless in pursuit of the spots that made her moan and clench around nothing. The moisture of her sex soaked his goatee but he couldn't care less.
He growled when she attempted to withdraw, wrapping his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her still for his pleasure, wringing noises that increased in volume with every stroke of his tongue on her sex.
"Tony- please, Tony, I'm gonna-" The warning was brief; her back arched as a broken moan found its way past her moist, parted lips, her pussy spasmed, dripping all over his face and the sheets.
The engineer hid his smile against her thigh, discreetly wiping the obscene amounts of moisture she produced. It wasn't very long until her hands, slightly shaky, were tugging him upwards to meet his face in a rushed, graceless kiss. There was an equal lack of finesse in the glide of his erection along her sex.
"Okay?" He mumbled into her ear, lining himself up with her fluttering cunt.
"Please," She gasped, her hands pushing his hips onto her, eagerly lifting up to accept the sweet intrusion.
There was a quiet stutter in both of their breathing, hearts thudding against their ribs as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him nestled snugly inside the rippling muscle. The pace he started out was agonizingly slow and inexplicably sweet, neither of them wanting to end their coupling prematurely but not being able to hold back the need that consumed them both.
"Fuck, you're so good to me," Tony's mumbling was overshadowed by the slick sounds coming from the place they were joined. "Gonna fill up this pretty pussy."
The woman keened at the idea, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him further into her.
"You'd like that?" He picked up the pace, blunt tip of his cock catching up with the tail end of her previous orgasm and re-lighting the fire in her belly anew.
"Yeah, Tony, please," No trace of the previous coyness in her voice, the woman was more than ready to beg, murder and steal to feel the man come undone in her arms.
It didn't take long, not with the adrenaline making their blood sing and the chemistry they shared. The brutal pace of Tony's hips quickly grew sloppy and erratic, the tightening of her inner muscles egging him on. He chased his release with deep, powerful thrusts that had the bedsheets rustle pitifully and beads of clear swear drip down his forehead.
As soon as her body arched once more, Tony let go of his control, slotting himself deeply into her spasming heat, cock throbbing as he painted her insides white with his seed, groaning incomprehensible compliments and profanities through his teeth. Chest heaving, the engineer couldn't do much more but let himself carefully fall onto her chest, aftershocks making him twitch when the woman began running a gentle hand through his hair.
"We're doing this again," He decided, still breathless but already a step ahead. She laughed.
Tony Stark taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @downeyreads @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @slothspaghettiwrites @bluecrazedandbeautiful
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Guarding Your Heart (Helmut Zemo x Reader)
Request: THE ENDING WAS PURRRRRFECT i'm gonna miss tfatws sm. I don't know if on the raft they allow inmates to be visited but let's imagine it: you visiting zemo for the first time since he was sent there, a little angst cuz you can't have skin-to-skin contact anymore but you two talk about some things and how life is going, if everything is okay 🥺🥺🥺 (by anonymous), [Marvel-Masterlist]
Summary: Inmate: Helmut Zemo. Accommodation: The Raft. Visitors: Generally prohibited. Exceptions: Maintaining a friendly relationship with an Avenger.
Words: 3,547
Warnings: angst, jail (is that a warning?), fluff, feels, my emotions, I didn’t use any pronouns!, TFATWS spoilers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤
Countless attempts from your side had been ignored. You were an average citizen. No superpower, no higher-up. Ordinary. It appeared that the Raft did not think highly of such people. Not when they proposed to visit an inmate. And definitely not when said inmate was the same Baron who broke out of a high security jail in Germany. But he was yours. His imprisonment in Europe had not been as restricted. For his sake, you had moved to the other end of the world. Simply so you could spend a bit of time together every day. Your old life had been completely abandoned. And for almost ten years, Germany had been your home. Until Sam & Bucky entered your lives once again. Though you started off on the wrong foot, this time around, you were more than grateful for their presence. Without them, especially without the former Winter Soldier, Helmut would still rot away in that tiny prison cell. Your time together had been adventurous. Often hazardous. Life threatening. In the end, you made it out alive. Coming back stronger than ever before.
It could have been a fairy tale. A long awaited fulfillment of a seemingly impossible dream. Were it not for the Wakandans crushing your reverie at the worst place imaginable. The Sokovian memorial. Where you held one of his clothed hands in both of yours. Shedding tears, remembering his old life. His wife. His son. You would never replace them. At the same time, you did not even intend to. His past was part of him & made him to the man you loved endlessly. Bucky did not receive your blame. Were you mad at him for handing Helmut over to the Wakandans? Absolutely. Then again, the super soldier was the reason why he was out of jail in the first place. It was a fine line between resentment & gratitude.
Luckily, throughout the various missions you had been a part of, you gained Sam’s trust. He took a liking in you & when he saw you struggling, he was eager to help. Obviously, the Raft yielded when the Captain America himself transmitted an inquiry. Only a few hours passed & you were on your way to Helmut’s current accommodation. A small jet that had been arranged just for you. In this instant, you did not feel average anymore. For a second, you experienced what it would feel like to live this kind of lifestyle. The one of a Baron. Why you were still unfamiliar with that even though your boyfriend was rich? Truthfully, you did not touch his money at all. It was his & when he did not have access to it while imprisoned, you did not dare using it either. Loyalty. Of course Zemo suggested utilization for you but you declined politely. After reasoning enough, he swore he fell even harder for you. The staunchness of you was remarkable.
It was bizarre. Entering the Raft with multiple workers circling you. You were told that these were the security measures that had to be met if someone wanted to visit an inmate. To you, it sounded like a poor excuse but you would not speak that thought out loud. Prisoners needed social contact. Physical contact could not be provided, that much you understood. But one would go insane without having the opportunity to see another human being that was not a guard working here.
Your body was a mess. Heart hammering at your chest with such a force, you believed it would burst any second. Irregular breaths left your lips. Trembling hands fiddled with each other in order to prevent others from noticing. Weak knees that threatened to no longer stabilize your body weight with each step you took forward. To bystanders, you probably appeared as a put-together person. On the inside, there was chaos. Nothing but chaos. How would you react? How would he react? Would you have privacy? An audience? Observers? Innumerable questions flooded your mind. Seemingly, having only one purpose. To drown you. To drown every bit of you. But you would not succumb that easily. You were so close to where you wanted to be. The fight could not end now. Disappointment would cloud you. More importantly, it would cloud him.
Four guards. It took four guards to guide you through the facility. To your surprise, the insides radiated a calm, almost content atmosphere. The walk lasted an eternity. At least, that was what it felt like. Your Helmut occupied a cell at the very end of the building. No explanation had been given to you as to why they decided to accommodate him there. Maybe, with Sam’s assistance, you could change his quarters & move it further up to the entrance. That way, if you visited again, you would not have to waltz through every narrow hallway. Listening to the whimpers of some inmates. The screams. The bashing. The…pain. There was only one person here who you were familiar with. Helmut. The others? You had no idea what crimes they implemented to end up at a place as dark as this.
“He’s at the end of that corridor.” one of the guards motioned for the others to leave you alone. His hand gestured to a tall white door that had a small built-in window. Your sight was obstructed by the frosted glass of it.
“Will you join me?” you questioned, wanting to prepare for it if he had to accompany you.
“Generally, yes.” he breathed out, putting his hands in the pockets of his uniform. Then, he sighed quietly & eyed you once more. “But since it was requested you speak to him alone, I’ll leave you be.”
“Whose request was that?” your eyebrows furrowed. The Raft was not an institution for exceptions. At first, the mere thought of getting to see Helmut again was an impossibility.
“Captain America’s.” he stated monotonously. The way his face scrunched up made it obvious that he was less than pleased about this decision. As soon as you were out of here, you had to call Sam & thank him for making this feasible.
“Oh.” it was all you could muster at the moment. There was an overwhelming feeling you had to handle. And it was not exactly one of your specialties.
“The door is unlocked. Walk down the hallway & the cell will come into view. If something happens, there’s an emergency button that should be operated whe-“ you stopped him during his speech.
“Thanks for your concern but I’ll be just fine.” a genuine smile formed on your face. The guard nodded at you, still slightly uncertain, & turned around without another word. Letting the uncomfortable silence envelop you. Your legs were frozen in place, preventing you from running to him. Maybe it was the thought of having to say goodbye again. As wonderful as it was that you were allowed to visit him, the concept of abandoning him broke your heart. The difference between the jail in Germany & this one was that you could not linger close by. The trip lasted for a while. Daily visitations were out of the question.
Slow but steady steps moved you over to the door. A hand raised to the doorknob. The coldness of it grounded you the slightest bit. You had to take a few deep breaths, just like he had instructed you multiple times before, in order to reduce the fast, almost unhealthy pace of your beating heart. Your hand twisted the doorknob to one side & when you heard the lock click, you pushed the door open with your entire body weight. Otherwise, you would have been too weak to do so. Bright lights had you squint your eyes. A hand was used as a shield to block most of the luminosity. When your eyes adjusted to the different setting, you straightened your back & brushed non-existent dust from your clothes. This motion gave you something to do with your hands. It was a much needed distraction. You held your head high, looking straight forward to the very end of the corridor. At the sides, the walls were painted bright white. Almost too bright for your liking. It resembled a hospital & you had never enjoyed them. The consistency of it was broken with the glass wall you were staring at. The one which was straight ahead. His cell, you figured. But there was no silhouette you could make out. Considering the size, you should have noticed him already. But he was not there. So you no longer moved in slow motion but jogged over to the pane.
Fast footsteps echoed in Helmut’s ears. Time was fluid in a jail like that. But it had not been long since a guard brought him breakfast. Whoever visited him now, it seemed to be urgent on the basis of the fast pace they approached. He scooted closer to the frigid wall behind his bed. Something he did to mess with the employees here. At least it gave him something to do. Besides reading tons of books & listening to the radio that had been prepared for him. That was luxurious enough for an inmate. All of a sudden, it was silent. Too quiet for his liking. The next thing he heard was music to his ears.
“Helmut?” your broken voice whispered & filled the room. Was he turning hallucinational? Nobody would blame him in a place like this. But not even his imagination could recall your softness so perfectly. He stood up, carefully, & widened his eyes at the sight of you. There you were, on the other side of the transparent wall. Separating the outside world from the box he found himself in.
“(Y/N)? You’re here.” no time was wasted. Helmut dragged his body as close to yours as his cell allowed him to. One of his hands touched the smooth surface & you mimicked his actions. There were tears threatening to escape but you tried everything to keep them locked inside. “Don’t cry.” the volume of his voice had lowered. Nobody could listen to you in here but it almost felt illicit to talk at a normal volume.
“I’m sorry.” you chuckled shortly, your free hand coming to your face to wipe at your cheeks. How he wanted to be the one to touch your tender skin. To have you lean into his palm.
“What are you sorry for?” the proximity was given yet unattainable. Your gaze averted, staring at the pavement floor.
“I don’t know…For everything?” you shrugged your shoulders, laughing at how incomprehensible you sounded. Helmut shook his head. That was how he knew you. Always being the one to carry everyone’s burden on your own. Though you did not need to.
“Stop that.” it was an order but not a forceful one. One that eased the tension immediately.
“Okay.” you mouthed.
The floor was everything but comfortable but you made do. Sitting cross legged opposite of Helmut was dreamlike. In your dreams, you had skin-to-skin contact but that delight had been denied. Simply having him next to you was enough for now. Helmut had his elbows on his knees, watching your every move. Reminiscing every small detail he could get a glimpse of. But there was nothing new he came across. He remembered you like the back of his hand. Sometimes even more precisely than you did yourself. And yet, his observation resembled the first time when his warm, chocolate brown eyes fell onto your frame. Usually, you handled his stares well but something inside of you told you to inquire.
“What?” you asked with a playful, teasing tone. His eyes locked onto yours. You giggled at his confused state.
“Is there a problem?” Helmut turned insecure for a second. And people who knew him were aware that he was barely ever uncertain.
“No, not at all.” you shook your head to emphasize your words. “Just…you’re staring.” you called him out. It made him laugh, his head falling back briefly.
“Is it forbidden to stare?” one of his eyebrows perked up. “I believe most people are flattered by the attention.” though he played the serious act quite well, you could tell that he was joking.
“You’re awful.” you laughed at his antics.
“I am aware.” he saw you opening your mouth to disagree with him but Helmut was faster. “(Y/N)?”
“What is it?” you rested your intertwined hands in your lap. But he had noticed the trembles. He had noticed you struggling. And he realized that it was because of the position you were currently in.
“How is it like? Outside, I mean.” he skillfully changed the topic before the atmosphere between you two could shift in a negative way.
“You have a radio.” your finger pointed to the one sitting on a small table inside the cell right next to a stack of read-through books. “I’m sure you have an idea of what it’s like.”
“But I would love to hear it from you.” there was an encouraging smile on his lips that you could not resist, no matter what.
“Well, Karli’s dead. Sharon took care of her.” you began & watched him nodding approvingly. “Bucky finished his amends & it really looks like he’s doing much better. He’s taking baby steps but he’s doing well.” you could not suppress the small smile when you spoke about the super soldier. Helmut was not jealous. Bucky & you had become fast friends over time.
“Could you deliver a message from me?” he continued after a hum from you. “Tell James that I am happy for him. And thank him from me.” that warmed your heart. All of the previous disputes aside, they had started tolerating each other. You would not go as far as calling them friends but what was not could still be.
“I will.” you promised with certainty. “Right, um…Sam is Captain America. This job is made for him. I truly believe, with him, we’ll achieve great things.” you quieted down, not exactly knowing how to continue.
“So you established Sam’s & James’ success. But what about you?” he read you too easily. No other person saw through you like he did. That affirmed the close bond you two shared even further.
“What about me?” a phony dumfounded expression was plastered on your face.
“How have you been doing?” it was a question with so much emotion & care hidden beneath, it brought tears to the corners of your eyes instantly. Your attempts to blink them away were gratuitous. They started rolling down over your cheeks. So fast, in fact, you could not even wipe them away with your sleeves in time. Helmut’s heart broke at this sight of you. It was clear as day that you experienced a rough patch. The cause of it was him being imprisoned, that much he knew. “Talk to me.” he whispered & cursed the guards for not granting his partner access inside his cell. But they thought he would plan another escape. At the same time, they were unaware that he would not take the risk to jeopardize your safety with a second try.
“It’s…” you took a deep breath to steady your voice & avoid the wavering & cracking. “It’s been hard.” you admitted quietly. “Without you.” you finished. Your eyes flickered up to his face. His look brought you the tiniest bit of contentment. The way his body language could comfort you in such a way was prodigious.
“Love.” the nickname gained your entire attention. It was like all of your worries melted away by the simple sound of it rolling from his lips. The tears did not stop but they were mixed with happiness now. Gratitude that you shared this moment with him. You were here. Helmut was here. Similar to how it used to be. Yet, entirely different. “Please look at me when I tell you this.” & you obeyed without a second thought. “You are my world. If I could change this situation, trust me that I would instantly. I understand your struggles. And I abominate that I cannot dispose of your demons. Or make them part of my own. Your pain causes me aching ten times worse. It is painful seeing you like this. My love, you must promise me one thing.” it was hard for him to get through this speech without his voice fading at the emotions he was experiencing. But he had to stay strong for you. It would only cause you more distress if you noticed him showing how affected he truly was.
“Anything, Helmut.” your reply followed straight after. If he asked you for something, you would do your very best to make him proud of you.
“Promise me to take care of yourself. I would hate to watch you disappear because of me.” the sincerity assured you how important it was to him.
“Helmut, I don’t think I coul-“ he shushed you when he spotted what you were intending to do.
“Promise me, my love.” he repeated & you closed your eyes briefly, releasing another wave of tears.
“I promise.” your eyelids slowly opened & you could detect the relief in his at your words.
“How did you persuade them into visiting an inmate?” the atmosphere had shifted to a relaxing feel once again. And his attempt to start another conversation was welcomed.
“I didn’t do anything. Though I’ve tried multiple times…Sam came to my aid.” you chuckled at the memory & the excitement you emitted after his call. The news had been the best in a very long time.
“Ah, of course, if Captain America requests a visitation…” Helmut started.
“The chiefs are on board in an instant.” you finished his sentence & the both of you laughed at the tomfoolery.
“Means that Sam is the reason for your stay.” you confirmed his thought process quietly. “Please express my gratitude for him as well.”
“Will do.” you wanted to maintain the dialogue with him but a loud noise from behind you caught you by surprise. The same guard who had instructed your appropriate behavior inside these hallways was back. There was a look on his face you could not quite identify but it left you uneasy.
“Time’s over.” the statement felt like someone stabbed you with a knife. Not once, not twice. Multiple times to cause as much damage as possible. Helmut then stood up from the floor, gesturing for you to do the same. The moment you were on your feet again, your knees were close to giving out. Digging deep inside, you mustered all the strength you had left & fixed your posture. You did that to avoid radiating a fragile appearance. “Bid your goodbyes, I’ll wait by the door.” the guard took his place in the doorway, waiting for you to approach him. Your body faced Helmut’s & you rested both of your hands on the glass in front of you. He mimicked you & if it were not for the transparent border, you would have touched.
“I’ll miss you.” you whispered as you pressed your forehead against the boundary.
“I will miss you more.” he followed right after. “But you are always here with me.” one hand rested above his heart. Goodbyes were difficult. Especially with the ulterior motive of not returning the following day. It would most likely take a while until you would face him again. Secretly, so nobody could discern what you were doing, you pulled a small paper out of your pocket & pushed it through one of the many, tiny holes in the glass wall. It dropped to the floor on the other side. Helmut sent you a questioning glance which you retuned with a soft, gentle smile. Coughing behind you brought you back to reality. You had to leave. As much as it hurt, you turned your back to Helmut & distanced yourself from his cell. Arriving at the exit, you looked over shoulder one last time. One last time, your eyes locked. One last time, you let your tender features speak. One last time. While you walked away from him, he picked the small paper up from the ground. Unfolding it with much care, his eyes got stuck on three little words that were neatly curved in your handwriting. So when your eyes met, he returned that favor without anyone realizing it. His lips moved & you saw him mouthing that same phrase back. Your smile grew wider, as did his. And then you were gone. Of course, you would come back. And with Sam’s help, it would probably be sooner rather than later. He stared at the door where you just walked through. His gaze then turned to the paper in his hands. Never would he let go of it again. He would treat it like it was made out of gold. To him, it was. And it was worth so much more. The feeling it triggered inside of him could not be purchased. It could only be provided by a special someone. That special someone was you. Reading through the note one more time, he sat down on the uncomfortable mattress. The displeasure was ignored for now. For a minute, he bathed in the loving emotions you brought to him.
“I love you. -xo(Y/N)”
Published (05/09/2021) by Cathy
✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨
Tags: @there-will-be-p-e-a-c-e, @simply-skeletons, @weareironmanbitches, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @bibliophilewednesday, @msmarvelsmain, @takacsgram, @ya-boi-is-dead, @deamus-liv, @therenlover (thanks for your support <3)
#helmut zemo#helmut zemo x reader#zemo#zemo x reader#baron zemo#baron zemo x reader#baron helmut zemo#reader insert#reader imagine#fanfiction#fanfic#one shot#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#avengers#avengers imagine#avengers x reader#disney original series#disney#disney+#tfatws#the falcon and the winter soldier#sam wilson#bucky barnes#the raft
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Misread Details, Part Two
CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper
Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert
The Unsolved Murder of Henry “Brute” Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer
r/LetsTalkTrueCrime
•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee
2 weeks ago
I’m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!
In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Benson’s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket.
The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Benson’s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Benson’s house by train.
Questions remain around Benson’s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?
Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?
And most importantly: If he wasn’t guilty, why did he run?
Less than a full calendar year after Benson’s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answered… but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.
Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as “Brute”.
Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force.
His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henry’s older brother William “Bill”, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta “Bobbie” one year after that.
Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential “middle child”, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of “Brute” in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henry’s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I can’t really verify if they’re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.
After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon “Brute”, and he never seemed to mind.
He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.
“Brute” dated around a bit, but it wasn’t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Brute’s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.
Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims she’s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear.
They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellen’s father gave her away while Brute’s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Brute’s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.
The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellen’s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.
But Brute Hanlon had a secret.
Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money “under the table”. Ellen wouldn’t discover any of this until after his body was located… in a secret house he’d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.
Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a “company town” from the 1930’s - 1950’s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60’s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or don’t, and it’s best if you belong.
Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didn’t want Ellen or the children to know about.
While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.
Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a “poker night” with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged.
What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills “red light district”, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.
After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him.
Some described him as a regular customer who wasn’t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the week… but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.
One individual, who gave his name as “Mix”, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy.
During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent.
He was home right on time every night except “poker night”, attended his chlidrens’ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.
Six months before his death, Brute’s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him home… for good.
The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as “one of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starved”.
Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics don’t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didn’t see him again.
Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldn’t be a real one. Which is probably a good point.
Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.
Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests.
Brute’s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.
Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.
We don’t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.
On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Brute’s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.
None of Brute’s possessions were inside, and it didn’t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Brute’s friends who knew about his secret activities weren’t telling, and Ellen and the children didn’t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and father’s double-life.
At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.
Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Brute’s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell “like something died in there”, and that he hadn’t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.
When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as “unmistakable. I knew exactly what we’d find the second we walked in that door.”
He was right.
What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry “Brute” Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.
The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was “absolutely enraged”.
Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.
Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.
The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from “work”), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlon’s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesn’t recall if he wore a collar or not.
He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlon’s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.
Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlon’s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxie’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon… and everywhere else, too.
Within Brute’s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Benson’s home. Other things were different (“animalization” was mentioned in some of the reports, but what I’ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason).
Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the home’s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Brute’s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom.
There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there.
In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cot’s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dog’s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.
Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.
Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlon’s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.
A contract for a 24/7 “master/slave” style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ‘Pet’ at the bottom, and with Brute’s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlon’s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they can’t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldn’t have been considered remotely valid.
I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.
Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Brute’s associates in his more illicit activities.
Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.
Those associates claim that Brute kept a “secondhand Box Boy”, muzzled him so he couldn’t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ‘poker night’ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but frankly… given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... that’s doubtful.
Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henry’s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since.
Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husband’s secret life.
I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasn’t at home.
So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?
In short… no one knows for sure.
After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticket… and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.
The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.
He isn’t seen in Red Hills again.
Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearance… more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.
Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isn’t the cause.
Instead, Robert Weber’s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weber’s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.
Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.
-
@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary
#whump#jameson bb#box boy#box boy universe#sadistic whumper#pet whump#pet whump tw#dehumanization#dehumanization tw#prostitution mention#referenced non con#non con tw#bbu#epistolary#epistolary fiction#horror fiction#horror writing#original writing#death of whumper#intimate whumper#restrained#captivity#epistolary writing#oh my god this is so fun to do you guys#whump writing#whumpblr
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savior | fyodor x gn!reader
pt. 2 of broken from my angstcember series
anon 1: Hey bestie, how are you? I hope your doing well and staying safe, can I get some more Fyodor content? P.S your my fave bsd writer atm xx
anon 2: Can you make a part 2 of “broken” the angsty fyodor fic, really enjoyed that one
summary: you knew that your relationship with fyodor would one day lead to you lying on the ground and him standing over you, holding your life in his hands. except, you didn’t think he’d choose to save you
words: 1.5k words
contains: mentions of death, blood, murder, emotional manipulation, your regular fyodor fic
a/n: i have a whole bunch of fyodor requests so i decided to put both of these in one. also haha flattered that somebody would ask for a pt. 2 of that fic. that said, i tried to write this in such a way that you could read it independently from broken.
fyodor knows all too well just how fragile human beings are. after all, he was born with a physically weak body and as much as he wanted to dismiss that reality, it would often catch up to him in the form of his own bodily limitations. luckily, he had his own genius to more than make up for that and it only convinced fyodor that he was greater than the average human.
his subordinates came and went, some of them fyodor had intentionally disposed of to benefit a plan, such was the nature of their work. he had grown used to standing over people grasping for their last breath before fyodor himself kindly put them out of their misery with his own ability.
he knew very well that one day, he’d be doing the same to you.
“so... this is what came of you,” he mused, looking down at your body. one of your hands was pressed to a bullet wound on your side and blood pooled beneath your body. your eyes were glassy and focused at the ceiling but fyodor could tell from the slight rise and fall of your chest that you were very much alive.
he kneeled down and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. with a soft smile on his face, he remembered the you from a year ago: the young university student that he met in a library with the shy smile and the soft expression. ‘so innocent,’ fyodor thought, chuckling softly. and now, look where you ended up.
“tell me, did you intend to get yourself shot?” he asked. your eyes landed on his and your breath rattled as you inhaled.
“you could figure that out for yourself,” you replied.
“since when did my dear y/n get so cheeky?” fyodor sighed, resting his chin on his hand.
“i hope... you don’t die... anytime soon,” you struggled to say.
“hm? have you grown fond of me?”
“no,” you chuckled, only to cough painfully on your own blood. though, it looked like you didn’t regret it. “i just want to enjoy a few years in hell before having to see you there.”
that got fyodor chuckling again. “maybe i will miss you y/n,” he said. you smirked at him.
“screw you.”
you closed your eyes, expecting fyodor to deliver the final blow. he observed you silently for a few seconds, his hand hovering just over your wrist, only to reach into his pocket to pull out a phone.
“nikolai? i’ll need some help here.”
...
you thought those were your final words because you slipped into unconsciousness right after saying them only to wake up a day later lying on a couch in an unfamiliar room.
“what the--” you looked around groggily and found a bandage over the bullet wound in your side and what appeared to be an IV drip injected into your arm. fuck, you were still alive. only question is, where were you?
you got your answer just a few seconds later and almost wished you hadn’t.
“oh good, you’re finally awake,” fyodor said, entering the living room. he wasn’t dressed in his usual ensemble and wore a plain sweater and pants. for a minute there, you could imagine yourself back in that library a year ago before everything happened. “well, the bullet didn’t hit any fatal areas either so you’ll be good to go in a week maybe.” you clenched your jaw.
“why the fuck did you save me?”
“is that anything to say to your savior?” fyodor tutted and sat down on the armchair nearest you.
“you’re not my savior. not if the only reason why you chose to save me is to just toy with me,” you seethed.
“hmm, you make a compelling argument,” fyodor nodded contemplatively. “though, that’s not entirely the case.”
“care to tell me what it is then?” you asked in a mocking tone. you hated that no matter how much venom you put in your words, fyodor would just chuckle as if he was watching a child threaten him. but to him, you were just as threatening as a child.
he leaned back in the armchair and cocked his head while regarding you. “having you around... entertains me.”
the way he enunciated every syllable sent shivers down your spine. you know that fyodor was always good at pandering to your insecurities, making you feel as if you were his whole world when in fact you were probably just a pawn to him. no way were you going to fall for this again.
luckily, months of working for his terrorist organization sharpened your movements. with one hand, you grabbed the letter opener from the coffee table and swung it at fyodor. except, his hand grabbed your wrist in mid-air just as you were about to plunge it into his throat. the point of the letter opener was pressed against his throat but your captor was completely unharmed.
“see what i mean?” he smirked at you. “was it just last year when you were desperate enough to leave me that you got yourself caught? and now look at you,” he crooned, twirling a strand of your hair with his long index finger. “so defiant now.”
his grip on your wrist tightened and you dropped the letter opener. “just you wait. one day i’ll--”
“you’ll what? run away and try to live a normal life? you know better than that, y/n. with everything you’ve done under me, how could you possibly live amongst mere humans?” fyodor scoffed. “and dying? my dear y/n, you never really wanted to die that day, did you?” he smiled knowingly.
the hesitation must have been clear on your face because fyodor let go of your wrist. you felt yourself sit back down on the couch you had been lying on. “you’re one of the only people i haven’t been able to completely control and i think that in itself makes it worth having you around.”
“and if i decide to use that against you?” you asked.
fyodor stood up and made his way across the room to the kitchen. “that’s always up to you,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “now, how do you like your tea?”
...
you spent that entire week recovering in fyodor’s place and it was strangely incident-free. he’d be away most of the day after all and often came back in the late hours of the night, asking about your condition if he caught you awake and even offering to bring back painkillers if needed. at one point, the two of you even had dinner together. that is, if sitting at the table drinking in soup while fyodor rambled on about the next stage of his grand plan could be counted.
a year ago, before you knew of his true colors, you would have wanted something like this with fyodor. you would have wanted him to come home to you making dinner and spend the rest of the night listening to him read out from your favorite book. of course, that scenario was just a pale ghost now in comparison to your reality, but sometimes you tried a bit harder to convince yourself otherwise.
“you’re all healed. i suppose you could leave now if you wanted,” fyodor observed. “of course, you could come and go here anytime you like.”
“thanks but, no thanks,” you said stoically.
“hmm, shame,” fyodor sighed. “i won’t even be around for the next couple of weeks.”
“so, you’re really planning to get yourself put in jail,” you said, looking up at him. fyodor was standing in the middle of the bathroom with the door ajar, fiddling with the ends of his dark hair.
“just for a while,” he hummed. and then, “my hair is too long again. y/n, could you cut it for me?”
the request took you aback and it took you a while to realize that fyodor was serious with his request with the way he looked at you expectantly. slowly, you got up off the couch and walked over to the bathroom where he was.
“how short do you want it?”
“just at my shoulder,” fyodor answered. with one hand, he reached into one of the bathroom drawers and pulled out a pair of scissors. they weren’t just the regular kind of office stationery. the scissors were made completely of metal and the blades were long and sharp at the very tip.
when he handed the scissors to you, fyodor’s gaze lingered pointedly on yours long enough for you to understand what he was doing. the corner of his lip curled slightly upwards before he turned back around. of course, he was taunting you.
the metal was cold in your hands and carried substantial weight. with fyodor’s back turned, you could probably kill him if you wanted to; plunge the blades deep into his back or his nape and have him crumple to the floor. then, you’d be the one standing over him, waiting to see what kind of person fyodor would be in his last few moments of life.
but he knew you too well.
“lean your head a bit forward,” you whispered. fyodor obeyed and you started snipping at his hair. not once did he even look up at the mirror to check your progress, placing his complete faith in you.
it was better to be at the devil’s side than his enemy.
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Canine (Revenant x Reader)
Part 2 of 2 of the chapter “Styptic & Canine”. [AO3 Link to full chapter]
Theme: Revenant introduces the reader to his makeshift family as he turns up the spice level, but an unfortunate run in with a creep ruins most of the day.
Warnings: Graphic content, physical male dominance, threats of violence, blood, descriptions of violence, sexual references, sexual harassment, sharp objects, pain, bipolar, depression, mentions of mania, general romantic fluff.
Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is female.
Writing Notes: This post was too big. 18K words. This is part 2 of a larger chapter that is “Styptic & Canine”. I’m posting it in halves so Tumblr doesn’t die. Also, yes, this chapter is where I start raising the heat. My intent was to boil the frog, but Tumblr made me split right where I first turn on the gas stove.
Navigation:
First Chapter | Previous Part (Styptic & Canine) | Next Chapter
You regain consciousness to a mild shake, his hands around each of your cheeks and his frame vaulted over your body in a sitting position.
"Oh dear, little skinsuit, what was that about?" His voice drips with some kind of sadistic humor.
"What was what about?" The morning light was shining through the skylight. He obviously let you sleep in a bit, for which you were grateful. You couldn't remember any dreams though, it was all blank.
"Don't play stupid, you must know." He's way too into this. "I want to know if it was me."
"I really don't remember. Why, what did I do?"
He lurches back in some kind of cruel delight, pulling his hands away to cup around his own face, accentuating his joy.
"Then maybe you'll know the answer to this: who is 'daddy'?"
Your face gets hot instantly, now you know why he's so interested. He has prime material to hold over your head for days. You have one potential way out and he isn't likely to buy it.
"I never met my father, so I'm not sure..." You try.
"Oh, I guessed as much. But this wasn't that kind of daddy." He places each of his hands on the sides of your waist, making you blush harder. "Your hips were absolutely reeling. I could hear how much you were loving it. You still smell like lust. So, I must know... who is the lucky one to have the title of 'daddy'?" Your face is burning. Your attempt to get out of this has definitely and utterly failed.
"I don't know! I've never even--" You cut yourself off, realizing that saying more is only playing into his game.
"Oh please, you must tell me." He leans over to whisper in your ear, curling over you in a seductive manner. "I'll keep it a secret, I promise. I just want to know who makes you writhe like that. Clearly I could learn something." This asshole. Your face actually hurts it's so hot. You can't get out of this, and you don't even have an answer for him. You've never even called anyone that before.
"Please, can I get up?" You beg, hoping it can just be over.
"Oh no, dear," You feel yourself screaming internally as he nuzzles his mask against the side of your face, "I can't let you do that. No, no... Not until you humor me." He presses his body into you, and you audibly whimper. "Call me daddy."
You're dead. You have to be dead. This can't be real. You can't humor him, but you have to humor him. Why is he like this? If you say it really fast, maybe it'll be okay. Maybe he'll accept it.
"Can I get up...?" You choke. "...daddy..." You didn't say it fast, but you said it with zero confidence, which hopefully dampens his power trip.
He throws himself off of you, laughing something fierce. His guffaw is loud, cruel, and pure delight. He's completely overtaken by it, laying back beside you, almost twitching in hilarity. He can't control himself as he lifts his hand as if to wipe away a tear.
He shuts down again, turning limp.
You jump out of bed, giving yourself distance from his metal sarcophagus, knowing whatever comes next might not be pleasant. You make your way to the computer desk, sitting on the office chair, waiting to see what he does this time.
His chassis begins to whirr and cracks into movement, his arms grabbing at air beside him as he tests every limb in violent bends and swings. The static begins in his voice, before suddenly slipping into something audible.
"You-you moved away." His empty optics seem to stare at you from a distance as he sits up. "I wanted to hold-hold you again..." His tone was soft, but his vocals were still skipping. "Shame, daddy will get you next-next time."
His eyes come back to life, and he's aware again.
"Well, just say how you really feel then, huh?" You jab back, waiting to see how he reacts. He chuckles a little, a mere echo of the laugh that forced him to restart.
"Well, I'll make it up to you. How do you feel about making a trip to meet my little family?"
"Family? I thought--"
"Oh, not like that, of course. Just the closest thing I have." He smiles smugly at you, seeing an opportunity. "You don't need to worry, no one competes with you."
Damn blush, you're going to turn red permanently if he doesn't stop.
He vaults out of bed, making his way over to you.
"I let you sleep in, thankfully what you're wearing is ideal for the job already." He offers his hand. When you take it, he hoists you to your feet. "It should help with any sad feelings too, how are those going by the way?"
"With how things have been going, I haven't had the chance to be depressed..." You're almost embarrassed that his plan to keep throwing you off your depression is working so well.
"Good, keep showering me with all your attention then." He squeezes your hand a bit before letting go. At this rate he could make you manic again if he keeps pushing it. You're just not sure if you should let him. "I've arranged a ride for us, since I don't think you can run this far."
"Oh, alright, sure. Do I need to do anything? I feel kinda like I should take a shower..." It's very strange that you're going someplace wearing dirty clothes with no shower.
"Trust me, you'd be better off doing that after."
• • • •
Revenant can't drive, apparently. To the point in which he's actually enough of a liability that he's not allowed to drive anywhere outside of the Apex Games. He wasn't very happy with the idea of having a chauffeur, but the legal team was able to convince him to accept being driven in exchange for a vehicle that separated him from the driver. That vehicle was a limo. A giant, stretch limo. A very luxurious limo. Versus you, who is a mess: dressed in a stained shirt you slept in and you haven't washed your hair. This is embarrassing.
"This dumb thing is almost ten yards long, and you have to be right up against me, don't you?" Revenant is sitting far in the back corner, and you've wedged yourself right between him and the corner, trying your best to hide yourself from any phantom that might see you.
"I'm in a limo and I look like I belong in a garbage truck." You duck away from the windows, shoving your face up against the black leather of his waist, careful to avoid the support pistons.
"Literally no one can see you except me." He scoffs, crossing his arms. "The windows are blacked out, the driver's privacy window is closed, and nobody is here but us." His eyes glare down at you, but he seems to be moderately entertained by your distress.
"I look homeless." You pause. "Again."
Revenant laughs at that, uncurling his arms to mess up your hair in some kind of adoring but condescending gesture.
"You're fine, trust me. Nobody is going to see you." He pauses from messing with your hair. "I have a stop coming up, just stay in here and I'll be back with some supplies."
"Be fast, I need to hide behind someone and you're the only one here." You're being intentionally dramatic, but if it makes him laugh it's worth it. He sighs equally as dramatically, clearly playing along.
The vehicle hovers to a stop, and Revenant wisps out the door, closing it behind him before you even get a sense for where you are. The windows really are blacked out, you can't see anything through them.
Now alone, you shrink into the back corner of the seats going around the vehicle. There's a television and what appears to be a loaded bar, multicolored LED lights lining the whole thing, and starlights in the ceiling. The seats are all made with beautiful leather and have a triangular pattern stitched in the surface. The floor has carpeted mats that feel a bit more plush than the average car. You consider rummaging through the bar, but you're not sure if anyone is going to charge you an arm and a leg for alcohol you can get cheaper anywhere else. You sigh and lean back, shrinking further in the seat.
The door on the opposite corner as you clicks open, and Revenant crawls in, dragging a massive green bag behind him, barely managing to get it in the car.
"Is that a body bag?!" You curl up in the fetal position on your seat, recoiling away from the door.
"Yes." He gruffly huffs as he drags the apparent bagged corpse into the limo, weighing the whole vehicle down. He gets it in the middle of the floor, then drops it with a thud and throws himself down beside you. With his weight, you feel like you nearly missed being crushed. His arm rests on your opposite shoulder and you shudder, giving him a concerned stare. "Oh shush, I paid for it."
"You what?" You whimper, completely at a loss of what you're experiencing.
"It'll be fine, I can't rightly show up without any offering." He shrugs his shoulders, pulling you closer. He seems to be very pleased with himself, smugly teasing you.
"Offering?! Is this a cult?!" You whisper aloud, not necessarily expecting an answer. He laughs again, enjoying your mental wheels spinning. The limo gets moving again, handling the extra weight very easily.
"Oh, no, that's for next time." He's obviously teasing now. "I'll make sure you're in a lovely white dress to soak in the blood of our sacrifices for that occasion." He shoves you up against his chassis, growling to rattle his torso against you. "Then, when we're all done, I'll make official my new nickname."
"Oh, fuck you." You let slip under your breath, causing him to guffaw openly again. He catches his synthetic breath, rubbing his mask in the same motion a human would.
"You've gotten so comfortable with me so quickly, what happened?" His question must be rhetorical, because he doesn't leave much of a pause for an answer. He jumps right back into teasing. "I'll have to tame you by any means necessary if you're going to keep being so temptingly coy." His hands cup around your waist and you crack a sigh, turning away from him, trying to focus on anything other than how red in the face you must be.
"Do you regularly flirt in front of fresh corpses?"
"Awww..." He grabs your chin and pulls your face back to meet his, bringing his visage down close enough to feel his breath. "Are you kink-shaming me? Or are you just being a prude little tease?" He pauses before snickering to himself, losing his flirtatious composure. "You're so red, you practically match me." His loss of composure is cute enough to get to you. You giggle a little.
The car comes to a gentle stop, and Revenant immediately gets to pulling the corpse out. The body bag is way larger than makes sense, it almost looks as if it could fit someone Revenant's size. Yet the body inside still seems way too big. You're not sure what it is, but you're a bit too afraid to ask at the same time. Revenant eventually gets the bag to the edge of the vehicle before throwing it over one of his shoulders, forcing his shoulder spikes to flip downward out of the way. He nearly topples over at the shifting weight, meaning whatever is in the bag is excessively heavy.
As you crawl out of the car after him, you smell the fresh air of being nowhere near civilization. You see lots of flat lands broken up by woods with a giant abandoned warehouse in front of you. The warehouse has holes rusted throughout its sides and the door is ajar, the hinges rusted so it no longer swings. The air is fresh, and you look around, unable to find signs of other humans close by. Revenant waves away the limo. It turns around, kicking up dust off the unpaved path before zooming off into the horizon. He waits until the limo is far enough before pulling you close.
"You have to listen to everything I say, understand?" He's dead serious. You nod, suddenly concerned over his change in tone. "Don't try to protect me, I'll be okay. Scream if and only if you feel pain." You search for any joking tone in his voice, but there is none. "But above all else, listen to me. Don't play stupid, just obey." He looks to you, demanding acknowledgement. You nod, determined and concerned at this new development.
He walks over to the door, making his way inside carefully as you follow. He throws the body bag on the concrete floor of the entryway, causing a morbid slapping sound as it hits the ground. Revenant kneels down and begins ripping the bag open. You take a moment to look around.
This whole warehouse is dark beyond belief. There seems to be different rooms, but the rusted-through holes in the wall allow you to get negligible peeks into nearby rooms. The roof has not decayed at all yet, but it means no light is entering the building, making the deeper rooms be cast in an oppressive darkness. From the outside this warehouse looked massive, this room must be only one of dozens. The silence is scary, there isn't a single sound of life apart from you and Revenant, but you know better. Silence means something doesn't want to be found, and is inevitably a sign of life. Silence only happens when a hunter has scared everything else into silence. You might have learned that from Bloodhound, but you can't be sure. Either way, it's anxiety-inducing.
Revenant stands tall, pulling the scraps of the bag away from a giant bisection of a carcass. It appears to be beef, in the same state butchers will sell to grocers or restaurants. It doesn't smell bad, but it definitely smells like raw meat. Revenant grabs you around the shoulder, pulling you into a very controlling embrace. He whistles, or something like it.
"C'mere puppies!" As soon as he says it, you hear the sound of many nails skittering around the concrete flooring, making their way to the room you're in. Revenant squeezes you close as the pack comes into sight.
"Revenant! Those are not dogs!" You can't help but whisper in shock as the pack stops in your line of sight, trying to get a read on whether you're a threat or not.
Prowlers are utterly terrifying predators. They can be described as something between a wild dog and a tiger with the hide of a dinosaur. Their quadrupedal forms stand tall enough to meet you eye-to-eye at the largest, but the females and younger prowlers come up to your waist or knees instead. This subspecies has a beautiful, peacock-like furl behind their ears that stand on end when they see you, making them look as kaleidoscopic as they are scary. Their fangs could make a saber tooth tiger swoon, and their colors remind you of the legendary Birds of Paradise. Their long tails flick back and forth in concern, trying to understand who you are or if they should fight you. The largest male growls so deeply that Revenant sounds like a kitten in comparison, and it approaches both of you ahead of the rest of the pack.
"Rev..." You start to step behind him. This creature could very easily kill you in a single bite to the neck, and he was already tall enough to reach it.
"Shush, listen to me." He whispers to you, using his grip around your back to shuffle you back in place and to his side, pulling you against him in an uncomfortable grip. "Hey Six, this is mine." He addresses the massive male prowler approaching you, almost presenting you to him.
You hold your breath as Six sniffs your face, neck, and chest, trying to figure out what you are and why you're here. The other prowlers begin to enter the room, not even paying attention to the food in preference of figuring out the newcomer. Six's tail begins to rise up, flicking the tip back and forth as he finds you acceptable as a guest. You receive a lick right on the face as a final assurance, and the other prowlers swarm you to meet you.
You grab onto Revenant like your life depends on it. All of these prowlers could kill you, probably even the young ones too. It doesn't matter if they're all flicking their tails happily, or panting with smiles and tongues out, or excitedly greeting you. They can kill you and you're painfully aware of it.
"Calm down, seriously. You were fine meeting me for the first time, but a bunch of little puppies scare you?" Revenant releases his hold on you, but you don't return the favor.
"These are not puppies!" You try to whisper at him, but he might not be able to hear you over the crowd you've attracted. He pushes down on your shoulders, causing you to lose your grip on him and fall into a sitting position. Now all the prowlers can meet you eye-to-eye or tower over you. You're inundated with licks, and no amount of guarding your face with your arms will save you.
"You'll be fine. They're my pack, and they'll respect what's mine." You can barely hear him over the assault of affection.
As the excitement begins to settle, some of the larger prowlers peter off to check out the meat, leaving the younger ones to look after you. A tiny pair of kits you didn't see before bound up to your lap and hop in, cuddling against your stomach. For such scary adults, the babies are unbearably cute. You're not sure if you can touch them or not, so you simply let them roll around in your lap, slapping at each other like the siblings they are. Six comes back to you, his maw covered in blood from the beef.
"I figured he'd notice." You hear Revenant mutter as Six inspects your arm and calf, licking at the puncture wounds a little. "I guess my hypocrisy was going to catch up eventually." Six carefully sniffs the skin before shooting a glare and deep growl at Revenant. "Don't move a muscle, no matter what." He instructs you.
Six lunges at Revenant's leg, catching the metal below the knee joint in his bite. Revenant buckles and hits the ground. You jump a little and whine to yourself, but you stay as reserved as you can otherwise. The kits notice and begin pawing at you, trying to understand your reaction. Six drags Revenant a few feet from you as Revenant makes stifled sounds reminiscent of excruciating pain. You want to step in, but you obey orders. You hear the moaning of the metal in his leg beginning to bend for a few moments, before Six releases him. Revenant sits up, grappling his leg before Six chomps the opposite arm near the shoulder, causing Revenant to try to reel away in shock and pain. Again, Six growls as the metal bends beneath his bite, Revenant taking the pain as best as he can. Six releases, gives a growling bark to Revenant, and returns to you to lick your wounds more.
"Oh, now aren't you just poetic." Revenant finally makes out between what sounds like heavy breaths. "You got me in the same places." He's cradling his calf and arm, in the exact same places and sides as you were hurt. "I knew I was going to pay for that, but you didn't have to be that literary about it."
Six turns to him and makes whining sounds that mimic human speech. You've heard of Siberian Huskies making these noises, but never prowlers. Either way, it sounds sassy, and Revenant seems to relax knowing he's back in good graces.
"Yes, I know I taught you the same lesson a long time ago, but still..." He talks to them like anyone would talk to their dog. "You didn't have to be that extra about it." Six flicks his head at him before returning to your wounds, the kits now back to play-fighting each other.
"So, yeah, these are my puppies." He finally addresses you again. Most of the other prowlers are now taking turns at the carcass, seemingly following a hierarchy. You want to correct him, but you don't. He's clearly going to keep insisting that they're puppies. "This is Six, he's the sixth alpha of a pack I've helped raise over the past few decades. Zero was the first prowler that accepted me, and One was his puppy--the first alpha."
Six retires from your wounds, taking the two kits from you to go eat with their mother.
"There's no way you can be depressed around these guys. If there's any creature more aware of the emotional state of other beings, I dare them to come forward. My pack is perfect." He genuinely sounds overjoyed that you're getting to meet them all, he seems very proud. "I even raised them to respect females... Even if that did bite me back today." He huffs a bit.
"So, wait, you've been raising prowlers out here for decades?" You finally make a sound, Six and a few others look over at you for a moment, surprised by your more relaxed voice.
"Yeah, although they're fairly independent. I'm more like an elder to them, rather than directly in their hierarchy. I bring them food, not that they need me to, and they come along with me when I need company or extra help." He scoots himself close to you, letting his damaged leg drag. You get a closer look and see that the metal is both punctured and buckled on both his arm and leg. "They've been a passion project of mine ever since I first met Zero. They make me feel a bit of humanity." That last sentence is spoken with a level of reverence. You let the silence fall for a moment.
"You know, this is probably a scientific breakthrough in some field that nobody has ever managed before. You have a wild pack of prowlers that accept you and the people you bring in." He seems surprised by your lavish praise. "This could change our understanding of prowlers forever."
"Well, it helps that I'm nigh unkillable," he knocks on his metal chest, making a banging sound, "and honestly you're allowed in because as far as they're concerned, you're my mate." He wraps his arm around you possessively as the kits crawl back into your lap, now well-fed and cuddly. "That's why they don't mind you around the little ones." He sees you eyeing them as they roll around, trying to get comfortable. He picks one up, holding it in his hands like it's a precious jewel. It yips at him for attention, so he scratches behind it's tiny furls with his spare hand. "I think this one will be Seven, unless the next litter has an even bigger boy."
His adoration for these predators is absolutely identical to how so many people feel about their pets. The choice to love prowlers is a bit unconventional, but he is very much a man stuck in a metal body--humanity intact--in these moments. You are growing increasingly fond of him, seeing something beautiful beyond the cruel simulacrum assassin you once knew. He catches you staring.
"Go ahead, pick her up." He gestures to the other kit in your lap, actually looking a little jealous of her brother. At first, you tremor at the thought of picking her up wrong, but a sudden wave of confidence comes from nowhere. You scoop her up in your arms, bringing her up to your chest and cradling her. She immediately begins to squirm with delight and lick at your hand as you rub her head and chin.
"Was that all instinct?" He pauses, and you tilt your head at him, confused by the question. "You were shaking, then suddenly you weren't. Is that what maternal instinct looks like?" You're a bit shocked he saw that much.
"I'm not sure. I'm not usually around babies of any kind." You confess, but now you suspect the same thing he does. The baby female prowler reaches for your face, barely managing to touch your chin before you lower your face to meet her. She reacts with tiny licks on your nose while you tickle her belly. Revenant is the one staring now.
Revenant places the baby male in your arms next to the female, allowing them to both vie for your coveted attention. Some of the females come over and snuggle up next to you, laying on and around you, while the males and Six lie next to Revenant. Revenant leans back, eventually resting his head on the flank of one of the larger males, while another rests its head on his shoulder.
"You should lie down, let the puppies run around." He instructs you, briefly pointing to the kits in your arms. "Your body isn't heavy enough to bother anyone, just lay on whoever seems the most comfortable."
You look around, seeing a lot of intimidating warm bodies around you, so you cheat and carefully lay under Revenant's arm. You hear him audibly sigh, bothered that you're still worried but unable to chide you. The kits use you to crawl up on Revenant and slide down his metal torso to the other side, Six audibly purring when they land in his vicinity. Maybe a prowler would make a better pillow than a newly busted up metal arm and the concrete floor. You shiver a bit at the sheer power of these creatures, running your fingers over the metal holes in Revenant's arm, causing him to wince away from your touch.
"Does it hurt?" You whisper, hoping not to draw any prowler's attention.
"Yeah, it hurts a lot. My body can feel pain just like you skinsuits." He inhales in distress as you pull your fingers away from the damage. "It honestly feels like the flesh and muscle is torn off, like the bone is crushed and splintered, and like I'm bleeding out on the ground. But I know it's not real. It's never real."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know this would happen." You pull yourself into more of a ball, shuddering at the thought of that level of pain.
"It's not your fault, I instilled this level of protectiveness into them." Revenant pulls his arm away as one of the female prowlers crawls over you and lays on top of you, purring as if to comfort you. "Anyone who hurts one of the girls gets it back sevenfold." You roll onto your back, the prowler readjusting to lay on your belly, purring and licking your neck. "So you can stop being sad about it. They can sense it in you. If you don't want the attention, you can't let yourself be distressed." He sits up, looking down at you smugly while a second prowler writhes across the ground to get close enough to lick your cheek. Are these creatures really this intuitive?
Six notices Revenant sitting up to watch you and meanders over to see the small commotion. Six shoves himself between you and Revenant, apparently sensing some kind of disagreement. Six positions his paws on your neck, allowing you to feel the enormous size of his claws. One flex and you're dead. These things must be three inches of blade, all with a hypodermic tip. Six turns his head to Revenant and makes a sound somewhere between a huff and a growl before shoving his snout against your ear to purr. He bares his fangs while doing so, allowing you to feel how long and menacing they are. You wince away from him, pushing your face into the other prowler's licks, but Six just shoves his snout further to reconnect with you.
"He seems to think I should be more comforting, you're way too nervous for his liking. Good luck being depressed now." He sounds like he's enjoying this, shrugging to himself before he places his hand on your free arm. "Just calm down, they're not going to hurt you."
"I could die from a single flick of the wrist." You carefully say, feeling your vocal chords vibrate against Six's massive nails.
"That doesn't stop you from getting close to me." His hand glides up and down your arm. You don't have a response for him, so you stay quiet. "Like I said, just scream at any discomfort and someone is getting a swift dose of justice." He lies back on the same prowler as before, changing his position to avoid disrupting Six.
"I can't scream if my throat is slit."
"Give it time, you'll understand."
• • • •
Three prowlers is apparently the amount it takes to bring back a stick. It can be more if the stick is longer, but this giant branch is the maximum size you can throw. They hop together, all their jaws in a line across the branch, their fangs clutched around the wood. They carefully drop it at your feet, waiting expectantly for you to try throwing it again. You do your best to throw it, but between your injured arm and the weight of it, you struggle to get it as far as you'd like. The area behind the warehouse is a small yard with enough room for fetch, surrounded by thick forests over a few small hills.
"You throw like a child." You hear Revenant mock you, and you turn around to shoot him a glare. Six is resting in his lap and he has the mother prowler at his side, accepting the belly rubs he offers while the kits sleep. "I can throw farther than you from here, without even standing." You roll your eyes, knowing he's probably right.
Two new prowlers got in on the stick this throw, bounding back to you for another throw. You have eight prowlers all fighting to be one of the three on the stick, but they all seem to be having fun. Four of the young adults are off in the woods playing tug of war by themselves, making a total of sixteen prowlers you've now met. This pack is unusually huge from what little you know. You wonder if Revenant's meddling has something to do with it.
You pick up the branch and drag it over to Revenant, curious to see if he'll back up his claim.
"Alright, go for it." You hand him the end of the branch, and he chucks it far enough to lob over the entire yard and land somewhere in the woods. He snickers as the pack disappears in the darkness after it. You watch, hearing the branch collide with the trees, making rustling and snapping sounds as it catches in them. "So, what if you just got it stuck in a tree?"
"Oh, I thought you wanted me to show off for you." Revenant coos sarcastically. "Give them a few minutes, they can climb." You sigh and shrug, waiting for any sign of them coming back. "Do you want to go home?"
"No, not yet."
"Oh, oh!? You aren't scared of my puppies anymore?" He says between chuckles.
"Shut it." You growl at him, finally getting to use his catch-phrase against him.
"Are you sure? It's getting late." It was beginning to be late in the afternoon, coming up on when you'd normally be wanting dinner. In truth you hadn't eaten in over a day, but depression made it so you never wanted to eat anyway. You'd been playing with his prowlers for hours now, fully accepted by them. You now felt pretty confident in your safety around them, but their stature was still a bit menacing.
"At least let me see if they can bring back that stick." You hear some rustling in the woods, before the eight prowlers burst out of the brush with the original branch and a second, equally massive one. Now only two are left out of being able to hold a part of a stick. They drop both at your feet.
You try to throw the first but it only makes it a short ways, all the prowlers fighting for it. You hand the second to Revenant, and he throws it back into the woods completely out of sight. They all abandon the first stick in preference for the farthest one.
"Maybe you should be doing this." You hunch over, a bit defeated and tired.
"You're doing fine. Anyways, we should wrap up soon. You probably need that shower and I have something I need to do before tomorrow." Revenant starts to get up, prompting Six to get off of him while huffing and shaking himself awake. "Also, you need food."
You sigh, wanting to argue but knowing you can't.
"I'm calling back your ride. We need to get all these guys hidden in the warehouse as to not cause any alarm." He pulls some kind of cellular device out of his pocket on his belt and presses a few buttons. He then proceeds to shuffle you back towards the warehouse, prompting Six, the mother, and the two kits to follow. As you get to the side entrance, Revenant turns around and emits another whistling sound, inundated with his usual modulated twinge. He steps inside with you and the other twelve prowlers come flooding in behind him.
He pets each of them as they make their way in, saving Six and the kits for last. He really does love these creatures. You sheepishly and carefully pet Six as you go to leave, but only because he demands it by butting his head into your hand to make it clear.
Finally, you step outside with Revenant, going towards the dirt road that got you here.
"You look like absolute hell." Revenant jabs. You pull your hair back and try to control it a bit better, but it refuses to cooperate. It's probably stuck from all the prowler saliva all over you, hair absolutely included. Not to even mention your shirt and pants look like you got tackled and ground into the dirt by an entire rugby team. Your shirt was already stained, now it's dusty, dirty, stained, and has green grass streaks. Your shoes are probably just as bad, but they're cheap sneakers so you don't really care much.
"I know, I really need a shower. Maybe two." You give up on your hair. It's just going to be a mess.
"Take as long as you need. I'll be back soon after you. I hope you don't mind riding back alone." You've made it to the dirt road, and you can see the excessively luxurious limo in the distance, kicking up dirt.
"You're not coming?"
"No, I have one last thing to do before the match tomorrow. It'll be worth it, and I think you'll like it too." Revenant seems like he won't budge on the matter.
The limo pulls up and he opens the door for you, and you crawl in alone, making sure you stay as far in the corner as possible. You don't really like the thought of being in here alone, but you have no choice in the matter. He shuts the door and you lose sight of him through the blacked-out windows. The limo starts to move, making a sharp turn and hitting high speeds over the terrain, probably kicking up tons of dust in the meantime. You have nothing to stare at, so you just curl up to yourself and wait to make it back.
"You seem a bit meek for this kind of work, kid." You hear a masculine voice with a skeezy city accent coming from the front of the limo. The privacy window is cracked, just enough so you can hear him, but thankfully not enough so you can see each other. Why was that rolled down at all? It wasn't on the way here. You turn away, refusing to answer, hoping he will leave you be.
"Heh, exactly." You hear him chuckle. You wish you had the guts to just waltz over and roll up the window on him, but you're neither that confident nor strong enough if it ends in a spat. You just let him continue. "Heck, I didn't think robots were even into that stuff, but he seems to be the 'specially fucked-up type." Your stomach sinks like an anchor as you hear what sounds like the draw of a cigarette. "Fucker practically gets off every time he guts someone on live TV. Makes perfect sense he'd get off 'tuh victimizin' some tiny doll like you."
You get the picture, and you feel sick to your stomach for it. You can't respond, every word you want to say gets caught in your throat and you're forced to swallow it. This guy might be unhinged; a lot of people are these days. If you try to argue, he might try something. If you try to play it off... who are you kidding? You could never play this one off. It sounds so bad. Is he going to try to hurt you? Or is this all some mind game?
"Does it hurt? You sure as hell look like you've been through a meat grinder." You feel your face turn red. You turn further away from the cracked window. "Oh, I bet it does. No way 'woulda giant metal psycho like that hold back on a little thing like you."
He won't stop. He's clearly only getting started, but you hope that this is the worst of it.
"Question is: are you a hostage or does he really pay you that well? You know, sweetheart, if you're in need of money, just record whatever the hell he does to 'ya and sell it on the internet." He starts laughing as you internally beg for him to shut up. "All sorts of fucked up dudes would pay for the privilege. You could make absolute bank! Even better if you let him cut you open a bit for the cameras while you scream." He's really laughing now, clearly getting off to how much he has you cornered.
"Everyone loves a good screamin' bitch. Anyone who says they don't is a liar. But you know that, don't 'ya toots?" His use of centuries-old misogynistic slang somehow makes everything worse. You feel yourself shake a bit as you hold yourself tighter. Your stomach hurts badly from the distress now, and you feel yourself spiral internally. Where is this going? Can you outrun this guy if you need to? What if he catches you? Can you squirm out of this guy's grasp? "God, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall while that's going on. I bet your tears only make him harder."
You want to scream, but your prey instincts refuse to let you move or make a sound in hopes that he simply forgets you're there. You can't help yourself but hold your breath in intervals, hoping to be even more silent, but in turn making you more light-headed and fearful.
"I bet there's lots of filthy bastards that would pay extra to have his sloppy seconds." You're absolutely nauseated at the thought of that, but you haven't eaten, so maybe it's just a stomach ulcer forming from the extreme stress. "I bet he's modded to absolutely ruin you, isn't he? Tear your insides up and fill you until you're overflowin', right? You look like he never gives you a day off." You pray, begging God to kill you--this is worse than death.
"So, if he's draggin' 'ya all the way out into the woods to fuck 'ya, it must be pretty messed up stuff, huh?" You lay your face in your hands. "Aww, don't cry babe, I'm not going to tell anyone. I wouldn't want a hole in my chest, anyhow." You want to disappear. You hope he crashes the car and you die in a fire. You hate everything about this. "If you're ever in need of an extra kick of cash though, I wouldn't mind a taste of 'ya. Or buyin' one of those tapes."
You break internally. It feels like the essence of every muscle snaps in your body, and the tears flow without even intending to. You suddenly have the courage to move, but only to move a few inches to cower deeper in the corner of the seats.
It's not worth it. None of this is worth it. You no longer hear anything he says, even though you can still hear his voice. It sounds like you're underwater, so you can't make out the words anymore. Maybe that's a good thing. Unfortunately, you can still make out your own thoughts, and they're all cruel. It's all cruel. Everything about this situation is cruel.
You focus on the tears hitting your hands. They're cold, and they quickly flow out of your palms and down your arms before dripping off your elbows. They leave a trail of salts down your arm so thin you can barely notice it. You don't even feel compelled to make a sound as you cry; it's not that type of sorrow. It's pure humiliation, and your lungs work calmly as your eyes drown instead.
You wish you could just be swallowed by the swell of your own pain. Death is something you think about often as a potential solution to every problem, but right now it feels like a drug you're in active withdrawal from. Like you need it, right here, right now. You want to imagine the limo crashing into an embankment wall, submerging into an ocean, or being hit by a train. You don't care if the creep dies or not, all you know is you want out. The world feels cold enough to sap every degree of heat from you, and you feel as if you're freezing both literally and figuratively.
You fester in the feelings. The only saving grace in this situation is that you're too unimportant to matter to anyone as anything other than an easy squeeze. Nobody will miss you if you die. No one will look for you if you disappear. No family will mourn you. You secretly hope this pervert doesn't know that too, otherwise you might not make it out of this unscathed. You hope he believes Revenant will run him through if he tries to abduct you. You'd rather not die like that, something faster and more violent would be preferred.
Would Revenant kill you? In any circumstance at all? He could make it quick and violent, but he might not want to at this point. He seems to like you more by the day, but now that scares you. Is he human enough to feel strongly about you? Or does he tend to fall back on his programming? Maybe he would like gutting you--then at least someone could enjoy your death. You think about it, but you cannot imagine it without there being some kind of regret thrown in on your or his end. You can only imagine goading him into it by aggressively attacking his emotional stability, which is something you'd regret. Otherwise, you cannot imagine him killing you for no reason and being regret-free afterwards. You don't want him to feel regret. You just want to be free without hurting anyone, but maybe that's unrealistic.
The vehicle comes to a gentle stop. Your brain kicks into survival mode and you immediately rush for the door, not giving the driver any chance to get out of his seat, let alone open the door for you. He is still talking but you don't care; he's only laughing at you anyway. You get the door open and thankfully you're not at some back alley motel, but the main Apex Games facility. It's the back entrance, but you'll take it. It might be a blessing anyway, since it's so close to Revenant's new room that you'll likely avoid all human contact. You get up to the door and fumble in your pocket for your ID card, finally getting it out. You hear the driver say some more heinous things, but you refuse to turn around to see his face. The card is accepted and you rush in.
• • • •
The water is as hot as you can tolerate. It burns your skin and is downright uncomfortable to wash yourself in. Even as you curl up on the shower floor, crying and tolerating the hottest water you can handle, nothing can truly wash off the overwhelming feeling of being violated. Nothing can wash off the depression, the feelings of insignificance, the intrusive suicidal ideations, or the fear of meaning nothing in the grand scheme of things while simultaneously meaning just enough to force you into living.
The floor of the shower is warm, but it's still uncomfortable to lay on. The water spray hitting your skin is the only comfort you feel, but it isn't enough to quell you. The soap slowly rinses off your body, and the lathered up shampoo slowly flows out of your hair and down the drain. You'll eventually rinse completely like this, but it will be a while longer. How long has it already been? You took a long time sitting on the shower floor to even find the energy to get the soap lathered on you, and even that process was slow. Now you've been back on the floor and letting the soap slowly come off as you sob. Revenant might be back by now, but you're not sure what his errand was exactly. Maybe it will take all night. Does it matter? Do you matter? The thoughts won't stop.
You just cry. You cry until it feels like your soul starts to leave your body. Maybe it does. Between the heat, the steam, and the exhaustion, you pass out.
• • • •
"Skinsuit!" You feel yourself being gently jostled, still on the shower floor. The water is off, but the steam is so thick you question how long it's been. Your skin is beginning to get wrinkled from all the water absorption, so it's been a while. You're facing away from him, and you don't have the energy to turn to him. You don't even have the energy to speak. You just play the corpse, hoping that faking it will cause you to make it.
Revenant withdraws, and you hear rapid shuffling behind you. It sounds like he grabs the towel you had hung for yourself, running in and out of the bathroom to grab other things. You care about how he feels--he sounds distressed--but not for yourself. Why does he care at all, though? How does he feel about all this, anyway?
"Come here, little skinsuit. Everything is fine." You feel his arms scoop under you, and your natural instinct is to resist the hard synthetics against your bare skin. You wince a little, but mostly keep your corpse-like state: eyes closed and body limp. He carries you out of the bathroom where the air is freezing, but also not inundated with enough water vapor to nearly asphyxiate you. Weirdly enough, his chest isn't cold, but actually has something like fur? You don't open your eyes, you're probably just imagining it.
He places you down on a towel on the bed, immediately throwing another equally large towel over you. You're still cold, but it's way more tolerable with something over you. You hear Revenant mumbling in some kind of panic to himself, but you still can't find the energy to console him. You hear some typing on his computer, then the chair gets shoved out from under him as he stands in a huff. You hear your duffle bag unzip and likely some of your clothes be tossed on the bed near your head.
"You better not be mad at me for this..." He sounds unsure of that himself before you feel his hands start to dry you off through the towel. It would be nice if it didn't feel so wrong. Even if it is through a towel, you're naked otherwise. The thought of what the driver said hits you, and you immediately begin to feel anxiety and shake against your will. He reacts by scooping you up and hugging you, still wrapped in a towel, trying to stop the shaking.
"Dammit, what's going on?" You hear him whisper, he doesn't seem to realize you're awake and aware.
More fur. Why is there fur? Also, why does it feel like there's something resting on your head? It's way too large to be his chin. His chest feels smaller too, and it feels like some type of plastic rather than metal. The more you feel the more questions you have, and the more you panic at the realization that you do not know this simulacrum. You reach your limit and perk up in his arms, opening your eyes, and silently gasping as you reel back from whoever the heck this is.
"Wait! Skinsuit! It's me!" He manages to hold your arms before you can fully pull away, and you meet eyesight with a chassis you do not recognize. He has a huge, artificial bovine skull with curling ram horns situated on top. Instead of his scarf, his new face is framed in a mane of deep bark-colored fur, matted into locks like a proper wild animal. The optics tucked inside his skull seem so much larger than his normal ones, and they're a brilliant blueish-white, unlike his normal yellow ones. His snout is long enough to have been what was sitting on your head. His body looks to be made much thinner, especially in the chest, and is clearly made with more plastics than metals. It looks significantly lighter. His arms are red with odd, jagged juts on them, but seem to have similar hand mechanics otherwise. His loincloth is replaced with another long patch of fur, as well as fur on his thigh plates. His legs look a lot more decorative, and his feet are scarier: detailed down to each individual talon. His feet actually look much more like the hands on his other chassis.
"Skinsuit?" You snap out of your trance at his voice. You must have been staring him up and down for a while. "Uh, here." He pulls the towels back over you, which had fallen off when you pulled away. He reaches out to touch you, but stops short in case you aren't all there yet. "It's me, I'm just in a special body for tomorrow. I didn't mean to scare you." He's speaking slowly and methodically; his fingers make contact with your hand, but don't go further. "You must have fainted in the shower. You haven't been eating enough, but don't worry, everything's okay now."
Your head starts to throb and you instinctively go to hold it, the stress of the situation is too much. Even though he's trying to be reassuring, he looks like some kind of robotic, big-horned, undead goat demon and honestly you just wanted to see a familiar face to go with the familiar voice. You're not scared now that you know it's him, but something still doesn't feel right about it. Since you don't know this new chassis, you find it hard to trust his comfort. It's weird. Any other time you'd be overjoyed to see him in something that looks so cool, but now you're looking for some semblance of normalcy.
"How do you feel?" His right hand moves again to rest on your knee, intentionally avoiding pushing any boundaries. You can't answer, you still can't speak. It gets caught in your throat despite your best intentions, and instead your words turn into a new burst of tears and sobs. Without thinking, you take his hand off your knee and pull it to your face, sobbing into it. He seems relieved at your acceptance, and tries his best to catch and wipe away the tears as they flow. He shuffles as if to hug you, but he stops, likely unsure of how you feel when you're essentially in nothing but two loosely wrapped towels.
"I'm sorry, I thought seeing my pack would help, but I should have realized you haven't been eating enough. It's not something I've had to pay attention to in centuries." Your heart hurts as he seems to take the blame himself. "I also didn't mean to scare you again... I promise I'm not planning on hurting you." You want to speak so badly, but you just cry harder instead. None of this is his fault. Literally none of it. The only reason you're so jumpy is because everything that pervert said has sent you into a spiral. You imagined Revenant hurting you for his own entertainment and pleasure, and this imaginary smoking gun has left you very gun-shy.
"I ordered food for you to be delivered to the room. I expect you to eat something, even if it's not much. I don't want you dying on me." You push his hand into your face, trying to dry the tears. "I ordered a lot. I'm not sure what you like." You nod to affirm you hear him and plan to try, even though you're too nauseous to be hungry at the moment.
He uses his free hand to grab the clothing he pulled from your bag and puts it in front of you. He probably wasn't thinking too hard when he picked things out, but an oversized tee and men's basketball shorts are as comfy as it gets, so he did fine in your book. He left out undergarments, but honestly you couldn't care less at this point. Whatever covers you is fine. You pull his hand away from your face and place it on the bed gently. You grab the shirt, and he immediately turns away to let you put it on. You're able to throw it on along with the shorts in a few seconds, and quickly retrieve his hand when done. He turns back, maintaining the boundaries he interpreted.
"Any better?" He wipes away a few trailing tears now that you've slowed down a lot. You nod, still not sure how your voice is doing.
There's a knock on the door and Revenant pulls away gently to go get it. You hear a familiar voice from the other side of the door.
"I've got enough Chinese for like, five people. Who is even in this room? Are y'all having a sleepover in the abandoned room? To be fair I'd do the sa--"
Revenant opens the door and Sherry has a long pause to look up at the recipient. She doesn't even notice you, but you see her put the bags on the floor slowly and take a step back, hands up defensively.
"Okay, so it's a demon summoning, my bad..." Her sass is ever present. "And here I made the mistake of thinking I was running into some normal kind of fun."
"Sherry!" Your voice cracks back into action and the perfect moment. She shoots a look past Revenant to see you.
"You're summoning demons now?! Did you dump the tinman and summon an incubus as a bounce back or something?!" She looks up at Revenant, still not sure who it is. "Also, do demons really like Chinese food this much?"
"Sherry, shut up! I need a hug!" The tears are coming back, and Sherry valiantly slips under Revenant's arm to run to you. Revenant seems to be in complete shock at her brazenness, but also unwilling to stop her since you invited her in. He picks up the bag of food instead and brings it in, setting it on the television stand. Sherry leaps into a hug and you accept it graciously. Sherry is the closest thing you have to a sister and you could use someone like her right now. Revenant sits in the computer chair, watching you embrace closely, but not speaking or interfering.
"Where's the Revenant guy? What happened? Did he dump you? Did you run away? Who is this guy?" She immediately starts getting to brass tacks mid-hug. Although with her the hug won't end until you stop crying anyway.
"That is Rev, Sherry. It's just a different body." You manage to get out. She shoots Revenant a discerning look before slowly recognizing the similarities.
"Oh, hey, you're right. My bad, mister murder robot... haha..." She trails off nervously, Revenant only responding with a grunt and a huff. Suddenly, she snaps back into a fiery disposition. "Wait! Did you do something to her, you doofy-lookin' Beelzebub knockoff?! You may be able to gut me, but I'll defend her honor to my grave!" Now you're hugging Sherry to hold her back from trying to start something.
"It was a complete accident. I wasn't keeping track of how much she's been eating and I didn't catch her starving herself; plus I didn't expect this body to scare her as much as it did." Revenant doesn't lose an aggressive posture, but his words are fairly soft and empathetic.
"It's not that! I promise, it's not any of that!" You hug Sherry hard enough that she winces, but sensing your desperation she holds you tighter and pulls your head into her chest with no regard for what that may look like. You're glad you don't have those kinds of feelings for Sherry, otherwise this might be a bit strange. You see Revenant cock his head to the side and his eyes sharpen at the sight.
"It was the ride back, alone. That stupid driver was--" you choke, you hate saying these words out loud, "--a perverted bastard. An absolute dog." It comes out and devolves into a half-sob, thankfully still understandable. You start to cry again, reliving the things he said, not sure how you'd ever be able to say them yourself, even just to explain what happened.
"What happened? Did he hurt you? Are you okay?!" Sherry barely contains her concerns, if at all, squeezing you as you cry.
Revenant stands very slowly and methodically out of the chair, and begins to make some kind of animalistic growl you've never heard him make in your life. He paces back and forth, slowly stifling his growl as he goes. Sherry seems a bit concerned by him, but she continues to try to comfort you, awaiting an answer.
It takes almost a full minute to catch your breath again and be able to speak again, but you do.
"He didn't touch me. He just said things that--" Back to sobbing. You thought too far ahead and started to repeat his words again to yourself.
Despite your crying, Sherry sighs in relief, significantly less tense than before. She starts to rock you in her hug and you go along with it. Revenant's intensity only seems to worsen. He paces faster for a few moments as you cry, before he calms himself down enough to approach the situation.
He sits on the edge of the bed next to you and Sherry, currently latched on to each other. He doesn't attempt to pull you apart, he simply waits patiently. He's completely calm and collected now, with no signs of previous rage apparent, but you're sure it's still there.
"What kind of things did he say?" Sherry asks kindly, no sense of urgency in her voice. She plays with your hair a bit, which might as well be one of the greatest feelings in the world. It might be just distracting enough for you to get it out.
"He said he wanted to buy tapes..." You inhale heavily trying to hold back the inevitable runny nose. "...of Revenant cutting into me and... using me." Sherry gasps through her nose in disgust, but squeezes you tighter in response.
"I'm sorry, that's terri--"
"He said I should sell myself afterwards, that people would like me better if I still had... stuff... inside me." You cut her off but you're not done. Sherry is starting to get tense, but more notably, so is a particular simulacrum only a few feet away. "He said he wanted to watch it all! And try me for himself, too." That's all you needed to say, you're back to sobbing and Sherry starts to cry with you, unable to help her empathy. You're latched on to each other trying to comfort one another, but instead both of you are just a sobbing mess.
Revenant sits, lifeless for a moment, before standing up and limping towards the door.
"Revenant!" You call out to him through tears, and he stops and turns towards you, revealing his eyes are voids. He's in reboot. "Don't kill anyone." You try to sound confident, but you're not sure how it comes out. He turns away again, and limps out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He didn't acknowledge what you said, but you hope he heard you.
Sherry perks up, wiping away her own tears and pulling away for a moment.
"Do you think he'll listen?" Sherry seems stressed.
"I hope so."
• • • •
"So, he's actually an average person, stuck in a body that drives him to be a bloodthirsty assassin via software?" Sherry asks, taking another bite of the sweet and sour chicken.
"As far as I can tell, yeah... Wait, did you not know what a simulacrum was before now?"
"I meant to look it up but I never did. I figured it was like a brand-name or something." She giggles at herself, but you sense there's a chance she may be joking. "So, you actually do really like this spindly metal guy, after all? And he's so much older! You have mature tastes." She goes straight to teasing, now that you're feeling a bit better.
"I didn't say anything about that, ma'am." You stare at the General Tso's chicken in front of you, not sure if you can eat a third piece. You still feel wrong somehow.
"You don't have to. I think he likes you too. I mean, he isn't wearing your innards as a scarf. For him, that's something." She prods.
"He's not as bad as you think, you know." You don't know how to convince her without potentially telling her something Revenant wouldn't want you to.
"Sure, he just kills people on live TV for the paycheck." She shrugs. "Oh! And maybe killing some pervert who sexually harassed you right now."
"I didn't tell him to do that!" You snap, you legitimately don't want to have even a drop of that blood on your hands. Sure, this guy was an absolute creep, but he didn't lay hands on you. That's your limit, and he didn't cross it. He isn't as bad as Forge. That guy did cross the line. He crossed a lot of lines.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset." Sherry sounds genuine. You sigh.
"It's okay, I really hope he's just running off some steam. I hope he knows most of my distress was just depression winning." You poke the chicken.
"That's not true, I would have been so scared too. I mean, you were in real danger. It's a miracle you held it together at all, I'm not sure I could have. I still can't believe--"
The door swings open and Revenant walks in, stopping all conversation in its tracks. He's hunched forward, looking somewhat disappointed.
"I hope you're happy. He'll live." He looks you dead in the eyes, waiting for your reaction.
You smile openly, glad he heeded your request.
"Everyone in his contacts now has a copy of the encrypted files on his computer, all decrypted for their viewing pleasure." He breaks eye contact with you. "At least one of them is sure to call the feds when they see their inbox tomorrow."
"Oh geeze, he was that kind of creep?" Sherry exclaims out loud, still eating chicken.
"Oh yeah, he's been collecting a lot of really rare porn. Honestly, I wish you'd have just let me kill him so I didn't have to expose myself to that." You feel a little guilty that he had to dig through it, it explains why he looks so dejected.
"I'm sorry..." You can't help yourself, you feel bad when he seems upset about anything.
"How much have you eaten?" He seems to have noticed how full your box of chicken still is.
"Two pieces of chicken, and maybe one piece of broccoli." Sherry rats you out with a cruel grin on her face.
"Snitch!" You shoot back at her. She closes her box with a mischievous smirk, hops up, and starts to leave.
"Nice to meet 'ya, you synthetic Wendigo! Have fun and be safe, you two!" She slips past Revenant quickly and is out of the door, skipping down the hallway as the door slowly shuts behind her. Revenant watches her leave with some mix of confusion and concern. You turn to reassure him.
"She's fine. She won't say anything. She--"
"Clearly is some kind of competition for me. I mean, she held you like you two were bonded for life." He's immediately free to tease you with her gone. Thank goodness Revenant seems too shy to gang up on you with her; that would be untenable. He throws himself down next to you where Sherry once was. "I want that same kind of bond." He barely touches your chin with his claws, being sure to growl the last bit out loud.
You emit a whining noise, paralyzed by the thought. You're a bit more sensitive to it all at the moment, considering the events of the day. Revenant notices your struggle and pulls back, reverting to his demanding style.
"Eat your food. I didn't intend for your girlfriend to run off with a free meal and you not eat anything." It still feels weird coming from his new body, but you're getting used to it.
"She's just a good friend, that's all. And I was just too busy talking to eat, I still don't feel great though." You poke at the food, it's lukewarm by now but that isn't your main objection to it. You just don't feel like eating.
"Oh, so we aren't close enough yet for that kind of affection? I'll fix that soon enough." His voice hums. You sigh.
"Oh please," You pet his snout and he seems to enjoy it, getting him off your case for a bit, "Not right now, harass me later. If you want me to eat anything, you can't be doing this." He really seems to enjoy the snout rubs.
"Alright, fine, you eat, I'll talk." You pull your hand away and focus more on the food. "I have quite a number of these special chassis to myself, all kinds of designs and colors and other nonsense. These are my special occasion outfits, per sé." You nod, it makes sense. "This one, as well as many others, are modded to the brim with all sorts of fun additions." He touches his snout, noting where you pet it. "I can feel every single aspect of this suit, even those that don't conform to the human shape. Even better, it's neural processors are exponentially faster, meaning everything feels much more vivid and vibrant." He pulls his fingers to the nasal cavity. "I have an entire set of cores that do nothing but olfactory processing, so I get to be the better Bloodhound while I wear it." His fingers fall to his jaw. "This luxurious suit even gets a jaw with clamping power, canine teeth to snag whatever I want, and a synthetic tongue to taste the blood I spill." He starts to snarl his words as he pulls open his jaw to show you his mouth. He points to his horns next. "These things? Silicone carbide sections with rubber impulse reducers between." You stare at him with a look of minor confusion, so he clarifies. "I can headbutt a skull into fragments without even leaving a dent in my own." You wince at the thought. "Not to even mention the use of polyethylenes instead of metals in the body with support weights in the limbs makes it so I can move faster than ever but still hit just as hard. Not to even mention all the modifications below the neck. You'll see how much I destroy in tomorrow's match. I will win, I promise you that."
"Wanna bet?" You're happy with how confident he is, but you can't help but want to start something.
"And what do I have that you could possibly want?" Revenant asks the opposite of what you expect him to. Isn't the question usually posed the opposite way? You close up your leftovers and start going over to the kitchenette to put it in the fridge.
"Well, I wouldn't mind money or just hanging out with the prowlers again. I could put money on it too, just not enough to make it worth your while. Did you have something in mind?" The fridge is nearly empty, spare for that water bottle and liquor. You throw the box down on a shelf, close the door, and plop down on the couch in a lying position.
"So, if I don't win, I have to take you to see my puppies again, or give you money. Neither of those are objectionable to me, but when I win I get to take something instead?"
"Yeah, that's how I'm framing it. The extra motivation can't hurt. I just don't know what you'd want. I have some savings, but--"
"Forget the money, I don't exactly have much need for it and I have tons anyway. What I want..." He pauses for a moment as his voice turns sinister. "...is to hear you call me 'daddy' again while I take a piece of you." He seethes with a sadistically erotic tone.
You stare into space, your face must be red again.
"C'mon skinsuit, it's not every day I'm in one of my few suits with the proper equipment for it." He's loving the look on your face, undoubtedly. He's acting like this is a cruel joke, but... How far would he take this joke, though? Better yet, how far will you force him to take it? You still feel ill at ease about the idea, but you're suddenly angry enough to buck off the shame.
"Alright, fuck you but sure." Probably the ballsiest thing you've ever said in your life.
Revenant is caught off guard for a moment, his eyes dimming until they're nearly off, freezing in a somewhat shocked motion. After a few moments, you hear him slowly return as he laughs out loud. He has trouble containing himself, and goes to rub his mask again.
"You're insane, but I love that." He finally contains his laughter. "Your friend, what's her name?"
"Sherry." Weird change in subject but okay.
"Who's her favorite?"
"Wattson."
"Oh, perfect. I'll send a special request for her to keep you company during the match. I want you both to watch. I got my assigned team not long ago." He stands up from the edge of the bed and meanders over to the couch you're on, looming over you.
"Oh, are you with Wattson?"
"And Wraith. It's perfect for what I have planned." He never did explain what his plan was that day he dragged you all over the arena. "Loba's little triumph will pale in comparison to my massacre."
"Try not to make it too--"
"It will be bloody, gory, and brutal. Sorry little skinsuit, but you used up your pardon." He chides you from above before reaching down to help you up. "Now come, I need to warm something."
You stand up, a bit confused by his request, until he pulls you into a hug and you feel how strangely warm his body is. You're a bit taken aback at first, but you slowly ease into him and the warmth he offers.
"Luxurious, isn't it?" You feel his chest rattle into a purring sound as he cradles your head against his warm chest. "I like it too." He gently pulls you away from the couch before leading you to the bed.
You don't protest, you just crawl into bed and shuffle to the middle, making plenty of room for him to follow. You see the lights flick off, then feel his warmth press up against your back, cradling you completely. His snout rests on your shoulder, breathing into your ear. It's comforting, something you really needed after today.
"Thanks, Rev." You barely manage to whisper. He huffs in your ear as affirmation before you fall asleep.
#apex legends#apex revenant#my fanfic#my fanfiction#revenant#creative writing#fanfiction#fanfic#revenant x reader#female reader#fluff#romance#apex legends revenant#non canon#smut#almost smut#comfort writing#tw: dom#tw: blood#tw: violence#tw: depression#tw: threats#tw: sharp#tw: pain#tw: graphic content#tw: bipolar#tw: harassment#tw: sex mention
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Hi, I really love your content which leads me to request a Satan soulmate fluff wherein Satan's internal voice is MC's voice and vice versa. So, when MC got summoned in Devildom, the moment they heard each other's voices, they already knew that they are meant for each other. I apologize if it's a bit confusing. 😔 Lastly, have a nice day and stay healthy! 🌺
Your Soulmate’s Voice
Lil bit of angst, but mostly Fluff :)
A/N: I know you said fluff but my small brain started typing and completely forgot the genre and made the first half of this v angsty because Satan is such deep character it felt wrong to just have him immediately accept MC as his soulmate without an inner battle, so the fluff is more towards the last half of the fic. Also ily thank u for requesting <3
Description: A soulmate AU where your inner voice is your soulmate’s outer voice. Satan and MC have lived hearing each other’s voices for as long as they can remember, which is why they immediately recognize each other when MC is suddenly summoned to the Devildom
How, he often asked out loud, late at night when he ran out of books to read and was left to his own devices. How does a malicious, angry, demon like me have a soulmate with such an angelic voice?
Since he had been born from the wrath of his eldest brother, he had been hearing this voice that spoke his thoughts to him. Why can’t I just hear my own voice, why do I have to hear someone else?
Lucifer had explained to him that the voice was his soulmate and one day he’d hear the voice through his ears rather than just in his head. That made Satan feel giddy, as a young child who couldn’t wait for the future.
Over the years, he began to feel guilty as the voice remained kind and careful, and his only grew angrier and rougher. He worried he’d hurt his soulmate with his wrath and he began to avoid going out, he didn’t want to hurt the voice’s owner like he’d hurt so many others. He didn’t want to have to see fear in their eyes whenever he’d lose his temper or even look at them with resting bitch face. So he decided he was best off just hearing it in his head for the rest of his immortal life.
He read and read day and night, drinking in their speech patterns, from the soft graceful syllables to the occasional voice cracks, he relished in every word that wanders through his mind, not because of what it said but because he knew the voice saying them was the only person who would ever embrace him, wrath and all.
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MC had always been a bit of a daydreamer, they’d known since they were quite young about soulmates and the voice in their head.
They daydreamed about marriage, about the future, about who their soulmate could be and how they’d meet.
The voice was innocent enough at first, but then it matured and it became deeper and more rough. It failed to change the way MC thought of him though. They fell in love with his voice as a kid and they promised to love it for the rest of their life.
As their friends grew and found their own soulmates, MC began to grow nervous. Perhaps whatever greater power controlled the events of their life had decided to single MC out and play a cruel joke of never letting them meet their soulmate, no matter how far they looked.
They were constantly told “You’ll find him” or “If you hear his voice he’s gotta be somewhere on Earth, you’re bound to find each other eventually.”
But nothing anyone say could have prepared them for this. For the day they arrived in Hell and heard the familiar voice speak up,
“Hmph. At least he didn’t ignore you altogether. How do you think I feel?” The blond owner of said voice responded to Asmodeus’s whining about the way Lucifer introduced him.
MC had yet to speak. They couldn’t bring themselves to, not trusting their own voice. They attempted to after a few moments only to let out a tiny squeak, audible to nobody but themselves.
Satan suddenly noticed their gaping mouth and tilted his head, “is there something wrong? I hope Lucifer here did not scare you, he is a pretty cruel man,” he smirked, knowing he was getting under Lucifer's skin with every condescending word that slipped past his lips. Hearing the voice speak AND seeing lips move in sync with the words was surreal.
‘‘Satan!” the raven haired man scolded. Satan. Their soulmate was Satan. All they could do was stare in his eyes, scared to speak up, scared of how he’d react to finding out his soulmate was but a mere human with a plain boring life. If the universe was going to pick a human for Satan himself, why would they chose them? Why someone so boring when there were royals in the human realm who would much better fit the role of a demon lord’s bride.
Suddenly their cheeks felt wet, and as they blinked their vision blurred with salty tears that ran down their cheeks. Happy tears, of course, but all the noble demon men that were surrounding them had no idea what had made them cry, leading to a panicked look between the prince and his right hand man, who seemed to them glare daggers to Satan for making the exchange student cry within the first fifteen minutes of their arrival.
Satan smiled a bit, angering Lucifer is what he does best and he’s proud of himself for making the lousy human cry so easily. He saw them close their eyes and take a deep breath, ready to finally speak up.
“Hi,” they started, opening an eye to watch as his widened, “I’m MC, it is an honor to meet you Satan, I-” they were cut off by the door slamming. They looked up and the blond was gone, everyone else staring at the door in shock.
“Well, I hoped that would go much better,” Diavolo said to Barbatos, who gave a sad nod in return.
“I apologize MC I do not know what got into him, he can be moody and I wouldn’t worry about him so much while you’re here,” Lucifer bowed as an apology to the human, humiliated by his brother’s lack of composure.
“Lucifer... I meant to mention this to you sooner, but I thought perhaps this would reveal their connection,” Diavolo started. “When I was looking at their file I noticed that the universe had assigned them a demon soulmate, curious I dug further and found it was Satan, which is why I gave them spot in our exchange program.”
As the men conversed, truths being revealed and shock evident on some of the others’ faces, MC stood staring at the door.
I guess he really is humiliated to know his soulmate is an average human, they thought, I shouldn’t be so surprised I suppose.
They began to walk, none of the others taking notice as they left the room, too focused on Diavolo who was explaining the circumstances.
They walked and kept walking, ignoring the demons who were watching them in awe, a stray human brave enough to walk through the Devildom on their own.
But MC didn’t care. Their heart was broken and they didn’t care. They had waited so long to meet someone who would love them. They remained hopeful because of the voice in their head, reminding them their was someone out there that would love them and all their flaws.
“Well, aren’t you brave?” A strange demon asks, snapping MC out of their thoughts and causing the reality and fear of their location to set in. “A little human shouldn’t be walking around alone like this, especially looking so yummy,” he continues licking his lips as his eyes scan MC head to toe like they were a feast.
“I’m feeling a bit hungry, I’m sure you won’t mind me having a bite-” he reaches his clawed hands towards MC’s arm, but a stronger one with green claws pulls MC away and against their body, his other one having a vice grip on the creepy demon.
“Lay a finger on my human and I won’t hesitate to gut you and display your mutilated body to the whole Devildom,” the familiar voice said, leading MC to feel more relaxed in his grip, despite his violent words.
“A-ah my lord I’m so sorry! I had no idea this human belonged to you, please forgive me, I swear I’ll never even breathe in their direction again,” the lesser demon cowered, sinking to his knees, begging to be spared from the cruel fate Satan had promised him.
Without a word, Satan turned, tossing MC over his shoulder, ignoring their protests as he returned the house of lamentation with them.
He passes their room and goes straight to his, placing them gently on his bed.
“Satan I-” MC is interrupted by strong arms enveloping them in a warm comforting embrace.
“I can’t believe I’ve had you for an hour and already almost got you killed,” he sighs, burying his face in their hair, tears forming out of frustration.
MC suddenly pulls away from him, standing up in and walking towards the door, “Let’s start over,” they say before entering the hallway and closing the door behind them.
Confused Satan sits and stares at the door. He hears MC politely knock so he gets up to answer it.
When he opens the door he is greeted by a smiling human, “Hi! I’m MC I’m the new exchange student at RAD and will be living with you for a year! I hope we can get along in that time! Oh by the way I’m also your soulmate haha,” they laugh throughout trying to introduce themselves.
“Oh my Diavolo you are so cheesy,” Satan is barely able to contain his laughter as he pulls them into his room, twirling them around in a tight embrace, taking in their warmth and sighing happily.
“All jokes aside,” they quietly whisper as Satan sits back down with them still in his hold, “Why did you run? Is it because I’m a normal human and not special like you were probably expecting? If it is I’m sorry and I really do understand if you want me to leave you alone. I mean your one of the most powerful demons ever and I’m just... I’m just me!” MC looks down at their hands, which Satan now held in his own.
“I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m the embodiment of wrath and all my life I’ve been afraid knowing that such a sweet and gentle voice could be ruined because of my temper.”
“Satan...” they put a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to their own. They open their mouth to speak but nothing comes out, so they opt to show what they’re thinking physically instead.
Their soft lips land on his own slightly chapped ones, a soft chaste kiss that leaves both parties with wide smiles.
“I’m so happy to have you in our home dear exchange student,” he chuckles before leaning into another kiss, more passionate and filled with love than the last.
Knowing they trusted him not to hurt them gave him the confidence he needed and he couldn’t be more thankful.
#obey me fluff#obey me fluff hc#obey me satan#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me luficer#obey me imagine#obey me imagines#soulmate au#obey me: one master to rule them all#satan om#satan obey me
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