#I made his neck unattached to his body while being a soul because that’s how he died :)

[deadshadowcreature]

More Qiankun Halo 💫

Nezha knows Wukong better than Macaque, which is why he hold no grudges against him when he messed up and I’m all ears for their early brotherly dynamics

I know Nezha didn’t go to Hell when he killed himself but it would be funny if he did in lmk

[princessmisery666]

Just Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean is trying to embrace his emotions and look to the future. Part 3 of 3. Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, mentions of cheating. 

W/C: 4,901.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mentioned: Jody Mills. 

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: ”Would you please, shut up, I’m trying to confess my love for you.”

A/N: Obviously this was supposed to posted on a certain day (you'll get what I mean when you read) but it just wasn't where I wanted it to be at the time so I waited. Two-ish weeks later ain't bad though.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

Pulling off the highway, Dean grumbles, “This is stupid,” to himself again. Yet, he had called Jody to make sure you weren’t working, made the two-hour drive, and hadn't veered off route to the nearest bar.

It’s been a few weeks since he saw you at Jody’s cabin. You’ve spoken on the phone a few times and met him halfway to Kentucky to give him a lore book Claire had borrowed. But no in-depth conversations have been had, which he’s okay with because one, it’s a conversation to be had in person and not while he is neck deep in a case, and B, he doesn’t know what to say or how to tell you what he wants because he’s still not sure himself. 

So, in the safe confines of Baby, he asks himself again why is he driving to your house on Unattached Drifter Christmas or ‘Valentine’s Day’ for the schmucks? 

Before he can do a little soul-searching and find the answer, his cell phone rings. 

“Hey Sam, what’s up?” he answers. 

“Why are you in Sioux Falls? Something wrong?” 

“Everything’s fine. Wait, how do you know where I am?” 

“You were way too vague about where you were going. You always have a plan for today,” Sam explains, “figured you were up to no good and better keep an eye on you in case you get into trouble like last time.”

“Last time was almost five years ago, and for the hundredth time, I didn’t know she was married,” Dean snarks.

“Plus, you didn’t turn off your GPS,” Sam says as if he hadn’t heard Dean’s argument. “So why are you in Sioux Falls on Unattached Drifter Christmas?”

He falters for a second, thinking of an excuse, and before his pause becomes suspicious, he blurts, “There’s a new bar opened up. Wanna try it out.”

“This bar called Y/N’s, by any chance?” 

“What? No!”

Sam laughs, and that all-knowing chuckle reminds Dean that Sam is onto him and there’s no point in denying anything. “It’s a good thing, Dean,” his brother assures him. “You may not have told her outright, but she’s smart. She’ll recognize you showing up today, of all days, is your way of telling her you want…” Dean waits, hoping that Sam will impart the answer that eludes him, but huffs in defeat when his brother adds, “Whatever it is you want.”

“This is stupid,” Dean grumbles, “I’m being stupid.” 

“No, it's not,” Sam scolds. “I’m sure today will be tough for her. So, just being there for her is a good thing. It doesn’t have to be deep conversations. Showing up and supporting her is enough.”

Dean considers that Sam is probably right, but it doesn’t make him feel any less insecure. “Maybe.”

“Have fun,” Sam says before hanging up.

Five minutes from his final destination, his phone chimes, alerting him to a text message.

Jody: She’s at Lucky Shots, fifth wheeling it. 

“Dammit, Sam!” he snarls, but he’s not really mad, saves him a trip to her empty house.

The break at Jody’s cabin was revitalizing, and the feeling has stuck for the few weeks you’ve been back in your routine. It probably helps that you removed every trace of Luke from your life the moment you got home. The confrontation with Dean was cathartic, too. You’ve analyzed what he’d said about not wanting you to meet someone new and that he missed you, and asked Jody for her opinion, too. She’d wistfully smiled as if aware of something you weren’t, “Maybe you gave up on him too quickly.”

You didn’t want to admit that Jody was probably right. Yet you had made assumptions, choosing to believe that he didn’t want anything serious, and after admitting to yourself that you wanted something more, you had decided to go out and find it somewhere else.

That realization turned out to be at the forefront of your mind today. You're thankful to your friends, Laura and Sara, for the invitation and for not allowing you to stay home and eat your emotions. Being the fifth wheel isn’t the issue. It doesn’t bother you, even on Valentine’s Day. They chose a lowkey, casual games bar, not some romantic, candlelit restaurant, and for that, you are eternally grateful. The issue is Luke is there. It could be worse. He could be with her, but fortunately, he’s with two of his buddies.

The bar has darts, beer pong, pool, skee ball, knock down a clown, and a few other amusements. You're locked into a tight game of girls versus boys beer pong - the beer having been replaced with tequila shots - and you can feel Luke’s every glance as if he’s waiting for an opportunity to approach.

It’s the last thing you want, and your friends were kind enough to offer to leave when he arrived, but you stubbornly refused. You had no reason to leave. He should be filled with so much shame and regret that he can’t bear to face you, but he has the audacity to look like a wounded puppy, and that makes you angry. 

The game is down to the wire, and the final ball is down to Chris and Dylan, your friends' partners. Dylan massages Chris’ shoulders, “Come on, buddy, you got this. For the win!” 

You all hold your breath as Chris releases the ball, and the boys celebrate the victory with loud cheers as it lands in the cup, having barely touched the sides. You, Laura, and Sara shoot another round of tequila. The sourness of the lemon you suck on adds to the disapproving look you catch Luke throwing your way.

Asshole. How dare he judge you! 

“I demand a rematch!” Laura declares. 

You agree. “My turn to buy the drinks.”

Sara escorts you to the bar. Though she masks it as helping you carry the drinks back to the table, you know she’s doing it to protect you from an unwanted visitor.

“I need the bathroom, but I’ll meet you back here,” Sara tells you, “if he comes over before I make it back, stomp on his foot and poke him in the eye.” 

You laugh, really belly laugh, because she’s totally serious, and it’s also hilarious to think he’d have the balls to actually approach you.

“Who’re we looking out for, honey?” the elderly woman beside you asks, lips pursed and looking sassy. 

Sara tells her, “Other end of the bar, tall white guy, blond hair.”

“Green shirt?” she asks for confirmation. 

“That’s the one.” 

“Uh-huh,” she tuts, “I know the type, handsome as an angel, spirit of the devil. You go on to the bathroom. I’ve got your friend until you get back.”

You don’t doubt the lady’s confidence. You wouldn’t mess with her. 

“Thank you, Miss…” 

“Call me Beverly,” she introduces, and Sara shakes her hand before skittering off to the bathroom. 

You wait your turn to be served, listening to your protector tell you all about her first husband, “the devil incarnate.” 

If only she knew. 

You face forward, not even side-glancing in Luke’s direction, not wanting to give him any inclination you may want to talk. You don’t. Beverly turns and rests her back against the bar to see the whole room without looking over her shoulder. 

“Oh, sweetie,” your new friend says, “there’s another one of those handsome-as-an-angel men walking this way, and I think he’s looking for you.” 

You still don’t turn, but look up into the mirror behind the bar and see him. Dean maneuvering around people and tables, coming straight toward you. 

Unintentionally, you gasp, a sheepish smile creeping in as you lock eyes with him in the mirror.

“From that reaction, I don’t think you need help with this one,” Beverly says, sweetly taking a step to the left to make room for Dean. 

“Hey,” he says, a half smile making him look a little awkward.  

“Hey,” you say as he leans in to kiss your cheek, and when he’s close, you whisper, “Everything okay?” 

He pulls back, nodding with a slight frown as if the question was offensive or something. “Yeah, everything is fine, just passing through and wanted to say hi.”

“Passing through?” you ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

His frown deepens, clearly trying to sell the lie, pretending to be confused by the suspicion.

You smirk. “Just happen to be passing through on Unattached Drifter Christmas?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “How much do you and Sam talk?” 

“A lot,” you confess, “emails, phone calls, memes, and then there’s the weekly newsletter.” 

“Busted.” He laughs, and it shakes off whatever anxiety he was feeling.

The bartender comes over and takes your order. You add on whatever Beverly is drinking for the rest of the night, which reminds you Sara has been gone a while. You turn around to look for her, and Dean looks over his shoulder. Sara’s back at the table. All of them are staring at you but quickly and comically turn around as if they weren’t when Dean finds them. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, “they’re just looking out for me cause Deputy Dick is here.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. “Is me being here going to be a problem?”

“Probably, but that's his problem.”

Dean laughs, and you really have missed it. The easy relationship you had seems to be a thing of the past, but you want it back. Maybe not the sex because you’ve realized that's where the problem lies. You want more from him than you'll ever get, but at least the friendship could be mended.

“But don’t waste your Christmas on me, Dean,” you say. It's subtle but enough to tell him that hooking up is off the table.

That disgruntled frown appears again, and he looks genuinely offended. “I’m not here ‘cause I think I’m gonna get laid.” He explains, shrugging. “Running into you isn’t a coincidence. I was on my way to your place because I didn’t want you to be alone tonight. Jody told me where you were.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to take from that?”

“Take it for what it is,” Dean suggests. “I’m trying.”

You can work with that. Trying to be friends sounds like just what you need. No pressure or expectations from either side, so you quickly squash the thought that it means something deeper that he’s choosing to spend time with you instead of finding a warm body to lie with. 

“Okay.” You smile, trying to look as sweet as possible. “Well, can part of that trying be helping us win at beer pong?” 

“Girls versus boys?”

“Obviously.”

He scoffs, “Absolutely not! And you get an extra shot for asking me to rig a sacred game.” He hands you a shot off the tray of drinks, and you knock it back. 

He watches you, grinning the whole time, and you shake your head as if it will shake away the taste. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Don’t try and soften me up, Winchester,” you warn, “I’m not gonna take it easy on you.” 

He shrugs, “Was worth a shot,” and walks away with the tray of drinks. 

Chris and Dylan merrily call his name as he approaches, and you follow, smiling fondly. 

“Now the odds are even. Prepare to go down, ladies,” Dean says, taking off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbow.

The games continued; the boys won at Beer Pong, but the girls won two rounds of darts. Once Chris and Dylan had gushed over the Impala, you said your goodbyes in the parking lot. Each of your friends hugged you. Dean got a kiss on the cheek from the ladies, and the guys gave him a firm handshake before pulling each other into a one-armed hug. It looked natural and easy, and you love how well Dean slots into the group.

You realize you’re staring as he drives, and he glances over when he feels your eyes on him. “Are we still social distancing or something?” he jokes, reaching a hand over to tug on your leg, requesting you get closer. 

You oblige, sliding over the leather seat, and he slips an arm behind your shoulders to rest on the seat back. “Thank you for that,” you say, kissing his cheek.

“For what?” he asks. 

“Pretending like you couldn’t hit that bullseye with your eyes closed.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be a mechanic, right? Not sure a mechanic would have perfect marksmanship.”

“If you’re not sold on the mechanic thing, you can always tell them you’ve changed your profession,” you suggest, and with a teasing wink, add, “but they all already know you’re good with your hands.” 

“Would you, for once, get your mind out of the gutter?” Dean jests, “I already told you, no sex for you.”

“Sorry, Mr Winchester, sir,” you joke, “I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

He laughs but looks out at the road. His fingers lightly brush your neck. You aren’t sure he realizes he’s doing it. When you were sleeping together, it became a thing - absentmindedly, he’d lightly stroke your skin while watching a movie or falling asleep. It's familiar and comforting, and you lay your head on his shoulder the rest of the ride home. 

Dean follows you up your path, and while you search your bag for your keys, you notice him looking to the left, eyes squinting, trying to see something too far away. 

“Wanna come in?” you ask, distracting him from whatever has caught his attention.

“It’s not a good idea,” he says, giving you his full focus, “I meant what I said, Y/N. I didn’t show up cause I was expecting to get laid.” 

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered throwing caution to the wind and jumping into old habits. And you're surprised by Dean’s rejection. He could have followed your lead and taken you to bed without any objections.

“Presumptuous much?” you counter, smirking. 

He smiles, all charm and smug joy, because he knows he’s right. “Don’t try and pretend you weren’t thinking about it.” He steps closer, crowding your space and gripping your hips to pull you against him. “You’ve been flirting with me all night.” 

“I can stop,” you threaten, but it falls flat as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He grins, “No, you can’t,” against your lips, kissing you before you can claim otherwise.

The kiss is not hesitant; it’s deep and long, but you feel him holding back. His hands don’t roam, remaining wrapped around your waist, but he takes his time, savoring the shared warmth, each brush of your tongues, every breath shared. 

Dean is the first to pull back. “I gotta go,” he swiftly kisses you again. “I told Jody I’d be there before midnight.” 

“Gonna turn into a pumpkin, Winchester?”

He laughs, pecking your lips again, but then his features soften, something close to pleading, “I’m trying,” he grumbles, but you're not sure if it's to remind you or himself.

He doesn’t say exactly what it is that he’s trying, but you know he means he’s trying to do things the right way, and that’s enough. “You're doing great,” you assure. 

He kisses you harder, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, and you let him in. He walks you backward until your back hits your door, and he groans when he presses himself into you. “Nope,” he scolds himself, pulling back and comically jogging away down the path, but while you're still laughing at him, he turns back. “Can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You smile, and it widens to a knowing grin. You spare him the OMG shock when the realization hits you, but you do ask, “Are we dating?” 

“Only if you say yes?”

“Pick me up at ten.”

He winks, unable to contain the boyish grin, and just as he opens his mouth to say something, a siren blasts, and a sheriff’s car pulls up to Baby’s bumper.

You walk a few feet to stand beside Dean as Travis, the rookie, and Luke, in plain clothes, step out of the vehicle. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean says.

Luke and Travis stand beside each other on the sidewalk but don’t approach you.

“Ten out of ten for dramatic flair,” you snark, clapping once. 

“But should have done it while I was kissing her,” Dean adds, “would have been way more dramatic.”

“I think you meant douchier,” you suggest with a confused frown. 

“You’re right,” Dean clicks his fingers as if you're right on the money, “I meant douchier.”

“Funny,” Luke says. “Travis, this man has been driving under the influence. Please breathalyze him.”

You put a hand on Dean’s arm to keep him in place should he decide Luke deserves another punch to the face. After all, he’s not in uniform. Travis is wise enough not to move. You're his boss. Luke has seniority over him but not over you. 

“Really?” Dean sneers. “That's all you got?”

“Go home, Luke,” you tell him, “you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“So what if I am,” he says, “I just wanna talk.” 

“We’ve talked,” you remind him. “You talked, I listened to your piss poor excuses, and it changed nothing.” 

“We were going to get married.”

You raise your voice, “That was a reaction to your cheating! You only asked me because you felt guilty, and I only said yes because…” you cut yourself off, but Dean looks at you, knowing what you had been about to say.

“We were good together,” Luke says, seemingly oblivious to the silent conversation that passed between you and Dean. “He’s just a,” Luke sneers at Dean. “What did you call it? A situationship.”

Dean tenses under your grip, and you know the comment had the intended effect. You’ll have to address it later.

Clenching his jaw, he briefly looks away before leveling a glare and taunting, “Dude, have some dignity. She’s already told you it’s over.” He practically growls his next words. “So leave.”

Luke ignores Dean, looking directly at you. “You're angry, I get it. But don’t make any rash decisions, please.” he implores.

“I was angry,” you agree, “I was furious, but now I’m indifferent. You were a rash decision, Luke, and I’m not saying that to be cruel or get back at you. It’s the truth.”

Saying those words aloud drives home your previous thoughts of why you started dating Luke. Getting engaged was a reaction to your feelings of rejection from Dean’s honesty about commitment. You release a breath as Luke’s face drops, finally seeming to understand.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

He shakes his head, blasting out a breath filled with disbelief. “We were never going to work out,” Luke realizes aloud, “you were too hung up on him.”

“Travis, I’m sorry you were dragged into this,” you sigh, “but please take Luke home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Luke stares for a second longer, but chooses not to say anything further, allowing Travis to usher him into the car.

Dean doesn’t move, watching the car disappear from view at the end of the street. Your heart pounds in your chest; you’ve just gotten to a good place, and now that might have all been unraveled.

Though you suspect not a lot of it is surprising to Dean. The day you told him about Luke, he’d begged you not to tell him you loved him and he was right for the assumption that you did - or do or might. You can not say it even reject the idea if anyone suggests it, but you can’t deny it to yourself. You sought out Luke to replace the emotions you felt weren’t reciprocated by Dean.

“Maybe I should take you to breakfast,” you suggest, with a nervous chuckle, “to make up for that. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you, but he’s looking you over like he’s trying to read the emotions behind the words. “You okay?”

Quickly, you reply, “Yeah, of course.”

“You sure? You look like a bit of ‘deer caught in headlights’.” 

“I’m okay,” you sigh, taking a deep breath. “Just a little worried that's undone all the progress we’ve made.”

“It hasn’t,” he tells you, slipping a hand on your hip and pulling you into him. “This situationship can handle an ex-situationship.”

You grimace, “I’m sorry.”

He laughs, nonplussed, “Don’t be. I’ve been called worse.” 

He silences your next apology with a deep kiss and slowly, seemingly reluctantly, pulls back. “I’ll pick you up at ten for breakfast.”

You're rambling again. Since Valentine’s Day, it’s been happening a lot. Dean knows why you're doing it. He can see it in your expression every time you catch yourself and stutter over the words, changing it to something else and hoping he doesn’t notice. 

The first time it happened, a few weeks ago, Dean thought he misheard you. You were both breathing heavily, your thighs pressed against his ears, holding him in place, writhing while you rode his tongue. He watched your face as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your body twitched, and your climax coated his tongue and wet the sheets, “I love yo…when you do that.”

Three days ago, after a double date with Sara and Dylan, Dean woke you up in bed with coffee and French toast. Still in the haze of sleep, you smiled contentedly, and it almost slipped out. “I love…” you coughed to cut yourself off, correcting it as you sat up, “I love French toast.” But he could see it in eyes, the adoration tainted with the fear of saying it aloud.

‘I love you’ is on the tip of your tongue, and it almost escaped a moment ago. 

A car accident had kept you late at work, so the dinner reservations had to be canceled, but Dean wouldn’t let it ruin the night. He’d ordered pizza, knowing you’d be starving when you got home, run a bubble bath (with the ulterior motive of joining you), popped open a bottle of your favorite wine - he hated it, thought it tasted like vinegar - and was waiting in the middle of the living room for you with the glass in hand. 

Taking the glass from him, you lazily kissed him. He could feel how tired you were. Listlessly, you mumbled, “Oh god, I love yo…” but had stifled it so quickly that the rim of the glass clinked against your teeth.

Clearly unable to think of an alternative, you began rambling about your day while unnecessarily blitzing around the already clean kitchen with a dishcloth.

He wants you to say it. He figured out how he felt about you when it finally sunk in after you’d told him you’d met someone else. It was more than physical, and it always had been. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have hurt so damn much when you told him about Luke.

He hasn’t said the words to you, but you have to know that’s how he feels. He told you he’s trying. Although, there haven’t been any conversations about exactly what that entails. He’s been more communicative. He’s made future plans - okay, only a week or so ahead at any given time, but that tells you all you need to know, right?

But the way you keep avoiding the phrase sets off a little ripple in his heart. Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll hightail it out the door like last time if you say it aloud. Maybe he needs to expand his communication skills. He says your name softly, but you either don’t hear him or pretend not to, afraid of what comes after.

“I should get you a key cut,” you blabber in. “Save you having to pick the lock next time I’m not home. Don’t want the neighbors calling it in. Mrs Brooks next door is always twitching her curtains.”

He tries again, “Y/N,” louder this time. 

“I need to put a load of laundry in,” you say, striding into the laundry room. 

“I did it already,” he calls after you. 

“I’ll put it in the dryer then.” 

He follows, trapping you inside the smaller space so you have no choice but to turn and face him.

“The laundry is done and folded in the basket in your room.” he continues, speaking to your back. “The kitchen is clean. Pizza is on the way. The bath should still be hot.” 

You finally look up at him, and there’s that apprehensive smile again, but your eyes are aglow with the words you chew your lip to suppress. 

“Just say it,” he sighs, trying to hide his smile. 

“Say what?” 

He steps closer, crowding your space and using a gentle touch to tilt your head up to keep your eyes on his. “You know what.” He smirks, teasing, “You can’t bite your tongue forever. So just say you love me.”

“I wasn’t biting…” you stammer, “I never…I only meant I was going to get a key cut for you. I didn’t mean anything….” 

“Would you please, shut up?” He silences your rambling with a hard kiss, grabbing your hips and hoisting you to sit on top of the dryer. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sigh placidly, but he pulls back and grins, “I’m trying to confess my love for you.”

You drop your gaze, avoiding eye contact. “Please don’t.” 

He notes your avoidance of looking at him, and panic sets in that maybe he’s got it wrong, again. But he hopes he’s right, so he chuckles, “giving me a taste of my own medicine.” 

You shake your head, “No. I don’t need to hear it, and you don’t have to say it ‘cause you think it's what I want to hear.” 

“That’s not what…” he tries, but you raise your voice to speak over him. 

“Dean, please!” you wait for him to close his mouth. “I like how things are now, and I don’t want to jinx it or have to watch your ass run for the door again.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, “it will be different this time.”

“We’ve been through this already. I don’t want promises, and we don’t need to open old wounds.”

“I get why you’re…”

The doorbell interrupts him, and you use the excuse to push him aside as you jump down and scurry out of the room.

He leans against the doorframe facing into the kitchen and listens to you thank the delivery guy. You must have given a generous tip because he thanks you multiple times as you say goodbye to him.

The click of the door closing echoes, and he waits for you to appear, but you don’t. He imagines you standing in the hallway, trying to calm yourself. 

He waits, counting the seconds in his head with the promise that he’ll go find you if he reaches thirty.

At fifteen, you enter, eyes glued to the floor, pizza balanced like a cocktail waitress. “I’m gonna go take that bath,” you tell him. “Hopefully, it's still warm.” 

You’re assuming the conversation is over. Only it isn’t. At least, not for him. He hasn’t been working up to it. He’s never had a grand plan for the first time he says it, but now he knows he needs to say it so you understand and believe him.

Silently, he watches you put a few slices of pizza on a plate - so he presumes he’s not invited to the bubble bath. The stopper gives an audible pop when you pull it from the wine bottle, like an exclamation point on his thoughts.

He clears his throat and proclaims, “I love you.”

The only indication that you heard him is your frozen state, bottle tipped, ready to pour into your glass. 

“It took me too long to figure that out, but I do. And saying it or not saying it out loud isn’t going to change a damn thing.”

You continue to pour the wine into your glass but don’t turn to face him, recorking the bottle and resting against the countertop.

You haven’t run away, so he continues, “I always knew we were good together, but now I see that we have a whole future of being good together, not just the here and now.”

Hesitantly, he stalks closer to you, watching you take a large gulp of the red liquid. You must hear his approach because you turn around but jump slightly at his proximity. 

“I’m ready to move forward,” he confesses, “and I want to do it with you.” 

“Are you done?” you ask, finally looking up at him with a teasing but joyful smirk under a shy gaze. “You’re on a roll there. I just want to be sure before I say anything.” 

He laughs but shakes his head once, “Nope.” He takes the glass from your hand and puts it beside the bottle. “One more thing,” he leans in closer, tilting your chin up, lips whispering over yours, “I love you.”

You chase his lips as he pulls back, “C’mon, you know you want to,” he teases, making no attempt to hide his smugness. He’s got you right where he wants you. “Just say you love me.”

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[coraskeeper]

⇢ 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹 𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 (𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗸𝘀, 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲) 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵

↳𝗳𝘁: 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹, 𝗸𝗶𝗱, 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿, 𝗴𝗻! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

↳𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁-𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄, 𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵 𝗳𝗲𝘁𝗶𝘀𝗵??, 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀

↳𝘄𝗰: 𝟭.𝟱𝗸

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐄𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬

soul doesn’t even remember why he invited you over, he just made up some lame excuse to be close to you and- you fell for it. so uncool. he’s playing a video game on his bed next to you as you swipe through tiktok, coming across an odd video. the boy paid you little attention only glancing over at you maybe once or twice every few minutes. his ruby orbs full of confusion as you stuffed your finger inside of your mouth rubbing along your teeth, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

he just turns a blind eye to your antics at first, chalking it up to just one of those weird you things. 

he ignores you up until he feels you frantically crawl across the bed until you're leaning onto his shoulder, urging him to pause his game because what you had to do was way too important to wait.

“ you wanna do what? “

“ wanna touch your teeth, just this once “

he wants to say no but the way you're staring up at him with your bottom lip jutted out is just too much and he rolls his eyes before giving in to your whines.

it catches him off guard when you sit up and swing a thigh over his lap while tilting his head back to get a better view of his mouth.

his view of you on top of him was all too real, too heavenly and he was starting to lose him resolve quickly. your painted fingernail traced his bottom lip before prodding his mouth and glazing your finger across his sharp teeth.

his heart was in his ass and his pale skin felt like it was melting with how intimate this position was, accidentally letting out a deep groan when you squeezed his jaw to gain more access to the inside of his mouth.

“ your teeth are so pretty, soul “ you mumbled to him, an innocent smile gracing your pretty brown skin, “ so cool “.

you pulled your finger back from his mouth, a string of his saliva sticking to it before you shifted your position a little, souls hand flying to your waist to keep your hips in midair.

he knew you were about to make yourself right at home in his lap but he was so painfully hard that if you were to squat down just a little, you’d feel it.

though he was rather cool, he was about to lose his mind and he wanted out of whatever weird situation you’d put him in, “ are you done now? “

you pout, “ boo, you’re no fun soul “

you climb off of him and head to the bathroom to wash your hands, him frantically trying to readjust his hard on and hide it from you before you got back.

seriously, i'm not some teenage boy anymore yet i'm sitting here popping boners at the stupidest crap.. so uncool.

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊��𝐝

he wasn’t even sure how he found himself in such a childish predicament.

you standing over him, all pretty and symmetrical, in an apron, worried eyes focused on his mouth as one of your hands were on the nape of his neck and the other hand two fingers pressing down lightly on his tongue.

then there was him, sweat starting to form under his bangs and heat creeping up his neck and ears, hands thrown haphazardly across his lap as he sat in the kitchen chair, hard.

you had decided to cook for him, liz, and patty today to thank them for saving your ass on a mission a few days ago.

kid had been crushing on you for quite some time, falling in love with how unique you were instantly. you were good at almost anything you put your mind to and he admired that about you.

so, as one does- he finds any little excuse to be in your presence.

patty and liz sat comfortably in their living room while kid offered to help you in the kitchen as you looked for him, it was very ungentlemanly of him to not help a lady in need.

while you were turned around cutting some vegetables for the salad, kid watched over your soup for you as you instructed.

when you asked him to taste it for you to make sure it had enough seasoning, you hadn’t thought he’d shove the whole spoon into his mouth without blowing first.

kid couldn’t even register what happened after he dropped the metal spoon against the floor, after letting out a loud pained gasp holding his mouth, he blinked and you were standing between his legs as he sat in a chair from his dining room table.

your face contorted in worry as you eye his tongue and bottom lip again, “ damn kid, i know you’re a shinigami and everything but you’ve gotta be careful “

he simply nodded, watching as you puckered your soft brown lips to blow on his bottom lip a little, it sent a shiver right up his spine and right back down to his nether regions.

he wants to just lean up and take your lips right now, take you right in the middle of the kitchen but- he must digress.

the last thing he’d want to do is turn the situation into something it wasn’t and make you uncomfortable, and there was no way your first kiss with him would be in his kitchen with your fingers shoved in his mouth. 

your soft fingers pushing down against him tongue a little, “ does this hurt? “, you look him in the eyes and his knees go weak.

he felt like a pervert, his mind giving him way more compromising images of you with your fingers roaming his mouth.

“ nuh uh “

your fingers coated in his spit as he turns even more red if possible, your thumb catching his bottom lip and he almost moans, “ how about here? “

“ im okay, thank you “

you give him a once over before leaving back with a sigh and heading over to the sink to wash your hands, “ be more careful “

“ i-i apologize “, though he’s lying right through his teeth.

he knows it’s wrong and he feels so dirty being strained against his slacks and boxers like this. kid doesn’t feel a bit sorry, contrary to his apology.

instead, he’s now contemplating how he should hurt himself next.

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐭𝐚��

if there was one thing black star loved to do with you, it was train.

you were an amazing fighter and he was honored to spar with you. over the course of the few years he’d known you, he’d fallen for you and your subtle charms. 

he loved when those pretty glowing orbs of yours whenever you stared at him with such determination as sweat dripped off your body.

you happened to be a little more aggressive today than usual, coming at him with more force than you should’ve but the great black star could handle it, right?

for a moment he let his guard down, eyes dragging over your worn out body, tanned skin glistening under the harsh beams of the sun.

thwack!

your foot connecting with his jaw sending him flying back onto the ground holding his hands over his mouth, your frantic screaming filling his ears.

“ oh my god, black star im sorry, are you- OH GOD YOU'RE BLEEDING! “, he stared up at you blankly as you tugged his upper half towards you kneeling over his lap.

he hadn’t even felt the pain to be honest and a little blood never hurt him, but having you over him in such a compromising position had him stuck. his piercing blue eyes trained over your sweaty face.

one of your arm’s slung across his shoulders, “ open, let me see “

he hadn’t even noticed you grab a stray water bottle to rinse your hands before you stuck two of your fingers in his mouth, examining his swollen tongue. his stomach churning and his face turning red.

“ im sorry, i shouldn't have kicked you so hard “, your voice is soft and soothing, but he didn’t even hear you.

shifting to get a better view of the inside of his mouth, he could say he was containing himself pretty well until you connected your hips to his lower stomach and this became too much for him to handle.

the stimulation was more than what he agreed to when he let you claim your spot over his thighs with your small fingers caressing his tongue.

his hands flying up to grip your hips with a groan, one you thought was because of the pain you caused him from the kick, when in reality- it was because he popped a stiff in his sweats.

his hard on standing at attention right under you, he was so tempted to just slide your hips down right over him, have you take responsibility for your actions.

“ you didn’t swallow any blood did you? “, looking down at his now half lidded eyes with worry, him giving you an airy groan against your fingers in response.

pulling you hand back from his mouth, your thumb softly swiping across his bottom lip to collect some of the blood and drool left.

your hips grinding against him in a sensual way as you looked at the bruise left on his chin, this was so dirty but he was loving every bit of it. almost cumming in his pants like a 13 year old boy.

“ maybe i should take you to the nurse? “, you unattached yourself from him grabbing his empty water bottle off the ground walking ahead.

he sat there dejected in a cold sweat, what the literal fuck .

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Supposedly 

A/N: this was a request sent in that inspired me a lot for some reason and i figured i’d do it cause i haven’t done any demon!h and demon!reader in a while so i gave it a go and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out :D enjoy!

Anonymous: This may be too cutesy for them, but do demon!harry and demon!reader ever cuddle after they fuck? Or they fall asleep separately but wake up in each other’s arms and just try to play it off awkwardly 

word count: 4.5k

content: some angst but nothing major, fluff, mentions of nudity, and some cocky asshole demon!h because that’s his Brand laidese and germs!!

///

Despite the emotionless, unattached agenda demons tend to uphold, let it be known that Harry didn’t really mind what was happening at the moment. 

On the surface level, from an outside perspective, this definitely doesn’t fit the bill for what is expected from his kind. Cuddling is an action reserved usually for real couples that have a sentimental bond, which he and Y/N are very much not. He’s not even quite sure what they are, really. Their relationship— if he can even call it that— was born out of three very important, adequately limiting notions: a mutual understanding, the desire for a convenient warm body, and sheer boredom. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

The mutual understanding was that neither of them wanted a genuine significant other, given what they are, so it was established that feelings were to be kept out of this arrangement completely. Emotions lead to complications, complications lead to a falling out, and a falling out would be inexplicably messy considering that they’ve shared the same friend group for well over a decade now and neither are willing to let a booty call mishap ruin that. Feelings stay dormant, end of discussion. 

The desire for a convenient warm body is pretty self-explanatory— Harry and Y/N had known each other for a while now so there was no annoying getting to know you phase, they both agreed that they found the other attractive, and they both live relatively close to one another so it was a pleasant set-up with minimal issues. Harry could shoot her a text at three in the morning and she’d be at his place in less than five minutes, or vice versa. There was no spending hours at a bar trying to pick someone up, no time wasted learning what the other person likes and dislikes, and certainly no fretting over birth control tactics to keep up appearances— they were both dead, which is a morbid advantage but an advantage nonetheless. It was easy access, easy fun, and easy clean-up. 

The sheer boredom aspect was just that. It had started on a drunken night out with friends, where— by a series of fortunate events— Harry and Y/N had ended up together post-bender, sitting in his car in the parking lot of a club. They had been waiting for him to sober up to drive them home and she had made a passing comment about not wanting to turn in for the night quite yet. He’d blinked at her sluggishly, absentmindedly reaching over to tuck a rouge strand of hair behind her ear because he was getting secondhand irritation from it tickling her nose. He’d spoken up, voice numb and thick from the alcohol. “What do you wanna do, then?”

Y/N had glanced over at him, eyes half-lidded as they had raked down his lean tattooed chest, his unbuttoned silk sheer shirt leaving very little to the imagination. When she’d pinned her gaze back up to his, her eyes had inked black as they’d flitted to the palm of his hand for a second, a suggestive glint washing across their reflective surface as the corner of her pretty mouth had quirked. “I have a decent idea of exactly what I wanna do.”

And now here they were, with many restless, heated nights, ruined bed frames, and rumpled sheets littering their past, as well as their immediate future. 

And here Harry was, slowly blinking awake after one of those said nights, cruel scratches itching across his back as they finish up healing, an empty content still bubbling at the pit of his stomach. 

His lashes flutter open as he inhales a large sigh, flinching at the bright sunlight filtering its way through the lightly swaying curtains. The only sound in the room is the soft thrum of the air vent at the far corner of the ceiling, alongside Y/N’s soft, rhythmic breathing. 

In his barely conscious state, Harry goes to do what he always does the morning after he’s spent a night doing Y/N’s back in: he goes to stretch. He does most of the work more times than not— courtesy of his dominant tendencies— but she always gives him a run for his soul. Anything he dishes out, she usually returns with the same amount of energy and will. Last night hadn’t been any different and the ache at the bottom of his spine and along his inner thighs proves it. 

Harry instinctively goes to lift his arms above his head, reaching for the top of the headboard to use it as support. He is stopped cold when he realizes a foreign weight is keeping one of his arms pinned to the bed. 

He knuckles at his eyes with his free hand, ridding them of the last residues of sleep, and then drags his palm up his face and through his mussed curls to comb away his disorientation. He cranes his sore neck to the side and downwards, eyebrows jolting up in surprise when he’s met with a wall of fluffy, tangled, mandarin-scented hair. 

Harry lifts his head up slightly, neck straining to see over the back of Y/N’s wild halo to make sure that the image before him isn’t some type of exhaustion-induced mirage. 

It’s odd for her to be so near him— she usually likes her space; says that being too close in proximity for too long is irritating. It’s why she usually sleeps with her back to him at the other end of the bed, and why he’s gotten accustomed to giving her the majority of the mattress space. Despite the fact that it’s his flat, she’s stubborn, hard-headed, argumentative and frankly, he’d rather just forfeit the extra leg room instead of bickering for thirty minutes just to end up losing anyways. It’s gentlemanly, in a sense. Minimal, but it’s something.

Given Y/N’s general disgust for excess contact, it’s no shock as to why Harry is utterly baffled right now. He’s about ninety-eight percent sure she’d fallen asleep all the way across the expanse of his sheets so how did they willingly end up here? How did they end up with her bare back pressed to his chest, her legs intertwined between his, and his arm wrapped almost protectively around her waist, wedged between her hips and the bed. 

Harry would never outright admit it but...he’s not necessarily mad about it. 

As he lays there for a few more seconds, absorbing the situation with an expression of pensive dismay pinching his face, he slowly comes to terms that he’s actually starting to enjoy this.

The warmth of her smooth skin gradually undoes the knot of confusion between his brows. The sensation of her back flushing against his chest as it rises and falls with her breathing erases the unease dipping the corners of his stinging mouth. The way she’s started to unconsciously rub her calves gently up and down his own makes the last traces of unsettlement melt off his face, replaced by an appearance of subtle affection, lips parting in blank wonder. 

Harry relaxes back into the plushness of the mattress, eyes remaining glued to a blissfully ignorant Y/N. His thoughts are scurrying around the inside of his skull, attempting to get accustomed with this new experience, having a difficult time arranging into place. He’s aware that he seems to be taking easily to what’s unfolding, but there’s an unsteady bubble inflating in his chest. He knows that if he lets himself dwell in this too much, it’ll end up biting him in the ass later, most likely as a wave of undealt emotions and crippling loneliness; that’s baggage he’s spent too many years compartmentalizing for it to all just come bursting out. 

All those decades of locking away his issues are in danger of resurfacing, and all for some harmless hugging? Doesn’t seem like a fair negotiation, and he knows plenty about negotiations. 

However, he can’t seem to make himself pull away. 

Especially not when Y/N suddenly shifts in her sleep, turning onto her other side so that she's now facing him, snuggling deeper into his body and tucking her head into the junction between his neck and collarbones. Her annoyingly soft, hot lips smear against his throat, settling into the dip at the center where a pulse would normally be present. The feeling of her exhales washing across his cold skin sends a wringing down his spine, a hushed “fuck…” escaping his dry mouth as the warmth behind the gesture spreads upwards, spilling redness into his cheeks and along the shells of his ears. Her hands come up as loose fists, pressing between his pectorals lightly, her own naked chest flushing against her forearms. 

Surprisingly enough, her supple chest isn’t at the forefront of his mind at this instant. Instead, he’s focused on the intimacy they’re sharing in this moment, unbeknownst to her and stressfully beknownst to him. 

Harry’s free hand acts of its own accord, coasting upwards towards her face and moving her chin over a bit until his palm can comfortably nurse her jaw. He rubs the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip slowly, every ridge and bump sending miniature shots of electricity surging through his veins, his eyes falling shut at this strange form of pleasure he hasn’t felt in ages. 

Y/N just looks so beautiful like that, in such a vulnerable state that he knows for sure no one else has ever gotten to witness— at least not in a very long time. 

No one else has gotten to see the way her lashes sit atop her cheekbones so delicately, her face soothed by sleep, not a wrinkle or grimace in sight. She looks as if she were made of porcelain, her features nothing short of perfect. No one has gotten to witness the way she mumbles a handful of incoherent, groggy words, her mind lost in a meaningless dream, or the way her nose twitches in the cutest manner as a draft from the air conditioning runs across it, causing her to sniffle. No one has seen the way she gives into his touch, her face cradling deeper into his hand, chasing the uncommon gentleness behind his demeanor and it hadn’t occurred to Harry that maybe— just maybe— she’s craving this type of innocent bliss, too, though he’s certain she would never confess to it if she were awake. 

Harry runs his hand down the slope of her bruised neck and across the curve of her shoulder, tracing the teeth marks he had left the night before. The tip of his fingers follow down the incline of her torso, wriggling around her side, his wrist resting upon the faint dip of her waist. He cups her lower back with his large hand, borrowing a moment to appreciate the way it fits flawlessly. He then leans forward some to give his reach more length, his digits carefully trailing up the middle of her spine, the action timid and tranquil. 

He looks down at her from over the tops of his colored cheeks, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he continues to lull his fingers up and down her back. Y/N releases a shy whimper of gratitude, her whole body bathing in a light shiver. She does like it.

Harry swallows thickly, moving away a few locks of hair off her shoulder with the tip of his nose, glassy jade irises studying her facial expressions to make sure she’s still asleep. He puckers his tingling lips, pressing a bundle of chaste kisses to the fading bite marks on her staticy skin. If his heart still beat, he feels like it would be glowing right now. 

He tilts his chin up, settling it on top of her head and sighing in satisfaction as he feels her steady breathing wash across his Adam’s Apple, her flyaway hairs tickling his nostrils. 

He decides to stay like that for a while,  just basking in her company within this tender setting that he knows he probably won’t receive again anytime soon. Harry lays there, limbs woven between Y/N’s as his black-polished nails scratch gently at her back, swimming in his numb thoughts. 

After what feels like hours— but is realistically just ten minutes— he goes to gingerly shift the arm stuck beneath her body, trying to regain some circulation. Y/N stirs, resulting in him freezing in place to prevent a mishap, his mouth finding her warm forehead and placing a lingering kiss between her brows. It eases her. 

Harry waits five minutes before trying again.

He manages to escape this time around, lifting his arm above his head and twisting out the cramp in his wrist, then folding it behind his head. He allows his eyes to shut once again, intent on spending a bit longer milling in this bubble of domestic peace.

His plan is shattered to pieces by an alarmed, angry sentence. 

“What the fuck?”

His eyelids fly open, ice materializing across his entire nervous system. 

Shit.

Y/N launches upwards, sitting up rigidly with her face contorted in startled repulsion, clutching his blood red sheets to her chest as her hair stands up in tousled tuffs. “What in Lucifer’s red, barren hell are you doing?”

Harry now has two distinctive routes to pick from: confess to partaking in the unorthodox cuddling, or fake it and say he was asleep as well and that it had all been an unintentional mistake. 

It’s hardly a choice. 

He flings his arms away from the other demon’s body as if sickened, shooting up into a seated position and slouching back onto his palms, a look of agitated horror plastered across his sleepy, handsome features. “What do you mean what am I doing? What the fuck were you doing?”

Y/N blinks at him as if he’d just stabbed her between the eyes with a demon blade, irises momentarily flitting black with nerves, the area under her waterline webbing with dark veins. “What do you mean what was I doing? You were the one with your arms around me!”

Harry narrows his sight at her pointedly, thick brows furrowing with faux resentment. “You were the one with your head snuggled into my neck and your hands on my chest!”

“You were the one kissing my forehead!”

“You were the one rubbing up on my legs!”

“Because you were close to me!”

“Because you rolled over here!” 

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh, so what?” Harry snaps sarcastically, drawing forward and crossing his arms over his chest adamantly. “Did an angel sneak in and place you there? Because as I recall, you always sleep on the left side of the bed, so what were you doing on the right?”

Harry’s accurate counter renders Y/N speechless, her mouth parting quizzically as if waiting for a response to magically appear. Her eyebrows cinch down begrudgingly, the gears in her head spinning on overdrive, trying to piece together an appropriate rebuttal. Her grasp tightens on the blanket covering her bare body. “Well, I...I don’t know—I don’t think I—”

Harry cocks his head to the side expectantly, loose curls falling across his forehead as he shrugs his brows with a condescending air. He mimics her with a high-pitched voice. “Well, I— I don’t know— I—I don’t think I—I—I—”

Y/N’s face goes sour as heat floods her cheeks, fire threatening to spark across the tips of her sizzling ears. She yanks the sheets off of him, holding them with one hand as she uses the other to begin crawling across the bed towards the edge, a haphazard defense thrown over her shoulder. “Shut up! It wasn’t on purpose!”

Harry scoffs in dark amusement, not even bothering to cover himself up. He bites into his cheek to keep from exploding into a round of triumphant laughter; he can’t believe he managed to turn the tides so quickly. “Oh, so you admit it was you, then?”

Y/N dismounts the atrociously tall bed, stumbling over the long linens as she desperately searches for her clothes. “No! I’m just saying that whatever happened, it didn’t happen intentionally!” 

“Obviously.” The brunette demon snorts, shaking his head for subtle emphasis, crossing his ankles offhandedly and returning both arms to the place where one had been prior— tucked behind his head casually. “What do you think we are, mortal?” 

“Of course not.” Y/N agrees quickly— a little too quickly, which hints to Harry that she might be trying to cover something up. Perhaps she wasn’t as disgusted by this as she had led on…

He watches as his friend— he uses the term lightly— shuffles around his room, peering at the floor in an determined quest to find her jeans, underwear, and black lace blouse. Or maybe she’s just hellbent on avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Y/N…” His tone has lost its arrogantly mocking edge, softened by what she can only decode as...guilt? 

She ignores it and doesn’t answer, nearly passing out in relief when she spots her panties and bra hanging off the doorknob to his closet. She snatches them swiftly, panning her gaze around the rest of the room for her leftover clothes, spotting them in a pile sticking out from underneath the opposite corner of the bed. They’d probably gotten kicked there in the heat of the moment. 

Harry repeats himself a little louder, adding onto his comment to try and stifle some of the embarrassment radiating from her. “Y/N, you don’t have to leave. You usually stay for breakfast.” 

Y/N scoops up her outfit, settling it into the crook of her right elbow and squaring her shoulders as if ready to brace a hellhound. Their gazes lock and he feels his stomach flop when he sees the vulnerability she’s obviously trying to hide. She’s good at it, he’ll give her that, but if he stares intently enough, he can just make out the traces of conflicted longing leaking into the disinterested facade around her pupils. 

“It’s fine, Harry.” She sighs heavily, her tone drastically different from the unkempt girl that had been floundering about just seconds ago. She’s now calm, cool, collected, and scaringly so. “I have somewhere to be later. Meeting someone to close a deal.”

She shrugs one shoulder indifferently, grabbing a handful of the sheets arranged around her figure and pulling away, dropping the bedspread at his feet and leaving herself completely nude. 

And there she is, the Y/N he so well knows. The same one that uses sex appeal as a shield. 

She’s managed to spackle the cracks that had appeared in her typical barrier of heartlessness, her confidence and ease leveling off once again. She places her clothes on top of the crumpled sheets, picking out her cheeky bright red panties from the heap and working them up her tempting legs. Harry can’t help but notice the hickies covering her inner thighs, as well as the finger prints staining her hips. 

Y/N catches him ogling, smirking to herself now that she has her composure back in order. She hooks her index finger around one of the straps in her bra, lifting it up and bouncing the lace lingerie in front of him teasingly. She raises her eyebrows at her lover provokingly, a sultry air pouting her lips. “Think you can help a girl out?”

Harry licks at his slightly chapped lips thoughtfully, eyes flickering between the article hanging off her hand to the sly grin decorating the edges of her pretty mouth. When he speaks, it’s low and thicker than usual, accent heavy. “Of course, pet.”

His legs thunk emptily off the bed and onto the floor, a small grunt catching the back of his throat as he pushes himself up onto his feet. He is most definitely sore. 

His footsteps are soft against the carpeted ground, faltering as he rounds the corner of the mattress. 

Y/N eyes his every move, suckling her bottom lip at the way his muscles flex and contract under his sun-kissed skin. She doesn’t let herself wander below his waist though; she’s never one to pass up flaunting her power of will. 

Harry stops about a foot away, taking the bra from she is offering and holding it out for her to slip into. She does so at a mind-numbing pace, her toes curling as she feels his warm fingertips running the material up her arms and onto their designated spot on her shoulders. He tugs at the hooks gently, pinning them into place and tucking the tag in, exactly how he’s seen her do countless of times before. 

He then runs the palms of his hands up her arms, sighing softly at the silky sensation of her skin and giving her shoulders a dismissive squeeze. “All done.” 

Y/N turns on her heels to face him, looking up innocently through her lashes, lips quirking into an easy smile. “Thank you. Such a gentleman.” 

Her playfully seductive personality is unbearably contagious, seen in how Harry returns her action with a coy scoff and a simper of his own. “For you, always.”

“Well…” Y/N turns her lower half to the side, showing him her ass for significance, which is covered in the unmistakable print of his hand and rings. “I wouldn’t say always.” 

Harry’s pursed lips break into an even wider shit-eating grin, his cheeky laughter echoing across the walls of the apartment, his arms absentmindedly folding across his broad chest. “Yeah, well, you can’t say it’s one-sided, can you?”

He points towards his neck, stretching his chin upwards so that she gets a good view of all the fading love bites she’d left there the night before. 

Y/N’s giggles match his. “Touché.”

Harry rummages through his drawers as she finishes getting dressed, shimmying into her tight jeans and throwing her shirt on, finger-combing her hair into a decent state. He comes up with a pair of maroon briefs, slipping them on as he walks back towards her, letting the elastic band snap into place against his lower abdomen. 

The two demons with benefits stand before each other, Y/N with her braided black sandals swung over her shoulders and Harry with his hands fixed on his hips nonchalantly. 

“You really can’t stay for breakfast?” Harry inquiries one last time, lifting his eyebrows curiously. “I’m making those cinnamon bun waffles you like so much.” 

Y/N sighs grandly, clutching her chest dramatically as if it physically hurts her to decline his offer. “I’d love to, but work is work. Don’t really have a say.” 

Her friend nods in understanding, well aware of the truth behind her words. “It is what it is, then.” 

“However...” Her sudden continuation makes his head perk. She reaches up, carding her fingers into his messy curls and combing them back from his face, tucking a handful of rebellious ringlets behind his small ears and giving him one final self-assured smile. “Do y’think you could maybe save me two and I can come pick them up tonight?”

Harry cranes his head to the side, placing a slow peck to the palm of her hand and then biting into her skin jokingly, a certain lewdness painted all over the deed. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Great.” Y/N quips happily, wrapping his curls around her knuckles roughly and hauling him in for a sloppy, dirty kiss that leaves his teeth numb and his face buzzing. 

Once she breaks their mouths, lightly panting with her skin a darker shade than before, he has to blink three times in order to reign himself back in. His ability to form coherent sentences right now is about as useful as alphabet soup; he just gives her a jerky nod instead. 

Y/N wipes at his swollen lips with the pad of her thumb, giving his cheek a playful pat. “I’ll see you then, H.” 

Harry can’t tear his eyes away as she leaves, his bedroom door clicking shut behind her, the soft, distant thunk of his front door accompanying the sound a bit later. 

Fuck, that was something is the first comprehensible thought that registers in his mind. 

It was absolutely something and who knows how differently it would have gone if he had admitted giving into the weakness they had both sworn off of. 

That notion haunts him for a while— the idea that he could have driven her away for good if he had confessed that his emotions had bleed through their arrangement. Sure, it had only been this once, but Harry has a horrible gut-wrenching feeling that he’s unlocked a box deep in the back of his skull that won’t easily be chained down again. 

He thinks this over again and again as he prepares his morning meal, the looming uncertainties of it all causing him to check out of reality here and there, resulting in a few burn marks across his hands and two charred waffles in the bin. 

As Harry finally sits down to enjoy the food that had nearly not made it to his plate, he finds himself mentally running through the awkward encounter he and Y/N had faced this morning. He can’t stop himself from dwelling on the expression he had seen crack through her eyes earlier— one that showed she seemed to be feeling the same kind of emotional turmoil he was. It opens too many unanswered questions for their future and he hates himself for being so worried when nothing had truly happened. For all he knows, it could have just been a trick of the sunlight that had been streaming into the room. He’s getting himself out of sorts for nothing. 

However, as he goes in on a forkful of his cinnamon-glazed pastry, one pesky detail suddenly launches him into a coughing fit. 

It was so minuscule he had missed it the first fifty times he had run through the events, but it had decided to prick him in the brain now, the weak dam of reassurance he had built crumbling to ashes.  

After Y/N had woken up, saw what was happening, and their fight had ensued, she had made a comment about how Harry had kissed her forehead. 

On the surface, it had seemed unimportant because yes, that is exactly what he had done. The problem arose when he remembered that she had been dead asleep when he had done that. 

Supposedly.

He had gone to remove his arm from below her body, she had fussed a bit, he had pressed his lips to her forehead to ease her, and she had remained asleep for a while longer until he decided to finish removing his arm. That final motion was what had awoken her.

Supposedly. 

If she had been unconscious the whole time they were cuddling, then how did she know he’d kissed her?

[bel0vedmendes]

Inevitable : AU Part 2

BrothersFriend!Shawn x Reader

Words: 3,531

Warnings: Language, Drinking, Smoking,

Description: When Jason left, he made Shawn (his best friend) promise to keep a watchful eye on Y/N. He swears that we will. Along with the help of Brian and Kyle, he keeps his promise. As Y/n gets older the dynamic of their relationship begins to change. Will they figure out what they mean to each other or will Shawn always see her as his best friend’s little sister?

A/N: Part 1 is in my masterlist in my Bio! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list! :) 

I prop the picture of me and Jason up on my nightstand. Laying back on my bed, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of my newfound freedom. My quiet moment was quickly ruined by two large men, body slamming me on my bed. I immediately started to push them away groaning as they stand from the bed, each of them examining a different area of my new room.

“Its cute. You like it?” Brian asks as he picks up the picture of Jason and I, smiling at it.

“I do. I really do. Thank you, guys, again,” I say quietly, knowing sentimental wasn’t quite their forte.

“How else would we keep an eye on you during your first year of college,” Kyle changes the subject, while he takes note of the girls standing beside me in one of my photos.

“I mean, if you’re gonna party… you should do it with us,” Brian confesses sitting down next to me. 

“Speaking of party, lets have one tonight to celebrate you moving in,” Kyle interrupts, taking the photo of me and my friends from its spot on the wall. He holds it up in front of my face, pointing to my friend Gabriella. “And can you please invite her?” He asks with a huge cheesy smile on his face. I quickly scoff and roll my eyes, snatching the photo from his hand and putting back into its place.

“She wouldn’t give you the time of day, Kyle,” I snorted, booping his nose as I did. He rolls his eyes overdramatically in response.

“For real though, party tonight?” He asks laying back in my bed.

“You down, y/n?” Brian asks, as smashes one of my pillows down onto Kyle’s face.

“Of course, I am. Let’s do it,” I smile at the mischievous boys, excited to become part of the mischief with them finally.

They immediately started texting their friends, the ones that were always down for a party. I invited some of my own friends, knowing Kyle would be grateful. I didn’t know how to dress for a house party, at my own house. I decided to dress super casual with skinny jeans, converse, and a white V-neck. I threw a buffalo printed plaid around my waist, so I didn’t look so bland. I decided to wear my hair natural, I didn’t want it to look like I was trying too hard because I wasn’t. I did light makeup with the same intentions. When I walked out to see what the boys were wearing, I rolled my eyes to see that they hadn’t even changed their clothes. I walked into the kitchen to find a huge keg sitting in the corner, my eyes widening because I didn’t think we would be going that big.

“A keg, really,” I chuckle asking out loud.

“Uhm, we always get a keg. We make people pay 10 dollars to drink from it,” Brian says using the keg to fill up his red Solo cup. I nod at him, glancing at the clock. 8:23 pm. I had so many questions I wanted to ask. This was my first real college party; I had no clue what to expect. I guess Brian could sense my nervousness because he handed me a cup of the bubbly yellow liquid, smirking as he did. I smiled back at him slowly taking a sip from the cup and gagging audibly. Brian immediately starts laughing at my reaction.

“You’ll get used to it,” He says patting my shoulder as he walks away as he hears a knock at the door. He goes to answer it and Shawn walks in raising his brows at me when he sees the red cup in my hand. I immediately winked and raised the glass up to him. He shook his head in disapproval, but with a smile on his face showing that he clearly wasn’t that upset about. He walked over to the couch and sat by Kyle. Pretty soon the entire house was full of people. Four of my friends had shown up, and they were just as nervous as I was. I followed Brian’s lead and handed them a cup of beer, it helped. We all talked quietly as we observed the people that came to the party. There was a group of people in the kitchen playing beer pong, they were loud and over dramatic. There were stoners in the corner of the living room passing a joint around, I guess the boys didn’t care because Kyle was currently taking a hit. I silently chuckled as my eyes panned and met with a pair of familiar whiskey colored ones. My heart started to speed up looking at the curly headed boy across the room. I bit my lip trying not to smile to hard, then his eyes were pulled from mine as he looked down at the annoying blonde wrapped around his waist. I visibly rolled my eyes and I didn’t care if he saw it or not. Jessica, or Jessie is what she had people call her. She was the human form of a soul sucking demon, also identified as Shawn’s girlfriend. I watched as she hung all over him and demanded attention from him, my stomach turning as she did. I couldn’t figure out why he liked her, she wasn’t the type of girl I imagined Shawn falling in love with. Although, I don’t think he loves her, I think he’s bored.  

“Y/n, stop staring,” Gabriella jabs me in the side, pulling me out of my rage induced trance. I take a deep breath grabbing her hand, and we quickly walk over to the keg filling our cups with more beer. Brian was right, I did get used to it.

“Gab, I just don’t get what he see’s in her. She’s needy and clingy, not to mention she’s a straight up Bitch…” I start to rant, noticing Gabriella’s eyes widen as she slowly starts to shake her head, signaling this was not the moment to be talking about this. I quickly turn around gasping when I realize Shawn was right behind me. He slowly takes his hand and brushes it over the redness on my cheeks.

“Getting a little drunk, hmm?” He asks sarcastically. His hand still on my face, making it hard for me to breath. I suddenly swat it away from me.

“Not drunk. Perfectly sober,” I say confidently, a loud hiccup following. Shawn just laughs at my attempt to be normal. He rubs the top of my head walking passed me and to the beer pong table were Brian was waiting for him to take place as his partner for the new round. I quickly turned back around to Gabriella.

“How much did he hear?!” I wailed, causing her to laugh.

“I don’t think he heard anything besides the end, and you could have been talking about anyone,” She says reaching up to fix the hair that Shawn messed up, calming my nerves instantly. I breathe a sigh of relief instantly searching around to see where everyone was around the crowded house. My other two friends were being entertained by a few of Kyle’s friends from the soccer team. Shawn and Brian were currently off to an impressive lead at the beer pong table, the smile on Shawn’s face was intoxicating. I had to smile back as I watched them play. Of course, I noticed how annoyed Jessica looked. She was picking at her nails completely unattached from everyone in the room. She was probably pissed because Shawn wasn’t giving her all of his attention. I sighed deeply trying not to be phased by the annoying girl, but it was inevitable. Next thing I know I’m being pulled to the beer pong table by Kyle.  

“You gotta play Pong to make it official. Me and you against Shawn and Bri,” He says as he lines the cups up in the perfect sequence, making sure each cup was touching. I looked up from my side of the table to see a cocky Shawn and Brian staring back at me.

“You’re not gonna take it easy on me, are you?” I ask crossing my arms, as the boys refill their cups.

Shawn walks over to me wrapping his arms around my shoulders and hugging me tight planting a kiss on my forehead.

“Do we ever?” He giggles smushing my cheeks in between his hands. I push him away giggling like a child, and I can’t help but notice how Shawn’s affection towards me has pissed off Princess Jessica. Kyle quickly explains the house rules of the game, and says I have to know them because this is my house now too. I nod and pretend to take it as serious as he is. 

We start playing and from the start Shawn and Brian are kicking our asses. I started to give up, until my beers and the shots of Fireball Gabriella had brought me started to kick in. My vision started to get fuzzier but for whatever reason, I started dominating the table. Effortlessly throwing the ball, hitting whatever cup I had my eye on. Kyle lifting me up by my waist, screaming and hollering the whole time. Everyone at the party started to watch the game, keeping a close eye on me. Its finally down to the last cup, Shawn and Brian have two left on our side. It was funny because your opponent isn’t usually as supportive as Shawn and Brian were being to me. The room got quiet, except for the loud music playing in the other room. I lined up my shot and sunk it in the first time. Shawn instantly rushing over to me and lifting me high into the air. Everyone in the room started to cheer me on and I instantly felt like I was where I was supposed to be. I looked around at all of the smiling faces reaching out for high fives. Among them, I couldn’t help but notice the pure hatred plastered on Jessica’s face. I had to laugh at how pitiful she chose to be, there was no way she was meant to be with Shawn. The second face that stood out to me, was a familiar blue-eyed boy from about a week ago. Sam was here, and he looked damn good. He was standing pretty far back in the crowd and his eyes were fixed on me. The Fireball coursing through my veins wanted to do two things. I wanted to hold on tight to the boy that was next to me. The boy that I knew so well. I also wanted to run over and tell Sam how attractive I thought he was. Before I knew it, I was being pulled through the crowded house by Gabriella. She opens the door to the patio, on the back porch, closing the door behind her.

“y/n, what the fuck was that about?” She worried, putting a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply. The fresh air, unclouding my drunken brain. At the same time, it allowed me to realize how drunk I actually was. Everything was spinning.

“What do you mean? What was what about?” I stammer, as I lean over onto the balcony.

“Seriously? After you had won, Shawn picked you up and you were fine then when he set you down you just stared at him, and some other guy. For a really long time.” She starts to giggle, mostly because she’s never seen me this drunk.

I shake my head softly, starting to feel extremely sick. That’s when I feel it, the burning in my stomach. The familiar flipping and twisting, and I knew exactly what was about to happen. I took a deep breath and fumbled over to the corner of the yard. I barely made it before I was throwing up everything I had eaten that day, plus who knows how many Fireball shots and cups of beer. A hand on my back rubbing slowly, helping me breath normally. I turn to thank my friend, only to realize Shawn is the one helping me. A different pain in my stomach starting as soon as I look into his golden-brown eyes.

“You okay?” He whispers, knowing that everything is super sensitive right now.

“Mhmmm, fine and dandy.” I smile, trying to stand up, but needing to rely on him more than I wanted to. I hear him laugh quietly, he knows I’m far from fine or dandy. He starts to walk me back inside and to my room, I notice that a lot of the people had cleared out. There were still plenty of people, but the party had gotten a lot quieter. He walked me into my bedroom, untucking the covers as he sits me down on the bed. I couldn’t help but watch him as he did. I was still unsure of how he felt about doing all of this for me. So, me still having a bit of liquid courage, I asked him.

“Why are you helping me?” I mumble as I try to pull off my shoes. He shakes his head at my attempt and decides to take the task over for me.

“Because you’re drunk honey.” He says quietly, looking up and giving me a reassuring smile. His way of reassuring me because I think he’s annoyed.  

“No, no I mean why do you always help me? Not that I don’t like it but, I’m a big girl now and I don’t need you anymore, ya know?” I ramble trying to explain through drunken words that I want him to stop viewing me as a little sister.

“You don’t want me to help you anymore?” He asks curiously. He starts to poke through my drawers of clothes, finding my pajama drawer and pulling out a top and bottom.

“No, I like when you help me… but… I” Sober me is interfering with what I want to say. So, I just stutter like an idiot until he starts to speak over me.

“Its okay, I’m not going anywhere.” He says with a soft smile, kissing the spot between my eyes. He lingers a bit longer than he usually does. A cough from the doorway causes both of us to look. Jessica is standing there scowling at the two of us. Shawn audibly huffs and tells her he’ll be out in a second.

“Put these on,” He says patting the set of pajamas next to me, “Then Gabby is getting you water and Tylenol. Take that and get some sleep,” He says point at me, smiling at me as he exits my room.

 I stand up to take off my clothes, looking to my nightstand noticing something lighting up. Shawn had left his phone. I grab the phone and quickly head to find him. I scan over the faces in the kitchen, and in the living room. Brian notices me looking for someone, and I tell him I have Shawn’s phone. He tells me that he and Jessica just headed to the car. I rushed outside hoping to get to him before he left, as I’m getting ready to round the corner of the house, I hear my name being spoken. I pause trying to put a face to the voice. It was Jessica, she was pissed. What’s new.

“You’re always all over her,” She spits at him, I can hear the frustration in his sigh.

“I am not all over her, calm the fuck down,” He snapped at her. Just by his voice I could tell there was a lot going on in his head. I wanted to help.

“The fuck you aren’t! Everything is about her! ’I have to help her with this, I have to help her with that.’ I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with her,” She shouted at him. At this point I didn’t even feel like I was eavesdropping because she was yelling loud enough for everyone to hear. I hear him sigh; he’s annoyed but there’s a hint of another emotion behind it.

“Jess, I’ve told you so many times that if you would get to know my friends then it wouldn’t be like this. We fight every time we hang out with any of my friends. You just don’t understand our relationship,” He calmly explains, bringing his voice down to a normal tone, obvious that people could hear them.

“Your friends are fucking crazy. You know I can’t relate to them,” She scoffs, I bite the inside of my mouth wondering what he would respond with. Knowing that if he agreed with her, my heart would break.

“I don’t know what to tell you then,” He says exhausted, this isn’t the first time this argument has happened.

“Its just her,” she snarled, “I don’t like the way she looks at you.”

“It’s NOT negotiable. Drop it,” He says quickly shutting her down. She starts to say something else but quickly stops. I hear the shuffling of material as he pats himself down. Shit, his phone. I immediately start to pretend like I just ran out of the house with it, overdramatically looking around for him like I didn’t just hear their entire conversation.

“Shawn! You forgot your phone in my room.” I yell walking it towards him. He walks up to me taking it and thanking me. His face beat red, and not from the alcohol. I tilt my head, mouthing ‘You ok?’ to him already knowing that he’s far from it. His eyes widen and quickly flick to Jessica before he shakes his head slightly rolling his eyes while he deeply exhales. I press my lips in a fine line nodding, telling him I understand. I give him a hug and tell him to drive safe before heading back inside.

I shake the thoughts of everything I hear deciding to over analyze later, I was fucking thirsty. I head to the kitchen, to get a glass of water. There were still people smoking in the living room and playing video games. There were people in the kitchen finishing off the keg. As I’m standing by the fridge, pressing the lever for the water dispenser I feel someone come up beside me. At first, I think its Gabriella, until she says nothing. I quickly turn my head seeing Sam towering over me, looking down with his bright blue eyes. I gasp, slightly jumping back making my water spill out of my cup. He smiles down at me, making me blush.

“You’re clumsy, it’s cute,” He rasps, he quickly walks across the room to grab a towel. He gets back to me and starts to wipe the water that spilled over my arms and floor away.

“Uhm, thanks?” I giggle, leaning back against the fridge in my attempt to look unfazed.

“So, I’m pretty upset you didn’t move in with me, we would have been great roommates,” His eyes traveling down my body, as the sides of his mouth turn up.

“These guys are like my brothers, so they thought it was a better idea,” I giggle, brushing my hair behind my ear.

“Mm, yeah I definitely wouldn’t be like a brother to you,” He winks, immediately sending shivers down my spine. He giggles at my reaction, as he reaches into his pocket pulling out his phone.

“Put your number in there so I don’t have to email you,” He hands it to me, taking the water out of my hand so I can type. I laugh as I type my name in followed by the number. I hand it back to him; he hands me the water back.

“Did you have fun tonight,” I ask.

“I did, but I spend most of the night wanting to talk to you.”

I bite my lip apologizing to the gorgeous boy, explaining that I drank too much too quickly.

“Yeah, I went to help you outside but, Shawn, I think was his name, told me not to worry about it.”

Sam and I talk for a few more minutes, he couldn’t help but notice how exhausted I was getting. I was also pretty distracted, and I could tell he was picking up on that too. I told him goodnight, and finally got to bed. Changing into the pajamas that Shawn had pulled out for me, it was hard not to think about things from a different perspective tonight. I knew that Jessica was probably overreacting but maybe she wasn’t- did she have a reason to be pissed off? Then she said she didn’t like the way I looked at him, and he didn’t disagree or argue. Was I looking at him differently now? Obviously, things had changed. I wasn’t a 13-year-old with braces and pig tails anymore. I sit up in bed chugging my water, had my feelings changed for him? I quickly shook my head putting the thoughts aside. I loved Shawn, of course I did, I always have. I closed my eyes, pulling my duvet tight around my body. Telling myself over and over again that nothing had changed, but deep down knowing that was a lie. I was starting to love him in a different way, and that was terrifying. 

Tag list: @peterbrokenparker @alinashawn

[kenzieam]

Surrender to the Call - Chapter Four (Bucky X Lev)

Rating: M (language, violence, mentions of torture and abuse, eventual smut, angst)

Genre: Drama/Angst

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**Potential Triggers, please read with caution**

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

Bucky and Shuri work to bring Lev back but, when she wakes up, can she deal with all the bad shit she did as HYDRA’s pawn?

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

Shuri glanced up as Bucky entered the room and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. If front of her, frozen and unconscious, was Levi, face twisted in a final rictus of terror, her scar standing out a harsh purple against her pale skin. A large holographic display hovered in the air in front of the princess and she frowned at the intricate web before her, playing with her bottom lip.  

Bucky had awakened not long ago, compelled to check Shuri’s progress even though it twisted an agonizing knife through his heart to see Lev, especially with her ghastly final expression, her plea of ‘please’ still fresh in his ears.  

“Sleep well?” Shuri asked, concentrating on the image of Lev’s mind and consciousness in front of her.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “How long was I out?”

“Almost 2 days.” Shuri flicked a look at him. “You obviously needed the rest.”

There was no use denying it and, even if he did, Shuri was too smart to be fooled, and too good a friend. “It’s been rough.”

Shuri nodded, turning her eyes back to the display. She knew the whole story. 

“It is deeper this time.” Shuri murmured and Bucky moved closer to look. “The tendrils of influence, they’re deeper and stronger. Parts of her brain have been altered, the impulse control centre shrunk, the area of aggression nurtured and grown. I read the full report from Dr. Banner. He believes they used cognitive subversion and I must agree.”

“What does that mean?”

“If I had to guess, she was restrained and made to watch multiple images of violence and depravity, and pumped full of steroids and adrenaline at the same time, essentially rewiring her brain. I’ve read reports of this type of torture, it’s quite effective, and devastating to the subject.”

“Can you fix it?”

Shuri paused. “I don’t know.”

Bucky swallowed hard and moved to turn away to hide his sudden tears but Shuri gently rested her hand on his shoulder. “I will try my best.”

Bucky nodded, not able to speak.  

“Is it possible to obtain records of her treatment?” Shuri asked hesitantly, biting her bottom lip as Bucky turned back to look at her incredulously. “I have no desire to learn the degree of misery Levi suffered, but if I knew exactly how and what they did, I may be more successful at reversing it.”

It made sense but Bucky had no desire to read the reports himself, it would be his final undoing to know the details; the end result was enough to break his heart. “I’ll see if Bruce or the team can get them.”

“They are trying to take down HYDRA now?”

“Yes. When we recovered Lev, the government team managed to grab an agent too. I don’t know what they did to him, but they seem to think his information’s credible.”

“Perhaps,” Shuri offered tentatively. “If this results in HYDRA’s fall, Lev’s capture and corruption will have had some value.”

Bucky wiped at his eyes. “I’d rather have Lev whole and with me, even if it meant HYDRA was still out there.”

Shuri nodded silently. After a moment her hand rested gently on Bucky’s forearm, his skin hot, the muscles beneath rock-hard. “This will take time, go out and clear your head, Lev will need you when she wakes.”

********************************************************************************************* The warm sun on his face was indeed relaxing and, as Bucky leaned back against the rock behind him, he did feel his mind beginning to clear. It hurt, the way your hand will ache if you’ve been gripping something hard for a long time then released it; his very being hurt right now. Bucky hadn’t felt this way in a long time, not since he’d first begun to reawaken and remember, relive the horrors HYDRA put him through and the lives he took.  

Lev would be in similar agony... if she woke up. Shuri didn’t sound very confident

Maybe, even if they were taken down, HYDRA did win after all.  

The tears came hot and sudden, feeling like blood as they streamed down his face. He’d given his entire heart and soul over to Lev, she owned him, she had the power to break him. He should have stayed away, stayed unattached, preserved himself; not fallen so desperately in love; for what was life, except for suffering, at least for Bucky? He should have known this wasn’t his life to have, fate would snatch it away sooner or later.  

For a time, his anguish took hold, and the sun had moved across the sky before he was in control again, slumped back against the rock, weak with exertion and emotion.  

He couldn’t leave. No matter what happened. Even through the worst of his agony, when he could hardly draw breath between sobs, that thought had glowed bright in the back of his mind. Lev needed him, regardless of his pain, regardless of his regrets, Lev needed him to be there when she woke up. His words to Steve came back to him, how he‘d wished Lev were dead to save her from the sorrow and pain that awaited her when she awoke, and he knew he hadn’t truly meant them. He was too selfish, too attached, too fused to Lev to separate. He would help her crawl through her hell, be there for her on the other side because that the only option. It was too painful to leave her.

A fresh ache started low in his abdomen. His body craved release, craved the warmth of Lev against him, the feel of him inside her. Once they’d begun being intimate, they’d never stopped. Both were serum-enhanced and insatiable, it was not unusual for one to take the hand of the other when they were home in the Tower, and tug them quietly to their quarters, ignoring the hooting and laughing of their teammates behind them, the teasing that ‘this is the third time today!’. The first few days after a mission were always shot to hell, neither one emerging from their room except to grab food, then back inside. It made the others roll their eyes and tease Bucky and Lev about their ‘sex den’, but they couldn’t help it; they were addicts, each other’s favourite drug.  

Yet, despite his anxious need, there would be no relief. Taking care of himself in the shower barely took the edge off and, even if he wasn’t completely abhorred at the thought of being with another, his body failed to respond to anyone else but Levi.    

Groaning, Bucky scrubbed his hands over his eyes, then pushed to his feet. He needed to exercise, go for a run, hard and fast, exhaust his body to try and temper his mind, then maybe he’d be strong enough to check on Lev again.  

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

Shuri was indeed as good as her word to Steve, and had devoted her entire time to Lev, barely taking time out to rest or eat. She ignored both T’Challa and Bucky when they tried to pull her away, flapping her hand dismissively at them, stubbornly focusing on the display of Lev’s brain. She’d ran infinite scenarios, trying to figure out the best way to untangle HYDRA’s corruption, but so far, every simulation resulted in something vital to Lev’s personality being stripped as well.  

Shuri was getting frustrated. As one of the most brilliant people on the planet, she wasn’t used to being unsuccessful at a task she was putting her full attentions to and that in turn made her even more stubborn.  

At both royal sibling’s urging, Bucky was reclaiming himself, taking time to decompress and relax, reflect and think on everything like he had when Shuri had first helped him, and later when Lev had been brought here as a scared, reflexively violent girl, damaged by HYDRA’s mistakes and left to fade away and die in Siberia.

She’d awakened a woman, able to shrug off those chains and grow into a valuable member of the team. No one else, not even Bucky, could get Steve to laugh the way Lev could, no one else could tease the same delighted grin from Bucky or shut Sam down so effectively that even he enjoyed it.

Bucky missed her. He wanted her back.

There had been nothing but radio silence from the team so far, eight days of nothing. Even Bucky’s relay 0f Shuri’s request had been unanswered, and while this unnerved Bucky, he knew the team was too busy to drop a line. They needed to be successful this time; Bucky, Lev, the whole team couldn’t continue on with the spectre of HYDRA still out there, waiting to swoop in and steal Lev or even him, away again; HYDRA needed to be put down like the rabid dog it was.  

A loud rush in the sky grabbed his attention and Bucky looked up from the rodent family he’d been sitting with. He and Lev had sat out here often before, befriending the gerbil-like critters and the little buggers seemed to have remembered him, tentatively sniffing at his large fingers before allowing him to stroke their tiny backs, scurrying along his legs and up his shoulders to tug at his hair and sniff along his jaw.                                                                        

With a jolt, Bucky recognized the quinjet as it hissed past and he stood, gently disentangling and setting down the little creatures before turning and sprinting back towards the palace. It had to be Steve, returning with word of the mission, hopefully with files that could help Shuri with Lev.  

It was indeed the blond captain, talking with T’Challa when Bucky sprinted up, the sweat gleaming on his skin more from anxiety over what Steve was about to say then from the exertion of the run and stopped short when he saw his friend.  

Steve looked like he’d been put through the ringer. Fading bruises and cuts marred his face and the tense way he held his shoulder spoke to an injury his enhanced body hadn’t yet been able to heal fully. Regardless, upon seeing Bucky, Steve strode towards him and pulled his oldest friend into a crushing bear hug. Pulling away slightly, he slapped his hands onto Bucky’s shoulders.  

“We did it.”

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realized he’d been holding. “HYDRA?”

“All but dead. We cut off the head, Buck. We did it. What’s left is just crumbs.”

Bucky’s heart jolted painfully. This seemed like a dream. “Everyone okay?”

Now Steve’s eyes darkened. “Mostly.”

“Who?”

“Wanda, Sam.... Clint. They’re not dead but Bruce is going to be busy in the medical lab for a while. Tony got busted up pretty bad but his suit took most of the force, he’s walking around like he just got in a car wreck, but at least he’s walking. Nat’s far from 100 % but her, Bruce and Tony are holding down the fort okay.”

“What about the government guys?”

Steve winced. “Not so lucky. What’s left of the teams are being organized to track and kill the last few HYDRA hold-outs.”

“So... it’s really over?”

Steve shrugged, looking exhausted. “I really hope so, but who knows? HYDRA was huge and they lasted so long because they were secret. But we definitely dealt them a critical blow.” He jumped slightly, as if remembering something, and slapped his hands against his chest, resembling a man looking for his missing pack of smokes. Triumphantly, he dug into his front breast pocket and brandished a small thumb drive, holding it out towards the two men. Bucky backed away instinctively, having a pretty good idea what it was.  

T’Challa reached out and accepted it.

“I got your request.” Steve glanced at Bucky before looking back at the King. “That’s what we found regarding Lev. I couldn’t look at it, but Bruce glanced at it and said it all fits his theories.” His voice darkened with grief and sadness.  

Bucky felt his gorge rising and swallowed hard.  

“There’s more.” Steve looked hesitant.

“Just say it, punk.”

“There’s some old files on there. Either we missed them the first time or they weren’t there but....” He took a deep breath. “It looks like Lev wasn’t meant to be your hunter if you went rogue. She was to be your replacement.”

Bucky jerked in shock. What?

“I’m guessing if her cryofreeze hadn’t gone wrong she would have become HYDRA’s new Winter Soldier.”

This was unexpected. Would HYDRA have just left him in cryofreeze to eventually fade away, like Lev? Or would they have released him one last time, just for Lev to track and kill?  

T’Challa spoke up, breaking the gloomy silence. “Come, you must be exhausted, Captain. There is a room ready for you.”  

Steve hesitated, but accepted at Bucky’s slight nod. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Bucky held out his hand. “I’ll take the drive to Shuri, if you want.”

T’Challa nodded, handing over the drive then turning to Steve, gesturing him to follow.  

Bucky watched them leave, then strode away.

Shuri glanced up from the table she was slumped at and rubbed her eyes. Her expression brightened as her gaze fell on the drive in Bucky’s hand. She yanked a small laptop towards her and held out her hand. Bucky hesitated after giving it to her.  

“Are you staying?” Shuri asked, sounding surprised.

It was morbid, it would be heartbreaking, but Bucky felt compelled to stay and witness at least part of Levi’s torment; she’d lived it, his pain would never compare to hers, it seemed the least he could do. He nodded and Shuri seemed to understand.

The first parts that came up on the screen were written reports and Shuri scanned them quickly, nodding and mumbling to herself, making notes on a small tablet beside her.  

“Just like we speculated, cognitive subversion.” She continued to read and make notes. “I’ve been talking with Dr. Banner and, based on what we were assuming was done, were going to try a direct reversal, in essence, a cognitive affirmation. Show Lev clips of calming, peaceful footage and inject endorphin stimulants, other ‘feel good’ hormones, try to reverse the damage; shrink her overgrown aggression centre, grow the impulse control area again. These reports only confirm that is the best way to try.” Her fingers hovered over the touch pad, a video file had appeared and was waiting to play. After a pause, she tapped the pad.  

A grainy video came up but Bucky had no problem recognizing Lev and his breath hitched in his throat. Lev was twisting in a chair as much as her restraints allowed, the memory suppressor attached to her head. Her devastated, garbled scream came through the speakers and stabbed straight into his heart.    

“Bucky! Buc-” Lev cried, her voice breaking.  

Shuri closed the video, sniffling. A second video came up and her fingers shook slightly as she tapped the pad again.  

Lev was unmoving and blank faced now, secured in perhaps the same chair. Her head was strapped tightly and strange, painful looking devices held her eyes open a la Clockwork Orange. At least four IV lines ran into the crooks of her bruised arms, pumping the steroids and adrenaline into her veins. Her hair had already been shaved, the scar through her eye still bleeding fresh. Screams and bangs sounded over the speakers, light playing over Lev’s cadaverous face. A monotonous voice droned in Russian and Bucky’s fists clenched unconsciously as he listened.  

“What is he saying?” Shuri whispered.

“You belong to HYDRA. Your mind is HYDRA. You are death and pain. You live only to kill and maim...” he broke off with a trembling exhale, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Kill or be killed. No mercy, no pity. You will slaughter all who stand in your way. You are alone, there is no one to save you. You are death, you are death, you are death. And then it just repeats.”  

“Oh, Lev.” Shuri’s voice held near bottomless sorrow. She wiped at her eyes before hitting the pad and pulling the drive free. She tossed it aside with a shudder.    

Bucky took a deep breath, fighting with everything he had to not break down. Shuri’s hand rested briefly on his, then pulled away. She stood suddenly, channeling her horror into action.  

“I will reverse this.” She vowed. Seemingly renewed with fresh energy, she turned away and almost leapt from her chair.  

Bucky watched for a few moments but Shuri was completely focused on her work and he slunk away quietly. He found himself wandering outside again but, rather than returning to the rock formation and gerbil family, he decided to collapse not far from the palace. A convenient rock provided a seat back and for the longest time, Bucky had no energy or drive to do anything. The sun moved across the sky, shadows playing across his face, voices and laughter of Wakandian’s nearby drifted on the wind to his ears, but he stayed motionless, mind churning, trying to chew the newest information about Lev’s treatment into swallowable chunks, but they would never be palatable.  

He was encouraged by Shuri’s newfound confidence, and if there was anyone smart enough on Earth to help Lev, it would be her, but the footage of Lev’s torture played across his mind’s eye on a devastating loop. Eyes forced open, face bleeding, while death and chaos played out in front of her; the disembodied Russian voice, hooking it’s claws deep into her mind.  

No doubt the President will want to see the footage for herself, but it would definitely clear Lev of any guilt for her actions. There was no way she could be held accountable for what she did now. As hard as the footage was to see, and the reports to read, they would guarantee Lev’s clemency.                                    

But, what then?

Shuri reversed the damage, removed HYDRA’s corruption and Levi woke up, then what happened? Lev’s guilt at her actions, involuntary as they were, would still eat away at her. Nearly a thousand people dead, millions more disrupted as their country burned and staggered, how did you recover from that? Bucky would do all he could to help, would love and support her unflinchingly, but how much was too much? Maybe it would be better, for Lev at least, if she simply-

“Buck?”

Bucky startled, muscles creaking and popping after hours of immobility. Steve stood a few feet away, looking tired but still much more refreshed than before. He sat at Bucky’s side with a groan.  

“T’Challa says you’ve been out here for hours.”

Bucky nodded, not looking towards Steve. He cleared his throat. “Shuri and I, we.... reviewed some of that drive you brought.”  

“Bucky, you shouldn’t have-”

“I needed to.” Bucky interrupted, voice strengthening. “Levi lived that; the least I could do was witness it.”

“Was it as bad as we thought?”

“Worse. I don’t know if you can come back from that.”

“Lev can.”

“She’s not bulletproof, punk. She’s only human.”

“And she’s strong, and she has you, and me, and the whole team behind her.”

“Will that be enough?”

“It has to be.” Steve replied quietly. “You’re not the only one who misses her, who wants her back. She’s like a sister to me. Shit, we’re a family, she is my sister.”

Bucky was silent for long moment. “I don’t know, if Shuri removes all that... shit from her mind, what Levi will want. If she’ll stay here for a while, go back to the Tower-”

“Hide out in Bucharest and try to buy plums?” Steve teased gently.

Bucky smirked wryly, reaching over to punch the punk’s shoulder. “Wherever she goes though, I’ll be with her and... if she decides to leave the team, I won’t be staying either.”

Steve nodded silently. In truth, he’d been expecting this. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if Lev just dropped everything and disappeared, started living completely off the grid and away from civilization. The brief image of a small cabin, wood smoke trailing from the chimney and Lev emerging from the front door, holding a tin cup of steaming coffee as the sun glittered through the trees hit him then.  

Whatever Levi decided, she deserved peace and tranquility after all this. And Bucky deserved it too.  

The men went quiet and reflective then, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Steve cleared his throat and broke the silence. “I’ve got to head back. Bruce and Nat need help. I just came to bring the drive and check in.”

Bucky nodded absently, his attention still elsewhere when Steve stood, despite himself reflexively standing as well. Only Steve’s hand slapping his shoulder pulled him fully out of his own head.  

“Get some sleep, jerk.”  

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

Shuri’s message had been cautiously optimistic and Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest as he entered the lab. Shuri looked up and smiled widely.

“I was just about to bring her out of freeze. T’Challa’s on his way too.” Even as she spoke, the King entered, Okoye silent at his side.  

“Did it work?” Bucky asked hesitantly, hating the faint quiver in his voice. Shuri had been working non-stop for the last ten days, stopping only to sleep and eat.  

“I’ve removed all traces of HYDRA’s indoctrination and managed to restore Lev’s brain to her pre-corruption state. But... I can’t do anything about how she’ll feel when she wakes up. I’ve just taken away her killer attitude.” Shuri’s confident tone faltered slightly. T’Challa rested his hand on her shoulder.

“You have done well, better than anyone else could. It is up to Levka now.”

Shuri bit her lip, eyes flicking to Bucky’s as her fingers flew over the controls. With a whoosh of air, the cryofreeze was reversed and the containment cylinder retracted.  

Lev blinked, her twisted expression jerking, her teeth clacked together. Her eyes fell closed again and she sagged against the restraints. Bucky leapt towards her, catching her upper arms and T’Challa was there as well when the restraints retracted, helping Bucky catch Lev’s limp body. Okoye watched on high alert as they guided Lev towards the nearby gurney and laid her down. Shuri was there instantly with a thick blanket, pulling it up to Lev’s chin as her teeth started to reflexively chatter with residual cold. The siblings stepped back, giving Bucky some privacy, but Okoye stayed alert and T’Challa was tensed to react as well if Lev woke up swinging, literally or figuratively.  

“Levi?” Bucky murmured, leaning close. His fingertips burned as they stroked along her cheek, jolts shooting up his arm. It had been so long since he’d touched her. “Baby, are you there?”

Her eyelids fluttered, and Bucky caught the faintest whisper from her chapped lips. “Bucky?”

“I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her lids fluttered again and Bucky finally got to see her beautiful amethyst eyes, unfocused for a breath before locking on Bucky’s. Gone was the hard, razor’s edge of violence darkening her iris's to bruises, left was confusion and the beginnings of relief.  

“Bucky.” Her voice was stronger and her hands lifted weakly, brushing against his broad shoulders. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and she half-crumpled, half-snuggled against him, her body beginning to shudder. Bucky’s body trembled in answer and tears started to course down his cheeks.

“I missed you baby, so much.” He choked. His lips brushed her forehead, groaning at the sensation. Lev whimpered and clawed weakly closer, nuzzling into his throat. Bucky closed his eyes in bliss, a bone-deep peace coiling through him, fuck, he’d missed this, he’d missed her.

“Bucky, I...” Lev stuttered and Bucky felt her go rigid in his arms. “Oh god, Bucky. What have I done?”

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO NEAT TIMELINE, ALSO THE CAPTION YO HO HO HO COOL war form, and Nezha's Council meeting! I'd like more elaboration on "Nezha knowing Wukong better than Macaque so he doesn't hold grudges against him when he messes up" thing

More Qiankun Halo 💫

Nezha knows Wukong better than Macaque, which is why he hold no grudges against him when he messed up and I’m all ears for their early brotherly dynamics

I know Nezha didn’t go to Hell when he killed himself but it would be funny if he did in lmk