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jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

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Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

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celestialrry · 4 years ago

Text

bunny

6.3k

summary: Harry's shy and you need a tutor.

warnings: like none, cursing?, severe fluff

You rushed into class, and scrambled over to sit in your chair, huffing as the clock struck 9:00 a.m. the moment you touched the seat. Why you signed up for a morning class you knew you would never want to wake up for is beyond you. Why the class you were taking was about English literature, a genre you had only read less than 3 books in was also beyond you. Being undecided in your major didn’t have many perks, you had come to find.

“Alright class, first things first, you’ll be having a test in this class next week about what we studied this past month.”

As your professor droned on, your heartbeat started to pick up. A month into your second year of university and you already had a test? This was absolute torture. You were psyching yourself out at this point, almost positive you would fail, until you zoned back into class to hear a deep voice speaking.

The boy with the curls almost reaching his shoulders in the back of the class, Harry, you thought. He was terrifying and intimidating, but he raised his hand almost every other question and got it right. Always. He was the answer to all of your problems. The one who always wore those tattered brown Chelsea boots and long coats. You had even seen a peek of tattoos on his hand once.

The rest of class was spent thinking of ways to ask him to tutor you. So far, you would suggest to pay him for his time, do it only when he’s available (you would switch your schedule around for him, you were already going to ask a lot of him), and just try to be really nice. You always tried not to judge on looks, but Harry seemed quite scary, and you were afraid he’d turn you down immediately.

Soon class was dismissed and you grabbed your trusty bag (it had survived multiple sleepovers at Niall’s and that boy could destroy anything by just touching it) and slung it over your shoulder, looking to see Harry walking out of the classroom. You hurried over to him out of the doors and caught up to him. “Hi, um, Harry?” You asked, and he stopped in his tracks.

He looked back at you and his eyes widened. He had to look back down for a moment so you couldn’t see him flush out of surprise. He looked back up at you and smiled softly. “Hello.” Harry mumbled, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. No one really ever spoke to Harry all that much. People just never approached him and he had no idea why (his friends had tried to clue him in that he did seem a bit intimidating with his brows furrowed almost all the time, his body littered with tattoos, and the fact that he’s quite a buff guy, but you couldn’t really tell from his oversized sweaters that he seems to wear every single day, but that’s besides the point) and it confused him a bit. It also made him a bit shy around anyone he didn’t already know, because he didn't want to come off too strong at first and scare anyone away.

You smiled at him and introduced yourself before you continued to ask him what you had been dreading out of pure nerves. “Um, I know this is weird, but we’re in the same English lit class and I notice you know like, all the answers to what Mr. Reeves asks, n’I just really wanna pass this test so I was maybe wondering if you could tutor me or something? I would pay you of course-”

“You don’t-you don’t have to pay me.” He interrupted you from rambling on for too long because you tended to do that a lot, and Harry had no idea but he had just saved himself about ten minutes of time. If you were his chance at a new friend, he wouldn’t want it to start off on money, because helping a friend wouldn't be a job. “Oh!” Your mouth formed an “o” shape and your eyebrows raised at him. “Are you sure? I mean that's fucking awesome if you really don’t want money, but I would just feel so bad taking up your time without giving you anything in return.”

You prayed that he would say that you really didn’t need to pay him anything. If he meant it, it means this boy was a godsend and you would be happy spending time with this bloke if he is really that sweet all the time. You wouldn’t expect it just because he rarely ever speaks to other people. The most words you had ever heard him speak was when he was answering a question from Mr. Reeves-

“S’fine, really. If I tutor you, um, it's basically like studying m’self so...” He trailed off scratching the back of his neck, and bringing you back to Earth. You broke out into a grin and bounced a bit on your toes, because he was going to help you pass the final and you didn’t have to pay him. “Perfect! Wow, Harry, you’re an angel. Thank you so much,” You complimented him as you grabbed your phone from your back pocket and as your eyes darted away from his face for a few moments, he attempted to bite back his smile, because you were talking to him, and calling him an angel.

You pulled your pink-case covered cell and unlocked it, handing it to Harry and saying, “Here, put your contact in so I can text you about meeting up, s’that cool?” To which he nodded and took your phone gently and began typing his name and number in, and biting back his tongue when he was about to tell you he had the same phone case as you, because you probably wouldn’t care (you actually would care a very great deal, but Harry had been so used to being ignored he figured he wouldn’t muck up his one chance at a new friend). he handed your phone back to you and you just shoved it back in your pocket, the smile never leaving your face.

“Thanks again Harry, it really means a lot. I’ll text you later, yeah?” You said, slowly beginning to walk to your next class. He just offered you a small smile before continuing the way he was before you had asked him to tutor you. Why he didn’t want money was still itching at the back of your brain, mostly because when you told your best friend, Niall, about it later that night he had said “What kinda college student turns down money?” before going off into a rant about how he wished he actually knew what he was learning so he could tutor someone and get some extra cash. You reminded him he already had a job, but it seemed tutoring was “so much easier than dealing with kids whose parents didn’t give a rats-ass if they yell in the restaurant.”

｡:°ஐ

You and Harry had arranged to meet on Wednesday, because you only had one morning class as did he, and would meet in the library at 12 p.m. You don’t think you had ever been so anxious walking into a library before, but here you were, opening the double doors and swiping your student I.D. (which had a horrid picture on it, they really never tell you when they take the photo) before your eyes scanned the front part of the library you could see. It was safe to say you weren’t in the library very often, if seeing your frazzled face as you zig-zagged through the rows of bookshelves was enough to go by.

You made your way to the back, where you assumed the tables for studying and reading would be, and as you turned the corner of one of the oddly tall bookshelves, you thanked your instincts for the first time, and scanned the area until you found a certain flop of messy brown curls hunched over at a table.

“Hi Harry,” You chittered, flopping down in the seat across from him and immediately pulling out your notes and the book you had been reading for class, Pride and Prejudice. “How are you?”

For the first time, you noticed he wore glasses, when he looked up at you and pushed the clear tan frames up the bridge of his nose, a bit startled by your arrival. “M’good, you?” He asked, no emotion or tone behind his voice really. It sounded like he just wanted you to stop talking almost, but you settled on the fact that it was your nerves telling you he hated you.

“’Bout as good as I can be with teachers up my ass all week.” You said, and a small smile struck his face. You wondered what it would be like to make him laugh. Shaking your head from your thoughts, you cleared your throat and looked at your notes before back up at him. “Alright, so m’a bit confused on why Charlotte marries Collins? I mean, ignoring the fact that they’re all related, I’ve re-read it so many times but the old English they use is so confusing.”

After your question, Harry delves into the answer, not going on an extraordinarily long tangent, but a decently long one, explaining the relationship between them, and why they married when he wanted Elizabeth first, and so on. What was even better was that he explained it all so easily you understood it all (and his voice was sweeter than honey), you just kept wanting to ask more questions, so you did.

Harry was talkative when you kept asking him questions, and it seemed like he was enjoying himself, but whenever the conversation swerved into personal life, Harry shut off and became more quiet. It wasn’t like you were asking him about his family drama, the conversation had smoothly sailed into something about high school.

“I wish I read this book in high school when they gave us the chance.” You sighed, flipping through the pages to where you had put a sticky note to write down your confusion. You truly regretted not being one of those reading types, but you preferred to hear things more (like Harry’s voice), and listening to music became your ‘hobby’ instead.

“Yeah, reading it earlier makes it pretty easy now.” He shrugged, going through his own notes. “I just wasn’t much of a reader, did you read a lot in high school?” It's an innocent enough question, and after spending about 2 hours with Harry, you already knew you would want to get to know him more, but it seemed he didn’t feel the same. “A bit.” He said, tensing up. While you were mildly confused by his body language, Harry just didn’t want to talk about highschool. He read a lot, and was so in his own world he found it hard to really have many friends. He had a few loyal ones, but books would always be there, as cheesy as that was. High school wasn’t fun for anyone, he was sure of it.

“You seem like you’d read a lot, you just give off that vibe, y’know?” You said, looking at him. He lifted his gaze from his notes and you truly could not tell what he was thinking. He gave a small “hmph” in response to your question that wasn’t really a question and looked back down at his notes, gathering them all quite fast. “I think we’re good for the day, just text me if you want anymore help.” He mumbled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and rushing out of the library. You sat there with your mouth slightly open in shock at the way he left so abruptly. After a few moments you packed up your own things and practically ran after him, bursting through the double doors and trying to find him, to-you actually didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even know what happened. That’s why you found yourself on your couch with Niall as he ate all your snack food, deep in a long-winded advice session from him.

“He just ran out Niall, I don’t even know what happened, like did I say something?” You asked, picking your nails in distress, your eyes following the chip that disappeared in his mouth seconds later. “What’s this bloke’s name, again?” He asked, after chewing (Niall could be vulgar, but he wasn’t an animal). “Um, Harry. Longish brown curls, pretty green eyes, y’know? I-I don’t even know his last name.”

The blonde’s icy blue eyes widened in recognition after a moment of thinking, and he slapped your bicep gently. “Harry Styles! I’ve heard o’him. Apparently he has like two friends and never speaks, s’not hard to believe you have a thing for him, bug.” Your brow raised incredulously, and you were quick to defend yourself, and Harry. “I do not have a thing for him, and just because he doesn’t have many friends doesn’t mean he’s a-wait what do you mean it's not hard to believe?”

Niall rolled his eyes and sat up a bit more, turning to actually face you. “You like the quiet types, s’why we aren’t dating, obviously, n’I never said he was a dud, love, just tellin’ you what I heard.” You just nodded, deciding to not worry about it so much. “There’s many reasons we aren’t dating Ni.” You gave him a compassionate smile and pat his knee. The two of you then burst out into laughter and your worries about Harry faded away.

Until the next morning that is.

You had been going over the study guide Mr. Reeves had emailed everyone that morning and realized you weren’t sure about quite a few of the things you were supposed to know. Sighing, you opened your phone and clicked on Harry’s contact typing out a text.

Hey Harry! Wondering if you could meet up sometime again this weekend just to go over the study guide?

You hit send and prayed that he wouldn’t just ignore it, especially after running out last time. After looking back at the email, you heard your notification bell go off just a few minutes later.

I can do Friday at 8pm, and Sunday around 3.

A smile of relief graced your face at his quick response, no matter how short his texts were, he was still willing to help you, and you were extremely grateful. After texting him back and agreeing to meet back at the library, you went back to working on another assignment, happy that you were able to get more studying in, not about the fact that you got to see the quiet and unusually attractive Harry Styles again. That was not the reason.

｡:°ஐ

Eventually it was Friday night. Your friday nights usually consisted of Niall dragging you somewhere you did not want to be, like a frat party (he always made sure you got home safe though), or you sitting at home, watching a movie and binging on cookies that you had baked just 30 minutes prior. Tonight was different however, and you were attempting to open the doors of the library, because it was locked, but you were positive the library wasn’t closed.

A soft voice said your name, and you turned around to see Harry standing a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets and his bag on his shoulder. “Harry,” you exhaled in relief. “I was about to text you, but it’s locked and I know for a fact it shouldn’t be closed because the hours say 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. every weekday.” You stated matter of factly, pointing to the hours painted on the door. He walked a bit closer to the door and adjusted his glasses a bit, pursing his pink lips as he read the hours. “You’re right.” he said simply, his sage eyes darting to the handle. You wordlessly stepped back and he went to the handle, pulling the door a bit, and pushing it. It moved a bit for him, but it was obvious it was locked.

Your mind raced for solutions, the only ones you were able to find was going to your flat, or wherever he lived, and you were almost positive he wouldn't want you in his house. You heard a little sigh leave his lips as he let go of the handle, and stuck his hands back in his pockets, rolling on the balls of his feet adorned with black boots today. “We could go to my place? If you’re comfortable with that of course, I won’t force you, but it’s like the only place I can think of and my roommate won’t be home tonight to distract us, something about staying the weekend at her boyfriends, but-”

“Sure.”

Your eyes fell back onto his face at his words and you gave a small smile, happy that he had agreed. “Alright, c’mon then.” You said, walking towards the direction of your flat. Only a few moments after you began taking steps he stopped you with his voice. “Wait, you walked here?” He asked, his face twisted up with something you couldn’t tell. “Yeah, m’only fifteen minutes away.” You shrugged. “It’s pitch black-um, come with me, I drove here and you can just direct me to yours.”

You just agreed and followed him to his car, which was an awfully nice black one, you weren’t sure of the brand, but as you got in, you could tell he took really good care of it (not that that was attractive to you or anything). Your words during the drive consisted of you telling him the four turns to take before directing him the best place to park in your lot. You ignored his gaze on you as you led him up the two flights of stairs to your hall, because “The elevator has been down for ages, and I’ve sent about four letters to the landlord, but all I’ve gotten in return is just unnecessary exercise for two months.”

He chuckled a bit at that and you swore your heart grew two sizes as you led him down the hall to your door. You unlocked it, and let him in, quickly walking in front to scan and make sure it wasn’t messy. You were never one to leave the house while it was dirty, but Niall had come over earlier to convince you to come to a party, and you were scared you hadn’t picked up his mess. He truly was like your child in a sense. Taking a sigh of relief at your clean flat, you turned around to see Harry closing your door and you brushed against him to lock it, you never kept your door unlocked at night.

You led him to the living room and dropped your bag on the floor next to the couch, and he did the same, pulling out your books and notes, as well as your laptop. Harry followed your actions and you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in your flat, or at least that’s what it seemed like. “Do y’want some water or anything? I’m not sure what other drinks I have because I’m pretty sure Niall drank everything in here, and ate it probably as well.”

He looked up at your words and hesitated, bringing his bottom lip between his fingers. “Erm, I’ll have a water, please.” Now was not the time to ask about Niall or who he was to you, he told himself, because it didn’t matter. You nodded and stood up, hurrying over to your kitchen and grabbing two glasses of water for the both of you before handing one to Harry and sitting down on the couch again.

It was a bit weird at first, but soon enough the two of you slid into an easy conversation about the study guide, it was mostly you asking and Harry answering, but occasionally he would ask you something (that you were sure he already knew), and you would answer. It was a good back and forth, and you found yourself thinking about how it would be nice to talk to Harry like this about himself. You wanted to know everything, his favorite color down to the weird little quirks he has (you’ve already picked up on one, like when he itches the bottom of his nose with a curled index finger and slides it to the button of his nose before scrunching it).

“We’ve been studying for about two hours,” You noticed, looking at the time on your computer screen reading 10:03 PM. “I’ve just about filled my brain with enough information about fictional characters for today.”

You looked over at Harry to see him grinning a bit at your joke, and for the first time you noticed he had dimples. You were positive there was nothing wrong with him, other than the fact that he didn’t seem to want to be your friend (it wasn’t his fault, you could be a bit too much for people sometimes). “Okay, I should probably get back home to Luna anyways.” He said, his offhand comment filling your brain. Luna? You prayed you haven’t been taking his time away from a girlfriend, and before your brain could catch up your mouth was already moving. “Oh, who’s Luna?”

Harry looked at you like he forgot he mentioned her and his eyes widened a bit. “Oh, um, she’s m’kitten.” A wave of relief rushed over you, as well as another reason to want to get to know him more. A man so intimidating people didn’t approach him, had a kitten? Harry was flushing out of embarrassment of telling you this little fact, and looking down as he put his things in his bag to avoid eye contact with you, you did not care about his kitten, and you were indirectly telling him to leave, he didn't think he ever hated speaking more.

“That’s such a cute name!”You exclaimed. “Do you have any photos of her? It’s okay if you don’t want to show but I love cats, always wanted t’get my own.”

Nevermind.

30 minutes later, and he was sitting next to you awfully close on the couch, showing you his photo album of Luna. Some of the photos had Harry in them, one in particular, a mirror picture, where he was wearing sweats and had chosen to go without a shirt, holding Luna in one hand by his side. He swiped off of that one with lighting speed, and although you were telling yourself he obviously was embarrassed by you seeing his bare torso, which he shouldn’t be because wow, you couldn’t help your curiosity. “How many tattoos do y’have?”

He moved his head to face you, and only then did he realize how close the two of you were sitting. “Uh, I don’t know, fifty-something? I lost count a while ago.” Your eyes lit up at his words and a grin spread across your face. “Wow, that's so cool. Did it hurt a lot? I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but I have no idea what, and where. I thought a small little butterfly on my ribs or something would be cute for a good year, but I don’t have much connection to butterflies really, and I feel like if I get something tattooed on your body for forever I would want something that really sticks with me.”

He couldn’t help it.

As you watched Harry while you were rambling on about tattoos you could see him smile. Truly smile, one where his teeth showed and everything. You tried not to get too giddy about it, but it was just so beautiful. “It started hurting less the more I got, and tattoos don’t have t’be something y’really connect with, I have a bunch jus’ because I thought they looked cool and had a decent meaning,” He said, and you were positive that’s the most he’s ever spoken to you. “I actually have a butterfly on m’tummy.”

“What other one’s do you have?” You asked, attempting to get him to talk as much as he could.

It worked, because soon the 30 minutes became an hour, and the hour became two, and he was in your flat at midnight. It seemed the two of you had no idea how much time had passed, because when you checked your phone it said it was five past midnight, and you reluctantly told Harry.

“Shit!” He muttered, and that was the first time you’ve heard him curse before. He looked at you, concern taking over his features. “M’so sorry for staying so long, I didn’t want to impose, I-”

“Harry, it’s okay, I promise. If I didn’t want you here, I would've told you to leave.” You said, and that seemed to calm him down a bit. “I’ll walk you down.”

You slipped on your coat and grabbed your keys, while Harry grabbed his tote and the two of you made your way down the stairs, this time a comfortable silence overtaking the stairwell. You reached his car and smiled at him as he unlocked it. “Thank you Harry, for everything, m’sure after Sunday I’ll be aces at analyzing characters.”

He smiled at you and fiddled with his sleeve before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you. You were surprised to say the least, but your arms found their way around him as well and you reveled in his warmth. He stepped back after a moment and let his hands slide down your arms before bringing them back to his sides. “M’sorry, I should’ve-I just-you’re so nice n’I just-thank you.”

You couldn’t help but watch him try to stay afloat as he struggled to explain the hug. He really felt like he did though, because you were just so sweet, possibly the sweetest person he’s ever met, and you wanted to know about him, and his tattoos, and his kitten, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to be with anyone for a hours on end, but he’s already decided that he’d want to be trapped in a room with you for days.

“No need to thank me, get home safe okay?” You smiled at him, reaching out and squeezing his arm and holy shit he’s fit. He looked down at your hand for a moment before smiling big and nodding, parting with a “G’night, I’ll see you Sunday.” before hopping into his car and insisting you walk up first. Rolling your eyes you smirked a bit and started walking up your stairs, turning around and waving at him before he sped off. That was quite possibly the best Friday night you’ve ever had.

｡:°ஐ

Harry was reeling, in the best way possible, but still reeling. After you got together to study on Sunday (and after you both aced the test, which you had given him the largest hug and a kiss on the cheek for), the two of you had hung out almost everyday after.

You met Luna during that following week, and he was expecting her to stay in his bedroom, because Luna didn’t really like new guests all that much, but she had immediately scurried up to you and walked in figure-eights around your feet. Your giggle of excitement was the best thing Harry had ever heard, and he had to take a moment not to squeal out of adoration.

He had opened up to you about, well, a lot. Told you how people just didn’t approach him, which was why he was so off-put when you did, and that he just didn’t want to scare anyone away. You shook your head and sat closer to him on the couch, lifting your hands to pinch his cheeks and pout as you said that he was “the sweetest person” you knew and you had “no idea how anyone could be scared of such a softie.” It was safe to say his face was flushed the entire conversation.

You had also commented on his sweater collection once, and everytime you would shiver, he’d pull off his own sweater and give it to you to wear, even in the courtyard when the weather was reaching 30 degrees. You had refused due to the fact that he would be cold, and eventually he just gave you a sweater you had expressed your liking for. He had handed it to you and you frowned in confusion and said, “Did you bring that just for me?”, because he was already wearing his own, and he had nodded and once you put it on he mumbled, “Keep it.” You did.

It got to the point where the two of you had spent so much time together you introduced him to Niall, to which Niall had commented, “So this is the Harry bloke you’ve been talking about all the time. Nice to meet ya, mate. So, how did you grow your hair out so long?” You had hit his shoulder for embarrassing you, but it seemed Harry didn’t even skip a beat when he started talking about how he had decided to grow his hair out. It was a story you’d heard before, but with Harry speaking, you would listen to the same words over and over again.

When you each went home for winter break, Harry had hugged you tightly and kissed your cheek, telling you that it was only 2 weeks, and the both of you would be back before you knew it. When the two of you weren’t texting, you were calling each other, and he was right, because you had both gotten back yesterday, a day full of hugs of goodbye’s from families, and full of cheek and forehead kisses, along with hugs and cuddles from Harry. You teased him about the gift, a book you had told him was the only one you wanted to read, he mailed you, and he teased you about his gift, a sweater with a hand-stitched (by you) small little moon where the left breast was, for Luna, and posters of his favorite artists, because he didn’t have anything on his walls.

Today was a day of “movies and cookies, it rhymes” as Harry had put it, and you had just knocked on his door, adorned with the sweater he gave you and some sweats. He opened the door almost immediately, a large smile on his face as he brought you in and gave you a large hug, to which you returned. “Missed you.” He mumbled into your shoulder. “I saw you yesterday, dimples.” You said, squeezing him before letting go and poking the indent in his cheek that just got deeper. “I told you I hate that nickname, bunny.” He smirked. “Oh, shove off.” You smiled, making your way to his living room where Luna was curled up on the couch on the right side, close enough to the end that no one could sit there, but close enough to the middle that practically half of his couch was taken.

“Don’t move her,” He said, walking up beside you. “She’s been crazy all day and she's finally relaxing, little devil.” You just shrugged and looked at the cookies he had already set out. “As long as I get these, I don’t mind where she is.”

The two of you settled next to each other on the couch as he chose an old horror movie that you begged not to watch but according to Harry, “S’not even scary, pet. Nothing is realistic, swear.” You just grumbled in defeat as he started to play it and just stuffed cookies into your mouth as you fell against the back of the couch.

Half an hour later, and your head was tucked in Harry’s chest, while your legs fell over his own. His hand was splayed across your back, rubbing up and down gently and mumbled “It’s okay”’s and “I’ve got you”’s while you peeked out to see the giant ant’s taking over. He really couldn’t believe it, you of all people were in his arms at night. He wished it could be every night, and when he heard your breathing slow down he suddenly took it back.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

You hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but just the other day were you complaining about not getting enough sleep because of your “stupid Philosophy professor”, and there was no way in hell Harry was going to wake you up. He hesitated for a moment, before turning off the T.V. because in the time he was deciding on what to do the movie had long stopped playing, and wrapped his other arm under your knees, gently picking you up and taking you to his bed.

He laid you down and tucked you under the covers, grabbing a pillow for himself before making his way to the couch for the night. He made sure to set an alarm to wake up before you did, and make you breakfast.

When you opened your eyes, the last thing you were expected to be met with was a white ceiling with a sleek silver fan nailed in. You sat up groggily, looking around the room to recognize it as Harry’s room. You had only been in here a few times, mostly to scavenge his closet, but you knew his room when you saw it. You swung your legs out of bed, and slowly made your way to the living room, where you were met with a sleeping Harry, spread out on the couch in his sweats, without a shirt. You tried not to linger your gaze on all his tattoos and abs as you walked by him to check the time on your phone. Almost 9 a.m., and by the vibrating phone next to yours, with the same case, you could tell he meant to set an alarm but forgot to turn his ringer on.

He had an alarm set for something, and he never told you what he was doing this morning, so you decided you would wake him up, just in case. You grabbed his shoulder gently, and tried not to think about how warm he was, shaking him gently and calling his name. “Harry…” You said in a sing-songy voice a few times. He pouted in his sleep and grunted a bit, before scrunching his eyes open. He practically jumped back when he saw you and his head fell back against the arm of the couch. Of course he wouldn’t wake up before you. “Morning.” You grinned. “G’morning. M’sorry if you were confused when y’woke up. I just brought y’to my bed cause you fell asleep, n’I was gonna wake up before you but obviously that didn’t work out.”

You just shook your head and smiled, trying not to think about his morning voice. There were a lot of things you had to try not to think about with Harry. “No worries, wanna go grab breakfast at the diner down the street? Heard they have killer hashbrowns.”

And all thanks to you, Harry wonders what he had to worry about in the first place.

After breakfast, you went back to your place, Harry in your living room while you got dressed for the day, changing your sweats to jeans and slipping back out of your room. “Alright, what’s the plan?” You asked, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down to make paws. It wasn’t like Harry hadn’t seen you with his sweater on, but it seemed to make him more flustered everytime you did wear it. He shrugged and looked you up and down quickly. “I like your sweater, where’d y’get it?” He joked, in an attempt to mask his blush.

“From this really cute guy, he just gave it to me one day.” You shrugged, and watched as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt not to smile too much. “Really cute?” He asked as you stepped closer to him. “Mhm, his name is Harry.”

“Please stop.” He said, and you stepped back, confused by his sudden change in emotion. “I’m just joking, Harry.” You said, attempting to save the moment. His bottom lip trembled and he sat down on your couch, his head falling in his hands. “I know, n’I don’t want you t’be.” He mumbled as you sat next to him. He pulled his head out of his hands and looked at you, his heart beating faster than it ever has.

“I really like you, bunny. And I don’t wanna ruin our friendship because you’re the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time, but I cant- I can’t listen to you joke about how you think I’m cute if y’don’t feel the same.”

You swear your heart bursted at his confession. A smile overtook your face and you moved so you were right next to him. You placed your hands on the sides on his face and kissed his nose. “You think I don’t feel the same? For someone so smart, m’surprised you haven’t realized it before,” you said softly, as he looked at you in wonder and shock. “I really like you too.” You leaned in and placed your lips on his, about to pull back when he didn’t respond. He then began to kiss you back and his hands found a home on your hips. When the two of you pulled away, he smiled like a fool and pecked your lips once more.

There was never anything to worry about with you, he was sure of it.

#would you believe me if I told you this took 4 days to write #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot

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bangtanfancamp · 4 years ago

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∴ summary: After spending a gloomy afternoon trying to get out of your own head alone , you finally seek out your boyfriend for help

∴ masterlist

∴ one shot

∴ pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

∴ word count: 2k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: soft angst, comfort, established relationship

∴ warnings: oc is struggling with something akin to depression, it’s alluded to but not explicitly stated

∴ author’s note: this is incredibly self indulgent and was written in one go. I’ll edit later. I’d rather have it here to share sooner in case anyone needs it as much as me.

─────────────────────

“Joonie, what are you doing? Are you busy?” Your voice comes out small as you peak around the corner into his office, sweater pawed knuckles sneaking around the edge of the door frame.

He doesn’t look up at first. Perhaps you really were too quiet. Or maybe he’s just that immersed in his book. It’s not a cover you’ve seen before so it very well may be the latter. You know how he is when he has a new thing to get lost in. Ever your astronaut adrift, exploring the moons just beyond whatever new world he’s found.

He looks so at home now. Cozy in his den of words and letters. Perfectly domestic amidst lofty thoughts and paragraphs. His skin is mostly bare today, his coordinated tank top and shorts exposing a golden expanse of toned arms, long legs . They’re folded up and crossed, a little boy lost in wonder as he sits on his futon.

His hair is a warm chestnut this week, fringe too long around the lashes but too short to pull back. The way it refuses to cooperate when he brushes it out of his eyes, trickling silkily, stubbornly back into place, exactly where it wants to be, makes you want to chuckle.

He still hasn’t noticed you’re there. Too far gone in whatever his newest philosophy is to notice the way you study the dip of his furrowed brow, how it juxtaposes against the relief of his shadowed dimples, smiling even as he frowns. He finds so much pleasure in being studious— just for fun. No matter how much concentration it takes. You’ve always admired that about him. Admired everything about him really.

Clearing your throat, though you hate to interrupt him, you try again.

“Joonie?”

Somehow it’s even quieter than before, and as he turns another reverent page, you know you’ll have to physically intervene to interrupt him. You sigh. You hate to break the spell. He loves days like this—with the rain trickling down the window’s glass casting shadows on his focused face— he’s so happy to read when it rains.

He leans forward then without looking up to take a sip of his Earl grey, bumbling when the steam unexpectedly fogs his glasses. He laughs at himself, folding his book so it splays across the seat to mark his place and removing his glasses. It’s the first time he’s looked up. He spots you then, his face splitting into the smoothest “there’s my girl” smile you’ve ever seen.

“Hey… how long have you been standing there?” His voices comes low, warm, soothes something in you that desperately needs rest.

“Long enough to see you blind yourself with tea, it seems.” You try to smile back, but it’s a weak, floppy thing. Your cheeks can’t seem to commit so it falls a bit too flat. His brows pinch when he sees it. Something’s amiss.

“Hey… are you okay?” His inscrutable eyes analyze you, and you let him. Too tired to resist or put up a fight.

“It’s not my day, joonie.” Your voice is pitiful, even to your own ears. You’d normally wince at sounding like this in front of anyone else. But honestly, it’s okay. It’s Namjoon you’re with. You don’t have to play games or hide things. Not here. Not with him.

“Yeah?” His eyes catch yours as his palms rub the tops of his thighs. It’s an invitation. You know the gesture by now.

“Yeah… again. There have been so many of these lately,” you say, crossing the room to him, his arms unfolding to welcome you into them. “They come too often and stay too long. They’re terrible house guests. I’m tired of them, joon. I can’t seem to get rid of them.”

You’re scooped against him now, head on the space between his neck and his chest, fingers twisted into his tank top, bum in his lap, knees tucked up til you’re as small as you can get. There’s a broad palm of his on your back, fingertips on his other hand traveling the length of your arm in tender caresses as his cheek rests atop your head.

“Maybe we should start charging them rent. I bet even they can’t afford to pay that in this economy.” He offers the idea solemnly, fully committed to carrying out the metaphor that your mental health really is just an unfortunate airbnb plagued with hideously mannered squatters.

“You know, I love that about you, Joon.”

“My inability to pay rent?”

You nuzzle a sappy no into the heat of his neck,” dummy, your very real ability to never minimize things that are hard to me.”

The dip of his chest as he exhales is oddly soothing. It makes you feel like you’re being rocked and god if you don’t need to be cradled right now. “Things have been really hard lately, haven’t they?” He wonders aloud.

“It isn’t just my perception?” You look up, eyes entirely too pitiful, too round to belong to a functioning adult. No, Namjoon’s heart goes soft as he realizes he’s looking at the eyes of a very scared four year old you. The haunted gaze of an innocent girl who never got told everything would be alright. Even without knowing any more than that, it makes him want to cry.

“No, my sweet girl, it’s not.” Closing his eyes, he presses somber lips to your forehead, scooping you close to shield you— from the world, from yourself, from all the insidious things that took root in you so long ago you’re not even sure how they got in. His wide hands grip you tighter, a feeble attempt to help hold you altogether.

It’s silent then. A few beats of quiet, only disrupted by the clumsy clatter of irreverent raindrops on glass. His caress stays steady against your soft sleeves, his languid fingers perpetually in motion as he attempts to soothe the wounds that sit just beneath your skin.

You look up at him again, unsure what you’ll find.

You almost cry when you see the gentleness in his eyes. No judgment anywhere within them. Just something kind that stretches into the lines his eyes carve as he smiles. How you itch to gently peel his horn rimmed glasses off the tip of his button nose and kiss it. Bless him.

God, you don’t know why he’s so nice to you, but you’re so glad that he is. The smile you give back to him is wobbly, trembly, poorly constructed— but so so sincere that it makes your sad eyes shine. He bumps your nose with his, burying himself against your forehead as you cocoon into him.

You want to ask him what he’s reading, listen intently to him as he tells you all about it, but you know you can’t. You can’t decipher anything today. It all feels too heavy. You can’t carry the weight of anything new with hands already full. At this point, you’ve lived in this soft hoodie of his , the one you stole after his tour two years back because it smelled like him, for the past 3 days. You don’t even have the energy to change. With that kind of retention rate, seems there’s no point in asking your brilliant professor to explain anything.

Still, it’s always so nice to hear his voice. Especially with your ear to his chest like this.

So you ask anyway.

“Will you read to me, Joonie? Life always feels better when you’re reading.” You press your face deep into the copper of his neck, an open mouthed kiss placed against his pulse.

“It’s all kind of theoretical,” he chuckles. He’s bashful. If holding you weren’t occupying his hands, you know they’d be nervously fiddling with the back of his neck. A nerdy boy with a too big brain hesitant to share his discoveries.

“Is it good though? You’ve already read Jung to me, and I stayed awake through that. I think I deserve more credit.” You poke his throat with your nose. You’re not genuinely affronted, it’s just nice to remind him you're competent too. Sometimes.

His sweet chuckle then is earthy and rich, all dark molasses. “True. You actually gave pretty good feedback for that too. Fine. Didn’t mean to underestimate you. Just… bear with me if it feels odd? I haven't read it before. I can’t vouch for it all yet.”

“Fine by me. I’m just here for the cuddles and my Kim Namjoon audiobook.”

He can feel your smile against his skin. It makes him press you just that extra little bit tighter against him, exhaling soft through his nose when he feels you return the gesture.

Scooping up his paperback, he adjusts his glasses where they’ve slipped down his nose, clearing his throat to project like the narrator he claims he’s not but loves to be. He’s quiet for a few more beats. You can hear pages rustling as you sink against his skin. You imagine he must be trying to find where he was when you interrupted, or perhaps searching for a passage that seems apropos. Which he chooses, you don’t know, but you can feel when he settles, just before his caramel voice sweetens the thin air of the room.

“It's the same with the wound in our hearts,” he begins. “ We need to give them our attention so that they can heal. Otherwise the wounds continue to cause us pain. Sometimes for a very long time. We're all going to get hurt. But here's the trick - they also serve an amazing purpose.

When our hearts are wounded that's when they open. We grow through pain. We grow through difficult situations. That's why you have to embrace each and every difficult thing in your life.”

You aren’t sure when your eyes opened, not sure when they began to glaze over or when you started to cry. But you did. And you are. The salty things dripping down against Namjoon’s silken skin. Your sweatered knuckles try to knock them away, but to no avail. Your cheeks are still a wet mess and now his collarbone is too.

“Joon, what is this? What are you reading?”

“Oh… um, it’s— terribly long title but— Into the Magic Shop: A Neurosurgeon's Quest to Discover the Mysteries of the Brain and the Secrets of the Heart. Isn't that a mouthful?” his laugh is self deprecating, small, but still the most beautiful sound.

God, you hate how sensitive and soft you are right now. You don’t want to be sitting here at 4pm in your boyfriend’s lap crying over a paragraph in a book you've never even heard of before, but here you are.

“ is that… what the whole book is about ?”

“You know, I don’t know. I haven’t read it all yet. Jackson recommended it, I’m just now getting to it. Why - do you not like it? I can put this down. Read you something else if this is too heavy. You always like the poetry. I can grab that one anthology you like.”

You can feel as he starts to shuffle beneath you, eager to track down new reading material for you, afraid he’s scared you off, when the fluttering weight of your palm tethers him to his spot.

“No, stay. Keep reading. I want to hear the rest.”

You can practically hear him smile. Relieved. Can feel his dimples manifest without even trying. He kisses your hair, tilts your chin up to kiss you too. The complexity of bergamot and black tea making his supple lips even more bewitching than normal. The window in the corner is cracked open, the humidity it leaks in making your skin sticky as you lean against him.

He’s lovely like this. The rain soaked air mixing with his natural scent, a broad hand on your chin, warm thumb beneath your lip as you mold pliant into his kiss. He ends it with a peck to your lips, a tap of his nose to your nose, before hoisting you so close against him you just may fuse together.

And he reads. He reads until he’s exhausted. Til the rain has stopped, and you’ve drifted to rest pressed against the skin of his chest.

He folds the book shut once your breathing has stilled, his thumb marking the page as he tips you both to lay down sideways. As he extends his pinprick tingling legs for the first time in ages, you hoist yourself around him in your sleep like a koala, and he chuckles. That’s usually his move.

He kisses your hair then, traipsing fingers tenderly through the escaped bits of it that brush across your cheeks. He wonders if you know how madly in love with you he is. How often he’s wondered what he’d do without you. Today, like most days lately, your light was dim, but still kelvins brighter than anyone else’s.

He sends a silent thank you to whatever deity arranged things in such a way that he can hold you to his chest like this as the daylight saving’s darkness floods his studio office. You seemed so sad today, but he knows it won’t last forever. It’ll pass. It always does. He’ll just hold you until it does. And then some.

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zoradementio · 3 years ago

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Deltarune Theories and Observations Part 2

Since it’s been like three weeks and this game still hasn’t left my god damn brain, here’s some more things that I felt like noting or theorizing.

~Parallels of Noelle and Kris~

So, I ended my last Deltarune longpost with a comparison between Kris and Susie. But, interestingly enough, Kris and Noelle also have a lot of similarities. Both of them have an older sibling figure who was a very prominent crutch in their lives (Asriel for Kris, Dess for Noelle). Yet, in present times, this elder sibling is not present (though Dess’ is a bit more permanent, whether she died or went missing.) And compared to these older siblings, Kris and Noelle are the more introverted sibling, with Kris barely having a social life until the start of the game and Noelle being the biggest pushover since a card tower. Then, there’s their parental dynamics. Asgore and Rudy are both the carefree, laidback father figures, with Asgore immediately throwing Kris in a bear hug when seeing them and Rudy encouraging Noelle to ask Susie out and playing Dragon Blazers with her. This contrasts with the more proper, if strict mother figures. While Noelle’s mother is certainly the more egregious, if the fact that Noelle would rather stand outside her home’s gates likely for hours on end than to attempt to ‘bother’ her mother during work for a house key, there are a few signs of Toriel being a little strict in some areas. Apart from some dialogue from Bratty about her kissing Asriel and anything involving the big school dance being signs that Toriel does not approve of her kids, or any of her students for that matter, getting into anything even remotely romantic, the flavor text for the closet in Kris’ Dark World room being ‘You could wear whatever you want’ suggests that Toriel imposes some sort of a dress code on Kris and likely also Asriel when he was living at home. They’re also the two characters most susceptible to the SOUL, in other words you the player. Kris’ is a bit more direct, as they are the character we control in both their movements and what they say. While Noelle, considering she has such a weak will, she is fairly mailable if we impose our will onto her, as demonstrated in the Pipis Route. Finally, they both have a strong attachment towards Susie, though whether Kris’ is romantic or not is not entirely clear as of yet. Oh, and speaking of Noelle...

~The Return of Noelle~

In at least one of the future chapters, I believe Noelle will make a come back as a party member. I don’t think Toby Fox would make it this easy to just lose whatever equipment you put on her, especially if you give her the Jevilstail or if the Pipis Route has been fully completed you will lose a component of the Twisted Sword, which will presumably be available in future chapters. Therefore, I believe that Noelle will be playable again, at least at some point.

~Misanthropic Dysmorphia~

So, many people have seen the connections that Kris has to Chara (or The Fallen Child) from Undertale. They both love chocolate, are the adopted children of Toriel and Asgore, and seem to have an affinity for knives. But if there is one more connection they have, it’s that they both seem to hate humans. Now, while don’t know the reasons as to why Chara hated humans, it was enough for them to want to slaughter an entire village of people, going overboard with the body count when only 6 souls were needed to break the barrier. While Kris likely isn’t as genocidal as Chara was, their distaste for humanity runs just as deep. However, Kris’ misanthropy manifests as a form of body dysmorphia. As a child, they wondered when their horns would grow in like their brother and parents, showing that, at least at that point Kris didn’t understand the biological differences between themself and those around them. Not only that, but in Chapter 2, when going upstairs in the library and reading the book ‘How to Care for Humans’, when looking at the pages Kris immediately closes the book when seeing the pictures of humans in seeming disgust. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise if Kris hates the fact that they’re human, seeing as that is the big thing that makes them an outsider to Hometown. It would also explain why they seem to hate the SOUL/Player, even if you play as pacifistically as possible and don’t do anything to intentionally upset Kris like throwing away the Ball of Junk in the Light World. After all, Kris’ description in the Dark World as soon as you enter it in Chapter 1 is ‘A body containing a human SOUL’. Apart from just generally being upset that some outside force is controlling their actions, Kris is also likely pissed that a human is the one controlling them, because, assumedly, you or anyone else that plays Deltarune is going to be a human. That could be just some extra salt in the wound, that even Kris’ own soul is not only human but not even their own.

~Darkner’s History(?)~

This is something strange that I don’t think a lot of people think about. So, I notice a lot of people point out that Ralsei knows that both his Dark Fountain and the Fountain from Chapter 1 are located in a supply closet and a classroom respectively. Most people point to this as evidence that Ralsei knows something, however Ralsei isn’t the only one with knowledge of the Light World. Queen does have a line or two about knowing that her Dark World is within a library. So clearly, Darkners have at least some awareness of the Light World, or at least enough about their enclosed spaces and possibly limited to appointed rulers or some such. What isn’t so clear is how long these Dark Worlds have lasted. Sure, portals to the Dark Worlds seem like only a recent thing, there is talk about the history of these characters. Just within Chapter 1 there’s King overthrowing the other three card kings and taking the throne all to himself, Jevil meeting a mysterious figure causing him to go mad and thus needing to be locked up by Seam, a presumably long series of puzzle makers syphoned out before Roulxs became the Duke of Puzzles, and some kind of falling out between Queen and King (which also brings up the question of when and why was Queen’s laptop in the abandoned classroom). My point being, despite these Dark Worlds being open for maybe a day or two at best, there seems to be almost years worth of history to these places. It could be a case of ‘one day passes inside, but only about an hour has passed outside’ thing or it could be that Dark Worlds still technically exists even without a Dark Fountain. So far, though, I can’t offer any concrete answers to this. And actually, since I brought up his suspicious behavior once again...

~Communication Issues~

I already talked about how Ralsei is suspicious in an out-of-universe perspective here, but in universe he is acting rather suspicious. Namely, around Susie. When Kris and Susie return to Castle Town, Ralsei tells Kris to gather everything in the adjacent classroom and bring it here. Everyone becomes their Darkner counterparts and Susie is naturally excited to see everyone, especially Lancer. Ralsei then says, and only says, that ‘when the Dark Fountain was sealed, that area returned to a normal classroom. And when Lancer decides to become one of you KEY ITEMS, Ralsei doesn’t explain that Darkners become regular objects in the Light World, causing Susie to think Lancer ditched them when Kris and Susie leave to work on their group project. And during the Chapter 2 epilogue, Susie even suggests finding a way to bring Ralsei and Lancer into the Light World, despite that seeming to be an impossibility. That’s not even mentioning the post Spamton NEO dialogue where Susie is the first to bring up the oddities of the whole scenario, and Ralsei immediately chooses to shoot down any questioning. Ralsei seemingly keeps Susie out of the loop on a lot of important things about how the Dark World works. Now, Susie doesn’t really question these things, but that’s mostly because 1. she is a very ‘only cares about the here and now’ type of person and is very excited about the whole Dark World shenanigans her, Kris and Ralsei get up to, and 2. this girl is dense enough to not immediately catch on the Noelle is crushing so hard on her a neon sign saying ‘SHE LIKES YOU’ would be a more subtle message. Now, it could be that Ralsei sees Susie in a much more ‘need to know’ basis, that since she is isn’t really the group plan-maker, she doesn’t need to know the intricacies of how the Dark Worlds, the Fountains, and everything works. It also could be that the player, and by extension Kris, are more important and thus will be needed this information more than Susie. However, I still hesitate to say that Ralsei is malicious in action. What I think would be the most likely reason, if his explanation of the Roaring and Queen’s reaction to it are any indication, it looks like Ralsei’s fatal flaw is assuming his knowledge is common knowledge. After all, he assumed that Queen was opening another Dark Fountain because she wanted to destroy the world, when that couldn’t be further from the case. In all likelihood, Ralsei could be overestimating how perceptive Susie really is when it comes to putting details together.

~Only One Ending...?~

This is something a few people have been debating for a while now. Back when Chapter 1 was released in 2018, Toby Fox said that Deltarune would only have one ending. However, with the addition of Chapter 2′s Pipis Route, many of us are wondering if that was a flat out lie or not. My assumption goes one of two ways. Option A: It was true at the time. During the three year development of Chapter 2 a lot, and I mean a LOT, of things about Deltarune have changed. Initially the game was going to be another mostly solo development similar to Undertale. But, with the larger workload and Toby Fox working on other projects like developing music for the Pokemon games, and on top of all of that going through some pretty bad wrist pains, Fox decided to get a small development team for Deltarune. There were debates on whether to switch Deltarune’s game engine to something like Unity, before settling back to Game Maker. And even when Chapter 1 was released, it was more of a proof of concept than anything, with barely any of the rest of the story being written down. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise if Toby Fox decided to add some more endings because he thought that would work better for what he was going for. Or, Option B: It will be one ending, but in the same way the Normal Ending in Undertale is ‘one ending’. See, while Deltarune likes to emphasize that ‘your choses don’t matter’ and in Undertale ‘your choses do matter’, in actuality, the choses in both games have roughly the same weight. Sure, in Undertale it seems like your choses have more of an impact, but the basic story beats of the game are all the same. You will always fall into the underground, get quasi-adopted by Toriel, go through a wacky puzzle romp with Papyrus, get hunted by Undyne through Waterfall, guest star in Mettaton’s shows with Alphys as your guide, and finally make it to New Home. And there were still some minor questions in Undertale that really had no bearing on what you answered, such as Toriel’s question of if you prefer cinnamon or butterscotch. But because Undertale frames it with ‘your choses matter’ and Deltarune frames it in ‘your choses don’t matter’ we see it as such. So, when it comes to the endings, there really are only three endings in Undertale. The True Genocide ending, where you go all the way through with killing everyone and everything in the Underground, the True Pacifist Ending, where you SPARED everything you came across and completed the necessary friendship side quests, and the Normal Ending. Now, the Normal Ending sounds like a pretty narrow term, considering there’s like at least around 10 different variations of this ending, but the basic plot beats are still the same: You finish the fight with Asgore, fight Omega Flowey, and using the power of the other six souls you (as Frisk) are able to return above ground. Most of what makes this ending different is pretty much flavor text at the very end, with Sans and which ever other characters that are alive/befriended chiming in. I feel like Deltarune’s ending could play out in a similar vein, with larger plot beats being consistent, but specific character’s reactions and what not would change up the ending slightly. And, if we are only given one ending, I feel like there would be a good reason to word it like that. Similarly to what was said some time after on Toby Fox’s twitter about the True Pacifist ending, ‘This is the best ending, nothing more’ when people were wondering if there was a way to save Asriel from his fate in the end. So, if we are told there will be only ‘one ending’ that implies that there’s going to be something we’ll want to change. And what will this change be? Well...

~Don’t Forget, I’m With You In The Dark~

I believe that the ending of Deltarune will involve sealing the Castle Town Fountain. A lot of what’s set up in Deltarune seems to be leading to this. From the suspiciousness of Ralsei, to the premonition of the world ending if too many fountains are open, to the fact that Darkners are unable to consciously interact with the Light World. I’m pretty sure that we’re going to have to say good bye to Ralsei, Lancer, Rouxls, Seam, Queen, and all the rest of the Darkners by the end. And let’s face it, this ending would be the best punch to the gut that the game could offer. But I don’t think it will be all sad. After all, the Darkners will still be with us in spirit, will still be with us in the dark.

#deltarune #deltarune theory

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frickenfaded · 3 years ago

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--SFW--

This is my first headcanon ever. It's kind of a headcanon anyway.. This is how I think the Feral Boys would react to (f!) Reader getting mad over something stupid while she's on her period.

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Dream

It was about midday and {Y/n} had to force herself to get out of bed to retrieve food. She decided she would get cereal and return straight to her blankets. Once in the quite kitchen, she reached up in a cabinet and grabbed a bowl, however she accidentally set it down way too hard and the brittle glass bowl shattered everywhere.

She was absolutely enraged. All she wanted was a bowl of cereal and *this* is what she gets? It didn't take long after to hear the thomping footsteps of her boyfriend coming down the stairs to see what the commotion was about. {Y/n} stood with her arms crossed, about to make a move for the broom. "Fucking damnit." She cursed, unbelievably mad at the smallest event.

Dream ended up beating {Y/n} to the broom, sweeping up the shards of glass that littered the tile. He was being extremely careful and thinking his words over before speaking. He knew she was in her period, and that meant she gets angered easily and doesn't like being clung onto by anyone during the week. However, he recognized that she still appreciates his presence.

He steps a little closer, giving a small forehead kiss to his girlfriend before resuming the cleaning. "Baby, if you want too, you can lay in my bed while I edit. I'll clean this up and bring you some cereal." He suggested. "How did you know I even wanted cereal?" She asked. "Because, that's normally what you crave." He answered. She thought for a moment before deciding to take him up on his offer. "Thank you, baby." She mutters before heading upstairs.

George

The relationship between {Y/n} and George was still fairly new, this being their third month together. Therefore, he still isn't exactly sure what his girlfriend needs during her special time of the month. However, he's sort of getting the idea. It's just a bit tricky for him to know for sure when she's going through it, because she doesn't tell a soul. She leaves them guessing, taking pride in it even.

But this time was a little different. She was laying down in bed, trying to read the book "Water for Elephants" by Sara Gruen, when the realization struck her that she was currently using her last (pad/tampon/other). She didn't want to leave her bed, much less her house. She angrily closed her book and slammed in down on the nightstand, thinking over her options in her mind.

George just happened to be passing by her door whenever she slammed her book. It startled him a little, but he entered her room nonetheless. Although she heard him come in, she refused to tear her focus away from her thoughts. George knew something was up a couple days ago. The possibility of her monthly happening was a thought, but he wasn't 100% sure.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, walking over to the edge of the bed before sitting down. "No." She immediately answers, crossing her arms over her chest. She still didn't really want to give in that easily, though. She still had her pride, despite her situation. "What happened?" He wondered. "Nothing." She replied, avoiding his careful gaze.

"C'mon, Love, we both know that isn't true." He says, softening his tone of voice. She almost instantly melts into his stare. She huffs out a breath, however desperate to keep her silence. He treads lightly, brushing a strand of messy hair from her face, whilst caressing her cheek in the meantime. She finally gives way, breaking through to him as if a dam just broke. "Fine." She states.

He smiles, knowing he won without asking the question that would set him up for failure. "I'm on my last (pad/tampon/other) and I don't want to leave the house." She explained. George breaks into a small fit of laughter. "Was it really something that simple? That's nothing compared to what I thought was wrong. But I can get you what you need, Love." He says, after narrowly avoiding a harsh glare. "Would you like anything else while I'm gone?" He wonders. "Hm.. Maybe some chocolate... Please." She answers. He nods before giving her a swift kiss.

Sapnap

Sapnap.. Is quite the special case, to say the least. He does n o t pick up on hints very well... Which leaves him very lost and confused when his girlfriend all of the sudden starts acting a lot different than normal and suddenly more distant with him. She didn't exactly mean too, it was just what happens during her period.

He was scared that he did something wrong because of this, but he couldn't come up with a reason why. Did he leave the toilet seat up? Maybe he accidentally ignored her? What if he forgot about something they were supposed to do? Dear God, did he forget their anniversary or her birthday or something? Despite what he thought he did, he wanted to try and "make things right."

He entered her bedroom as she watching a John Mulaney special on Netflix. He stood beside her bed. "Hey, could we play Pokémon together?" He asked. "No. I don't feel like it." She didn't mean to add the annoyed tone to her voice, but she did. She was just annoyed in general. "D-Did I do something wrong?" He asked, scared of her answer. It was then when she realized she was being short with him and distant.

She sighed, knowing she owed him an explanation now. "I'm sorry, Darling. I didn't mean to come across like that. I'm just... cramping really bad today, and I'm really really really craving some ice cream, but I don't want to get up either." She explains, rambling just a little bit. He blushes a little when he realizes what was going on, but he quickly retrieves some ice cream for the both of them, before joining her in bed and finishing the John Mulaney special together.

Karl

Manz is prepared. I'm talking, he's got a secret box in his closet filled with everything she may need, from pads, to tampons, to chocolates, to a heating pad, he has it all. He's so dedicated to making sure he does everything right that he has a period tracker app on his phone to know when she's about to start. Therefore, he knows when he needs to back up and give you some breathing room.

So one day, when his girlfriend got very upset just because her phone died, he knew exactly why. "Do you need absolutely anything? I brought you a chocolate bar." He says when he hears the ruckus from her room. She softens up almost immediately, always touched by the way he knows what to do and say.

"Thank you.. Could you plug my phone up, please?" She asks. He happily jumps on the simple task, despite her charger literally being right beside her. "And maybe... could we cuddle for a little while too?' She wonders. He smiles brightly. "Definitely." He agrees, before slipping in bed with her as they start to watch Hamilton for the third time.

Quackity

Quackity seems to think it's comedy gold whenever his girlfriend gets infuriated by the tiniest things. He was sitting on the couch, watching something on the T.V., while {Y/n} came out of her room for the first time since today. She came to get a snack herself, not wanting to bother her boyfriend much.

But what she failed to notice as she was walking through the Living Room, was the Thanos doll that Quackity completely forgot to pick up earlier. And of course, she stepped on the damned thing. She yelped, almost falling over thanks to the toy. In a fit of rage, she picked the doll up and stomped over to one of the open windows, throwing it as hard as she could into the outside world.

Quackity could not stop laughing from the moment she stepped on the plastic toy, now laughing harder than ever because of it. "Shut up! It's your stupid fucking fault the thing was left there anyway!" She cursed, clearly displeased. He didn't listen, of course. "I-I'm sorry." He said through his laughter. As much as she wanted to stay mad, his laughter was contagious.

She ended up bursting with laughter as well, their voices mixing like milk and honey in the atmosphere. {Y/n} joined Quackity on the couch, laying across his lap as he played with her hair, the two starting to talk about random topics. She always went through a few days on her period where she was just a little more clingy than the others, but Quackity just learned to accept that. He wouldn't say it exactly, but he did actually enjoy it.

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That's it for this one lovelies! As I mentioned, this is indeed my first headcanon ever and actual content post I've posted on Tumblr. Therefore, I hope it wasn't too shabby. I'll get the hang of things soon, but for now, if you'd like to read any other things I've posted, the list is short, because I am pretty new here, but this option is available to you though this link:

My Creations♡

I hope you enjoy your stay here! Requests are always open! ♡♡

#feral boys #feral bois #dream smp #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #karl jacobs #quackity #big q #dreamsmp fluff #dream smp headcannon

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 4 years ago

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Hellfire

This is a prequel to Exercises in Self Control, going into the events leading up to Enji's arrival on Reader-chan's doorstep from his POV.

You don't need to have read Exercises in Self Control to enjoy this fic, but I recommend it!

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Endeavor x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: Enji is possessive and thirsty in this fic so bear that in mind before continuing. Some of Enji’s fantasies involve dub con

Sequel Piece: Exercises in Self Control

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

For as long as he can remember, Enji has had problems sleeping. He’s counted the ceiling tiles, counted sheep, counted hours. He’s helped himself to cups of tea, herbal and otherwise. He’s tried meditating, he’s tried ASMR, all to no avail.

It doesn’t strike him as out of the ordinary that he can’t sleep tonight either. He stares at the ceiling, eyes wide open, listening out for the wind in the trees outside. He put chimes in their branches on purpose; something to ground himself every time he closes his eyes.

Tonight he’s grounded by something else; the warm body sharing his bed. He lies flat on his back and doesn’t look, listening to your soft breaths.

Enji is a grown man, now twice married, but this is the first time anyone has shared his bed. In his first marriage, he and Rei slept in separate beds. He visited her only occasionally and never bothered to stay the night, making sure to leave the moment the deed was done. Tonight you’re the intruder and his immediate instinct is to tell you to leave.

He can tell you’re asleep from your steady breathing and he wonders how you got so relaxed. His own children never slept in his arms even as babies but here you are, not just an adult but one he stole away, sleeping so calmly that for a second even he believes you’re an ordinary husband and wife.

You’re not, of course; your first conversation was your wedding vows. You became husband and wife knowing little more than one another’s names.

Against his better judgement, he turns to look at you, admiring what details of your face he can make out through the darkness. He knows you’re beautiful without looking.

Your beauty, in fact, was one of the first things he noticed about you and he remembers that moment with perfect clarity.

Even before Rei’s admittance into a hospital, it had been years since he felt welcome in his own home. It fell silent whenever he returned, his childrens’ laughter dying the moment he was in sight. He had always told himself it didn’t bother him; that they would understand when they were older. Everything he did, however cruel, was for their benefit in the long term.

Touya’s death was the first time he questioned it. Rei’s hospitalisation only drove the point home. For the first time in his life, he saw his house for what it truly was: misery and trauma under several layers of paint.

He couldn’t stand being there for more than a few hours, sitting alone in the dark with nothing to do but think. At first he stayed at the office for longer, taking on extra jobs and filing away paperwork long before it was due. It was a temporary solution and one that backfired spectacularly. He was greeted at work one day by smiling interns, who enthusiastically pointed out the piles of paperwork they had completed in his absence. They told him they’d done it so he could spend more time with his family and didn’t understand why he reacted with anger.

Enji realised then that he needed an alternative hiding place; somewhere no one knew him and he could spend the night alone.

He went from one bar to another, never settling down in one for too long. His reputation was crucial to his career and he didn’t want to risk being recognised.

It was with a great deal of reluctance that he finally arrived at a hostess bar. The owner was well versed in discretion and offered him his own table towards the back, as well as his pick of any of the hostesses. Enji didn’t bother to absorb any of their names or memorise their faces. Instead he asked for the owner himself to tend to him. He had a vested interest in his good graces and was therefore less inclined to gossip.

It became his routine for the next few months. Enji would finish up at the office and head straight for The White Rabbit , simmering in the corner as he sipped his drink. He stayed there until the early hours, returning to the estate once everyone else had already gone to bed and leaving for the office before they woke up.

It seems strange to him now. He used to be a regular, but he hasn’t been since he married you.

He remembers your first encounter far more clearly than you do. As far as you are concerned, your first meeting was in your home, the day he bought you from your father.

You couldn’t be more wrong, of course. He’s known you far longer than that.

Enji spent that much time at the bar that he came to know the regulars. He knew which men were married and booked hostesses to escape their wives. He knew which customers worked long hours in an office cubicle and came to the bar to let loose. He knew which ones were heroes as well and just as incognito as he was.

Among all of these customers was a familiar gaggle of six businessmen who very often dropped in after work. They were boisterous and very often blind drunk, booking multiple hostesses to sing karaoke with them.

One night in particular, you attended their table, carrying over a tray of crimson strawberry daiquiris. Your specialty, he found out later.

The businessmen were louder than usual that night and when Enji glanced over at them, it was with disapproval. He quickly became distracted, though, by something else entirely. You were setting a tray of drinks on their table, laughing and smiling as you tended to each customer.

Perhaps it was the backless dress you had on, showing off smooth, unblemished skin that reminded him of undisturbed snow and still waters. Maybe it was the coquettish way you fluttered your eyelashes as you spoke to them, giggling at their bawdy jokes and expertly dodging any of their attempts to take you by the wrist. Perhaps it was the way you left them hanging.

In any case, the next drink he ordered was a strawberry daiquiri and he relished the tangy sweetness, all while thinking of your lips.

That night, for the first time in many years, Enji fell into a deep slumber and deeper dreams. He dreamed about bending you over his desk, holding one arm behind your back and slamming into you so forcefully that you squealed. Your cunt fluttered every time his hips hit your ass, betraying how many times you had unravelled around his girth.

“Enji,” you whined, “Enji please .”

He slapped you across the ass at that, relishing the way you squealed in shock. He let go of your arm, eying the red marks he had left on your skin.

“It’s what you deserve,” he said in his dream, holding onto your hips and driving his cock in deep, so deep that you cried out and gripped the desk. He came so hard that it painted your insides and left him groaning in pleasure. He held you in place as his cock twitched and filled you with his seed, letting go only to shove his fingers deep into you to stop any drops from escaping.

“Enji,” you said, quivering.

He woke seconds later, pleasure running through him and semen covering his sheets. He cursed and threw himself out of bed, spitting obscenities as he rinsed his body clean.

For a moment, just a moment, he hated you. He was filthy, all because of you and your backless dress and long eyelashes.

You’re sleeping with your back to him tonight and he draws back the covers to admire it. He takes in your naked shoulder blades; the way the moonlight hits the curve of your spine. Not so long ago this view was enough to drive him mad.

The dream left an imprint, after all. He thought about it when he brushed his teeth, patrolled the streets, got into the bathtub at night.

He continued to attend the bar, telling himself it was because he liked the atmosphere and not because he hoped to catch another glimpse of your innocent smile.

He told himself he didn’t want you.

He didn’t want to defile you and fuck you senseless.

He didn’t want to fill your belly with yet more Todorokis.

You were a distraction and one he needed to be free of. He was Endeavor, the flame hero, the world’s number two. He couldn’t afford to fall into such debased habits as the businessmen who had tried to paw you. He was better than that, better than them and certainly better than you.

Every night he sipped strawberry daiquiris and masturbated furiously when he got home, fantasising about you in all manner of scenarios, each filthier than the last. He took photos of you as you worked and scrolled through them when he got home. He filmed you at the bar and watched it over and over, knowing what he was doing was wrong.

Heroes didn’t do this. He should have been protecting you from such terrible invasions of privacy, not enabling himself. Something about you, though, prickled at his skin. Something about the backless dresses you sometimes wore and the careful way you mixed drinks. He knew desire all too well, but never for a person. It was intoxicating; addictive. You were untouched and unspoiled and it drew him to you like a moth to a flame. He wanted to spend the rest of his life as relaxed as when he came all over his fingers, before reality sank back in and he remembered the ghosts lurking in every corner of his home.

One night, desperate to be free of you, he ventured into a nightclub and took a girl into the bathroom, pushing her down onto her knees in front of him and holding her in place to fuck her mouth. She had the same colour hair as you and that was why he chose her, pretending you were the one gagging on his cock. He thought it would help him; that once he got a fix he would stop thinking about you. Ultimately, it only made matters worse. The girl in the bathroom wasn’t you and every time he looked down at her he came crashing down to earth. He wondered what you would think of him if you knew what he had done.

It took him ages to cum that night, holding the girl’s head in place as it shot down her throat. She slumped over when he let her go, choking on semen and wiping her mouth even as he dropped notes down to the floor. Just like when he finished alone, Enji felt disgusted, tucking himself away and leaving the girl without bothering to express his gratitude.

He went to the White Rabbit straight afterwards, paying for you to stay at the bar and ordering his usual daiquiri. He expected to feel different, only to curse his own stupidity for ever thinking the woman in the nightclub could have compared.

He splashed out on bracelets, earrings and more, eager for you to wear them. The thought of them touching your body where he couldn’t made his mouth water, even though you never wore them. The only jewellery you ever wore was a set of plain earrings. Your mother’s, he found out later.

Meanwhile, his dreams only grew more obscene.

He dreamed of rescuing you from villains and insisting you spread your legs in exchange. He dreamed of hiring you as one of his house staff, permitted only to serve him without clothes. He dreamed of sitting you down on your knees before him and covering your face in cum.

He was a man possessed, desperate for any sight of you. The realisation came to him slowly: he didn’t only want to corrupt and break you anymore. He wanted you to desire him as he desired you. Perhaps even more.

He wanted you to want him, wanted you to let him touch you.

Every time he sat down in the bar, he almost managed to convince himself that your circumstances were different; that he truly was the honourable man the world believed him to be. He almost believed that his touches wouldn’t ruin you.

He was desperate and not only to be fucked, though refused to acknowledge it.

He told himself it was no weakness on his part, no dent in his armour. He wasn’t as vile or depraved as the businessmen who tried to paw you on a near daily basis.

He begged the owner of the White Rabbit to let him spend the night with you, begged him to leave the pair of you alone. He was quite convinced that he wouldn’t want you anymore the moment he had you in his arms. He’d find an imperfection on your body that would shatter the illusion.

The owner, being a shrewd businessman, refused him every time.

Enji isn’t proud of how cruel he became in his desperation. It wasn’t hard to break the owner into handing over your name, nor to track you down to your home address. It was all too easy to learn of your father’s gambling problems and difficult financial situation.

He was on your doorstep before he knew it, happy to pay any price to keep you under his roof, unspoiled and protected from harm. He was an honourable man, he told himself. He could keep his hands to himself.

It was what you deserved, after all.

You shiver next to him and he drags the covers back over your body, considering that you are the only person he has ever wanted and the only one to want him in return. He brought you into his home, yes, but you’re the one who sought him out. You’re the one who led him to the bedroom and shed your clothes willingly. He’s almost certainly spoiled your body, but if anything that makes him want you more.

He’s addicted to every inch of you: the feeling of being buried within you, the scent of your hair as he holds you close. You’re the only person he’s ever fucked for pleasure and he hasn’t been able to resist ever since. Even now that you’re asleep, he’s desperate for a fix. He feels starved of oxygen and it’s keeping him awake.

Not long ago, he would have prodded you awake and told you to spread your legs. Now, though, he rolls over onto his side so he no longer faces you, content to listen to your gentle breathing instead.

He curses under his breath as you begin to stir and squeezes his eyes shut, laying perfectly still as you yawn and turn over onto your own side to make yourself comfortable. His skin still prickles when you touch him, especially as you drape an arm around his chest and plant kisses on his shoulder.

“Enji,” you whisper, “are you awake?”

He doesn’t answer and you smile before burying your face in the back of his neck, the combined heat of your bodies lulling both of you to sleep.

He has no need of wind chimes to ground him anymore.

#enji todoroki #todoroki enji #endeavor x reader #endeavor #bnha endeavor

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if-you-built-yourself-a-myth · 3 years ago

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Check Ignition: Part IV

A Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any oneshot ideas or opinions on how this should continue!

In their bedroom that night, Jens had a whole roll of parchment full of ideas. Robbe fell asleep first on the common room couch after Hufflepuff’s party, and meandered to his room at three AM to find Jens awaiting him on the windowsill. Aaron, conked out, had pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut and cast a few silencing charms for privacy.

“Muffliato,” Robbe cast under his breath, just in case. Aaron wasn’t the greatest at Charms.

“I was supposed to patrol tonight,” Robbe told Jens. “Did Jana go alone?”

Jens nodded. “She said you would’ve lost her anyway, whatever that means.”

“You’re talking again?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Okay, here, look at this…” Jens smacked down his parchment on the little floor space they had in their bedroom. Each little segment of dormitory housed four boys with their beds in a circle around the heater in the middle. While Jens, Robbe, and Aaron didn’t have a fourth shoved in with them, the fourth bed’s curtains were also closed. Robbe assumed it was Moyo staying over after the party. Their copious belongings covered most available surfaces: books piled up next to bedspreads, clothing strewn over trunks, candy wrappers overflowing from trash bins.

“I think you have to dial it up,” Jens explained. He flattened the parchment until Robbe could kind of read his sloping cursive. The title at the top of the page was scribbled out, replaced with the words Operation Ditch-Noor. “Noor seems more persistent.”

Robbe thought back on their conversation. It made his head hurt to think. “She’s done.”

“Didn’t seem it today. How much did you drink?”

“I can read it,” said Robbe. He, in fact, could not read it. Why did Jens have to write everything in cursive?

The party itself had gone by pretty smoothly, from what he could piece together at the moment. Sander turned on music from his player, an upbeat song called Rebel Rebel, and had everyone spinning in circles on the common room carpet. Robbe didn’t remember kissing Sander at all. He remembered taking a cupful of punch from Aaron and not asking about its alcohol content. The girls left early to go console Zoë on the loss, and he’d woken up with a blanket that he didn’t have when he fell asleep.

Actually, that was a pretty solid outline considering the circumstances. Good on Robbe.

Jens gave Robbe a minute to puzzle through the spirals on the parchment. If he looked at it sideways, it might be a picture of a big black dog.

“Thoughts?” said Jens. He bumped Robbe’s shoulder with his own. Robbe looked around. When did they sit on the floor?

“Good,” he said.

“Good. It was a major oversight on your part, not having a public date in the first week. You’re going to have to compensate now.”

“What?”

Jens sighed. “Like, you have to be twice as convincing. Why am I even friends with you?”

“You’re so smart,” Robbe agreed.

“Is that Robbe?” said the fourth bed. It didn’t sound like Moyo. Moyo’s drunk voice was always deeper than his normal one, full of false bravado, while this one was much lighter. Sure enough, Sander peeked his head out from the curtains. His hair stuck up in all different directions.

Jens got up from the ground and smacked Sander’s arm as Sander tried to reach for Robbe. “You don’t have to trick us. Jeez.” He addressed Robbe again. “He’s been like this all night.”

Sander ignored him. “Come over here,” he said to Robbe. “I haven’t seen you.”

“You saw me,” Robbe said.

“Not a lot.”

“Yeah, so this is the kind of material we need.” Jens pointed at the parchment roll. “Noor’s going to leave you alone.”

“Come here, Robbe.”

Robbe sobered—while Sander didn’t exactly sound serious, there was something more in the way he said those words. What, Robbe couldn’t be sure. He was probably projecting, making the whole thing up.

Sander’s clothing was rumpled, a stain on the collar of his shirt. There were circles around his eyes as if he’d been rubbing them. His perfect hand was just begging to be held—the vision began to blur a little bit on the edges, and Robbe had to blink a few times to make the picture clear again.

This wasn’t real. He was drunk and it wasn’t real. Robbe was hallucinating or something, that’s what it was.

And he didn’t want to sleep with Sander, at least, not yet.

“I am going to be physically ill,” said Jens. “Save this.”

They left the parchment on the floor. Jens climbed into his bed, Robbe into his. Sander left the curtains open on bed four, staring over at where Robbe lay, so Robbe left his own curtains open. Gotta have that line of sight. He knew Sander was drunk as a skunk, but goodness, it felt wonderful to have his attention.

“Goodnight, love,” he called over.

Jens covered his head with a his pillow. "Kill me."

***

Sander was gone when Robbe got up the next day, and just as well, because it was one PM. Robbe’s head hurt like a motherfucker. Good news, though: he could now read the parchment Jens had tacked to the door of their dormitory. Not without pain, but without much struggle. In the bottom left-hand corner, an artsy signature marked that Sander understood the objectives. Sander Driesen. He dotted the i in his last name with a little circle instead of a plain dot.

Robbe speed-read the document to the best of his ability. And panicked. If Sander was following this, they had plans at five today.

He gathered his things and dashed to the shower, careful not to wake up anyone else who might still be sleeping. Aaron seemed to have gone out; his bed was empty. Jens wasn’t visible, and Robbe didn’t think it right to open the bedcurtains to see if he was there. The shower water was freezing cold. Robbe did a little warming spell he thought he remembered and ended up evaporating it all.

He took a very cold shower.

When that was done, he changed into a collared shirt with a sweater overtop and a pair of khaki pants. Casual date outfit, check. Fake date. Couldn’t forget that. He appraised his reflection in the mirror for too long to be considered normal.

There was plenty to do in the span between now and five o’clock—exams were three weeks away and Robbe didn’t know the main ingredients of Amortentia. But he couldn’t bring himself to open the books. It made much more sense to pace around the room.

Of course they’d go on a date. Real relationships would have dates.

And Sander—last night—it was nothing.

Robbe spent a lot of his mental energy convincing himself that things didn’t matter. He spent a little more trying to forget this revelation.

Four forty-five arrived before he could list out all the possible ways a date could go wrong.

The castle was always louder on Saturday afternoons and evenings. With the morning’s hangover remedied, students were free to gossip as they pleased. As Robbe headed down the stairs to the dungeons, where Jens’ note detailed he would meet Sander, he heard no less than four separate conversations that should have been private. Two Gryffindors were having a Wrackspurt problem in their dormitory. Several Slytherins discussed a magical cure for gonorrhea that would not alert Madame Pomfrey to their situation. Yasmina and Zoë attended extra Potions sessions together, and Robbe heard them debating the proper way to skin a human arm for use. Most of interest: Britt and another girl in the final hallway.

“Sander doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Britt lamented. “I don’t think he’s been going to the hospital wing.”

“You don’t know that,” the girl replied, resting a comforting hand on Britt’s back.

Robbe tried to shrink back on himself as he walked by.

Britt wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “And I’m the one that’s gonna be there when it goes to shit.”

Give it up, thought Robbe. He booked it the rest of the way to the Slytherin common room’s entrance.

Sander was waiting beside the door, his back against the stonework. His look today was different than Robbe had ever seen it, a leather jacket and a t-shirt paired with tight black jeans. When he raised a hand to wave at Robbe, the shirt rode up enough to expose a line of pale skin. Robbe felt overdressed in his sweater. Sander shouldn’t think he was taking this too seriously.

“Where are we headed?” Sander asked, as soon as Robbe was within asking range.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were planning it.”

“I've been hungover.” Sander pushed away from the wall. He slipped his hand into Robbe’s, and they headed for the staircase that led out of the dungeons. Usually, only Slytherins used it. “I'm good with whatever. For Britt, obviously. Somewhere she'll see."

The staircase spit them out into the upstairs hallway. Sander brought them outside through the front doors and down into the sprawling lawn. He stopped once his feet hit the grass, and turned to Robbe. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Did Jens give instructions?”

“Jens doesn’t dictate your dating life.”

Robbe frowned. “My fake dating life.”

He hated Sander’s pained expression. “Yeah, exactly.”

Only one way to make Sander smile again, and that was to go somewhere nice. Robbe surveyed the campus. They couldn’t go to Hogsmede today unless they snuck there, and Sander wasn’t in subtle attire. There was the forest, all of those beautiful, towering trees, but there was a fifty percent chance of death if they got too close. The Whomping Willow ruled out a good chunk of grassy lawn. He knew their only option would be to sit by the lake.

Lots of couples sat by the lake. Any fake relationship should feature a date there. It got foot traffic, it was public, it screamed to the world hey, we’re together.

Robbe didn’t bring a blanket. What if he got cold?

What if Sander got cold?

The thought alone of Sander cuddled into his side was enough to drive Robbe to action. He wondered what that said about him as a person.

“The lake,” said Robbe. “We can—um—we can be there.”

“You have something to sit on?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I counted on it.” Sander reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny square of fabric. With a wave of his wand, it grew into a full-sized picnic blanket in his arms. “Show me where you want to be.”

***

The early evening air, combined with the chill off the lake, had Robbe shivering in no time. He should have brought his coat out with him, but it wasn’t in the best shape, and he worried that mending spells could only keep it alive for so much longer. Best to save it for winter, when things got bad. Sander, on the other hand, had no problem removing his own jacket and sliding it around Robbe’s shoulders. He wrapped one bare arm around Robbe, sliding his hand into Robbe’s back pocket.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Cold,” said Robbe.

“I’ll tell Jens to plan the next one. He seems to like us as a couple.”

Something in Robbe’s stomach fluttered. The possibility of more intoxicated him. He caught himself before the desire became too strong; there had to be more. No convincing fake relationship was just one date.

Dusk crept in along the sky. Many of the other couples gathered their things to attend a Great Hall dinner, the likes of which Robbe had not consumed all week. He willed his stomach not to growl. Their blanket was close enough to the lake that casual waves poked at its edges.

“That’s your friend, isn’t it?” said Sander, pointing toward the castle’s open doors.

Robbe looked over. Zoë and Senne made their way across the lawn with their own picnic blanket and a lumpy knapsack. Behind them was Milan, Zoë’s best friend and Senne’s suitemate. Zoë smiled when she saw Robbe and jogged the remainder of the distance between them, dropping to the grass an inch away from Sander’s blanket.

“Look at you!” She pinched Robbe’s cheek. “Date night, I take it?”

Robbe tried not to look sheepish. “Jens said we should.”

“Mmhm,” said Zoë. She turned her attention to Sander. “Tell me the love story. I need to know.”

“Oh, it’s a great story. Settle in.” Sander adjusted his position. He scooted away from Robbe, then gently tipped backward until his head rested on Robbe’s lap. “Picture this. My ex brought her best friend on one of our dates because she was mad at me. We went to the Three Broomsticks.”

Robbe remembered the Three Broomsticks. Obviously. His cheeks heated. He began twisting sections of Sander’s hair around his fingers, if only to do something with his hands. He knew Zoë just wanted to hear what Sander could think up on the fly.

“Her best friend had a date, too. No problem. I was going to spend the time staring at the wall so I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Except, the date walked in, and it was Robbe here, and I just lost it. I saw him sitting there and I thought, Sander, he is the one.”

Now Robbe was really blushing. He wanted to go vaporous and phase through the ground, if he could just remember the spell…

“I thought I was being dramatic, that I needed to give it some time. But I couldn’t get him off my mind. So I broke up with Britt. She used to complain that he spent all his time up in the astronomy tower instead of patrolling. You bet your ass I went there one night to see if he’d come up. And he did.” Sander shrugged. “The rest is history.” He propped himself up and caught Robbe in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah, you can cut the bullshit.” Zoë turned to check Senne’s progress toward them. He was still a decent distance away. “Robbe told me about this.”

Sander huffed. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He kissed Robbe again.

“Yeah, pretty sure none of that was true. But I like the backstory. It’s really good.”

“I think I could make it as a writer,” said Sander.

Robbe assumed the conversation would end there. Zoë and Sander did not seem like the types of people who would have much to say to one another. Unfortunately, Zoë’s prying conversation gave Milan time to catch up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, upon seeing Sander and Robbe together. He got in close to Zoë for a stage whisper. “So this is Robbe's straight guy!” Zoë shot him a look. “What? is he not straight?”

Sander did not miss a beat, even though a statement like that implied Milan knew the truth of the arrangement. “Bisexual, actually. Or pansexual—I’m still trying to figure that part out.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Milan knowingly. “Don’t fall for Robbe, then.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sander laughed. It sounded more resigned than joking. Something inside of Robbe combusted.

Milan and Senne went off and picked a spot a respectable distance away to study for their exams. Robbe noted in passing that Milan was reading pages much deeper in the Potions textbook than he had learned. He hadn’t been to a class since he started fake-dating Sander.

Zoë flashed an apologetic smile. “I didn’t tell him you were straight. Don’t know where he got that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sander.

“And I didn’t mean to tell him the relationship was fake either, he was just so excited—”

“As long as it doesn’t get to Britt or Noor, we’re fine.”

“Robbe, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Robbe lied.

There were pleasantries afterward, although Robbe didn’t catch the specifics. He had other things to process. Sander talking about how they met—it all felt so real. Robbe found himself in a booth at the Three Broomsticks again, watching Sander take slow sips from his drink. He was in his four-poster bed while Sander slept, the curtains open so they could see each other in the dark.

He stepped on the emotion. Sander said he wouldn’t dream of falling in love with him.

Zoë went off to sit with her best friend and boyfriend, leaving space for Robbe and Sander’s date to begin. Where to begin? Number one: Sander would never fall in love with him because this was all fake. In tandem with Noor’s premonition last night, Robbe suddenly felt like he’d much rather be back inside the castle. In his bed. With the curtains pulled this time.

A headache could get him out of here. An urgent need to throw up? Maybe a mysterious summons from Jens. He needed to remember the charm that let him disappear.

Number two, back to Sander. He had wrapped his arms around his head, exposing that same patch of stomach. A line of black ink that might be a word traced the line of his hipbone down.

“Robbe?” Sander waved a hand in front of Robbe’s face.

Robbe blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you been hearing me?”

“Um,” said Robbe.

“You’re pulling my hair.”

Robbe moved his hands away. His mind was a mess of different thoughts—what would he tell the boys about this? It wasn’t fucking real. And Sander’s head was in his lap right now. He should have seen this coming before… no, he had seen this coming.

“Don’t stop,” said Sander softly. “Just… lighter.”

Robbe ran his hand through Sander’s hair. Lighter. A confession dangled on the tip of his tongue and he needed to push it back down.

“Some of what you said was true,” he said. He hoped Sander could draw the connection across conversations and realize he meant what Sander had said to Zoë, not Milan.

Sander understood. “Most of it was true.”

They waited a moment, listening to the soft waves on the lake and the bustle of other couples nearby.

“Right,” said Sander. “You’ve taken me on a date. The least you can do is tell me something nice.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Do you need Jens to write your speeches too?”

Robbe shied away from the vulnerability angle this time. Sander wouldn’t have any use for the information four weeks from now when exams were over. He marveled over how soft Sander’s hair was between his fingers, despite the fact that the ends were dry and dead from the bleach. “My father was the cook of the family,” he said. Something personal, but not intimate. “He had this recipe for blood sausage that had so many spices my mother could never stomach it. We would bring it to dinner parties when we didn’t like the people. It was funny to watch them try and compliment it during the meal when they clearly hated every last bite.” This was the story’s happier conclusion. Its actual conclusion was that his father took all the recipe cards when he walked out, and Robbe didn’t know the ingredients even though his father promised he’d get them when he turned sixteen.

“Tell me something nice.” He poked Sander.

“I don’t know if what you said constitutes nice,” said Sander. He reached up and ran a finger across Robbe’s chin. But he went on. “There’s this lady where I work over the summer that brings me David Bowie albums. She gets so excited every time she finds a new one in a garage sale somewhere, or at store, and I can’t tell her that I already own the albums already. I have five copies of Space Oddity.”

Robbe didn’t know who David Bowie was.

Another lapse into silence. Sander never seemed to mind a comfortable quiet. He guided Robbe’s head down to his for a simple kiss, but he left his eyes open, and Robbe could follow his sightline to Noor and Britt as they walked back to the castle from who-knows-where.

“Tell me something secret,” said Robbe. This much time without something on his mind could be seriously painful. “I went first last time.”

He kind of wanted Sander to refuse.

“I don’t have any secrets, Robbe.”

“You must have one.”

“Do you?”

Robbe shook his head quicker than he should have. He tried to sound as casual as possible when he said, “I’m an open book,” but he doubted it did any good.

The thing was, it was totally believable that Sander wouldn’t have any secrets. This was the boy who announced his sexuality to a friend of a friend that he didn’t even know. This was the boy who saw someone else in the astronomy tower, unloaded his relationship woes, and promptly kissed said someone else to get away from them. What did he have to hide, besides this relationship? What could someone like him possibly have to hide?

The dying day faded everything out into a stained-glass image that could take up the wall of a Hogwarts bathroom. Robbe let himself relax until his surroundings were no more than shapes and colors, pushing everything from his mind until he could barely process his hands running through Sander’s hair. The thoughts surfaced anyway. He was going to have to tell the boys about this, eventually, and maybe even Sander himself, if that was possible. Even now, his skin was electrified from contact.

So much for pushing back the sexuality crisis. It had to happen today.

“It is kind of nerve-wracking, all these people to convince,” Sander said, out of the blue. “I don’t even know who that guy is.” He pointed vaguely at Milan. “But right here, with us, this is okay. It’s just me. That’s my secret.”

That’s exactly the problem, thought Robbe. It’s just you. And I’m falling in love with you.

He said, “That’s a cop-out. Tell me something else.”

#sobbe #wtfock #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #hogwarts au #fake dating #fic request #conflict is coming i'm so sorry #my writing #fanfiction

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indefiniteimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Not Even For A Minute || Poussey Washington Imagine *Requested*

Summary: Poussey has a crush on the reader and thinks she doesn’t like her back, but she does.

Pairing: Poussey Washington x Reader

Warnings: Fem!reader, lewd language/comments, language, reader doesn’t have a preferred sexual orientation, use of R slur, angst, fluff

A/N: Holy shit! This is my first piece of writing in actually only a couple of months, but I’m claiming years because I am officially back like I was in high school. I’m so sorry if this is not my best, I am EXTREMELY rusty, so take it easy on me for now :)

It was dinner time at Lichfield and it was only my second meal in my new home. My new home filled with almost 200 other women. For the next 5 years, I will see the inside of this cafeteria 3 times a day, 21 times a week, 1,095 times a year and a whopping 5,473 times in total. You’re probably wondering why that matters, but it matters.

I take my tray and do a quick search for a place to sit. I find a spot at the very end of one of the middle tables. It was the only seat with no one in a two foot radius of me. I sit down and look at the food in front of me. My first dinner includes spaghetti, two mini oranges, a salad, and a brownie. It’s not horrible when you think about it. It’s a pretty standard meal. Well it would be without the questionable odor coming from the meatballs. I close my eyes and sigh.

“Maybe she’s deaf.”

“She ain’t deaf.”

“HELLO!”

“She can’t hear you if she’s deaf, dummy.”

“Fine, then you try, Angie.”

I was so deep in my own world that I almost didn’t notice the cherry tomato that hit me in my head.

“Hey, girl!”

I opened my eyes and looked to my left.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked with a hint of a nervous tone.

“Uh yeah, have been for the last 5 hours. You retarded or something?”

“5 hours ago? No that can’t be right. Remember, we was in the laundry room 5 hours ago, Tucky.”

“Jesus, Angie! I was being snide.”

“You mean sarcastic?”

“Snide means sarcastic.”

“Then why not just say sarcastic?”

I watched as “Tucky” closed her eyes and tilted her head in annoyance.

“I’m sorry, but did you guys need something?”

Tucky’s eyes snapped open, “Uh, yeah. Why’re you sitting here?” She took her bottom lip into her mouth as she waited for my response.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was sitting here.”

“She never said that,” Angie said while flashing her pearly browns.

“I’m confused.”

“Wow maybe she really is retarded,” Angie said.

“Tucky” nodded at Angie, “I think you’re right, Ang. Here, I’ll break it down real slow like for you: You don’t belong here.”

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. Just let me finish my dinner and I’ll never sit with you again.” I tried to reason with the little troll, but she just wasn’t having it.

She nodded her head while picking up her milk carton. She then poured it all over my food. “Seems to me like you’re done.”

All I could do was stare with my mouth open.

“Why did you do that?!”

“BECAUSE YOU DON’T BELONG HERE!” She screamed as she stood up and let one of her fist hit the metal table.

“Dogget! You’re done! Empty your tray.” A CO finally intervened from the next row over. Dogget and her Meth Mates got up from the table and walked out.

All I could do was sit there with my head hanging low as I let a few tears escape. I’m not usually this weepy, but in my defense, all I wanted was that little brownie...which was now swimming in a pool of used milk.

*A few tables over*

“Fuck was that about?” Poussey asked her family as she nodded her head over to the other table; finally arriving with her tray.

“Mmmm, Meth Mouth and her cult were fuckin’ with one of the newbies,” Janae replied in the middle of finishing her bite.

Poussey hovered over her chair to get a good look at the bothered inmate and sat back down while shaking her head.

After having a mini pity party for myself, I got up and dumped my spoiled tray before leaving the cafeteria. I go back to my temporary bunk and buried myself under my blanket.

“Cheer up, Kid. You’ll be out of here sooner than you know.”

I gave a pitiful grin to the nice older woman.

“I like your eyeshadow.”

“Duh,” she said as she threw me a wink.

I let out a sigh, got comfortable and laid in my bed until morning.

I finally fell asleep, but only for 2 hours. At the ass crack of dawn, I was woken up by the morning announcement, which had absolutely no enthusiasm. “Good morning, ladies. Try to seize the day. The world is your oyster.”

“You’d think she’d quit if she hates her job so much.” That was the first time I heard the redhead with the horrible bed head speak.

“Bell is about as enthusiastic as a wet bag of hair, but she’s one of the good ones.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said groggily.

“You joining us for breakfast?”

I drifted back to sleep before I could hear her response. I woke up in what seemed like an hour, but was only 30 minutes. For the slightest second I forgot where I was. I opened my eyes and was met with DeMarco standing right in front of me.

“Well good morning sleepyhead! Nice of you to join the living.”

“What? What time is it?”

“You see a clock in here? What I do know is that you got 10 minutes left for breakfast. You better hurry.”

I hop down off my bunk and start to change.

“Thanks.”

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

I gave her a shrug as I zipped up my jacket and headed for breakfast. I arrived in the cafeteria and was able to get my food right away since there was no line. Some tables are still filled, but some are also empty. I scan the room and pick the table farthest away from Doggett and her followers. I was in the middle of eating my eggs when Angie walked by and sneezed on my tray.

“Oops, ‘scuse me,” she said with a shit eating grin.

“God damnit,” I whisper to myself while trying not to deck this bitch.

“You shouldn’t say the Lord’s name in vain like that.”

I look up at her through hooded eyes, “Walk the fuck away.” My voice was low and I kind of scared myself.

“Oooo, devil eyes. Hey! She’s got devil eyes,” she says louder than the first time, except now she’s giggling and pointing at me while backing away. Doggett sucks her bottom lip at me while flipping her hood and getting up to walk out. I can feel people starring so I do a very quick observation and then stand up to leave.

“Empty your tray,” the guard at the door told me. “Get some coffee while you’re at it. It’ll help you stay full until lunch.”

I look up at his name that’s stitched into his shirt. Ohhhh, so this is O’Neil. I heard some of the girls talking about his scandalous relationship with CO Bell. Good for them. I turned around and went to dump my tray before following the advice and going for the coffee.

“Yo, why they always fucking with her?” Poussey asked the table as she watched in disapproval as Y/N dumped her tray.

“Why do you care?” Taystee asked while rolling her eyes.

“For real? You ain’t notice that ever since China got out, Prince Charming over here been lookin’ for a new helpless, basket case? I mean, shit.”

“Aye don’t talk about Brook like that. Not cool, Cindy.”

“ “Cindy”? Bitch, fuck you think you is? My mama? Ugh, check ya tone.”

“Whatever man. I’m just tired of seeing Meth Madness fuck with people like they run the place.”

“Again, why do you care?”

“Shit just ain’t right, is all.”

“Mmmhmm,” Taystee replied as they got up from the table.

I turn around after filling my mug and notice that it’s just me, the inmates that clean up and the CO’s supervising them. I carry my warm mug through the halls and I notice there’s not as many people crowding them as there were last night.

“Inmate! Where you are supposed to be?”

“Uhm, I’m not really sure.”

“Wrong answer!”

“Wrong?”

“Don’t get smart with me. Jefferson! Tell inmate...Y/L/N where she’s supposed to be.”

“Well, since it’s after lunch, we’re supposed to be headed to our work detail. Not whatever you was doing, apparently.”

The tall guard with the creepy mustache looked down at me and raised his eyebrows.

“Thank you, Jefferson.”

“I don’t have a work detail yet.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opens them he looked back at Jefferson, “you work in the library, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Take her with you.”

She sucked her teeth, “Man, what do I say when someone asks why she’s there? No offense, but I ain’t taking no shots just because she’s somewhere she’s not supposed to be.”

“What’s a shot?”

“Jesus fuck. Will you both get out of my goddamn sight?”

He snatched my mug; Jefferson and I gave each other a look and started towards the library. When we got there it was almost empty.

“You know, the labels are there to help the books be put back in their respectful place, not to look cute. I mean, damn.” I notice Jefferson chuckle at the girl we hear before seeing. She’s talking to a pair of inmates who are whispering to each other before tossing another book down and scurrying off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she calls after them, but to no avail. She sighs to herself before returning back to work.

“Hey, P! Whatchu up to?”

“Practically cleaning up behind bitches. I mean, why is it so hard to put a book back in its original spot? Jane Eyre belongs in literature, not SAT Prep,” she called back.

“Truly first world problems,” Jefferson said unamused.

“Yooo, you ever heard of “Oedipus”? It’s mad crazy. Like this one part where the main dude...” she kept talking as she rounded the corner to finally come face to face with us.

“...who’s this?”

“Our puppy dog for the day,” Jefferson said as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh alright then. Well I’m working over here in history. Y’all can start in fiction. It’s a fuckin mess over there.”

“Um, then why don’t we all work in fiction?”

“Did you not hear me say it’s a fuckin mess? Have fun.”

I walked away, smiling to myself. I didn’t think anyone here would care for books like I did.

After the work day was over, I separated from the two friends and went back to my temporary bunk until dinner. The next day I followed Jefferson back into the library.

“Oh, puppy dog is back.”

Jefferson turned her head to me, “Don’t you know when you gettin your work detail yet?“

“Sorry, still no.”

“As much as I’m sure you love the view you get, I’m gettin tired of you following me.”

“I can ask someone if I can work somewhere else.”

“T-ha! And make me look like a problem? I think not.”

“Nah, we could use the extra help in here since bitches can’t put shit back where it’s supposed to go. Hate to break it to y’all, but foreign language is even worse than fiction was.”

“My god. Can’t you help us over here instead of doing whatever it is the fuck you doin?”

“Uh no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m President of the Library.”

“Says who!?”

“Suzanne,” she said as a matter of fact while leaning forward to show us her ID that read “President Washington: Library”.

“Aw damn. It’s official and everything. Man, that’s some bull shit,” Jefferson said as she walked away.

All I did was look at the Presidential badge and smile.

“Since you don’t complain like some people, just know you’re first in line for Vice President. Just don’t tell Taystee,” she told me on the sly.

“Taystee?”

“Jefferson.”

“Ohh, got it.”

“I’m Poussey, by the way,” she said extending her hand.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah you too.”

She has a beautiful smile.

Towards the end of the work day, I found myself near Poussey’s section. Since our work for the time being is pretty much done, I start to browse the shelves when I spot a book dear to my heart, “Alice in Wonderland”. I get a mini rush of serotonin and pop a squat up against one of the shelves. I lose track of time, until I realize I no longer see anyone. “Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality”. You are right about that, Mr. Carroll.

“Hello?” I’m immediately startled. I start to shuffle to my feet and by the time I stand, I’m met with someone else.

“Whoa, shit. My bad. I didn’t think anyone else was in here.” Shit, I must’ve I said that out loud.

“Sorry, I guess I lost track of time.”

“It’s cool. So you haven’t been assigned a work duty yet, huh?”

I shook my head.

“I, uh, I must admit that this is the best job. Call me bias, but it’s the truth.”

“Thanks,” I say with a slight smile.

“You’re the one Pennsatucky and her crew keep messing with.”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Y’all got beef on the outside or something?”

“No, but I found it’s better to not provoke a methed out mental case.”

“Not wrong there. Well, I’ll see you around. Oh and be careful with Alice, she’s my favorite.”

The next few days were the same. I would follow Taystee into the library and listen to her and Poussey be absolute clowns. Poussey and I got to be closer since we were usually the last two to leave. We talked about how much time we have, our family, and she even told me about the Vee drama. During my stint of unpaid work in the library, I was finally able to change out of the highlighter jumpsuit and into a khaki set.

After an hour or so into a shift, I found myself distracted with my favorite book, “In Five Years”.

“Oh uh, that goes on the second to last shelf right behind you.”

“Huh? Oh yeah. It was actually already in the right spot, but it’s one of my favorites,” I tell her as I put the book back.

“What’s it about?”

“This woman named Dannie-“

“Y/L/N!”

We both looked towards the door and saw and the same pasty CO that sent me here.

“With me.”

I gave Poussey a grin and walked towards the CO,

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer me and just kept walking. I followed him to a warehouse that smelled of Clorox and musty water.

“Janitorial. Your job assignment. Morello will fill you in on what to do.”

“Oh yeah I can do that. No problem.”

The first couple of hours involved cleaning the halls, but I moved on to the Spanish bathrooms. Poussey was right, the library was the best job to have.

*A few weeks later at dinner

“I don’t know why you’d let Edward Scissorhands cut your hair and not me.”

“Because Danita only charges me a bag of Doritos. Not two cokes. Plus, she don’t even ask for the Cool Ranch flavor!”

“Beggars can’t be choosers. I do two cokes worth of work, Child.”

I laughed at Taystee and Sophia having their little banter in the food line. I walked with them to the table and sat down.

“...but then the dragon realized the little ghost girl was friendly, even though she was cold as ice. Fire and ice, that would never work!”

“Why not? What happened to opposites attract?” I ask sort of challengingly.

“Mommy said ice is used to put out fires. Well, technically water is used to put out fires but ice is just water in solid form. So the fire would go out!”

“But do you know what happens when fire and ice mix?”

“The world goes dark?”

“No. They make steam,” I gave Poussey a “subtle” smirk.

“Mommy says steam is for showers, crab legs and “fun times”.

“I miss making steam with a fine gentleman with a curve on that dick.”

We all laughed along at what Cindy said and I agreed with her.

“There are just some things your fingers can’t accomplish,” I said jokingly while being serious. She pointed her fork at me, “I like her.”

Poussey was noticeably quiet throughout the rest of dinner. Only chiming in to seem interested. She didn’t even finish her tray before she was dipping out.

“Wait I’ll come with you.”

“Nah, stay and eat. I’ll catch you later.”

“Uh oh. Trouble is Lezzy Paradise?”

I almost didn’t hear Cindy as I kept watching Poussey leave the cafeteria.

“Stop it.”

Taystee rolled her eyes and shook her head.

For the next few days, it was hard to get ahold of Poussey. Since we knew each other’s schedules, it was easy for her to avoid me.

Meals were no better. She made sure to get there early so by the time I was sitting down, she was done.

“Aye, you need to fix that,” Janae told me with her eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know what the problem is.”

“I know you are not that dumb,” Boo said as she sat across from me.

“She’s kicking her own ass because she broke the #1 rule of being interested in pussy...” she continued.

I looked at her as I was waiting for her to continue.

“Never fall in love with a straight girl!”

“Love? What-When did I say I was straight-”

“The other night when that one was talkin bout curved dick and you chimed in basically foamin at the mouth at the thought,” Taystee said.

“Noooo, I was joking.”

“Yeah well, apparently she don’t know that.” I looked at Janae and sighed.

I had to wait until the weekend to see her. It was pouring rain and there was a leak in the library and the cleaning warehouse had a slight flood, so neither of us had work.

I snuck my way to her bunk only to discover her to not be there.

“There’s only one place she’d go...” Janae told me.

I made my way down and opened the door.

She was right.

“...there was another before you, but she got out. There’s a time machine in the laundry room. That was their place. That’s where she goes to think.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Your bunkie.”

“What do you want?”

“What’s going on? Why are you being so weird?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said standing up.

“Are we not friends anymore?”

“Friends,” she said with a sarcastic chuckle.

“Can we please sit?” I gestured to the inside of her hiding spot. She backed up slightly to let me further in to the time machine and we both sat down. Neither of us said anything for a while until I did,

“I’m not gay...”

She nodded her head with a sad smile on her face.

“...but I’m not straight either. I’m just me. I’ve dated guys, I’ve had experiences with girls-”

“Experiences? But you’ve never dated a girl?”

“No, but for the past few weeks, I’ve really wanted to,” I said with a slight smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because of this. I didn’t want to say something stupid and mess this up. And because I’ve never dated a girl before, but I have dated guys, I didn’t want you to think I was using you. I thought that because I don’t identify as anything, you wouldn’t like me back.”

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Look, I got my heart broken not too long ago by a girl that promised me forever. She didn’t identify as anything either and she ended up falling in love with a dude when she got out. We were both in a dark place when we met and getting to know each other and eventually falling in love helped. I could’ve given up on love and fate, but I haven’t yet. Look, maybe this-..this connection that we have, challenges what you thought you were. And maybe I'm gonna get my heart broken in a thousand different pieces again. But those are maybes. You can't live your life according to maybes.”

The next few months were bliss. Poussey and I have connected on a level I didn’t know was attainable.

Today is Valentine’s Day and right now we’re back in the time machine. We’re both laying down, holding each other and looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s about a woman named Dannie who’s this a high-powered corporate lawyer. She’s one of those types who has everything planned out. The story has a lot of twists and turns because her five year plan goes differently than she thought.”

“So why is it your favorite if it’s so inconsistent? For a woman who knows what she wants “Dannie” sure seems okay with settling.”

“It’s my favorite because it mirrors me. It mirrors us. In five years I saw myself at some job a teenager would have with my only responsibility being my phone bill.”

“What do you see now?”

“I see me with our dog, Keith, holding signs with your dad on your release day. Then I see us heading to our apartment where you can see it for the first time in person. Then we’ll go to our jobs, pay rent, and hound our parents for travel money.”

“I’m in your future?”

“You are my future.”

She gave me a kiss when there was a bang on the cardboard door, “Hey kids! They’re doing interviews in the bunks,” Boo informed us.

When we got to her dorm, there were a few guards asking ladies questions about love.

“Does anyone else want to be asked questions?”

“Yeah, I do,” Poussey said while raising her hand.

I feel Taystee put her elbow on my shoulder, “What the hell?” The rest of the family comes around.

“Okay Washington, what is love?”

“Love. It’s just chilling, you know? Kicking it with somebody, talking, making mad stupid jokes. And, like, not even wanting to go to sleep, ‘cause then you might be without ‘em for a minute,” she looked at me, “And you don’t want that.”

•taglist: @mina672

#poussey washington #poussey washington imagine #orange is the new black #orange is the new black imagine #Pablo Schreiber #pablo schreiber imagine #lgbtq #lgbtq community #loveislove #shawn mendes #one direction #5sos #justin bieber #Criminal Minds #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #aaron hotchner

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

Text

YYH Recaps: Koenma Appears

Welcome to episode two, everyone! Before we get to the recap proper, I want to continue down Nostalgia Lane for a moment. Remember how last time I mentioned a Hiei bookmark I used daily back in middle school? Well, I tore through an old "treasure box" I created as a kid (a collection containing everything from a shark tooth to a small book on witchcraft. You know, the important things every child needs) hoping to find it... but I didn't. It's a hard life we lead.

However, I did find some other YYH relics that I thought you all might enjoy seeing. Behold — and, if you'd like, laugh at — my collection:

First up is a picture of young Toguro and Genkai that I wanted to use as my bookmark, but found that it was too wide. For the record, I didn't (and still don't) care about Toguro much, he was just the byproduct of finding a cool Genkai picture. Not shown is the back of the image with the names of my classmates because I made them all sign this along with our yearbook.

God bless my friends for putting up with me.

Second is a collection of very pretty trading cards that I ordered from god only knows where. I have vague memories of not finding any at my local comics shop and convincing my mom to let me order on The Olde Internet. Did I want the trading cards to trade them? Absolutely not. They exist to sparkle and make my heart happy.

Finally, I've saved what is perhaps the best for last. Now, you have to understand that grade to middle school age Clyde did not have the education that she would receive later on, which includes a knowledge of the ephemeral nature of fanworks and the importance of accurate record keeping. What this means is that I have absolutely no context for this. No author, no explanation... just the image itself.

Was this a standalone fanart? A part of a fic? Some specific request or just the will of the artist? I cannot answer these questions. I tried a reverse image search (which is, admittedly, the extent of my tech skills) and you know what the single hit I got was? "Fiction." Thanks, google. So yeah, I can only assume that my child self considered Kurama giving a de-aged Hiei a bubble bath adorable enough to save, but the artist wasn't important enough to jot down for future viewing. Sorry about that, mystery artist. And, as should go without saying, if anyone does know where this came from please let me know! Though I suspect that this is a case of a YYH-specific site closing down and the fanworks getting lost along with it. That happened a great deal before the age of AO3 when volunteers decided to put their time and talent towards saving fanworks of all sorts...

But enough of all that. Let's get to recapping!

As we established last episode, Yusuke and Botan are on their way to the spirit world to kickstart Yusuke's ordeal. Watching this after over a decade of consuming other media, I really appreciate that Yusuke acts like a human person and asks lots of questions about this. When Botan is cryptic for the sake of the audience — we're going to see "the person" who can explain everything — Yusuke is justifiably like, and what person would that be?? I mean, this is also a way to establish basic facts for the viewer and it simultaneously feeds into Yusuke being someone who is difficult for the sake of being difficult — "If someone wants to say something, they should come to me!" — but it's just nice to see a character who doesn't accept cryptic BS because the story needs them to. If Botan gives an unclear, but ~dramatic~ explanation, Yusuke is going to call her out on that.

So she explains that they're going to see King Yama and Yusuke is all whoa whoa whoa, there's royalty involved? Suddenly, he's not so adamant that they come to him.

Botan tries to reinforce this rare spark of humility and demands that Yusuke be on his best behavior from here on out.

Pff. Yeah right.

But “he can send you to oblivion forever if he wants to!” is a suitable enough threat to cow Yusuke for now. Which is interesting considering that a few hours ago he was happy to accept hell as his rightful ending. Granted, we could argue that there's a big difference between hell and oblivion — a character may not be afraid of punishment in the same way they are a lack of existence — but I'd say this ties more into Yusuke's development at the wake. Now that he's accepted that people care for him and that he should strive to return to them, the threat of having it snatched away actually means something. Even if that line is otherwise positioned as a comedic moment.

Botan flies them through a portal where we see the River Styx below and Yusuke comments on how big everything is. At first I was like, "What are you talking about? You were just flying over some major city in fictional Japan, wasn't that big too?" but this line makes more sense when they reach the palace and you realize that yeah, it's big. As in, the camera blurs while tilting down its length to show how insanely tall it is. Yusuke and Botan are tiny gnats at the gate's entrance.

"Oh man, what a pad!" Yusuke says and sure, that's one way to look at it lol.

Botan announces that she has a "new arrival" and the gates open for them, but so far there's no one else around. One part of me wants to question the time and budget put into this scene because shouldn't there be, like, thousands of people? Even just waiting outside? The idea that this is the hub of the underworld and that Botan is responsible for ferrying all the souls, yet she is guiding just this one (1) dude for a solid day is, from a world building perspective, kind of nuts. But beyond the need to develop Botan as a character (she can't be a part of the story if her job is treated realistically, with all the endless work that entails), I think this choice functions rather well from an atmospheric perspective too. Meaning, this moment is supposed to be rather tense for Yusuke. He just died, just found out the afterlife exists, just discovered a desire to get his life back, and is now about to meet a King who can toss him into oblivion if he's rude — which Yusuke always is. So this is a Very Dangerous Moment and their relative isolation feeds into that. As does the setting. Yusuke flinches back from the hallway, saying that it looks like a giant throat, so he is now literally walking into the belly of the beast.

Suddenly, the size of the palace isn't an indicator of awesome wealth, just general intimidation. Also, check out the spikey purple mountains in the background and the harsh reds of the scene, especially compared to the soft yellow of the river. All of it is designed to create an, "Oh shit" reaction in both Yusuke and the audience.

Yusuke's image of King Yama matches these surroundings:

Oh wait! Wrong character ;)

He's massive, red, shadowed, and poses a formidable threat. And how does Yusuke deal with threats? By fighting them! Even those he can't hope to beat. Remember, this isn't a situation where Yusuke has any power here, but he still desperately holds onto the possibility that he might. What if he gets off a punch on King Yama's nose? Then goes for his eyes? Yeah, that'll work!

Overlooking the fact that it absolutely would not — Yusuke's fantasy conveniently skips how he escapes Yama's clutches — what exactly is Yusuke hoping to accomplish here? Somehow take over the entire underworld? Escape as a ghost and live out his afterlife in hiding? We don't know and that's because Yusuke doesn't know. He doesn't think ahead, he just obeys this instinct to fight. An instinct that, crucially, overrides everything else. Botan has already told him that all Yusuke needs to do is be polite and everything will be fine, but it's not even that Yusuke believes that he can't achieve that; that he knows himself too well and, fearing a slip, starts planning for a potentially inevitable confrontation. There are simply no plans outside of battle plans. Yusuke just hears about someone vaguely intimidating and his brain jumps straight to, "How do I beat him in a fight?" no matter the odds, or that other options are readily available to him. Again, much of YYH's characterization occurs though its comedy, so outside of the general humor of witnessing this fantasy, it actually does a stellar job of reinforcing precisely who Yusuke is. In life the only thing he had going for him was his ability to fight. It was his one joy, his one skill, arguably the one good thing he did if we frame those reflexes as "saving" the kid... so is it any wonder that fighting dominates his every thought? It's all he knows.

And, as we'll see down the line, that single-minded obsession is very useful to the spirit world.

For now though, Yusuke finishes his absurd plans to take down King Yama and Botan asks what in the world he's muttering about back there. Which is an unintentionally hilarious line because by the end Yusuke is not muttering, but full on shouting. Botan. How did you not hear him?

Not important. They reach the next door and we get our first inkling that all is not as Yusuke (and we) expect when Botan leans into an intercom to say that they've arrived. Tech in a fantasy spirit world? This feels not only out of place, but rather... mundane? That's the point. When the doors open Yusuke expects his super scary monster, but gets... a whole lot of monsters that aren't scary at all!

The underworld is run by various demons (or ogres), though their looks are contrasted with the harried office worker personalities they've got going on. Someone is running by with a comically tall stack of papers. Someone else is shouting into a cell phone. The first two demons we see cross paths, looking like they're about to punch one another, just as Yusuke expects... except they're just dramatically getting out of the other's way, worried not about the hierarchy of this realm, but the fact that someone is behind schedule. The nerve!

"This place is a madhouse!" we hear somehow shout and yeah, that's the joke. The afterlife is just as chaotic, overworked, and — ultimately — boring as any human office. For all the strangeness of seeing hundreds of demons, this is familiar.

Which, alongside Botan's bubbly nature contrasting assumptions about the Grim Reaper, is one of the first instances of YYH undercutting the viewer's expectations in terms of looks. No one entirely looks the part they play in this tale and if you're trying to teach people to look past surface characteristics... there are worse ways to do it. Horrifying creatures with horns and sharp teeth? Nah, they're just chill dudes trying to do their job. Cutesy girl who looks like she belongs in a mall reading magazines? Nah, she's the Grim Reaper. Terrifying delinquent with a spine-chilling reputation? Nah, he makes faces at kids and saves them from cars.

Of course, the "nah" isn't accurate either. These are monsters with horns, Botan is a cutesy girl, and Yusuke is a delinquent with that reputation. The message isn't so much that people look like Thing A, but get to know them and you'll discover they're actually Thing B, it's the idea that you can be A and B (and C, D, E...) simultaneously. People — or rather, seemingly simple archetypes — can, in fact, embody multiple characteristics at once.

We'll get our third example in just a second.

Yusuke makes a comment about this being the "dead people stock exchange" — accurate — and Botan leads him to a more ornate door past all the desks. It's clear they've arrived at King Yama's office, since she's bowing and formally presenting him to... someone. Yusuke looks around for the giant beast he's imagined, only for a tiny voice to hail him from the ground.

Looks are deceiving!

“This is Yusuke Urameshi and he’s honored to meet you." Botan knows what's up. She knows Yusuke isn't going to express anything of the sort without some prompting. Too bad he's busy cracking up at this apparent child running the show. Side note: Yusuke has a fantastic laugh.

He even goes so far as to accuse Botan of lying to him.

“Why would I lie about such a thing?!”

“Why would the spirit world be run by a toddler?”

It's true! That’s a legitimate question! I love that Yusuke asks questions. The "toddler" goes on to explain that he's actually the "mighty Koenma," son of King Yama, though he's lived fifty times as long as Yusuke, "so watch your mouth." Assuming Koenma knows and/or remembers how old Yusuke is — fourteen — and is good at math, that puts him at seven hundred years old. He looks good for his age!

"And in addition to knowing the secrets of the universe," he says, "I am quite potty trained."

You've gotta love Koenma.

Yusuke's attitude changes drastically once they get down to business. Koenma produces an egg, saying that Yusuke's ordeal is to hatch it and face what comes out. The hatching part isn't difficult, all he needs to do is keep it on his person. The challenge is in the fact that this egg will feed off his spirit energy and that energy in turn will change what kind of creature develops. If his spirit is wicked and cruel, so will be the beast and it will devour Yusuke upon hatching.

However, if his spirit is good and kind, the beast will become a sort of guardian, guiding him back to his living body.

Note though that throughout this conversation the egg is always a "beast." It's a "monster." It's not necessarily intentional, but there's a strong bend towards the negative here in the description that really emphasizes the whole "ordeal" aspect. Koenma briefly reassures Yusuke that he can remain a ghost if he prefers, but he's already made up his mind. Despite another threat of being lost to a void — this time through spiritual digestion — Yusuke takes the egg almost without hesitation.

He regrets it later though.

"I can't believe I did that."

Can we blame him? I'd be nervous about some egg feeding off the energy of my soul too and I'm a former, almost straight A student (damn you, math) with no life-altering regrets and a general desire to put as much good into this world as I'm able. I’m boring. But what if those occasional, mean little thoughts you have add up? What if the prejudices you're still unlearning stack against you? Does the egg care about what you do, or only how you feel about the act? This sort of test would eat me alive!

Maybe literally.

Good thing Yusuke doesn't have time for an existential crisis!

Just as he's beginning to regret this decision, Botan points out that it won't matter if he passes if he doesn't have a body to return to. Now, why wouldn't he have a body? Maybe because his mom is set to cremate him tomorrow.

Whoopsie.

Yusuke is, understandably, distraught. We get another excellent exchange:

“Botan, is there any way for ghosts to communicate with living people?”

“Yes.”

“SO ARE YOU GONNA TELL ME?”

I swear, Yusuke is the only smart protagonist. I mean, he's dumb as a sack of bricks at times, but that's neither here nor there. Bless this fictional boy for reacting like an actual person.

Botan explains that people are more attuned to the spirit world when they're asleep, so Yusuke can deliver a message to someone in their dreams. Seems easy enough. They first head to Atsuko, but find that she's raging drunk and nowhere near sleep.

"You fool!" she yells. "No one gave you permission to die!" Atsuko continues to yell about how plenty of people survive car accidents, so why couldn't you? "Were you mad at me, Yusuke? Didn't I raise you right?"

Botan comments on how sad the display is. Yusuke's response?

“The only thing that’s sad is now she’s got one more excuse to act that way."

Y'all, that's some mature shit for a goofy shonen anime. Yeah, Yusuke recognizes that, while she's obviously heartbroken, his death has just given her another reason to do what she's been doing for years: drinking herself into a stupor. Toss in Atsuko putting the blame on Yusuke — "No one gave you permission to die!" — plus the belief that she did do a good job — "Didn't I raise you right?" — and it paints a rather bleak picture. This is by no means an uncommon theme. Negligent parents, whether they're framed that way or not, are pretty common in shonen series, but it's still rather jarring to re-watch this as an adult and go, "Oh. The situation’s like that." It's honestly a lot when you remove it from YYH's otherwise humorous, casual context.

Yusuke heads to Keiko's next and finds her sound asleep, commenting on how her room looks more "girly" than when they were kids. Check out that smile!

He's about to try and deliver his message, but Keiko is in the midst of a nightmare. “She’s crying… what’s wrong?”

Oh my god. Remember how I just said Yusuke is also the densest protagonist around? Example A right here. You just died, you fool! You just saw Keiko collapse at your funeral. What do you think is wrong??

We get a peek at Keiko's dream where she is — shockingly! — thinking of Yusuke. He's far out of reach, walking away and unresponsive to her calls. Keiko soon trips and Yusuke disappears completely.

Luckily, she has the real thing at her bedside. Yusuke tries talking to her and at first it's unclear if this supernatural stuff is really working. That is, until Keiko murmurs about how heavy he is.

Reassured, Yusuke delivers his message that Keiko needs to help Atsuko pull herself together and, most importantly, call off burning his body. We get this very soft and pretty background to establish their yet unspoken feelings for one another, though Yusuke gets close with, “I’m coming back. I don’t want to see you cry anymore" as he brushes her tears away. Aww.

Keiko wakes, thinking at first it was just a dream, but no, "I'm sure I felt it."

The next morning she heads to Atsuko's to explain the dream, only to first hear that Atsuko had a dream too, this one about Yusuke "living in some other world full of ogres and he kept knocking them down until he became their leader." It sounds absurd, of course, but it brings Atsuko some comfort to think of her boy in a place like that and Keiko backs down. Right, she'd only had a comforting dream too.

Now, there are two important parts to this exchange. The first is that this is an excellent example of how you let the characters drive the story, rather than forcing the characters adhere to the plot you've come up with. Meaning, in the latter situation, our cast would have needed to have their personalities twisted and the viewer's suspicion of disbelief tested to give Yusuke what he needs: a sleeping family member willing to believe his message. But it absolutely makes sense for Atsuko to be drunk rather than sound asleep, so Yusuke can't rely on her. Likewise, it absolutely makes sense for Keiko to be asleep, but not believe the dream once she's woken up. After all, how many times have we been persuaded by something in the dead of night only for things to look more logical and less likely in the morning? The characters act both like themselves and like people who do normal, people-ish things, which means that Yusuke runs into more conflicts. That's good! It not only raises the tension and stakes — now he has less than a day to convince someone — but makes his inevitable success feel that much sweeter. A less well written show (cough-RWBY-cough) would have had the characters change their personalities, behave in unlikely ways, or just come up with a sudden, contradictory solution because Yusuke needs to keep his body. Instead, Yusuke actually has to work for that within the bounds of the rules established and the likeliness of each plan succeeding. The first one fails? Move onto plan #2.

Second, this dream of Atsuko's has some cool implications within YYH's world. Meaning, we're about to learn in just a moment that some people are naturally more aware of the supernatural than others, even when they're not asleep. We'll also see down the line that spiritual awareness tends to run in families... so perhaps Atsuko possesses more than the average mother? I'm not saying it's necessarily intentional on the author(s) part, but we can choose to read this dream as evidence of spiritual awareness — true insight into the world Yusuke was just in and the fantasies he'd had about conquering it — rather than just a coincidental joke for the viewer. After all, Yusuke gets his own spiritual awareness from somewhere...

(Okay, so there's totally another, canonical reason for that, but we can have both!)

So, as Yusuke puts it, “This dream business isn’t gonna cut it.”

“There’s always the final method," Botan says.

“You always this vague?”

I am literally living for these interactions.

Botan explains that the more extreme form of communication is possessing a living person, but there are two rules attached: it has to be someone you know and the vessel has to be someone who is quite spiritually aware, as discussed above. Atsuko isn't a contender because the story hasn't acknowledged that she might be sensitive, that's just my own headcanon now. Yusuke outright says, “In that case I’m screwed. There’s no one like that!"

Cut to good old Kuwabara.

At first it looks as if he's just oh so conveniently sensing a spirit right when the audience has learned he has this power, but in reality it's Yusuke and Botan flying behind him that sets it off. Again: this show is pretty good about keeping things internally consistent, rather than making choices because That's Just How Stories Work, I Guess. Kuwabara's friends note that he's acting strangely and I love this detail that apparently one of the guys is new to their group because the other two need to explain that this is the "tickle feeling." Ever since Kuwabara was a boy he's been able to sense the dead around him. Some nice, some... not so nice.

He looks directly at Yusuke — even though he's not able to see him — and declares that what's following them is “A puny low-level ghost, like a haunted racoon or something.”

I'd support Yusuke's anger more if he hadn't just exclaimed his surprise that Kuwabara serves a purpose 😂

Yusuke is pissed enough though to proclaim that he won't do it, nuh-uh, no way is he possessing this guy's body. Botan's response is one of my FAVORITES in the WHOLE SERIES:

"Here's my impression of Yusuke: look at me, I’m burning!”

Literally 75% of this series is just about a found family sassing one another and I love it.

Obviously this helps Yusuke remember his priorities and he grudgingly agrees to the plan. Botan prepares Kuwabara's body somehow — idk, spiritual magic or whatever — and warns Yusuke that he only has an hour to find someone and warn them because a human body can't handle possession any longer than that. Sure. I buy it.

So Yusuke takes control and please ignore the incredible ethical issues here. The show will never acknowledge them again.

He blurts out, “Hey, check it out! I’m inside Kuwabara, feeling smooth!"

Istg I don't remember the series being this unintentionally gay. I don't even ship Yusuke/Kuwabara and I'm digging the possibilities here lol.

Back on track, his friends drag him with, “Looks like he’s back to normal” because again, 75%. What's not normal though is Kuwabara (Yusuke) suddenly charging down the street to leave them behind. He heads straight to the restaurant where Keiko's parents work, demanding to see her. They're rightly concerned about this stranger barging in and screaming for their daughter.

Upon asking who he is/why they should tell him, Yusuke makes his biggest mistake: “Because it’s me, you guys, I’m Yusuke!”

Obviously the time limit and raw emotion of knowing who he is has outweighed the knowledge that, you know, no one would believe that. Yusuke has spent the last two days bopping around as a ghost and familiarizing himself with some of the afterlife's insanity. The knowledge of what's normal for everyone else — AKA, not dead boys appearing in strangers' bodies — is not at the forefront of Yusuke's mind.

So, Keiko's parents react accordingly! The father in particular is disgusted by this claim, going so far as to threaten Yusuke with his knife and outright insult Kuwabara's looks: “Yusuke was never ugly like you… we were close family friends with that boy!" His wife chimes in that this kind of joke is particularly heinous on the day of his funeral. Between Atsuko drunkenly blaming Yusuke for his death and Mr. Takenaka grieving for what he might have been, this is one of the few times we see someone just sad for Yusuke's passing, exactly as he was and without regrets or criticism. "We were close family friends with that boy" paints a nice contrast to the delinquent persona Yusuke was cultivating.

As he's thrown out of the restaurant he says, “We should have special passwords for times like this!” Fun fact, my family does! Well, not this exact situation lol. I was given a password as a child to memorize in case my parents ever needed to send someone else to pick me up or interact with me in any way. If the stranger didn't know the password, I was to kick up a fuss. I rest easy with the knowledge that this password would not doubt assist me if I was ever in Yusuke's position!

With Keiko's parents a bust, Yusuke starts sprinting to everywhere she frequents with the hope of running into her. Or at least he tries.

Yusuke is suddenly waylaid by a group of nameless teens with a bone to pick with Kuwabara. And you know what? I like it. I wonder how much of my praise stems from coming off of RWBY Volume 8, but it's just so nice to watch a story where the plot — simple as it is — hangs together. We've established that Kuwabara is a street fighter. Last episode we watched him start a fight with Yusuke. Yusuke is on a time limit. Now Kuwabara's tendencies have created a new hurdle for Yusuke!

Needless to say, Yusuke kicks butt, even in Kuwabara’s body.

As one guy is passing out he says, “Man that hurt! I didn’t think anyone could throw punches that hardcore except Yusuke Urameshi."

Yusuke: “Darn, giving Kuwabara a good name." LOL

You think this challenge is finished though? Nah. Over the course of about half an hour Yusuke encounters a comical number of people trying to get even with Kuwabara.

As always, I like the nods towards this writing decision to help justify it, with Yusuke wondering how Kuwabara has pissed this many people off. If you want to pull off something that has a low chance of happening, it can help to give the characters a "Seriously?" moment. If both they and the audience are on the same page over how ridiculous this situation is, the audience is more likely to accept it once the character does.

By the time Yusuke escapes his hour is nearly up. However, thanks to some coincidental plotting, he spots Keiko's friends just across the street!

YYH does a decent job of making its characters feel like they have their own lives outside of what's immediately happening on screen and we get a good example of that here. We pick up the girls' conversation partway through, both of them worried about Keiko's state of mind and, given that we'll see in a second that Keiko was in the store with them, it implies that something happened to reignite this worry. They're off enjoying their day, doing their own thing, there was an event we're not privy to, and now we catch the response to that. It just helps make the characters feel more well-rounded even though they are, at their core, one-dimensional background characters who don’t even have names yet.

Case in point: the one girl is still concerned with their image. "People are starting to say things!"

Yeah, your friend's childhood friend just died. Hopefully they're saying, "Poor thing."

Anyway, Yusuke runs up to ask where Keiko is only for both girls to run away screaming. Turns out his face is messed up from the numerous fights and Keiko's friends are easily scared.

Luckily, Keiko comes out just a second later and Yusuke is faced with the challenge of how to convince her in, oh, about five minutes. Remember, we've already established through Keiko's parents that just saying, "I'm Yusuke" doesn't work. That's why he hesitates. It's not just drama for the sake of drama, he's stuck.

“I’ve known her my whole life, there must be something between us that only I would do!”

Yeeeeaah. About that 😬

Suddenly inspired (I suppose that's one way to put it...) Yusuke runs up behind Keiko and grabs her breasts. “Keiko, nice uniform! They’re so squishy!”

It goes without saying that, like flipping her skirt up, this isn't okay. More specifically, the problem lies in the story framing this as a joke for the audience, something to laugh at despite Keiko's discomfort, rather than the concept of two childhood friends actually be that comfortable with one another. But, as already established, this is one of the more ehhhh aspects of Yusuke's characterization that, luckily, will mostly disappear as the story goes on.

Note though that the show clearly wants us to think highly of this. Not just as a "joke," but as a smart solution to his problem and more evidence of their inevitable relationship — the background becomes the same soft, bubbly background we saw during their dream conversation. And, admittedly, it does work. Keiko instinctively slaps Yusuke hard enough to knock him to the ground and he starts laughing, saying that he doesn't care what anyone on the street says, she hits the hardest.

What I do like about this is that the assault isn't the only thing Keiko bases her faith on. Not only has she already had the dream, we get to see Yusuke from her perspective, showing all the mannerisms she picks up on by superimposing Yusuke's real body over Kuwabara's. Indeed, she says as much: “I knew it was you from the first time you spoke…and it’s not just your stupid gags, or how you laugh. There are ways you move and speak that in a hundred years I wouldn’t forget."

Catch me crying in this club!

Knowing she believes him and that he's almost out of time, Yusuke reiterates his message: please don't burn my body and also keep Mom on track. Only, you know, it's phrased far better than that lol. As he speaks, both Yusuke's and Kuwabara's voices overlap until the latter grows fainter and only Yusuke's voice remains. His body too. It's a nice touch, avoiding the awkwardness of Keiko having this moment with a stranger, even if that is what's happening on some level.

“I know I’ve been a bum to you at times, but please wait for me."

His hour up, now we can get the awkwardness! Kuwabara comes out of his weird trance thing to find Keiko crying against his chest. Wow, he thinks, this girl must be really into me!

God, to have the confidence of Kuwabara.

Of course, Keiko quickly realizes it's not Yusuke anymore and slaps him too for cuddling her closer. My favorite thing is that when she does this a crowd INSTANTLY appears. I mean they TELEPORT in. We needed an audience for Kuwabara's shame and YYH delivered, all logic be damned.

“Um, sorry about that!” Keiko yells as she runs away, because she's a good person who recognizes that weird spirit things just went on and Kuwabara isn't actually to blame.

“No, that’s okay. I probably deserved it," Kuwabara responds because he's also a good person and I didn't appreciate him nearly as much as I should have as a kid.

Keiko runs all the way to Atsuko's place where she finds her dressed for Yusuke's funeral. She blurts that Yusuke might still be coming back and Atsuko goes, "He already has." Turns out she opened his coffin to "smack him one more time for leaving me" — yikes — and found that his heart had started beating again, just as Koenma said it would.

Being in a shonen anime, they apparently decide to just trust Keiko's message rather than, idk, taking him to a hospital or something.

The camera tilts up to show that Yusuke has been watching all this, including that both women break down again and comfort one another. Aww. How heartwarming.

What's less fuzzy though is this mysterious egg. Yusuke takes another look and finds that it has developed a heartbeat too, presumably in time with his body's. He theorizes that he did decent things today, right? But Botan (teasingly) points out that he did beat up a lot of other kids. Rather than getting angry, Yusuke remains uncharacteristically pensive, emphasizing the magnitude of what this means for him. He's got to get it right.

No pressure or anything! We'll have to see how Yusuke balances his karmic scales in the next episode. Until then, I'll try not to put all my TV time into Star Trek: Voyager :D

See you then! 💜

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH recaps #mymetas

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astheskycries · 4 years ago

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Accepted- One

(gif by @evansensations)

Planning a wedding with the man she loves and working small jobs with SHIELD seems like an easy task, but now that Jonathan is dead, Maggie and Steve have to continue tracking down HYDRA and cleaning up the mess left behind- which is easier said than done when the Winter Soldier has returned.

I know, I haven’t actually written in MONTHS, just uploaded an older fic from before. I’m really getting back into writing and I’ve missed it, so I hope you all enjoy it!

If you’ve missed the first two books, they are available in my masterlist! Definitely check them out, this may be confusing without reading.

I hum around a sample of cake, savoring the taste. “I love this one, Steve. What do you think?”

Steve taps on his phone, piece of cake barely touched. “I think it’s good. Sorry, I’m getting an update on him.”

I bite my lips, glancing at the clearly uncomfortable worker. “I’m sorry, he’s been a bit distracted with work…” I see her nervousness, and I press on. “I think you were right, this would be perfect. Can we plan for this one, and we can confirm when we go over the rest?”

She lights up, nodding happily. “O-Of course! I’ll go ahead and put that in for you.” She grabs everything and scurries out, and I immediately turn to my fiancé.”

“I can’t believe you just did that to her.”

He frowns, glancing up. “Did what?”

I sigh, rubbing my eyes. “You were so rude to her. Do you even know what flavor you just had?”

He hesitates clearly stuck. “Look, you know I’m trying to get Buck back into the world. I just have a lot to do to get him there.”

“I understand, and I love that,” I rest a hand on his arm. “But you’re so focused on Bucky that you don’t care about our wedding.”

“I care about the wedding.” He rolls his eyes slightly, frustrated. “Maybe we should have rescheduled.” He rises. “I’ll see you later- I’m going to call the King back.”

I sag a bit, rubbing my eyes a bit. Ever since Bucky’s return two months ago, things have been hard. What started as being a sweet effort to help his best friend has turned into an obsession. Every waking moment is spent on Wakanda, Bucky’s exit from cryostasis, and his adjustment to his new arm- which is wonderful… Until everything else falls on me, and he doesn’t care.

I pay the lady and step out, heading to Happy’s car and silently sliding in.

“Rough appointment?” He asks, glancing at me in the mirror knowingly.

I bite my lips, straightening my sweater. “Let’s just go home…”

He hums, heading back to the compound as I text Zoe back. It happened again.

It doesn’t take long for her to respond. Again?! Are you ok?

I bite my lips. Not really… I’m going to keep looking for an apartment. Try to finalize that one we saw earlier. I think it’s better to have that space when he’s trying to take care of his friend.

I rest my head back against the seat, closing my eyes. I’ve focused on training our new Avengers, trying to get the new team set up, but it’s near impossible to put up a front with Wanda in my head. Of course, she’s offered to talk, but there’s nothing I can say- not really, not without sounding so selfish and horrible and-

“We’re here,” Happy steps out, opening the door for me. “Stark wants to see you. Something about a new gift.”

“Oh no,” I groan, wincing. “What happened this time?”

“Trust me, if I knew I’d warn you.” He winks a bit, shutting the door. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

I smile a bit. “Thanks, Happy.” I step into the elevator, letting HAPPY bring me to the right floor and seeing another message from Zoe. I’m always here for you, Maggie. Always have. Even if it means I beat up a super soldier.

No one is beating anyone up, Zoe. I step into the main floor, seeing Tony pour one of his weird green substances. “I hear you wanted to see me?”

He grins, turning towards me. “Well, a little birdie told me-”

“So you had FRIDAY spy on me?” I interrupt, crossing my arms.

“-That you were thinking about moving away,” He continues, pretending not to hear me. “Now, normally I don’t like to leave anyone dissatisfied, but in this case…” He spreads his hands. “I get it.” He takes a drink. “I also know you found a place close by and near your friend- Zenni? Shelly? Zoe!- so I pulled some strings.” He hands over a key.

I stare at it. “I- You did not rent me an apartment.”

“Of course not,” He scoffs. “I bought the room.”

I blink, unable to process. “Tony, this… this is too much.”

He waves it off. “Please, it was pocket change. Just- take it and promise you’ll still be here.”

I smile a bit, taking it. “I promise.” I bite my lips. “Is STeve here?”

He watches me carefully. “Flew out for Wakanda.”

I nod, biting my lips. “Alright… Then I’ll just get everything packed.”

Tony nods. “Want some company?”

I hum. “You know what? I do.” I grab my phone. “Get the new team together. We can do the team bonding thing. I’ll get pizza.”

He smirks. “That’s our girl,” He touches my arm. “We’re here, Maggie. Even when he isn’t.”

I try to smile a bit. “Thanks, Tony.�� I just hope Steve comes home soon. We have a lot to talk about.

Tags: @janeyboo @mylittlefandomfanfictions @palaiasaurus64 @averyrogers83 @guera31 @soulmates8 @coffeebooksandfandom @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @averyrogers83 @pegasusdragontiger @mizzzpink @onetwo3000 @see-you-again-my-sun-and-stars @sleepylunarwolf @wheresmyplums @smoothdogsgirl @marvelouslyme96 @esoltis280 @k-evans-writes @rainbowkisses31 @ughitsnic

#accepted #protected series #steve #steve rogers #steve x ofc #steve rogers x ofc #captain america #captain america x ofc #steve fic #steve fanfic #steve fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fic #captain america fanfic #captain america fanfiction

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americasass81 · 4 years ago

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Make Her Mine

Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Future Dark!fic, Dark!Tony, nothing too serious so far apart from some verbal threats. Word count: 2000 approx. A/N: So this is my first time writing and posting here and I’m debating turning this into a dark!Tony fic. Not sure if that will happen but here goes. Also re-editing this chapter from original female character to reader.

Run-Through

Who knew a booking screw up at your favorite restaurant was about to bring your world crashing down around you when you draw the unwanted attention of a certain billionaire playboy.

Chapter One

Sitting at the bar, waiting to be seated, you couldn't believe a two month wait had been screwed up by something as simple as transferring details from one book into another. But here you were, all dressed up, while the ditzy youngster who called herself a hostess assured you that you would be given top priority when a table became available.

Tucking into your second glass of rosé, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you and that, coupled with your growing irritation, helped you decide that if you weren't seated by the time your wine was finished, you would cut your losses and call it a night. After all, working as an accountant for Stark Industries kept you busy enough and you didn't need to waste any more of your precious free time on someone else's mistakes.

Halfway through your drink, with still no sign of a table opening up, you were brought out of your thoughts by the sudden appearance at your side of one Happy Hogan. "Hey love, the Bossman couldn't help but notice you're sitting here all alone and would be thrilled to have the pleasure of your company. Shall we?" he asked, reaching out his hand for you to take.

Looking around the restaurant, your gaze quickly landed on the secluded area and was greeted by the wandering eyes and devilish smirk of Tony Stark. Tipping his glass slightly and waving two fingers in a come hither gesture, you rolled your eyes, shook your head and turned back to Happy. "Tell himself I said thanks for the offer, but no. I've had a long day and the one saving grace has been royally fucked up, so if you don't mind, I think I'll just call it a night."

"Love, are you sure you don't want to reconsider. Tony Stark is not a man accustomed to being told no. It usually doesn't end well."

"Thank you for the insight, but I am fully aware of most things concerning Mr. Stark. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work in the morning and a boss who expects nothing but perfection from his employees." With that, you shoved your unfinished wine away, picked up your bag and stepping around Happy, walked out of the building.

Hailing a cab, heading home and throwing yourself into bed, you couldn't know that back at the restaurant, your boss was pissed that you had declined his company or that he was now determined to make you see what a mistake that was.

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

The next morning, you headed off to work without even thinking about what had happened the previous night. Sitting down at your desk, you buried your head in your work until lunch called and you decided to head down to the cafe on the ground floor.

Working in Stark Industries, employees were always bragging about the various run-ins they had with Avengers dropping by to see Tony, but it was never something you really gave much thought to. For you, while you loved your job, it was a well paying means to allow you to enjoy what free time it provided. To you, the Avengers were nothing more than other hard working individuals who didn't need people fawning over them for doing a job they chose to do.

That said however when Happy Hogan and Pepper Potts stepped into the elevator, a little voice told you to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. Inching away from Tony Stark's loyal lackies, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, when two floors later, they exited the lift without ever noticing your presence.

Finally reaching the cafe, you ordered your usual mint flavored hot chocolate with whipped cream and decided to head back to your desk where you hoped to disappear until it was time to head home. While the rest of the day passed relatively quickly, you couldn't help your mind wandering over your conversation with Happy the previous night.

From time to time you wondered how there could possibly be any repercussions from turning Tony down seeing as he knew nothing about you, but the more your mind mulled over things, the more on edge you became. By the time you were ready to leave, your nerves had you jumping at every little sound and you were actually looking forward to going home and locking yourself away until facing the same situation tomorrow.

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

After a restless night where every sound had you opening your eyes to see if something was amiss, you gave up sleeping around four, changed into your running gear and headed off for a quick jog before work. Though you usually preferred boxing over running, you figured the fresh air might be useful in keeping you awake for the long day you now had ahead of you. Then after heading home, you cursed Tony Stark as you brewed a cup of coffee, which you usually only drank when you needed to remain functioning.

Heading off to work, feeling slightly better, your day took one hell of a nosedive the minute you arrived at your desk to be told you had to deliver the quarterly financial reports to the meeting upstairs in ten minutes. Knowing that ten minutes was enough time if no one stopped the lift along the way, your biggest concern was the fact that Tony Stark, and possibly Happy Hogan, would be present at said meeting. As you watched the numbers pass by, you tried to reason that as nobody special, you had nothing to worry about and by the time you reached the main floor you had convinced yourself everything was grand. Little did you know, grand is a relative term.

Placing your hand on the meeting room door, you slowly entered and was greeted by three sets of eyes staring at you. Tony, Pepper and Happy were the only ones there and the fact that a whole group of people were just now walking towards the room told you that you had made good time. Ignoring the knowing glances exchanged by Tony and Happy, you walked towards the table before speaking. "These are the quarterly financial reports requested for this meeting Mr. Stark. If there's nothing else, I need to get back to work."

"Wait miss, what's your name?" Tony asked, as he stepped around Pepper to stride towards you.

Thinking about lying but knowing what a waste it would be, you looked anywhere but at him before answering. "Y/F/N." Then, before he could ask anything else, the door opened and you took the opportunity to slip out and put some distance between you. Taking the stairs, you kept going until you reached the lobby and headed straight for the street to draw in some much needed air. Once your breathing returned to normal, you steeled your shoulders and headed back to your desk where you discovered Happy sitting in your chair.

"Well Miss Y/L/N, it seems you're a hard person to track down when one doesn't look right under their nose. Mr. Stark has asked me to escort you to his office."

"I haven't done anything wrong so you can kindly tell Mr. Stark thanks, but no thanks. I have no interest in spending time with him. I simply want to do my job to the best of my ability and live my life in peace."

"And how much peace do you think you'll have if Tony decides your attitude is disrespectful? Now you can let me escort you to his office, or we can wait here for police officers to escort you from this building for stealing money from Stark Industries." he whispered, having risen from the chair and closed the distance between you.

Certain the color had drained from your face, your shoulders slumped as you turned around and walked back the way you came with Happy falling into step beside you.

The ride up in the elevator was so much worse that the previous trip and you couldn't help but wonder what exactly Tony had in mind for you. If Happy was willing to pass on life shattering threats, it didn't bode well in your humble opinion. Leading you out of the lift on the uppermost floor, Happy opened the door to Tony's private office and once you were inside, had F.R.I.D.A.Y. lock the place down. If you weren't panicked before, you were now all but ready to pass out at the sheer dread coursing through your veins.

An hour later, having been left to stew and think through every conceivable worst case scenario, the door of the office unlocked and Tony walked through. Locking the door again, you watched as he discarded his jacket and tie before sitting behind his desk and facing you.

Looking you up and down like that night at the restaurant, you kept your eyes trained on the floor except to glance up once or twice to catch him staring at you. "So Miss Y/L/N, I've learned quite a bit about you in the last two hours. How is it that in the past three years you've worked here, I've never laid eyes on you before two nights ago?"

"You're a busy man and this is a big company. I doubt you've laid eyes on every single employee that works here. Besides, I tend to keep my head down, do my work and not bother anyone." you answered, still not meeting his gaze.

"Admirable qualities to be sure." he smirked, rising from his chair and coming round the desk to take up residence in the seat across from you. "I wonder what other qualities you possess?"

"Mr. Stark?"

"Tony, please. Perhaps you can start by explaining what happened at the restaurant and why you declined my company. Hmm?"

"Look Mr. Stark . . . Tony." you added quickly, when he cleared his throat, "I don't mean to be rude, but as I explained to Mr. Hogan, I have no interest in anything to do with you except the job you pay me for. A job, I might add I'm damn good at and would like to get back to."

"You know, Y/N, for someone who doesn't mean to be rude, you're not doing a very good job. Perhaps a lesson in manners is what's in order."

Any retort you were about to utter was quickly stifled however, when F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed Tony that Captain Rogers was on his way up for their meeting.

"Damn. F.R.I.D.A.Y. please ask Steve to wait outside a moment." Rising to his feet while helping you up, you could see the gears turning in his head but they quickly stopped as he looked at you once more. "I think for now, it's best if you return to your desk. When you're finished, wait there and Happy will drive you to my place where we can continue this conversation."

"Mr. Stark, I don't know what impressions I gave you, but this is highly unwanted and inappropriate behavior. If it continues, I will have no choice but to report you to Human Resources."

"Well damn, Darling, I don't think I've ever been threatened with Human Resources in my own company. No wait, that's a lie. Pepper once threatened me with them, but considering it's my name on the building, it's kinda redundant. Don't you think? Now, be a good girl and do as you're told. Steve's not a man who likes to be kept waiting."

Kissing your cheek and leading you from the office, you headed for the nearest toilets, locked the doors and emptied the contents of your stomach into the nearest bowl. Returning to your desk, you found yourself unable to concentrate on anything but the thought of what would happen when Happy came to collect you.

Deciding you didn't want to wait to find out, you told your boss you weren't feeling well, headed to your favorite hotel and paid cash for a room for two nights. Hopefully, if Tony couldn't find you, whatever game he was playing would fizzle out and things could go back to normal. If not, then you would give yourself a week to figure out how to escape the notice of a man who could severely screw up your life.

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twocupsofsuga · 5 years ago

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His Treasure || 13

Pirate!Baekhyun x Reader - Series

Summary: It’s either on your knees and beg for your life or your walking the plank.

Absolutely NO plagiarizing my work. Moodboard by @byunfirstlady

Previous | Next

You’re dead. You are soooooo dead.

If Jaebum sees you, your done for sure. But then again, this is what you get for sneaking into a royal’s room. You’re practically asking for it.

Too tense to even shift to crouch properly from your position on the floor behind your desk, you sent a silent prayer hoping the young prince wouldn’t come near the desk.

You heard some shuffling noises as Jaebum walked here and there, presumably looking for his coat. You heard him muttering a few times and hoped that his jacket was not anywhere near you.

He spent a good five minutes in his room, muttering every now and then, wondering where the blasted maid had left his coat.

You felt yourself sighing in relief when you heard him opening his wardrobe and muttering out a, “There you are”, grabbing what sounded like a heavy coat and making his way back to his bedroom doors.

It wasn’t until you heard the doors loudly close that you finally let out a sigh in relief. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the desk.

‘That was way too close.’

You shouldn’t even be here should you? You just arrived here not too long ago and you’re already looking for trouble.

Sighing once more, you wait for a few minutes before standing up when you’re sure no one else would come into the room, and your eyes fell on the book again, giving it a frown.

Why does he have that book dedicated to research about pirates? Was he secretly planning something? Did he have connections with those bastards?

You shook your head. This was just too good to ignore. Walking up to stand next to Jaebum’s desk chair, your hands fell on the brown leathered book and flipped the first page, surprised to already see a page full of pirate facts, and you soon found yourself going through more pages. The contents that you read surprised you.

A wide variety of information littered the pages, from the origin of pirates, their goals, ambitions, desires and past historical events. It explained in detail when the first batch of men calling themselves ‘pirates’ first appeared and all the havoc that they caused, always attacking cities, leaving them in bloodshed and ruins just to steal golds, treasures, anything dubbed valuable and keeping it for themselves. Jaebum wrote about how they would sometimes kidnap people as well, and how it didn’t matter if they were royalty, normal citizens, or even peasants and orphans, if they needed anyone for ransom threats or even just another extra pair of hands to (forcefully) help them on deck, they didn’t leave much of a choice for whoever they kidnapped, and how you’d be lucky to even be alive by the end of all your torture.

When you were done with all the basic stuff, the moment you flipped the next worn out page was when you really lost it. Gaping at the bold title in the middle of the page, you did a double take.

Byun Baekhyun

“What in the world?” you whispered out loud. “Why is…?” you immediately read the pages before you.

Byun Baekhyun

Birthdate: unknown

Gender: male

Appearance: unknown

Parents: unknown

Siblings: unknown

Location: unknown

Status: leader of the EXO pirates

Leaving chaos and disaster wherever he goes, this man, or ‘Demon of the Seas’ -as he is often called by most- must be put to a stop and held trial for all wrong he has committed. With charged ranging from murder, theft, and even kidnapping, this individual just cannot seem to be caught by anyone, whether it be by normal villagers, or even official guards.

One of the most popular and feared pirate yet, it has come to our attention that throughout the years this man has been active for, we have received evidence that he is collecting more and more ‘friends’ to join his little crew. No more members to this bloodthirsty group have been added so far, but it appears that a group of twelve has been shrunk to a group of nine from a few years ago, and has stayed the same until today, or until further notice of their activity. There is no update on what has happened to the other three, and there has been no movement set out by anyone who wants to figure out of their existence, activity, or if they are even alive. No other data or knowledge is available on the other crew members other than their ‘captain’.

The infamous group of pathetic, lowlife scums, barbarians seem to enjoy leaving behind a bloody trail everywhere they go. Eyes always seem to be on gold treasure and just about anything valuable they can get their hands on. But I can’t help but wonder if there is something else that they might be looking for, something that holds more value or not. With the research that I have carried out, the witnesses I have sent out and spoken to, evidence I have personally seen, to the strange objects and people they have taken, I have come to a conclusion which might prove my suspicions correct.

Maps, lots and lots of maps, and lots of information on the seas. But as my suspicions just keep on proving to be true, I have confidently concluded what they really want, what EXO, this group of irritating, god forsaken group really desire. Something that makes every theft, every action that they’ve made, look like a joke. Child’s play.

‘Dead Man’s Home’, an area located North from the Island of the Vanished. Just a cave on an island, this place is surrounded by tremendous, jagged rocks that resemble giant spears. With the worst weather ever reported, it seems that the seas and skies are not friendly in this area. There is no light, there is no life, other than the dead sea life and sailors whom have tried to just pass by or hope to reach land on this place, this place is the definition of the word ‘dead’ itself. Nothing ever seems to go in, and nothing seems to go out. If something does manage to get pass the rocks that determine instant death, it appears that the storm and sea that surrounds Dead Man’s Home is just as vicious and can do just as much as a good job in making sure that no boat, no man and no animal makes it through. Those who go there are usually looking for a death wish, but there have been cases, although not rare, of those who have survived and somehow made it out alive, but they were never the same. Too tormented and shaken up from their near death experiences to share what they’ve been through, or what they’ve seen.

But EXO, I have suspicion that they want to go to this place, but I haven’t figured out why. I just need to collect more evidence so I can once and for all what their goals are, and I’ll figure it out even if it kills me. I want to know exactly what it is on Dead Man’s Home that makes them the way they are, so vicious and untamed when it comes to certain things.

Byun Baekhyun, an uprising danger to society and whomever he meets, deemed as a threat to everyone and must be put to a stop. I’ll figure out his secrets if it’s the last thing I do, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make him fall. If there’s a greater treasure out in this world, then it shouldn’t be in the hands of that man.

You plucked the last petal from the flower in your hands and watched as it slowly fell on your lap, let out a sigh in the process. Reaching down next to you where there were more flowers on the grass, you began to slowly pluck the petals from this one as well, repeating the same action you have been doing for quite a while.

What you read upstairs in Jaebum’s diary was, certainly interesting. After reading the next few pages on Baekhyun and pirates, you could see just how well knowledge the young prince seemed to be on the topic, as his journal, diary, whatever, seemed to be filled with just about any knowledge of pirates there seems to be, knowledge even ranging from many years ago till present time, ever island trampled by pirate feet, every ocean sailed by pirate ships, and every pirate execution ever carried out, whether they were for public or private eye. He even had a bunch of maps and sea charts on his bulletin board or just scattered on his table or the floor.

A little obsessed wasn’t he?

A… hobby perhaps? If it was, an interesting one it certainly was. You thought everyone was too afraid to dig in deeper of the topic of pirates, wanting to mind their own business and not meddle into anything that seemed troublesome, even if it was just small research on pirates. For as long as you could remember, no one wanted anything to do with pirates, let alone do any research on them. What good would it have done any of them? Those who even dared stand up against any pirate would end up with only one missing limb or a bullet wound if they were lucky enough.

Those who weren’t lucky… well, you know what happens with them.

You would’ve read more from Jaebum’s journal, but when you finally looked up from the book and out the window, you were surprised to see that the sun was already close to setting. Deciding it was about time you headed out, you closed the book with a huff and placed it neatly back exactly as you had found it, and slipped out of Jaebum’s room after looking back at the study/library one more time. Perhaps if you were even lucky or found some way to convince Jaebum, you’d get a chance to read from his huge collected of books as well.

After making sure there was no one in the hallways, you exited the bedroom and slipped back into the main hallways and went downstairs, and out of the castle where you spent the remaining of the afternoon underneath a pretty flower tree Jaebum had in his palace garden. You’ve been seated underneath the whole time, plucking the poor petals off of the flowers, thinking things over in your mind.

This was… good… wasn’t it? You could finally get some answers out of Jaebum couldn’t you? Unfortunately not all the answers were written in his journal, just the basics, but if Jaebum had this much fascination (or obsession, you really couldn’t tell) over pirates, then maybe he could fill in some questions you had been holding on to for a while. Like, would pirates have a deeper, hidden secret to why they kidnap people? Do they hold a key role in helping them achieve what they strongly desire? How would one escape from them?

Your head spun and you let out a groan, leaning your head back on the tree bark behind you and just blankly looking off to the side.

‘I’m hungry.’

“There you are.”

You let out a loud yelp as you jumped up a little, head quickly turning to your left where you saw the prince, smiling cheekily at you.

You frowned, placing a hand on your heart.

“Your Highness, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Jaebum laughed. “My apologies.” He said, smile still present as he slowly made his way over to you. “I didn’t mean to. I arrived just a few minutes ago actually and was searching for you. When I noticed you out here alone I knew I had to immediately make my way over.”

You raised an eyebrow at this.

“Really? Why?”

Jaebum smirked as he stood over you, and to your surprise, brought a hand up to your head where he began to play with a strand of your hair.

“Well.” he said. “For starters, it would be rude of a gentleman to just leave a pretty looking lady out here alone, don’t you think?”

You blushed and looked away, hair strand slipping out of Jaebum’s fingers.

“I’m not one would consider ‘pretty’ but… thank you for the compliment your Highness.” You turned back to look up at him with a small smile.

Jaebum looked at you for a while in silence, and you were worried that you might’ve just stayed quiet, but before you could ask Jaebum suddenly squatted down next to you, surprising you.

“You know,” he spoke, this time in a hushed whisper and you were surprised at the shiver that went up your spine from hearing it. “you shouldn’t think of yourself like that. It really isn’t every day I get to have such a beautiful being in my castle, let alone right next to me.”

you both looked into each other’s eyes. You could feel your heart beating up at his words.

“…Really?”

Jaebum laughed at how genuinely surprised you looked.

“Of course.” He replied, and his hand suddenly lifted up, tracing the stitching on your sleeve, and you broke eye contact to look at his fingers in shock, while Jaebum continued to casually trace patters on your shoulder.

“The moment I saw you, my breath was taken away. It was quite a surprise, one minute I was busy doing my duties, the next, I was expected to have a meal with you. But I did have my doubts, I’ll admit that.”

You looked up at him nervously. “You… you did?”

Jaebum nodded and this time, he looked down. Watching his fingers as they traced the complicated stitch work.

“I’m not sure if Seulgi told you or not, but I had a bit of a rough time with my other wives. So when I heard of you coming along, I was a bit nervous. I thought, what if it doesn’t work out this time either? But…”

Jaebum looked back at you and smiled, and you felt your heart flutter a little.

“But?” you said, when he didn’t elaborate any further.

Jaebum’s smile widened, and he shook his head.

“Nothing~” he said in a teasing voice, which surprised you.

So, the prince could make jokes?

“Hey.” You said, laughing a little funny. “You can’t just say all that and then not say anything. I’d like to know what you really think.”

Jaebum chuckled and turned to comfortably sit next to you against the tree bark as well. He made a mock thinking face.

“Hmmmm, do I really wish to tell you~?”

You laughed and nudged him a little.

“I humbly demand an answer your Highness.”

“Well I humbly decline my lady.”

You scoffed. “Oh really? Then I’ll just have to run away it seems.”

As soon as you uttered those words, you felt a shift in the air in Jaebum’s mood.

“What did you say?”

The sudden stiffness in Jaebum’s words caused you to stiffen up as well, and when you looked at him, you noticed his icy look and shrunk a little.

“Uhh…” you immediately became nervous. “I… I was joking… you-your Highness. I wouldn’t actually run away…”

The silence that followed this time was tense, until the man next to you suddenly burst out laughing.

You watched him quietly as he calmed down after a few seconds, not finding anything funny.

“Wow.” Jaebum said as he wiped away a tear. “You really fell for that. Oh my.” He looked at you and flashed you another smile. “Of course I know you’re joking. Things wouldn’t end up very pleasant if you weren’t correct?”

“Uhmm…” you said nervously, but smiled back still. “Yeah, it would be a little silly wouldn’t it?”

Jaebum’s eyes stared into your own and silent once more, but then he stood up and gave a small stretch.

“Well, I’m feeling a little hungry, aren’t you my dear? How about we go and eat something small before having dinner?”

You internally hesitated, but shook it off and accepted Jaebum’s hand that was placed in front of you and he pulled you up gently to your feet. “Yes, I’m a little hungry myself.”

“Perfect, then I shall arrange some small treats for us.”

Hooking your hand into the curve of Jaebum’s arms, the two of you made your way inside the castle, the sun setting more and more behind you, and your restless mind growing a little concerned.

What, just happened?

Jaebum and you had walked up a couple of staircases and soon found yourselves walking down a hallway. You thought he was going to drop you off into your room until dinner time, but you noticed that you were headed nowhere near your ‘bedroom’.

“Uhmm, Prince Jaebum?” you asked and said man let out a ‘hmm’ and looked at you with that charming smile of his. “My… room is in the other direction?”

Jaebum shook his head and looked forward, smile still on his face. “I know my dear. I just thought that we’d spend a little alone time in my room.”

“Oh.”

…

Wait what?!

“You-your room?? As in, your bedroom??” you looked at him stunned, but Jaebum just let out another laugh and called over a nearby maid. She bowed once she reached you two.

“Prepare something light for us to eat and bring it to my room immediately.”

“Yes your Highness.”

Jaebum looked down to smirk at you. “Something wrong my dear?”

You stuttered and were about to reply but Jaebum continued to walk, pulling you with him.

“I just thought a little privacy was in order.” Jaebum smoothly replied. “There’s always a maid, butler or guard around so I thought it would be nice to have some alone time as well. Away from any watchful eyes. Thought it might be nice for you as well.”

Your face heated up. “You want us to be… alone?”

Jaebum laughed and looked down at you. “Pardon me for guessing but, you aren’t having any naughty thoughts are you my dear (y/n)?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You told him your name during the first meal you both shared together, and he’s been calling you ‘my dear’ this entire time, so it felt surprisingly nice to hear your name fall from his lips.

“I am thinking of no such thing!” you cried out, which only caused the prince to laugh more.

“Your name sounds surprisingly nice to the ears. Maybe I should’ve called you by it since the start.”

You heart fluttered at his words. ‘Gosh dammit.’

“Then why didn’t you?”

Jaeubm suddenly looked away.

Wait, was he embarrassed?!

“I was never very good with names, as embarrassing as it is to say, so I hope you forgive me, it was never my intention to do so.”

“Oh.” You said. I guess it’s easy to forget names when your royalty and you have to constantly always meet new people.

A thought suddenly came into your head.

“So how did you suddenly remember my name this time?”

Jaebum suddenly looked nervous.

A smirk pulled up on your face this time.

“Did you perhaps ask Seulgi what my name was before meeting me in the garden earlier?”

Jaebum huffed and you began to giggle. “Oh my goodness you did!”

“We shall speak no further into this topic.” He said with a pout and your giggles grew.

You suddenly came to a stop and you looked up in surprise and your eyes grew.

Gosh, you already reached Jaebum’s bedroom doors.

Seeing it again so soon suddenly made you nervous. What if he had found out that you were snooping around earlier? What is a maid or butler saw you going inside and told him??

“Well.” Jaebum said and shot you a smile. He raised a hand and slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open swiftly. “Please enter.”

You smiled at him and bowed your head a bit in thanks and you prayed that you didn’t look too nervous or scared.

Stepping inside, you remained still and waited until Jaebum too was inside with you. The moment you heard the door close behind you, you grew more nervous.

“Let me show you around a little.” Jaebum spoke up, grabbing you by the hand, causing you to jump a little, smiling when he saw you looking a little nervous. “Don’t worry, nothing to be afraid off.”

‘Shut up you’d have had me hung if you knew I was in here earlier.’

“I know.” You said, looking at him but then immediately looking down. “I’m just a little jittery, is all.”

You felt fingers beneath your chin and your head was lifted up and your heart beat sped up a little.

He was a little too close to your face. You could feel his soft breathing on your face.

“Calm down my dear (y/n), I promise I won’t bite.”

You chuckled. “If you saw so your Highness.”

Nodding in approval, Jaebum took a step back and you felt like you could now breath with the given space.

“Now,” Jaebum said as he pulled you along. “let me show you some interesting things.”

And interesting things he did indeed show. Who knew a prince had so much interesting things around. He showed you all the things he had collected as memories from his trips from various islands he had visited over time and skillfully hand drawn pictures of some sights he had seen on some of his adventures.

He looked mighty proud when you complimented them all.

It definitely made you a lot more anxious when he offered to show you his private study and library, and offer which you did not refuse, although you had already seen it by yourself. But you obviously couldn’t tell him that.

“I’m sure a prince like you must have an interesting collection.” You said once you took in all the collection of books he had (again). You realized now that you never checked what kind of books he had.

“I guess you can say that.”

You looked over to where Jaebum had walked over to one shelf and took out a book, inspecting the front cover and dusting off the non-existing dust. He opened the book and stared into it and randomly flipped a few pages over. You grew curious over to what he was reading so you made your way over to him and stood next to him. But before you could even read the first sentence on the page, you heard a knock on Jaebum’s door.

“Ah. That must be the mini feast I ordered. Follow me (y/n).”

Jaebum snapped the book shut before you could read anything, and you frowned a little and watched as he placed the book back in its place and made his way over to his room connected to the study.

Rather than going to the door, he plopped himself on his bed and yelled, “Come in!” and you watched as two maids walked in, one pushing a trolley of drinks, the other a trolley of small fruits, cakes, snacks, you name it.

Your jaw dropped. This was considered a light bite??

“Gosh your Highness, this is too much! You needn’t have to prepare so much!”

Jaebum waved a hand. “Nonesense! Eat whatever you can, don’t worry your pretty little mind my dear.” Sending a wink your way, you looked to the side and couldn’t help but smile.

Jaebum noticed and smile. While you weren’t looking, he suddenly shot a glare at the maids, who flinched at the hostile look.

“Leave.” He ordered, though his friendly tone did not match his tone. The maids nodded hastily, bowing before quickly making their way outside.

You turned around in time before the completely shut the door, yelling out a grateful, “Thank you!” and smiled.

The maids stopped momentarily in shock, looking at you in surprise, but then sent you a small smile. They both bowed once more this time to you, and you didn’t even notice that they lasted more longer than when they bowed to Jaebum. But the both stood up immediately and walked out before anything more could have been said.

Gosh, now you were alone with Jaebum again.

“Come here my (y/n).” Jaebum said as his arm reached out to you. “Won’t you sit next to me?”

You nodded and accepted his hand, feeling him pulling you down to sit next to him. You grew a little shy at the sudden closeness. Unlike from when you two were sitting outside, you were sitting shoulder to shoulder now, and he was still holding your hand, and was even brushing his thumb against your skin.

“My chef makes some amazing fruit cake. I really recommend you try some.” He said gently as he lifted a small plate of a perfectly sliced cake with fruits decorated on top. He brought it closer to him and picked up the fork that was neatly placed on the trolley as well.

Stabbing the fork into the cake, he scooped up a small bite sized piece and lifted it closer to your mouth, making you speechless.

“Say ahh~” he said in a teasing voice and you actually chuckled.

You parted your lips and Jaebum bought the cake into your mouth, and you sighed in bliss at the taste. He wasn’t kidding when he said his chef was amazing at making fruit cakes. The flavor was just bursting in your mouth and you suddenly felt so light and happy.

“This is amazing!” you exclaimed, looking at Jaebum in happiness. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a cake so light and fluffy!”

“See. I told you it was great! Oh, hold on…”

Before you could ask him what was wrong, Jaebum brought his hand up to your face and your face and your stilled. You were confused as to what he was doing when he even brought his thumb up and swiped at your lips, your eyes widening. When he pulled back his fingers, you noticed some whip cream.

‘Ah.’ You thought, feeling a little embarrassed. ‘There was cream on my lips.’

You were going to reach for the napkins that were provided to wipe the cream off of your lips, but when you grabbed one and tried reaching for his hands, Jaebum brought the thumb with whip cream on it to his mouth and suddenly sucked on it, making you freeze.

Your mind was blank, and you watched as he licked his thumb clean before he sent you a smirk, taking in your dumbfounded look.

He brought himself closer to you and you found yourself unable to move, lips parting this time but no words coming out.

“Would you,” Jaebum said as he brought his face closer to yours and you could see the teasing look in his eyes. “perhaps like to try some other delectable?”

Oh my.

Just what were you getting yourself into?

“Go and look for more gunpowder.”

“Where the hell am I gonna find more gunpowder?”

“You’ll find out once you start searching you dickhead. Go steal some from the village, and take Chanyeol with you.”

Sehun rolled his eyes and let out a groan but did as he was told.

Since they didn’t want to raise any suspicion since the stupid prince on this island had already seen one of them, the group of pirates had to hide their ship far away from the docks so no one could notice them and have any suspicions raised.

Baekhyun glared at the faint village lights a few miles away of him. He had already come up with a new plan since their old one had been ruined since you ran away. It was going to be a pain to carry out, but it was now necessary if they wanted you back.

“Jongdae!” he suddenly yelled, looking to his side when someone approached him. He ran a hand down his tired face and looked at his crew mate. “How long till the next full moon?” he demanded.

Jongdae shook his head. “Close to a week. Think we can make it?”

Baekhyun looked up at the moon. It was nearly full. “We have to.” he said, frown deepening as he grabbed the telescope Jongdae was carrying, looking back at the village more closely. “We’ve lost enough valuable time as it is. I’ll lose it if we miss this full moon too.” He looked at the village one last time before chucking it back at Jongdae who caught it expertly. “Go look over the cannons.”

Jongdae nodded and walked away.

Barking a few more orders around, Baekhyun felt his head spin so he took this as a chance to go back down into the ship and into his room.

Slamming the door behind him, he slumped on his bed and sighed, swinging a hand up to cover his eyes.

He could still make it till the next moon, he knew he could.

He’ll just have to take his anger out on you if he doesn’t.

~Masterlist~

Please reblog it you liked it! It would really help my work get noticed/passed around more!

#his treasure #exo #exo scenarios #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo oneshot #byun baekhyun #exo baekhyun x you #baekhyun #byun baekhyun x reader #pirate au #pirate exo #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fanfic

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hphmmatthewluther · 4 years ago

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HPHM April Prompts 2021: Day 7: When Your Reflection Plots Against You (Part 3)

What is this, a crossover episode?

Okay, so funny story! The end to the story I’ve been doing recently and today’s prompt are about the same thing, so I sort of have to have them both be the thing for today because yeah! Part 1/3 Part 2/3

Anyway, onto...

Prompt 7: MC’s First Kiss

When Matthew finally came to, he had a pounding headache. He pushed himself up with the guitar case, getting back onto his face, before noticing the mirror. He wasn’t in it. Of course, Matthew thought, I’m the reflection now. He looked behind him, hoping to see where that light had come from. There was nothing. Apart from him, the bathroom was empty. Suddenly, he heard a door creak. On the other side of the mirror, in the real world, Charlie Weasley had walked in. Matthew moved towards the mirror.

“Charlie!” he tried, but to no avail, “Charlie!”

But there was nothing. It was like he was a ghost. Actually, I’m less than a ghost now. He sighed, moving back towards the guitar case. With nothing else to do, he picked up the instrument and slung it onto his back, before leaving the boys’ toilets. It occurred to him that he needed to find Edwin before he did anything too embarrassing, or before he got to his friends.

It was bizarre to see the halls of Hogwarts empty, but with all the same buzz of people moving up and down. It was rather like there being a conversation happening in the other room, but you couldn’t for the life of you find that room. He tried to marshal his thoughts as to where Edwin would go with his body. The lake, obviously, he thought to himself. But something rather strange happened to this alternate Hogwarts as Matthew approached the school grounds. What should have been the quidditch lesson area and the whomping willow, and the Forbidden Forest, was instead an inky black void, with large tubes of light jutting into it from various windows. It was solid, and Matthew couldn’t pass through it. A good way away he could see the grass around the Black Lake.

“So I can’t go anywhere that isn’t reflected.” he deduced aloud. Matthew tried to relax his breathing. This was just another riddle, and he would have to solve it. And for that, he’d need to focus.

“Shut up, Barnaby!”

Matthew twisted around, noticing the images of Merula, Ismelda and Barnaby hanging in the air through a small shield-shaped window. A Prefect’s badge, Matthew thought before leaning in to take a closer look.

“What is it?” Barnaby asked quietly.

“I just...I thought I heard him...” Merula said, her violet eyes scanning the corridor.

“Who?” asked Ismelda, irritated at having to stop.

“Luther, of course!” she snapped. Matthew’s eyes widened. “He was saying something about reflections...”

“Yes, I’m over here!” Matthew yelled. He didn’t care how it had happened, he was just happy that it did.

Merula moved up and down the corridor. “Luther, where the hell are you?!”

Ismelda and Barnaby watched, both very much confused by all of this.

Matthew felt relief wash over him. “Merula, I’m-”

“I’m right here.” came his own voice. Coming into view from the side of the badge was Edwin, wearing his body.

“Oh, there you are.” she said stiffly. Matthew watched as Edwin flicked his braceletless hand at the badge, and he knew he had placed a Silencing Charm on it. Matthew could only pray Merula could sniff Edwin out.

“What’s got you so happy?” she asked with a scowl on her face.

“Oh, nothing really...” Edwin said absentmindedly. “Anyway, what did you want?”

“W-What did I want?” she asked incredulously. “You’re the one who called me over!”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t.” he said, shrugging. Matthew felt a surge of anger at him.

“Yes you did!” said Merula, exasperated.

Edwin cocked his head, then turned to the other two Slytherins, “Did either of you hear anything?”

“No, I didn’t.” said Ismelda.

“No, nothing.” said Barnaby.

“Well, there you go.” Edwin concluded, “Maybe you’re hearing things.”

“I am not!” Merula yelled, going slightly red.

“Sure. Whatever.” he said, running a hand through Matthew’s hair, “So, you going down to the lake later?”

“W-What? No...” said Merula, confused. Barnaby, however, nodded.

“I am! It’s gonna be great fun!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t care.” Ismelda sneered.

“Mm, it’s just that everyone is going to be there. And I thought, seeing as you can’t go to Hogsmeade, you’d want to go to a party when you could.”

Matthew felt his heart break as he saw Merula’s expression. This wasn’t fair. Nobody treated his mortal enemy like this, especially not someone like Edwin.

“F-Fine, I’ll go.” Merula conceded. “C-Come on, you two.” They stepped into the inky void, Merula wearing an expression that Matthew knew all too well. Fear.

“You could have been a bit nicer, Matt.” came a voice. Matthew realised just which Prefect’s badge he was looking through. And Edwin had no idea.

“Oh...I guess I could.” he admitted, “But I got her to go to the party, and isn’t that what matters?”

“It does if she doesn’t actually want to go.” said Bill Weasley, “You of all people should know that.”

Edwin shrugged, before heading into the void too. Bill must have followed him, for the Prefect badge vanished too. He had to get to the lake quickly, and find Merula and tell her what was happening. From there, however, he was at a bit of a loss. Maybe if he got the book back and managed to reveal the ink, he could find a way to return to his body. That would explain why he didn’t want me to get the book back, he thought. But before all that, he had to actually get to the lake in the first place. He looked up at the tubes of light which splintered the void. Matthew grinned. He’d had an idea, and it wasn’t half bad. He headed up towards Ravenclaw tower at breakneck speed, avoiding the void that appeared in corridors with less mirrors. Eventually, he found his way up to the door to the Common Room. The Eagle knocker looked up at him.

“You are here, yet you are not here.” it said. “Curious. Now, I am at the start of every race, the end of every Bludger, and in the middle of Paris. What am I?”

Matthew thought for a moment, before smirking. “R.”

The eagle nodded, before the door opened.

“Hmm, that’s odd.” said Rowan,as Matthew came in. “ Wonder why the door’s opened...” Matthew sighed as he and the other Ravenclaws looked up and saw right through him.

“I’ll tell you when I get out, Rowan.” he said. There was no reaction. Matthew headed up to his dormitory, where he found his Cleansweep resting against his four-poster bed. He reached for it, hoping, and while his left hand went straight through it, his right hand gripped the wood, the silver bracelet’s carvings glowing as it happened. Matthew grinned, before looking back at the mirror. In it, he could see the Black Lake out the window. He also saw the Cleansweep floating in midair. This gave Matthew another idea. He crept back down to the Common Room, and saw the Ravenclaws’ expressions of pure shock at a floating broom.

“Hey, isn’t that Matthew’s Cleansweep?” said Andre. Matthew couldn’t help but grin as he twirled the broomstick in his hands, causing it to spin. Then, he started to back up into the boys’ dormitory. Rowan, Andre, Tulip and Talbott all followed it until they came to Matthew’s four poster bed. He used the broom to wave at the four, then tried to make a beckoning gesture. After that, he hopped on and flew out the window, leaving them flabbergasted as the pilotless broom headed towards the lake.

It was an odd sensation, flying down a thin strip of the Hogwarts grounds, going over a small fraction of the Whomping Willow, watching students blip in and out of existence. He sped down the hill until he was over the lake, when he noticed a large gathering of students reflected in the water near the shore. He saw that there was a table with food laid out before them. He slowly moved down a few yards away, landing his broom and resting it against a nearby tree. He couldn’t risk Edwin finding out he was here again. Matthew shook his head. He had hoped that third year would be a little less eventful than last year, though he should have known that this would be impossible. Rueing his bad luck, he headed towards the party, not registering four Ravenclaws show up behind him.

“I’m so glad you all made it!” he heard Penny cheer, as the party got underway. At least, it did in the waters of the Black Lake. Matthew, meanwhile, only had a few feet of ground to work with before it gave way to the void. He saw people enter and exit the darkness, until he finally saw Merula. He knew he couldn’t just talk to her, as much as he wanted to. No, he had to find another way. Then, it occurred to him that he had Edwin’s guitar on his back. He set it onto the floor and undid the zip on the leather, before pulling it open.

For an acoustic guitar, it was pretty impressive. It had several magical runes on the wood, and the strings were a brilliant blue, just like the ropes which had pulled him through the mirror. He silently thanked his father for being part of a band when he was younger and pulled out the guitar, putting the strap around his shoulder. Even from here, he could see Edwin moving everyone’s groups away from the lake, especially Merula’s. Matthew had been where she was several times before, feeling like everybody knew how to act at a party except for you. Matthew gritted his teeth, moved towards the lake, both him and the guitar invisible, and started to play.

A A A A, D D, Em Em Em Em, D D…

***

Merula looked up, hearing the sounds of a guitar. It wasn’t a song she recognised, so she assumed it was some Muggle music. She could recognise the chords though. A A A A, D D, Em Em Em Em, D D… though she couldn’t see anyone playing. She walked through the students, ducking out of the way when she saw Matthew. He was talking with Chiara and Penny, but it didn’t look like how Matthew usually talked. Normally, he was reserved, quiet, a little hunched over. Not here. No, here it reminded her of some of the irritating sods in Preston’s gang. Merula scowled, before heading towards the music. Strangely enough, it seemed to be coming from inside the Lake… but that couldn’t be…

“Psst, Merula!”

She looked down into the water. There was her reflection, but next to it stood Matthew Luther, with a rune covered guitar.

“Don’t look at me!” he hissed, “Turn around and act like you don’t see me!”

Merula obeyed, turning on the spot. Secretly, she had been hoping for an explanation for his behaviour today; he had been amicable enough at first, but over the last few hours or so he had become rather cocky and boastful.

“Merula, that isn’t me.” he said, still playing the guitar, “That arse took my body!”

Her eyes widened. “He’s a changeling?!”

“If...if that’s what they’re called, yeah.”

Merula found it in her to smirk. “Really Luther, I forget how little you know about the Wizarding World.”

“It’s not my fault our Defence against the Dark Arts teachers have been rubbish.” he remarked.

“Eh, you’re not wrong there, they have been awful.” she admitted. “So how the hell did this happen?”

“Long story short: Some guy named Edwin appeared in the mirror saying he was trapped and needed help escaping.” Matthew explained, “I agreed, though I didn’t realise just how I’d be helping him.”

Merula stared at Edwin. Yes, she saw it now. It was like a Metamorphmagus had turned into him, or someone had used Polyjuice Potion. That’s why she’d felt so uncomfortable around him. Because it wasn’t Matthew. “So, how do we get him out?”

Matthew looked a little surprised. “Oh, I thought you’d suggest leaving me here.”

She laughed, genuinely, before shaking her head. “Luther, if I left you there this Edwin would have to be my rival. And I don’t like the sound of that at all. You’re my mortal enemy, Luther, and nobody gets to doom you for eternity except me.”

Matthew grinned through the water. “Thanks, Merula. Now, do you have anything reflective on you?” She shuffled through her pockets until she pulled out a silver comb.

“By the way, since when could you play guitar?” she asked, as Matthew appeared in the comb.

“Oh, my Dad taught me. I just know a few songs, though, not much.” he confessed.

“Alright...” began Merula, nervously moving towards the throng of students, “What do we do?”

“There’s a book in my bag called The Ramifications of Our Reflections.” Matthew explained, “It has some text in invisible ink that Edwin really didn’t want me to see, to our best bet is grabbing the book and finding out what it says.”

“Ah, so we’re stealing from him!” she declared quietly.

“Well, no, it’s my book!” Matthew yelled, before adding, “Well, it’s technically Snape’s, but he took it from me, so there.”

They neared the pile of everyone’s bags, and Merula bent down to grab hers, before manoeuvring towards Matthew’s satchel. Slowly, while eyeing the changeling, Merula bent down and grabbed the book, quickly placing it in her own bag. She took a sigh of relief, and quickly walked away.

“Now what?” she whispered, before seeing Ismelda.

“This party's boring. I’m heading back to the common room.” she declared.

“Good idea.” Merula said, walking with her.

“Don’t worry, she can’t see me.” Matthew reassured her, “Now all we need to do is heat up the book and we can see the information.”

Merula nodded as they headed away from the party, but they were stopped on their way back by Edwin.

“Hey, wh-where you going?” he asked, his usual cocky demeanour in full swing.

“We’re leaving.” Merula declared, “This party is boring, and you shouldn’t have invited us.”

Edwin stared at her for a moment. “Is that so.” he said, not even trying to make it a question.

“Yeah...I’m leaving now...bye.” she said, heading off. Ismelda looked at her, then at Edwin.

“Wow, she really doesn’t like you.” she said, “What’d you do to her?”

“I would worry more about what I’m going to do.” Edwin growled.

“Merula...” Matthew began, “Get to my broom. It’s right by the lake.” When she looked at the comb, confused, Matthew just shouted “GO!” and that got her moving.

She sprinted back down the hill, where she saw the Cleansweep resting by a tree. She grabbed a hold of it and saw Edwin racing after her.

“Just wait a minute!” he yelled, as Merula kicked off the ground. Matthew quickly put the guitar onto his back as the ground fell beneath them, and soon they were soaring over the grounds once again.

“Now how’d she know the broom was there?” Rowan asked aloud. “Matthew, do you-”

“Curse them!” Edwin bellowed, heading off after her, wand in hand. Ismelda hissed.

“Oh no you don’t...” she muttered, running after him. Bill stood nearby, very much concerned.

“Something’s going on here...” he deduced, before joining the chase. Of course, Merula and Matthew had the advantage of having a broomstick, which allowed them to get to the other side of the school in very little time. They ended up on the second floor, just above the Great Hall.

“Nobody uses these toilets.” Merula explained, “Myrtle’s always kicking up a fuss.”

They headed into the girl’s bathroom, which was oddly quiet.

“That’s strange.” said Merula, “I wonder where she’s gone.” Matthew appeared in a mirror near the sink.

“That was close.” he admitted, looking on as Merula pulled Ramifications out of her satchel. “Now all we need to do is heat it up and we’ll be set. Be careful though, we don’t want to set it on fire.”

“Right.” Merula said, placing the book on the ground. Matthew moved closer, appearing in a puddle of water. “Incendio Parvus!” A small flame appeared on the tip of Merula’s wand, which she moved down towards the paper. “Hey, it’s working!” she said excitedly.

“Great! Find the part about freeing people from mirrors!” Matthew implored, placing down the guitar.

“Okay, okay...” she said, flicking through the pages.

“Um...Merula...” Matthew began, “Sorry for dragging you into this.”

“Hmph...it’s...I mean, it wasn’t you, was it? It was that changeling who was the arse.”

“I know, but I made the deal with him...” he lamented.

“Yeah, I know, but...” she paused, looking over at Matthew’s puddle. “Oh come on. He gave you what you wanted, right?”

Matthew considered this. “Yeah. I guess he did.”

Merula smirked again. “What’d you even ask for?”

Matthew suddenly looked nervous. “I...um, I just wanted advice. We’d had that argument yesterday, and so I was just...I didn’t want to make things worse every time I saw you, or anyone else.”

Merula frowned. “Th-That’s it?!”

“Yeah...that’s it.”

She looked at him through the water, before bursting into laughter. “What?” he asked, more confused than ever.

“Sorry, it’s just...” she paused to wipe her hair out of her face, “It’s weird how little you trust yourself. I mean, you make friends all the time. I’m the one who can’t make friends and can’t go to Hogsmeade.”

Matthew frowned at her. “You don’t have to talk about-”

“It’s alright.” she reassured him. “I-I just...it’s my aunt. She says I’m not doing well enough in Defence against the Dark Arts.”

“But that’s not fair, the teachers are total tw-”

“I know that.” said Merula, “But my aunt thinks that I need to revise more...and she’s my legal guardian...so...”

“Merula, I’m sorry. You know...if you wanted to, I could give you a hand with...you know, studying and stuff.”

“Is that so?” she said, flicking through the pages with her other hand. “I don’t know...we’re mortal enemies. I don’t know how I’d feel about- Ah ha!” she exclaimed suddenly, “Freeing those trapped in the Reflected Realm! Bingo!”

Matthew craned his neck to see, but to no avail. Merula seemed to notice. “Oh, right, sorry. If a wizard or witch has been trapped within the Reflected Realm, they must be freed by breaking the contract forged between them and a changeling. To do this, one must return to the mirror of entry, destroy the surface they made the deal with and recite the phrase “Contractus est inanis. Corpus meum.” From there, the changeling will return to the Reflected Realm once it touches any reflective surface.”

“Brilliant!” said Matthew, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Merula extinguished the flame. “Okay, okay! You remember the phrase, right?”

“Course. Contractus est inanis. Corpus meum.”

“Good. Where’d you make the deal?” she asked, packing the book away.

“The boy’s toilets. Sixth floor.” This caused Merula’s face to scrunch up.

“Look, it won’t be for long. Once I get to the mirror, we can leave right away and find Edwin.” he explained.

“...Fine. I’m gonna get you for this one day, Luther...”

“I hope you get the chance, Merula...I really do...”

A minute or two later, Merula had made her way to the sixth floor, and was standing right outside the boy’s toilets.

“C-Can’t I just wait outside?” she asked. Matthew nodded, before heading inside on his own, the guitar still on his back. He instantly came back out.

“I’m afraid you can’t, Merula.” he said nervously. Merula groaned, before poking her head into the room. Standing in the U-bend, in front of a large magical field, was the body of Matthew Luther, and the vile grin of Edwin.

“We meet again. I’m so glad I don’t have to hide from you anymore.” he said. Matthew sneaked into view on one of the nearby mirrors, glaring at the sphere.

“Listen to me, Edwin. I am the Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts,” Merula announced, “,and unless you vacate my mortal enemy’s body this instant, I will rain hell upon you!”

Edwin stared for a moment, before bursting into maniacal laughter. “Ooh, that’s a good one! I see why Matthew likes you!”

“I’m getting to that mirror, Edwin,” declared Matthew, “And you won’t stop me.”

Edwin pointed Matthew’s wand at Merula. “I somehow doubt that. I haven’t had a wand of my own in so long, I-”

“You still don't!” Matthew butted in.

“Silence!” Edwin yelled, sending Charm after Charm at the various mirrors. Merula watched as Matthew tried to mouth his words, before opting for a simple hand gesture. Merula pointed her own wand at Edwin.

“Sorry, I don’t take orders from you.” she sneered. “Flipendo!”

A burst of magic shot out of her wand at Edwin, who quickly moved out of the way, before yelling “Incendio!”, causing fire to leap towards Merula. She moved quickly out of the way, before pointing her wand back at Edwin, but he was faster. “Petrificus Totalus!” he shouted, sending a wave of paralysis at Merula, who felt herself fall to the ground. Matthew leapt towards the field of magic. He stepped through it, ending up on the other side with relative ease. Oh, the joys of the Reflected Realm, he thought to himself before reaching the mirror. Now he had to destroy it. He loosened his silver bracelet until it became a sort of fisticuff around his hand, and pulled back his arm.

“No!” roared Edwin, pointing Matthew’s own wand at him. “CRU-”

“Expelliarmus!”

Matthew’s wand flew out of Edwin’s hand over to the other side. Into the room came Rowan, Bill and Ismelda. But it wasn’t them that fired that disarming spell. It was Merula.

“It’s funny.” she said, “I never bought into that ‘wand chooses the wizard’ crap. But I think it well and truly has this time...changeling. Now, Luther!” she yelled, as the three newcomers looked around confused. Matthew took the bracelet and bashed it into the mirror. There wasn’t a scratch on the silver, but the mirror cracked into a thousand pieces.

“Contractus est inanis. Corpus meum!” he recited, as the several shards of the mirror began to glow. Blue ropes appeared between Matthew and Edwin, which snapped in two with a loud twang. Rowan pointed at the mirror.

“Matt! What are you doing in a mirror? With a guitar?” they asked, flabbergasted.

Edwin glared daggers at his double. “Matt...my guy Matt...” he snarled, wiping the hair out of his face. “If you think getting that mirror broken was difficult, you’ll have one hell of a time putting me back-”

“Glacius Maledictus!” Matthew yelled, having picked up his wand. His bracelet glowing, ice began to coat the floor of the toilets. Perfect Ice.

Edwin looked down at his blue reflection. Matthew looked back up at him.

“...It’s a fair cop.” Edwin admitted. He looked at Merula. “A very fair cop...You know what Matt, I’ve changed my mind about you. You’re no coward. You just needed a push is all. And here I am to give it to you.” he stepped forward to Merula, grinning. “It’s been fun. You’ll thank me later.” Edwin leaned forward. There was a great flash of light, and Matthew was pulled up from the ice and into the motion. When he opened his eyes, his lips were on Merula’s. Rowan audibly gasped. Ismelda actually stopped picking her nails. Bill took a deep breath, knowing what was about to come next.

“Uuurgh!” They both said, disconnecting instantly, Matthew bringing a hand from behind Merula and her placing her feet firmly back on the ground. They both, however, couldn’t hide their very red faces.

“Oh, that bastard!” Matthew groaned, wiping his mouth.

“Yuck, yuck, yuck!” said Merula, spitting onto the ground. Suddenly, they heard his laugh. Rowan pointed downwards. Inside the glass was a boy in denim and a flannel shirt, scowling.

“I was just the first of the monsters of the mirrors.” he announced, “There’ll be more, trust me! And when they get out, they’ll-” “Incendio.”

There was a horrifying screech as the ice suddenly melted, until the bathroom floor was covered in water. Then there was silence. Ismelda smiled, before placing her wand back into her pocket. “That’s for messing with my friends.” she droned, before turning to Matthew. She looked at him for a moment, before slapping him across the face. “And that’s for kissing Merula.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Matthew said, rubbing his cheek, which was red for a completely different reason to Ismelda. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two figures appear in the mirror for a moment, nod, then vanish.

“Ok, now can someone please explain what’s going on?” Bill asked.

“I can try.” said Matthew, stretching his jaw. Merula was still a bright pink, and was still wiping her mouth. “Was I really that bad?” he snickered.

“It was...just a surprise, Luther.” Merula said stiffly. “Don’t worry. I won’t slap you. Just don’t get any ideas.”

Rowan looked at them all, aghast. “Sorry, but are we overlooking the fact that Ismelda just killed a man?!”

***

“So, in summary...” said Dumbledore, sitting at his desk, “It’s been quite an eventful day or two for you, hasn’t it?”

Matthew nodded rapidly. They were all now in the Headmaster’s Office, along with Professors Snape, McGonagall and Flitwick.

“I am just glad that you are okay, Matthew.” squeaked the smallest wizard. “Changelings are very dangerous forces of nature.”

“I would like to remind Mr Luther,” sneered Snape, “That the next time he sees something unusual in the mirror, he is to come straight to a Head of House...and that goes for all of you, too.”

The students all nodded. “Well, if that’s everything,” said McGonagall, “I do believe you will all need sleep after a long day like this.”

“Minerva is correct.” said Dumbledore, “Though, if you have any questions or concerns...”

“Actually...” said Merula, “There’s one thing I still don’t understand. Why was I the only person who could see Matthew in the Reflected Realm?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Now that is a very interesting stroke of luck. You see, a very powerful Artifact of Protection can sometimes lend its protection to others around them. It is likely that Matthew’s bracelet,” he explained, leaning towards the boy, “Has seen your connection as the closest, and has decided to protect both of you. And perhaps, more. I imagine Mr Khanna was unable to find Edwin while he was in Matthew’s body for a reason.”

“So...what does that mean?” asked Merula

“It means you, Matthew, are Merula’s Artifactidal Guardian.” he declared. Matthew looked down at his bracelet. Was that why he gave it to him?

“Hang on...how much of a guardian?”

Dumbledore’s eye twinkled knowingly. “Enough of one, Matthew.” he said.

Merula looked at him, turning a little pink still. “What does- What do you-” But Matthew understood. He pulled out the sheet that the riddle was written on, as well as his pen, and began to scribble on the back of the parchment. Then, he gave it to Merula. She read it. Her jaw dropped.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I Matthew Luther, Artifactidal Guardian of Merula Snyde, hereby give her permission to visit Hogsmeade.

Merula passed the letter to Dumbledore in silence, who read it and nodded. “Very well. Now, off to bed, chop chop.”

As they all walked down the stairs, Matthew felt Merula grab his shoulder.

“Thi-” she stammered, “Th-Thank you, Matthew. I don’t… You know, I-”

“Don’t worry about it, please.” Matthew said, smiling. “This changes nothing. You and I can still be mortal enemies.”

Merula grinned. “Gotcha.” she said, smiling. “Also...um...that was my first kiss.”

Matthew nodded. “Oh. Um...mine too.” He could see something flicker over her expression after that.

“Oh...well, I’m going to say it was with you, because if I don’t it would have been with Edwin, which is even worse.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Matthew said, a smile forcing its way onto his red face. “Well...there’s another Hogsmeade trip tomorrow...see you then...”

“Y-Yeah...see you then.” Merula said, before marching off. It took only a few days for them to get back to their usual bickering selves, but people noticed that for some reason they never argued and never insulted each other when they were in Hogsmeade. The few who knew why kept that secret close to their chests.

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