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bloodyknucklesforme · 2 years ago

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Don't Blame Me | John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!OC

Chapter 9: Run

Ao3 | Masterpost

John 'Soap' Mactavish wasn't thrilled to be given an escort mission to bring a young woman halfway across the world to a secret safe house especially when he has to pretend to be her husband. At least she's pretty.

General Tags: Fake Marriage, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Build, Canon-Typical Violence

Words: 2k

CW: Mentions of Domestic Abuse

He taped a piece of tarp to the broken window. He thought about stealing another car and decided against it. He felt bad enough about this one. He couldn’t steal someone’s car just before Christmas. He’d stopped believing in God a long time ago but he knew if he was real that would get him sent to hell for sure.

It would take almost twenty-four hours to get to British Columbia from here. They decided to stay stateside till Washington.

They’d get new clothes, toiletries, and anything else before they crossed over. He just wanted to put as much distance between them and Chicago as possible.

They hadn’t talked much since the restaurant. They’d both dug into each other a bit and it still stung. It wasn’t out of cruelty, just genuine curiosity. Maybe he should have opened up a bit more to her. It’s not like she would know who Hassan was.

He couldn’t stand the silence in the car and turned on the radio. Most of it was Christmas music. He flipped through till he found one he liked.

“Last Christmas I gave you my heart but the very next day you gave it away!” He sang along, nudging her with his elbow to get her to join in “This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special. Come on, Nina!”

“I remember this song.” She pushed his arm away but there was a smile tugging at her face.

“Trust me, by the time we get there you’ll know all the Christmas songs.” He wanted to see her smile fully break through. “You celebrated Christmas when you were younger, right?”

“Younger, keyword.”

“I can fix that. We have to make it up for all that lost time.”

“We don’t.” She was shaking her head.

“Listen, if we’re gonna be stuck together for it we’re celebrating. Cook up something nice and drink ourselves stupid. Pure blootered.”

He was running through plans in his head. Most trees would be sold out but he was sure he could find a good bottle of scotch and a couple of steaks to cook. She didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“It’ll be fun, Neen.” He turned up the music and tugged on her coat sleeve to get her to sway along with him.

The driving was easy. Just long stretches of straight highways cutting through the plains and farmland. Everything was covered in a layer of snow, it made him feel like he was driving through a snow globe.

“Why did Price call you Soap?” She asked a little after they crossed into North Dakota. They’d broken into a bag of crisps.

“It’s a nickname. Lots of people get them.”

“I know what a nickname is. Why is yours Soap?”

“Can’t tell you.” He said, reaching into her lap to grab a handful.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Classified,” He smirked, before eating.

“You’re so boring sometimes,” She rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Because I won’t tell you classified information?” He chuckled.

“Who am I going to tell? Price? I’m sure he knows already.”

“You could tell your future friends.”

“I’m not going to live that long,” She laughed.

“Don’t say that, Neen.” He stopped laughing, his mouth forming a thin line.

“It’s just a joke.” She was getting defensive now. He didn’t want a fight.

“It’s not funny.” His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. He didn’t know how to tell her that the past twenty-four hours had been his most terrifying. That he kept his hand on her knee to know that she was still alive next to him, afraid her brain would bleed out of her head. That when he woke up and saw his knife missing he wanted to throw up. He’d never failed a mission, come close but always won over in the end. Trying to keep her safe felt like holding water in his hands. “I kill anyone who tries to hurt you.”

“I think I killed the last guy who hurt me, actually,” She smirked.

“Aye, ye did. Absolute weapon you are.” He was smiling again too. “I could have handled it though.”

“He was going to stab you in the face.”

“Would’ve gotten a nice new scar if it wasn’t for ya.” He ran his thumb over the scar on his chin. “I think one by my eye would have looked cool.”

“What happened here?” She asked, dragging a finger over her own chin. “Or is that also classified?”

“Cheeky.” He playfully pushed against her arm, “Just a fight when I was kid.”

“What was the fight about?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. Got punched in the back of the head, fell, and cut my chin open. My mates had to drag me to hospital. My maw was pissed.” He laughed. “So, you got any cool scars?”

“I don’t know if it’s cool but I have this.” She rolled up the edge of her shirt, and on her left side was a divet. A gunshot wound, small probably from long range. It was years old judging from how healed it was.

“Who fucking shot you?”

“It was a hunting accident.” She said, pulling her shirt back down. “My dad and I were unknowingly going for the same deer. I hit the deer, he hit me.”

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” She shrugged. “It wasn’t on purpose, I know that. The first and only time I ever saw him cry was when he had to dig it out. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“I’ve been shot before it’s pretty fucking bad.” He was always surprised at how casually she could talk about her life. It made him wince hearing her treat getting shot like it was a skinned knee you get from falling off a bike.

“Maybe you were just a baby about it then,” she giggled. She fucking giggled and that made him grin.

It was getting dark by the time he decided they needed to make a full stop. He pulled into a larger truck stop. There were a couple fast food restaurants inside as well as a convenience store and gift shop. He slipped her a hundred.

“Get whatever you want. I’ll fill up the car.” He kept his eye on her from outside, using any window to keep track as she walked around filling up a basket. Even over some of the shelves, he could see the top of her head. He only lost sight of her as he put the pump back.

He grabbed his own basket and immediately went to the fridges, grabbing multiple energy and sports drinks. He would sleep when he got her there. He hadn’t found her again but he could hear the slap of her slippers on the linoleum. He could hear her voice, she sounded irritated. Someone was talking back but he couldn’t make out the words.

“Don’t touch me!” It was Nina. He dropped the basket, rushing down the main way till he saw her. An older man was hovering over her, a hand still outstretched towards her face. A red hand print blooming on his cheek. He moved faster than he could think. He pushed himself between them, placing an arm across Nina’s chest to move her behind him.

“This is your wonderful husband, I assume?” He was English; London accent. He was older, in his later forties probably. He wasn’t dressed for the weather, oxfords, black pants, and an older-looking green jacket.

“Do we have a problem?” John growled. His fingers wrapped around her arm protectively, and her muscles were tense.

“You’re lovely wife seems a little worse for wear. Doing the civil thing and making sure she’s okay. Isn’t that right, love?” He craned his neck to look at Nina. She was holding onto the back of his coat. Her soft tugs pleading to let them leave.

“You touch er’?” He couldn’t hide his rage. The man was the same height as him but John was bigger, stronger. ‘Give me a reason, fucker’ he thought.

“George, we should go. It’s not a big deal.” She hadn’t called him that since New York. He could hear in her voice she was scared, he tightened his grip on her arm reassuringly.

“I should ask you the same thing. Poor thing’s bruised like an apple.” He knew he didn’t need to defend himself to this stranger but did people think he did that to Nina? It made his stomach flip just at the idea. “Got a bit upset about the world cup, did you?”

“Did you touch my wife?” He barked it like an order. He grabbed the front of the man’s jacket, letting go of Nina. His other hand was clenched tightly. He would have taken all his anger and fear out on this man, beaten him bloody into the floor. He would have if he didn’t feel Nina’s hand wrap around his fist. Her mouth was against his shoulder, he could feel her warm breath on his ear.

“Let’s just get our stuff and leave.” He let go of the man and let Nina pull him to the front register. He kept his arm around her, anyone who wanted to get close to her would have to go through him.

“Enjoy your honeymoon, lovebirds,” the man called from across the parking lot as he helped Nina into the car.

He slammed the door as he got in the car, it took him longer to get it started than usual. Nina was watching the man in the rearview for him. As soon as the engine started he pulled out as fast as he could.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his hand on her knee again. She was still looking in the rearview, not listening. He shook her leg a little. “Nina, are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh…yeah… I’m okay. I just…I don’t know.”

“Nina, did he touch you? I need you to tell me what happened.”

“Just my face.” She said, her own hand glossing over her bruised cheeks. “He sounded familiar.”

His stomach dropped.

“What do you mean? Do you know him?”

“I don’t know. I just felt like I’ve heard his voice before.” She was drifting away from him, gazing out the window. He shook her out of her head.

“What did he say to you?”

“He was asking about my face and what happened and he saw the ring so he was asking if my husband did it. I told him I didn't want to talk and he touched my face and then you were there and you were yelling and I thought you were going to kill him and I didn’t know what to do.” She was blazing through her words, breathing hard.

“Nina, you’re okay. I’m right here.” He rubbed circles on her knee, wishing he could do more. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Nina. You’re safe though. He won’t follow us, he won’t find us. If he does, it’ll be the last thing he ever fucking does.”

All his promises were followed with threats. Violence had become his greatest love language. He didn’t know how to show he cared besides that. He’d kill that man for her but he wouldn’t touch her, not more than this. He’d call her his wife but he wouldn’t kiss her. He’d clean her wounds but would fight about sleeping in the same bed.

Her hand rested on his. It was warm and he could feel every muscle and tendon twitch beneath her skin. The involuntary movements, just her being alive next to him. Her hand fitted perfectly with his and it made him sweat. He thought about the train and how that seemed like half a lifetime ago. The warmth of her fingers against his skin in the dark.

He flipped his hand over so their palms were against each other. He was slow as he took the band of her hand and pressed his lips against it. He didn’t know how else to tell her he cared.

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#john soap mactavish #cod mw22 #cod mwii #don't blame me #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 fanfic #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x oc #john mactavish #my writing

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thatonegeekygirl · 1 year ago

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I Shook Hands with the Midnight Monsters (A Short Story by thatonegeekygirl)

It’s dark. My tired eyes strain to make use of the faint moonlight peeking through my shuttered blinds. I can decipher hints of shape. The ceiling. The top of my desk chair. The wall. Remnants of dream cling to my thoughts like cobwebs, slowing them to a dismal crawl. The house is silent, but not peaceful. There is a tangible feeling of anticipation in the air. Reality feels…off. Altered. I move to shift onto my side, and find that I cannot. I am paralyzed. A presence creeps from the darkness. Two bloodshot eyes, pupils slits of obsidian that stare, unrelenting, into my own. The thing’s movements are disjointed on its elongated limbs, fingers with too many joints grasp at my bedposts, knees tethering together too-long legs stretch and crouch. Color runs from it as do deer from a starving wolf, and the blackness of void coats it in their place. Light slithers in through flaking holes in its body. It chitters silently. It stalks forward, head tilting at me, skinless jaw displaying twin rows of skewed, razor sharp canines. Predator mouth. My blanket presses against my legs as it pads forward and clambers onto my chest. Its mouth yawns open and I see a long, rotting, bloodred tongue. “Hi, Jerry,” It says.

My mum always told me to avoid lucid dreaming. Now, J, she would say as she waggled a spindly finger, if you reach into the world of dream too many times, you may find that one day, something reaches back. Little me would nod sagely, promise her I’d stop, and continue doing it regardless. I just didn’t believe her. I mean honestly, the concept of summoning night terrors through my lucid dreaming was laughable. Conjuring up dream-cupcakes hardly seemed like a gateway drug to demonic harassment. At least, that’s what I told myself.

The first time Hastur came to visit me I was scared out of my mind. To be fair, seeing a lurching eldritch-horror scuttle into your bedroom at 2 o’clock in the morning, whereupon you find yourself unable to move a muscle in defense, is enough to scare anyone. I must’ve been exuding a terrified aura because he hurried to settle beside me and say nervously, “Calm down!” I didn’t. I wanted to scream but of course, I couldn’t. The only movement allowed by my well-meaning brain was the drip of sweat sliding down my neck. “I’m not going to hurt you! I swear!” He said, forlorn. Mum, you were right, I thought to myself, too bad I won’t live to tell you. I steeled myself and waited for oblivion. “Guess I won’t be talking to you either…” There was a pause. Then the sensation of shifting form, the rustle of sheets, and he was gone.

I awoke to a nagging sting of guilt. It poked at me while I drew, lonely eyes sneaking into backgrounds and characters. Shadowy corners took lonesome shape. I wasn’t quite sure what had occurred the night previous, but I found myself pitying this thing I knew nothing about. Perhaps that is what led me to write the note.

Hi, it read, my name’s Jerry. What’s yours? The words were scrawled on plain printer paper with black Sharpie, simple, nothing fancy. I secured it with Scotch tape on the wall above my pillow, and as I crawled into bed I wondered faintly what the hell I was doing. I slept soundly and didn’t wake once, and I assumed the creature had left for good. But then I noticed the paper had been flipped. Hastur, read the chicken-scratch words now printed there, nice to meet you.

When Hastur came the next night my heart didn’t falter. We had a rather one sided conversation, mine consisting only of a new note that said, You’re welcome to hang out with me. I can’t talk, obviously. But I’m happy to listen. He spoke of his life and how he wished often that he weren’t a nightwalker. Of his siblings and their love for solitude and gloom, how they thought him odd for disliking it, for seeking out the company of restless humans. Before he disappeared again into shadow he asked, eyes searching, if he could return.

My eyelids aren’t paralyzed, I thought to myself that day, and my memory’s good. Morse code. Said the note to him. We’re going to have to learn morse code.

To my surprise and delight, I soon discovered Hastur’s wry sense of humor. Quite unlike the group of morose mid-20 year olds that were both my friend group and Tim Hortons colleagues. Who knew night terrors could make puns.

Y name Hastur? I asked him one late Sunday, in my stilted eyelid-language. He released a warm jet of air and a snuffed hiccuping sound. Laughter. “My parental kin are old school.” Could b wrse. I replied. Satan. Hastur collapsed in a fit of huffing cackles.

“G’night, Jerry,” Hastur said. “Get some rest before your shift tomorrow.” Wait, I blinked, got u somthn. He raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “Oh?” I glanced pointedly to my left. Hastur followed my gaze to the little box wrapped in newspaper, and with delicate touch he opened it. “Jer…” he breathed softly. Hope u can bring it with u whrevr u go in daytime, I continued, I know phones dont work. U said u get lonely. Tht maybe music could keep u company. Hastur held up the old walkman and headphones with reverence. “…thank you, my friend.” He gushed over the beauty of Meatloaf days after.

We fell into a routine. Every other night, to ensure I wouldn't exhaust myself, he’d come and we'd talk about anything and everything. On Saturdays I’d bring him a new cassette tape with handpicked songs. I found myself growing closer to the eccentric monster than I ever had been with human friends. People did always tell me I was weird.

One particularly rough Monday, after fighting with one of his brother-bonded kin, I hugged Hastur–or rather, I offered to and he shuffled into my unmoving embrace. He told me it was the first time someone had willingly held him.

It is now the middle of April, the dreary twilight outside as cloaked in shadow as ever, and Hastur tips his head politely as he greets me. Hlo Has, my eyes say, hows spring treatin u. “Fine,” he tucks himself against the wall and rests his chin in a hand. His posture, though always stooped, is unusually droopy. Smthn wrong? He meets my concerned gaze. “…I have to go for a while.” What do u mn? “I have to…leave, here,” he explains, staring at nothing. “Earth. This plane. One of our siblings got in a tussle, a fight, with a human teenager. The Assembly is summoning everyone back home until things cool down.” Finally he turns to me, eyes glistening. “I won’t be back for a long time.” I want desperately to hug him once more, but I settle instead for saying, I’ll miss u. How long is long? “A year or two at least,” Hastur answers, and I can see the words pain him. “…here.” He places the walkman beside me. Why r u givn me this? “Don’t you want it back?” Flickering confusion. “I’d hate to take it from you.” Ur not takin it, I blink, just borrown it. “But won’t you be…gone?” His voice cracks. “Most humans your age don’t stay in one place for long. If you find a partner, or a better job, you shouldn’t hesitate to forget about me, Jer. I’m just…a night terror.” A nght terror, sure, but not ‘just’ anythng, I respond, slowing my blinks to ensure they’re right. Ur my best frnd. Ill wait 4 u. His face floods with emotion. Keep th walkman, I press, ill have a new cassette waitin 4 u whn u get bck. He looks away for a moment, twin tears escaping. “Thank you, Jerry Springer,” Hastur murmurs. He grasps my shoulder and squeezes it once. I summon all the willpower contained in my stubby body and set my lips firmly in a smile. Your welcm, Hastur Nightwalker.

______________________________________________________________

Wrote this as a creative writing project for school last year, and upon recent reflection noticed it seemed both very Tumblr and spooky season-y. It's one of my favourite pieces of writing that I've completed to date. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it :)

#writing #creative writing #night terrors #sleep paralysis #monsters #eldritch #eldritch horror #friendship #october #spooky season #halloween #writers on tumblr #creature #horror #comedy #humor #i dont know what to tag this #the geek writes #original writing

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lines-of-a-fatalist · 1 month ago

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things really feel out of control

i don’t know how to do things, where to start, or how to care

i wake up and go where i’m supposed to but i never think about anything but getting back to ground zero. high and zoned the fuck out.

i go to class and i go to meetings, my friends make plans and i get in cars, spend money, eat meals

i feel like i’m ticking off a to do list and the last thing i’ll check off is die

things are so methodical, even making crafts or writing it’s like, but what’s the meaning, what is an end goal id be satisfied with?

i’m never going to have a job and not look for a new job, or a new apartment, a new city, a new dream.

a new cause, don’t even get me started. logged on or off i have to force something to mean the most and i feel like a fucking freak from the outside with my apathy tinted glasses on.

from tiktok blm, to elections to however else i’d change the world. i know it didn’t matter because look how fast i stopped caring!

deca! dsp! sales! marketing! WHAT AM I DOING HERE! i am constantly inventing shit to care about because i have nothing else to do.

i swipe and swipe and swipe because even a loser would give my life something to feel something about, positive or negative.

and on the topic i think i would fuck someone really ugly at this point. i don’t know where it came from but suddenly i need someone to give a fuck about me immediately. i want to be touched and held by IDEALLY someone who does now give a fuck about me and I DONT KNOW WHY!

i feel like i am self destructing against my will. better yet i feel like im just watching it happen.

i don’t know where to go from here!

i know i have autonomy but i also feel like i need to hold my life together the best i can even if it is a broken vase i have put together with scotch tape.

it’s like yeah i could dye my hair pink and change my major or apply to a new school. but in reality it’s like, what would that change.

i take myself wherever i go.

i want to heal, i want the world to stop for a while so i can sit and think and figure out who the fuck i am.

but i have to run a facebook page and do a capsum simulation competition and a bunch of other made up shit for my made up degree.

it makes me sick and it makes me immobile.

i don’t know what to do and i’m crying for help from underwater.

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unholyhelbig · 3 years ago

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I need more vampire kate please 😫🙏🙏🙏

[A/N: You've got it! I'm not too impressed with where I've managed to take this story, so I might be ending it soon😭 But that doesn't mean the end of vampire!Kate, just maybe the end of this weird plot]

Summary: Y/N faces the consequences of the night in the parking garage and Kate makes a dangerous last-minute decision.

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Taglist 💕: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ohmy-godyes @littlebluestone @kacka84 @143bc @lenam07 @tforjatp @iwishforausername @pianogirl2121

I Don't Bite Pt. 7 | Kate Bishop X Reader

When you walked into Stark Tower, you looked disheveled. Kate had quite literally given you the shirt off her own back and the blazer that you dawned yesterday was only slightly wrinkled. It made sense to hold your head high as you greeted security and walked in like you had every other day of your career- with confidence.

You smelled of motel body wash and your skin felt tight, filmy. You hoped that Pepper wouldn’t’ notice and if Tony had decided to come along for your summons, you knew he would. Your eyes moved to the small camera in the corner ceiling of the elevator. Even here, you couldn't lose your composure, wouldn’t.

The call came early in the morning. It was from Pepper. She never reached out to you directly unless it was a quickly typed email or even the occasional text message. During the night, you had become tangled with Kate, legs draped over legs, your nose tucked against the crook of her neck.

You had pulled apart with fervor, instantly feeling the loss of contact in the cold, stale hotel room. It was a place that you considered staying forever, away from the rest of the world. Away from Jemma and Bobbi, and away from the consequences of this meeting.

After all, you took this same path every single day. Instead of your office, you would go straight to Pepper’s, with its glass door that gave you a view of the entire city and the rough conversations that usually ended in a bottle of scotch and a complimentary ride home. This, you feared, would be much worse.

There was no need to knock, she waved you in from her spot behind her desk. A phone was pressed to her ear, the chord entangled within her fingers. No matter how composed Pepper presented herself, she still had her nervous habits about her.

You glanced around the room and watched as her eyes flicked to the office chair in front of her. She finished up her conversation just as you lowered into the seat, hands folded in your lap, an heir of timidness in the room.

She regarded you carefully. Part of you would have accepted the yelling over this quiet contemplation. She had seen the security tapes, you were sure, of Kate knocking a woman out and the two of you speeding off in an unmarked vehicle. Stark had eyes everywhere, knew things before you even knew them yourself.

“Y/n,”

“I can explain.”

You both spoke at the same time and a sudden heat came to your cheeks. There was immense respect for Pepper that you’d never been able to shake. She had taken a chance on you years ago, allowing you to work your way up the reinks of the company from her assistant to respective colleges.

She lifted a brow, “Explain, then, what FRIDAY alerted me to last night.”

You swallowed hard and shrunk further into your seat. Never in a million years did you believe that taking a few days to recover from an illness would throw you into a complicated web such at this. Then again, you didn’t expect your neighbor to be a vampire, and even more, you hadn’t expected to actually fall for her.

There was a feeling of being called into the principles office to explain away making out in the janitor’s closet. A flash of anger shortly followed, and you frowned. “Do you know what SHIELD is?”

Pepper paled and leaned back into her own chair, pressing her palms against the edge of her desk. There was a thick silence in the air as she waved away an assistant that had produced a stack of paperwork through the glass door.

“Because I don’t and don’t think I want to know. They seem to have a vendetta against someone close to me, and they seem to be violent.” You shuddered at the memory of Bobbi’s cold expression. “I’d be perfectly content to forget all of this.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” She sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose “Y/N, I like you. I like you a lot. You’re like a daughter to me I just… You have quite the knack for getting yourself into things that shouldn’t be questioned.”

Pepper stood and began to pace the way she did when she had a lot on her mind. She could wear a hole on the floor. You had spent many a night holed up in this office sharing take-out and trying to sort out corporate issues.

“Jemma and Bobbi work for Tony,” She stopped and turned to gauge your reaction “Sort of. They both work for the same company.”

“SHEILD?”

She nodded “All they were supposed to do was get close to your neighbor, to question her. To follow up on the reports of something supernatural. It’s a little out of their scope if I’m being honest. But then you got involved and Bobbi was ordered to give you a little push. She tried the civil way first.”

“Brownies were a nice touch.” You said numbly. “What do they want with her? With Kate?”

Pepper shook her head “I don’t know.”

You believed her, those three words dripping with distress. There was worry in her expression. This was past not on your head, but hers. That sent a chill through you. She flopped back down into the office chair and let out a sigh that was longer than you anticipated.

“I don’t trust them,” She finally murmured “SHIELD is good, for the most part, they’re good. But they tend to exhaust things they don’t understand.”

You had been dismissed for the rest of the day, maybe the rest of the week. Pepper’s loose warning had left you shaken enough to return back to the motel after taking as many side streets as you could, making a few loops, and making sure you weren’t being tailed by any odd unmarked vehicles. You had never considered yourself as paranoid, but then again, you had never been given a reason to fall into this type of habit.

Before you opened the door to the room, you pressed your forehead against the cool surface, mumbling in a soft voice, knowing that Kate could hear you, warning her of the sun that would stream through the room in a matter of moments.

When you did enter the room, it was bathed in darkness, the air conditioning unit sputtering under the window. The bed had been made, nearly undisturbed. A small pad of legal paper dawned with the hotel’s logo had been left in plain sight on the television stand.

With a groan, you picked it up. You had watched enough terrible CW dramas to know that this wasn’t good- nothing about this was good. The Letter was written carefully, the pen pressing hard enough to indent it into a fine brail.

y/n I’m sorry that I put you through all of this. I’ve often been described as selfish when it comes to things that I want. I came to New York to escape a family that had pushed me to a limit I couldn’t return from, not to make new enemies along the way. It was never my intention to put you in danger. I’m going to fix all of this. Don’t try to stop me – Kate.

“Jesus Christ,” You put your face in your palm. Knowing Kate, she was on her way to do something utterly stupid. Something that you were determined to stop her from doing. You knew exactly where she was headed and didn’t’ hesitate to shove the note in your pocket and do exactly the opposite of what she commanded.

#Kate Bishop #kate bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #Hawkeye #hawkeye comics #hawkeye disney+#hawkeye show #pepper potts #vampire au

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whoneedssubtitles · 4 years ago

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he knows he loves you☁️

bakugo writes you a love letter in part one of to be loved by bakugo. series masterlist

Bakugo knows he loves you. And he hates it, but it’s true. He even told Kirishima, “I don’t hate her as much as I hate you for asking me these dumb questions.” And the faux redhead proceeded to prod and ask even more dumb questions, accompanied by a teasing off-brand Pikachu and Scotch Tape.

“I have to say, it’s not very manly of you to push your feelings away like this.”

“Nobody asked you, dumbass. Now leave me alone.” (They did not)

But he loves you alright. He can tell when he’s sitting on the floor of his dorm room, his back against the bed with his knees propping up his favorite romance manga. He wipes his palms on his pants before turning the page, careful not to ruin the paper with his clammy hands. If he stares at the drawings long enough, his face and yours start to replace those of the leads. He imagines you handing him a love letter—one of his favorite scenes—before darting away in the hallway, face growing hot with embarrassment and anticipation. Maybe he should try writing you a letter, he wonders.

And try he does. He sits at his desk, pen hovering over the blank page. Would you prefer blue or black ink? Should he put it in an envelope or just fold it up? He hopes you don’t expect anything too extravagant—he’s never been good with words. A simple “Dear…” opening should be fine, right? Fuck, who would even know about this kind of mushy gross stuff?

Now his thumb is flipping through the contacts on his phone, pausing over the one labeled “Pink Freak.” She would just make fun of me. He puts his phone in his desk drawer and closes it shut.

He writes your name on the page. Has his handwriting always been this messy? He crumples it up and starts a new one, writing your name as if he were drawing a picture—slow, cautious, and constantly worrying about its appearance. Better.

“You aren’t as annoying as the other extras.”

“During training, I always hope you win your fights against everyone—except me.”

“I make extra lunch sometimes; I can leave it in the fridge for you if you want.”

He continues like this for a while, listing off several not-quite-compliments and other things he doesn’t mind about you. Every few lines, he stops to reread his work. The ideas were jumbled, disconnected, and maybe not the most flattering, but they were honest. And if you squint really hard, you can almost make out what he really means to say.

He comes back to it after a few hours, reading over the now complete letter.

This is shit. It was nothing like the one in the manga. You are the sun to my moon, my reason for smiling each day. I wish to spend every moment by your side, even when the world tries to pull us apart. How do people write that stuff anyway?

He crinkled the corners of the paper while folding the letter, but he already spent too much time on the damn thing so you’ll just have to deal with it, okay? He stuffs the letter in an envelope addressed to you and stuck it between two pages of the manga he was reading, tucking it away amongst his collection. Never to be opened or read because Bakugo knows he loves you, he’s just not ready to admit it.

At least not yet.

daydream masterlist.

#daydream #mha x reader #mha x poc!reader #bakugo fic #bakugo hcs #bakugo x reader #bakugo x poc!reader #bakugou fic #bakugo imagine #mha imagines #mha hcs #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader

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missroserose · 2 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 31: Comfort

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Sam’s back is broad and warm; she curls against it, tries imagining herself as a lizard stretching out on a sun-warmed rock. It’s not the way they usually sleep; she’s far more used to the reverse, Sam curled protectively around her, his back turned to the world and everything in it that might hurt her. It was a novelty, when they first were seeing each other; most of her lovers have been smaller than she was, and she was used to taking on the protective guarding-from-the-world role. Now…lizard-images aside, it feels awkward. Their usual relationship turned inside-out, their vulnerable underbelly exposed to the world—

Sam’s crying.

It’s silent, no sniffling to give him away. Just a bare trembling of the shoulders—enough that at first she wonders if he’s shivering. It’s only when he inhales, breath hitching, that she realizes the significance—realizes she’s never seen him cry, before. It makes her want to lash out at the world, makes her want to scream and thrash and rage at the awfulness, makes her want to shake somebody, demand that they take responsibility for the unfairness of it all—but there’s nobody. It’s nobody’s fault.

Nobody’s but hers.

“Sam,” she finally whispers, when the silence between them grows too great to bear. “Sam, I’m sorry.” It’s pathetic, it’s nothing, it’s a piece of Scotch tape applied to an open chest cavity. But it’s what she has.

For a long moment, she thinks Sam’s ignoring her, or maybe didn’t even hear. Then the words come, vicious, and what's worse, truthful:

"I'm not."

She catches her breath at the aggression in the words. "Do you think he's going to come back?"

"No. He has too much pride." The words are bitter. "Shame he couldn't have the same pride in me that he does in his work."

She squeezes his shoulder, reassuring. "Family is always complicated."

It's quiet again for a few minutes, as she rubs small circles between his shoulderblades. But then the words come, the despairing honesty of the small hours of the morning:

“I don’t know who I am, without him.”

She slips her arm around him, pulls him closer. Protecting as much as she knows how. “You’ll find out,” she says. “He was the one who left, this time. You’re free of him.” We’re free of him, she says firmly to herself, ignores the doubt skulking along the edges of the statement.

“It’s—not that easy.” Sam takes another stuttering breath, just a hint of a sniffle. “He made me who I am today. I can’t…just change that. He’s such a huge part of my life." A swallow. An admission. "Was.”

Jess closes her eyes a moment, puts her forehead against Sam's shoulder. "Did I ever tell you about my cousin Leah?"

"I didn't know you had a cousin."

"Her mother was a single mom, so they lived next door. My mother was always making these snippy remarks about her, about how she didn't have what it took to keep a husband, that kind of thing. Meanwhile my parents were constantly getting into screaming matches, when my father wasn't out sleeping around." She resists the urge to bite her tongue; this wasn't a story she ever wanted to tell.

"I didn't know." Sam's voice is quiet, but a little smoother. "I always thought rich people had no problems."

Jess doesn't even know how to answer that, is afraid she's going to lose her nerve if she loses her momentum, so she plunges onward. "We were inseparable. Her mother—my aunt—was really sweet, so I'd spend as much time over there as I could. She was bigger than me, so I'd make her promise to protect me, even though I never specified what from. And she'd promise. Because she was that kind of kid." She laughs a little, though a storm of tears is gathering in the back of her eyes, her throat. "We'd run around together for hours, sometimes whole days in the summer, building forts, jumping off of things, playing cats or princesses or pirates or dragons or who knows what. It's amazing we didn't get into worse trouble than scraped knees and occasional bruises."

"What happened?"

"I think my aunt got tired of listening to my mother's snipes. She got married and moved away. This was around the time I was twelve, maybe thirteen? Leah was fifteen. And at first she'd call, and write, but...all of that dropped off. I know, normal, right?" she continues, hurrying over where she feels Sam take a breath to comment. "But I'd never really had many other friends—never wanted to bring anybody home. So I was heartbroken over it. My best friend was gone, my safe place was gone.

"I ended up hearing about it through rumors at school. One of the former students had killed themselves—and when the police investigated, they found hard drives full of pictures of her. The really illegal kind." She shivers. "I just felt so...helpless. Her stepfather had been abusing her and I hadn't been able to do squat about it."

"Christ. I'm sorry." Sam turns onto his back, scoops her into his arms. "What did you do?"

"I screamed. And cried. And accused my parents of killing her. And had a real fit." She sighs, releasing the pent-up emotion. "And when I was done with that, I applied for Stanford."

"That's my Jess." His arms tighten around her, just a hair.

“I know it hurts. But graduation isn't far away. And you've got your big law school interview coming up, remember? We’ve got a future, Sam. Together.” Her fingers stroke through his hair, soothing. “I’m sorry Dean won’t be in it. But we’ll survive, and we’ll grow. Things will get better.”

Sam closes his eyes, nods, takes a few shaky breaths. “They have to.”

She pulls herself close to him, tucks her head under his chin. Relaxes as his arms wrap around her. “They have to.”

#whumptober2022 #supernatural #winjess #sam winchester #jessica moore #stay tuned for next month #where I continue this story into a 50k novella for #nanowrimo #because apparently this wasn't insane enough #I have to write every day for two months running

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tnystrk-exe · 4 years ago

Text

Repentance

Your choices led you here.

AN: Honestly I couldn’t get the idea for the last scene out of my head.

“Alright team,” you heard Cap through your ear piece, “time to go home.”

And you did. Without a second thought.

Tony had sent out a relief squad and different aids for people. He had hoped to help. There was no after party this time around. But you understood why. Especially after finding him in his lab, staring longingly at a bottle of scotch, a screen of names scrolling past. The mission had put him through enough to want to cancel his promise of good behavior.

You walked over to him. Replacing the bottle with a cup of coffee you had brought down. “Tony, you did what you thought was right.”

“That’s not enough for them… their families. For what? A fucking whim of ours?”

“I know,” you sighed, walking over to a sink and pouring out the bottle, “I think about it too. What we could have done. What shouldn’t have. But in the moment with you, Bruce, and I all in the lab it felt right.”

“You saw the recording of New York. How couldn’t I try, something? Anything.”

A shiver went up your spine as you remembered the helmet’s footage. As much as the team had done. It would have all been over if that ship had touched ground. “We need protection,” you confirmed, “but maybe not an A.I.. Honestly, we’re probably just going to have to rely on finding good people. You should look for them instead of…”

“Are you still going to that memorial?”

“Yeah, but not as an Avenger.”

Then it all happened. After Sokovia, you all knew in a way that pulling at the right thread would tear the fabric of the team apart. Too many conflicting thoughts. Placing blame on one another. The Accords. Not wanting to be held down by a contract even though you could work your way through to the top if you could play your cards right.

None of you had ever imagined it would end like this. Broken apart. Teared open and bruised.

You had found Tony using the suites intertwined tracking systems. A tape played on repeat. The Winter Soldier, murdering two people. On a second viewing, you finally realized who exactly they were. Bile rose up your throat, you needed to find him. That just left finding him as Steve had left him. Cut up, tears- that you wouldn’t dare mention- streaked his face as he angrily shoved off pieces of his suit. A wound he had tried desperately to heal ripped open again with betrayal to act as salt.

You didn’t take away his bottle that night. Hell, you joined him.

“I’m still against this, YN,” Tony sighed, looking at you with that tired look of his, “Why?”

“I don’t know, Tone. It just feels like something I need to do. For myself more than anything.” You placed the last of your things in the suitcase. “As much as I hate what he’s done. There are things I can understand.”

“He broke us apart.”

“We were already divided. As much as we tried to be a family, do all this shit together… The second there was pressure we went into our normal fractions. Honestly, it’s a damn wonder we trusted Double Agent over there.”

He nodded, understanding that you had made a couple of points. “That was a bad call, but hey you can’t win everytime. ...I’m glad you chose this side if anything.”

“Yeah sap, what would I do without your cash?” You joked, “We’re in this together old man. Thick and thin. You know that. Anyways, by the time I come back, I fully expect a ring on Pep’s finger.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hap’s been waiting for you for the past hour. Get going, come back safe and all that jazz.”

Walking through the prison was nerve wrenching. Honestly, even though you had planned out the trip, you really didn’t expect him to agree to the visitation. You followed the guard down the long, dim corridors, not knowing exactly what you’d do or why you were there.

“Here you are. Everything is being monitored.” With that he opened the door and slammed it shut behind you.

“Zemo,” you greeted when you laid sight on the man.

“Avenger,” he said it more as an insult, “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“I owe you an apology,” you stated simply, “I really am. What you went through, it wasn’t anything I expected to happen.”

“I can accept it if that's what you wish, however what use does it have for me, really? You people do as you wish without a thought of what happens to others. People get hurt and killed. Then you’d all go home, back to your obnoxious towers and celebrate that none of you were killed. How many have taken your place?”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, looking at the ground, “I deserve that.”

“Did you celebrate the destruction Tony Stark created?”

You laughed humorlessly, “He always gets all the credit for that, probably because of the tin foil wrapping. It’s a shared burden, I’m afraid, Bruce and I worked just as hard to create Ultron. No. We didn’t celebrate.”

“Then we’re even. You took my family, I tore yours apart.”

“It’s not the first I’ve lost. Knowing my luck it isn’t the last.”

He tilted his head, signaling you to go on.

“We were some dumb kids at the time, maybe 16 or so. The community we lived in was an absolute shithole. Things would get swept under the rug. People would get hurt, killed, used for fun, just because that’s what people felt like doing. So what are a group of good for nothing orphans going to do, none of us really had much hope. We became vigilantis of sorts using ourselves as bait regularly. Did what we had to do. But we were young, dumb and things always have a way of catching up with you.”

“I’m very sorry for the pain you experienced in your youth.”

“Like you said…” you shook away the memories,you weren’t here to rehash those years, “The point is Zemo, I need you to know I do feel for you. I’ve looked into you and you were a good man, probably still are under all the pain. When we made Ultron we had hopes for the best, after what happened in 2012, we all knew something bigger would happen. Tony and I share that, we get paranoid, but how can’t you be when shit hits the fan like that,” you snapped, “It was just a matter of how, when, if we’d be prepared… and in all of that we failed. So honed in to the details of what we could do, we were blinded to what we would cause. Zemo, no amount of forgiveness would ever clear me of the guilt of just how badly we failed you.”

Zemo stared at you, searching for any sign that this was all just a show. When he finally decided you were sincere he gave you a nod.

“There’s something I want to ask of you…”

That’s how you found yourself in Zemo’s family grave. Each step brought you closer to three of the deaths you helped cause. His son was in between his wife and father. The bag of sweets at your side was held limply as you found your way to the right grave.

“Hey, buddy,” you set the Turkish delights on the grave, “Your father said he’s sorry, he couldn’t do this for you this year. But don’t worry, I’ll pick it up for him.”

A shuddered breath escaped you as you thought about the child in the ground. Only able to conjure up a picture of a younger looking Helmut Zemo. A soft round face, light brown hair that was combed neatly just to be messed up seconds later, eyes that questioned everything in the world around him. He should’ve been wreaking havoc, running throughout the home with his father chasing after the excited child. Instead of here, where your choices had placed him.

Sitting down on the ground you fished out the book Zemo had instructed you to get, “Now, I believe your father said he had been really excited to read this one to you. It was one of his favorites.”

#Helmut zemo #tfatws #helmut Zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader

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silversatoru · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! me again, saw that you want some bnha requests and hoo boy do i fuckin got one for ya

im a hardcore member of the fuck bakugo 🖕🏼 squad but i also wanna fuck bakugo ya know?

therefore i would like to request a smut fic where bakugo is so painfully angry at the fact that he has a crush on the reader that he ends up getting caught stealing their panties and chaos ensues 😌

anyway love you bye ❤️

compulsion

touch-starved bakugou katsuki x f!reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, oral sex (male receiving), mild obsession, dom?reader, characters aged up

w/c: 1.9k

katsuki bakugo hates a lot things.

he hates hero training, he hates his annoying classmates, and he hates the fact that it rained today. he hates living in the UA dorms and he fucking hates the overly salted bowl of ramen he was forcing down his throat right now.

bakugo katsuki hates almost everything, but he doesn’t hate you — and he hates that doesn’t.

having a distaste for the world made things easier, because if he always assumed the worse than he’d never be disappointed. he’d gotten pretty far with that logic — that was up until you waltzed into his life and fucked it all up, sending his logic hurling out the window.

when he looked at you he didn’t feel the same hate that he felt for the world around him — in fact when he looked at you he felt a disgusting urge of optimism. he liked the way your hair fell around your shoulders, the way your lips curled when you smiled, and the way your skirt rode up your thighs. he didn’t hate anything about you and that’s what he hated most.

see ya later, katsuki! you’d called to him after hero training today, your round glossy lips pronouncing his name in a way that made his heart flicker and his blood boil over. why did everything about you have to be so fucking perfect? he couldn’t find a single flaw on your annoyingly pristine body no matter how hard he searched for one.

your voice consumed his mind — everything you said to him today replaying on repeat at the center stage of his brain:

come eat lunch with us, katsuki!

hey katsuki, did you finish the math homework? number seven makes like- no fucking sense.

have you seen those chips i like, katsuki? i swear if denki ate them all again i’m gonna kill him

your voice was precious, a terribly sensual melody in his sullen ears. and the way you clung to the ends of your words for just a little too long was repulsively adorable too.

katsuki needed something, anything, to get you off his mind. sitting here and daydreaming about you was making him irate with himself — forcing intrusively irrational thoughts through his thick head. something, anything, he needed to stop thinking about you.

he tossed what was left of his shitty ramen into the trash can and exited the kitchen. the common area was filled with students right now, you included, and it was much too crowded and annoying for his liking. you were sitting with hanta, laughing at some shitty fucking joke he was spouting off.

not that he enjoyed watching that lanky scotch-tape dispenser flirt with you — but it was keeping you busy. your dorm room would be empty right now, wouldn’t it?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

katsuki’s not sure how he ended up here, seething with anger and digging fervently through your drawer of panties. surely you wouldn’t mind if he took just one pair, right? you have to understand that he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t absolutely need them. he wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t make him so fucking angry — this is your fault, not his.

he lifted the lacy material closer to his face for further inspection, unable to prevent his mind from wandering to how it would look wrapped around your body. fuck, they even smelled good — not that he was smelling them intentionally or anything, don't get the wrong idea. he just so happened to get close enough that the soft aroma of cherry blossom fabric softener wafted into his nostrils.

simmering with anger and foggy with unwanted lust, katsuki pocketed the panties for later and turned back towards the door — the same door that you were now standing in front of with immense confusion in your eyes. fuck.

“uh... hey katsuki, whatcha doin?” you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, cocking your head to the side.

“i- uh- it’s fucking none of your business,” he snarled at you, face flushing as he tried to figure out how long you’ve been standing there and how much you saw.

“you’re in my room dude, it’s totally my business,” you raised an eyebrow at him, “and that pair of panties you took is one of my favorites, maybe you could pocket one of the uglier pairs?”

“god, fucking dumbass, this is your fault! i wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t so fucking infuriating,” his face was so angry and flushed you could have sworn there was steam sizzling off his skin.

“me? it’s my fault you’re standing in my room with a pair of my underwear in your pocket and an obvious boner in your pants?”

katsuki grimaced, faltering for just a second as he awkwardly shifted his sweatshirt and pulled it down to cover his swollen erection, “yeah shithead, that’s what i just said. weren’t you fucking listening?”

“this is horribly desperate, katsuki, you could have just asked. i’m more than willing to help you out with this,” you stepped forward and began to shorten the distance between the two of you.

“willing to help me? are you insane? i don’t need your fucking help!” he tried to retaliate, but you were already inches from him, reaching down and dragging a hard palm over the lump in his jeans.

“quit screaming like a lunatic and let me help you, i know this is what you think about,” you pressed harder and gave him an icy stare, the boy using everything in his power not to crumble under your touch.

he’d never been touched like this by anyone, and he was so caught off guard by your sudden movements that he simply stared back at you, frozen in place. no arguments, no insults, no deflective blaming — his brain could barely compute his own name now that your hand was prodding at his bulge.

“that’s what i thought,” you cracked a small smile, “poor katsuki, always pushing everyone away and never getting any action. come sit down”.

katsuki failed to wrap his brain around the current events, wondering how his failed attempt at stealing a pair of panties had led to him sitting on the edge of your bed while you stripped him of his trousers. you were sinking to your knees now, head perfectly level with his cock that was standing flush against his abdomen.

he almost flinched when you reached out and brushed your delicate fingers over the red, swollen head of his dick. his cheeks were flushed with a deep red, and he wanted nothing more than to yell you, to tell you how much of a freak you were. but he didn’t, because as much as he hated to admit it, your touch was the best thing he’d ever felt.

your fingers were wrapped around his shaft now, pumping slow strokes as you warmed him up. he hissed and squirmed under your brand new touch — eyes squeezing shut and hands grabbing fistfuls of your comforter. katsuki had touched himself plenty of times, most of them while thinking of you, but your hand felt so much better than his ever did.

“you’ve never been touched like this, have you?” you pouted up at him, your fingers squeezing a little tighter and pumping a little faster, “poor baby”.

“i- fuck- ah,” he choked out a pitiful cluster of sounds that didn’t actually form any words but still gave you the answer to your question.

you were terribly amused, the typically angry boy was a twitching mess under your touch and you’d barely even started yet. you could only imagine how quickly he’d melt when your lips were around his cock — you were dying to find out.

you leaned forward and began slowly flicking your tongue over the puffy tip, still pumping the shaft with one of your hands. katsuki let out strings of sounds that could only be described as mewls and whimpers, his thighs shaking and his knuckles turning white. poor poor baby, you continued to think, i’m gonna make you feel better than you ever have before.

your head dipped low, the first few inches of his cock sliding across your tongue and into the back of your mouth. the blonde boy whined and bucked his hips, his eyes shooting open at the sudden burst of hot, wet pleasure.

“hng- fuck- fucking sh-shit,” his curses came out as pitiful gasps for air as he stared down at you with wide eyes.

you gradually took more and more of his length into the depths of your throat — his extensive length, by the way. for someone so blessed with such a big, pretty cock, you couldn’t believe he didn’t put it to use more often.

katsuki was cussing you out like it was his job, but each word was accompanied by a gasp or a humiliating whimper. he was so fucking embarrassed, but he felt much too good to care right now. your wet, sticky mouth was enveloping his cock in the most perfect way, jolts of euphoria spiking through his veins and fogging his head.

there was a pressure quickly building in his stomach, a tight wam feeling that signified he was going to come all too soon. but of course you expected this — honestly he’d lasted a few minutes longer than you thought he would.

when his orgasm finally racked through him, his entire body twitched and convulsed, his hips bucking wildly as strings of white liquid sprung from his cock and lined the walls of your tight throat. you milked every drop of cum from him, swallowing it down and then pulling your head back. as much as you wanted to push him and overstimulate him you decided to play nice for his first time.

“so good, katsuki. did you like that?”

his shoulders caved in and his head hung low as he finally came down from his high — the realization of all of the transpiring events finally catching up to him. he mumbled the quietest: yeah, it felt fucking good in response to your question, but refused to meet your eyes.

“we could do this more often, what you think?” you reached up and placed your hand under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“fuck- fine, yeah whatever, but don’t fucking tell anyone about this,” he growled, his angry eyes and twisted eyebrows finally meeting yours.

“of course,” you smiled, standing and tossing him his pants to put back on, “i just came here to grab a sweatshirt, so i better go before anyone comes looking for me. i’ll come find you later though, promise”.

and with that you were walking through the door, wiping your sticky lips on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and heading for the elevators. katsuki sat on the edge of your bed for a few minutes longer, mind blown by the curves of your mouth and the skill of your tongue.

katsuki didn’t hate you before, and he really doesn’t hate you now, but he’s coming to terms with it this time. letting his walls down for you doesn’t sound all that bad if it means you’ll keep making him feel like this.

#bnha bakugou #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha imagines #boku no hero smut #my hero academi smut #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia x reader

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thewhitefluffyhat · 3 years ago

Text

Sotsu Ending Fanfic Thing I Guess

Woke up on Friday feeling depressed over all the loose ends from the Sotsu finale, so I wrote a silly epilogue to Sotsu / possible prologue for my fanfic.

If you’re also feeling down and enjoy the witches, maybe you’ll like this too?

Deep within the Sea of Fragments…

The eternal witch known as Frederica Bernkastel had already attended St Lucia in a previous Fragment. So it wasn’t long before she tired of navigating the dull rules and fawning students again and took her leave of the final Rika.

It had taken significantly longer (but who was counting, in this infinite world between worlds?) to track down Hanyuu and get a satisfying explanation for what had just happened.

But even then, something didn’t quite sit right with Bernkastel. Granted, she was rather paranoid. Spending most of one’s existence getting repeatedly killed by one’s closest friends did that to a girl. So when Hanyuu assured her that this “Eua” entity wouldn’t meddle further, she insisted on inspecting the evidence with her own eyes.

Unfortunately, even after scouring the depths of the Sea, the most she turned up were the traces of the divine battle.

(At least, she assumed that’s what the wreckage of furniture bits and rubble was. The debris floating around the area sure wasn’t as thick the last time she’d checked.)

But eventually, she did come across the ruins of a plush, gaudy bed. The frame was askew and the edges of the pink sheets were torn, but it was still intact enough that the translucent curtains could be and were drawn. Not only that, but behind them, a dark silhouette was hunched over. Almost like she knew someone would be looking for her, and so was cowering away in her hiding spot.

A cruel smirk twitched at the corners of the witch’s mouth. She’d found her prey. Finally.

She still had many, many questions to ask, after all. Questions like “which three fingernails would you like to keep?” And also “would you like to watch my ritual dance again? From the point of view of the futon?”

Hopefully, the goddess’s throat wouldn’t give out from screaming before Bernkastel was finished playing with her. Otherwise she might not actually get answers to her more boring questions regarding the goddess’s relationship with Hanyuu.

Anyway.

“So, we finally meet in person, Eu-” Bernkastel ripped the curtain aside with vicious glee. “-huh?”

Instead of a tiny but smug goddess, the girl huddled on top of the bed was blonde. And curled up in a cozy orange hoodie.

Bernkastel’s sneer dropped to a confused scowl at the sight of her friend. “What are you doing moping around here? Didn’t you say you were going to chase after me?” Ugh. Now they’d have to start the chase all over.

Satoko didn’t reply, so Bernkastel tilted her head and watched her for a while.

…She still didn’t understand the “why,” but “what” the other witch was doing was fairly obvious. She was rubbing her eyes and trying to kludge together a handful of broken Fragments. Even though they obviously didn’t fit together. Indeed, some of the pieces didn’t even look like they were from this sector of the Sea at all.

And she was doing a pretty poor job of it too, Bernkastel thought, given that she’d resorted to holding the mismatched ensemble together with literal band-aids and scotch tape.

Typical. That girl couldn’t even be trusted to clean up her own mess without help.

Bernkastel kicked off her shoes, tossed her St Lucia jacket on a splintered post of the bed frame, and pounced onto the bed.

“Satoko!”

No response. Hm.

She pitched her voice back up to Rika’s cheerful tone. “Satoko~?”

Still no response.

Tch. Bernkastel disliked many things, and being ignored ranked quite highly on the list.

What was so absorbing about a random Fragment anyway? She stealthily came up behind Satoko as the witch was delicately attempting to insert a shard into place. There she waited, then butted her head into her friend’s shoulder at the most aggravating moment possible.

Crack! Crystal ground against crystal, and the small piece shattered in the other witch’s hands.

“Satoko,” Bernkastel repeated in her coldest voice.

“Wha-“ Her friend looked up from the Fragment, eyes wide with... surprise? ...Guilt? But when she saw who her visitor was, she pasted a grin back on her face and sniffed arrogantly. “Ohohoho~! Don’t bother calling me by that name anymore! I already gave it back to its true owner!”

Yet even before she was finished talking, the energy was fading from her voice. Her expression, too, had gone back to the blank, listless one she had been wearing before.

Bernkastel gathered some cushions around herself. “Then what am I supposed to call you now?”

“I don’t know.” The witch formerly known as Satoko shrugged apathetically. “I guess I’ll have to think of something for the next time we meet.”

“It better be something I can pronounce. Since I’ll likely be shouting it at you eventually.”

“You’re one to talk, Rika.” The nameless witch glanced to the side at her, then down again. “Or rather, it’s Ms. Fancy Foreign Name here, isn’t it?”

“…Bern.” She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Just Bern is fine if you can’t say the rest of it.”

“Oh?” A wan smile briefly lit her friend’s face. “How about Fred-Fred? Or Cassie? Or Eri-mmph!”

The two tumbled around on the bed as Bernkastel attempted to suffocate her friend with a pillow.

“Alternatively, I’m going to retrieve the Onigari no Ryuuou just so I can cut your tongue out. That would solve the problem quite elegantly.”

The nameless witch giggled and smiled a bit more genuinely at that. And Bernkastel put down the pillow. For now.

“Okay, Bern.” Her friend rolled the name around her tongue. “Sure. It’s cute enough. I like it.”

“Good.” Bernkastel gently lifted the other witch’s chin. “Now, what can you possibly be looking at that’s more interesting than me?”

“Oh, this?” The nameless witch dismissively tossed the Fragment cluster up and over her shoulder. “Catch.”

Bernkastel reached out, and the Franken-Fragment halted in it’s arc, then drifted toward her palm in a lazy spiral. Once she held it in her hands, she twisted it back and forth in examination.

...It really was a pitiful mess. Entire facets were chipped and dull, or had other bits of crystal haphazardly jammed into the cracks. There were patches of gummy residue where her friend had clearly peeled off a band-aid when she’d changed her mind about what she was doing. And the whole thing smelled cloyingly sweet, like she’d thought dipping it in liquid cotton candy would somehow improve the situation.

As for the shifting scenes inside…

“...I don’t remember this. One of yours?”

“My first loop. Sort of. I changed some details in between the lines.” The nameless witch clenched at the sheet by her sides. “Screwed it up worse now, probably.”

“Why?”

“I just…” She let go of the sheet to hug her knees. “I just wanted to look at some happy Fragments. After. You know.”

“Heartlessly murdering all our friends?”

“Yeah.” She buried her head down.

“You going to try to fix all those Fragments too?”

“Maybe.” she muttered into her knees. “If I can find them.”

“Have fun with that.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“I was being serious.” Bernkastel raised an eyebrow. “It’s none of my business if you want to while away eternity with futile projects. No matter how many you fix, I can bring you another hundred more where they die horribly.”

“Hypocrite. You still did the same thing for Takano.”

“Not exactly.” She’d watched that too? Interesting. “Regardless, it’s not like the humans will ever thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for them, I’m doing it for me.”

“If you say so.” Bernkastel languidly stretched out over the pillows. “So what about the worlds where you offed yourself in front of me and left me traumatized for life?”

“Hmph! Those ones you’ll just have to deal with.” The witch that was once Satoko turned away and pouted, just like she did when she was human. “Look, even if I was being a total idiot, I’m still mad that I lost, alright?”

“…I took a peek at a few of those, actually.” Bernkastel stared up at the shredded canopy above. “I don’t even go to St Lucia in them. Seems I can’t bear to leave Hinamizawa when my memories there are all I have left of you.”

“Figures.” There it was again. The bitter edge to her friend’s voice was new. That, and she’d toned down her usual haughty mannerisms. “The only times I win is if I can’t stick around to enjoy it.”

“Isn’t it fun, being a witch?”

“Didn’t I tell you? It’s great. I keep finding more and more things to love about it.”

She sounded a lot more sarcastic this time. Perhaps her power high really was wearing off, now that she’d been left with only her thoughts for company for a while.

...She really did get lonely easily...

“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” If she hadn’t already done so in the past, Bernkastel pondered. Or the future?

Hanyuu had said some rather disconcerting things about the origins of her friend’s… consciousness? Bernkastel didn’t really get it, but that was just par for the course with her goddess sometimes. It would just give her a headache if she thought about it too much.

“…So? What did you think?” the other witch asked with feigned carelessness.

“Of the Fragment?” Bernkastel pretended not to understand. “It’s a true miracle. You managed to produce something that would even have failed Chie’s Arts and Crafts day.”

The nameless witch gave her a withering glare.

“Oh, was I supposed to watch the whole thing?”

Her friend lost her nerve and reached forward to take the Fragment back. “N-nevermind.”

“Too late.” Bernkastel batted aside the grasping hand and and teasingly held the Fragment out of reach. “You gave it away, so it’s mine now.”

“H-hey! Give it back! I’m still working on it!” Even as a witch, the girl was still incredibly cute when she was flustered.

“You can have it back when I’m done.” Bernkastel held the Fragment to her chest and pushed her friend’s head back as she impotently flailed her arms. “I’m curious now.”

“Fiiiine.” The other witch gave up and flopped down onto her stomach. “But don’t expect too much, okay? Unlike you, I’m no poetic genius.”

“Mmhm.” Bernkastel had already settled further into the mass of blankets and was busy conjuring the sensation of a glass of her favorite wine.

“In fact, it’s certainly going to be rea~lly stupid, just like me! So don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

But her warning fell on deaf ears as Bernkastel took a sip of wine and lost herself within the glittering depths of the Fragment.

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amythedvdhoarder · 4 years ago

Text

A Christmas Present for Life

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 640

Summary: Bucky makes you open your first Christmas present as soon as the clock strikes 12.

Warnings: pure fluff

A/N: gif not mine. This is my third entry into the Merry Hoemas Writing Challenge hosted by myself, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @chrissquares, @pumpkin-and-pine and @starlightcrystalline. The festive writing spirit must have hit me. I chose the prompt: unwrapping presents.

Not beta read and written hastily on my phone, any and all mistakes are my own!

Divider made by the incredibly talented @chrissquares

Check out some of the other amazing entries for hoemas here

“Doll, can you open this present real quick for me?” Bucky asked as he tried to hide his nerves.

“Buck, it’s only just turned midnight. We should be going to bed, not opening presents” you rolled your eyes at his eagerness.

“Please Y/N? This just this one, then we can go to bed. Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if you leave it until the morning,” the hint of desperation in his voice quickly made your resolve break.

“Ok, you can stop giving me the puppy dog eyes now,” you laughed, taking the small, wrapped gift from your boyfriend's hand.

You pulled on the red velvet ribbon and began working on the brown paper.

“How much scotch tape did you use on this?” You scoffed as you struggled to find a way in.

“Oh, come on, you're an avenger this should be a doddle,” he teased.

Your nail found a gap in the tape and you ripped open the paper. When you pulled it all away you found a small, slightly battered, black leather box.

You froze, eyes widening in shock. “Buck, what is this?” You looked up and him, his blue eyes shiny with tears.

“Open it,” he whispered softly.

Pushing back the lid, you looked down to find a delicate silver ring, topped with dark blue sapphire, surrounded by a small circle of diamonds. An audible gasp of surprise left your lips and you immediately turned to look at Bucky. But he wasn’t sitting next to you anymore, instead he was kneeling before you on one knee.

“I wanted to do this so much sooner, but it took me a while to track down my mother’s ring. Y/N, you have brought me back to life. You are my reason for getting up every morning and the only mission I have now is to try and make you as happy as you've made me. If you’ll have me of course,” Bucky paused to take your hand and briefly pressed it to his lips. “Y/N, will you make me the happiest centenarian in the world and marry me?”

Tears started to roll down your cheeks. “It’s the easiest question I’ve ever been asked. Yes Bucky, of course I will marry you!”

The biggest grin broke out on Bucky’s face. He took the ring out of the box and slid it onto your ring finger. You held out your hand to admire the new addition.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured.

“Nothing compares to you doll,” you couldn’t help but giggle at his never-ending flattery.

You climbed down off the sofa, wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips softly to his. Bucky broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours.

“Sorry it wasn’t a fancy proposal.”

You leant back so you could look into his eyes. “It was perfect, the Christmas tree lit up, the fire crackling in the background. I don’t need anything else to make it special, just you.”

Closing the distance between you, Bucky peppered your cheek with kisses, working his way down to your lips. You sighed into it, lips parting enough to allow Bucky to deepen this kiss. His tongue danced with yours as you moved yourself into his lap, Bucky letting out a satisfied hum in response.

Reluctantly you pulled away. “As much as I would love to take this further, I, unlike you, need to go to sleep. Especially if you want me to be awake during Christmas dinner,” you teased.

Bucky huffed slightly but then smiled “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he stood, picking you up with him. “Can’t wait to show off my fiancée to everyone tomorrow, let the whole world know you’re mine,” he gave you a quick peck on the lips and started carrying you to the bedroom.

“I was always yours Buck.”

You had never uttered a truer statement.

Taglists are open, let me know if you want in or out 🥰

Everything:

@stargazingfangirl18 , @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog, @angrythingstarlight, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @rogueheretic555, @rebekahdawkins, @chrissquares, @pumpkin-and-pine, @hereforbuckyandsteve, @drakelover78, @baddie-barnes, @cas25214, @pandaxnienke @thehumanistsdiary, @saiyanprincessswanie, @ladyacrasia

Bucky:

@its-izzys

#merryhoemas #festive fic #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #festive fluff

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harmoni-me · 4 years ago

Note

hello it’s me again! thank you for fulfilling my request i just loved it. can you please do a continuation? like- reader starts receiving these anonymous love letters and gifts, this drove the boys (and the reader) to confess their feelings in the end. angst to fluff

Wow, thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! This one is even longer than the last, so please have fun reading this one!

Nagito Komaeda x Sweetheart Reader x Kokichi Ouma Pt. 2

Crunch

Huh? What in the world-

Last time you remembered reaching into your school duffle bag, all you had in it was a comfy change of clothes for when gym activities rolled around, and a wet bottle of water that was dripping with condensation, but…

You didn’t remember an envelope, not in the slightest.

A nervousness started to boil over from your head to your heart, face heating up as quickly as hot coals on a cold evening. Is this… what you thought it was?

You’re stomach dropped at the realization, plunging into the depths of your being, as a realization struck.

This…this was probably not who you thought it was from.

In retrospect, the sting would only sink in deeper if only a single letter was given.

You weren’t satisfied, and that made you feel like you were scum, too dirty to even bother to be dealt with.

Even feeling a great amount of resentment to the silly thing, it’s not like you weren’t going to open it. You weren’t heartless when it came to the topic of possible confession. I guess you could say that the author of the letter made you feel something you haven’t felt in a while.

It’s was pure, unbridled, bitter jealousy. Jealousy that engulfed your vision, clouding all sense of realism.

Why could someone so anonymous have more guts about dealing with their crush than you? This person, who you didn’t even know, had the heart of a lion to sit down, write out something deep and personal, and somehow get it to you.

You were jealous, because you would never have the heart to do the same.

Once the bell rang to signal the last period of the day, you begrudgingly stood from your desk, knowing what you had to do. You had to open it, it would be extremely inconsiderate if you didn’t.

While you were walking in the hallway to somewhere slightly more secluded, you slipped the letter out of your bag. It was pure white, and it wasn’t made out of anything fancy. The opening was sealed by a simple piece of clear scotch tape, and when turning the message over, on the back was large, red letters that spelled your name in delicate cursive. You really wanted to get this over with.

“BOO!”

“OH MY GOD-“ You jumped out of your skin, dropping the envelope in your hand, causing it to flutter to the floor.

“Nehehe! I got you so good!” A purple-haired brat giggled at your jump of fright, rounding the corner he was hiding behind. His eyes then wandered to the envelope that was laid flat on the tiled floor, his eyebrows rose, and a smirk slowly carved his way onto his face.

“Oooo, what’s this little thing, hm? An invitation? A secret message?….” Kokichi knelt down to pick up the letter, fitting the paper between his middle finger and index finger. He got up all in your face, an evil smile plastered on his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. He got closer to your ear, voice dropping, and his breath hot against your ear.

“Maybe…a love confession? Aww, how sweet…” Kokichi hummed, pleased by the steamy expression your face turned when you were embarrassed. Then, as suddenly as the actions before, Kokichi hopped backwards, grasping onto the letter with both hands, raising it aggressively high in the air.

“Ahhh! The anticipation! What’s inside, what’s inside, what’s inside?!” Kokichi kept on blabbering, waving the envelope all over the place, as if he was a child on Christmas Eve, shaking a wrapped gift to see if they could guess its contents.

When you saw the best opportunity, you quickly snatched the letter back from the naughty boy’s grubby little hands, huffing with a blush on your face once you retrieved what had been addressed to you.

You leaned your back against the hallway wall, which had now been abandoned. Slowly, you sunk yourself down to the ground, not once taking your eyes off of the red lettering that spelled your name in flawless cursive. You noticed upon close inspection that the lettering was a little smudged at the ends, most likely from Kokichi’s roughhousing with it.

A rough thump rang out next to you, making you look over with not much interest. Kokichi, in all of his nosy glory, had sat right up next to you against to wall, head shoved all in your business.

“Come on! Open it already! The suspense is killing me!” Kokichi was vibrating from waiting so patiently....to what extent Kokichi could be patient, that is.

You sighed, giving up. It was most likely anonymous anyway, so Kokichi won’t even know who to target ruthlessly on for the next month.

You let the tip of your finger slide into the opening of the letter, breaking the tape to the prized information. You carefully slipped out the neatly folded piece of paper, which was a thicker, almost card stock like texture.

Even before opening it, you could feel the emotion that radiated out of the paper. You suddenly had an image turn in your mind, of a person looking to be your age, carefully writing every word down as perfectly a flawed human could. Though, you could imagine them also grasping at their hair, crumbling up previous attempts, over and over again, as if disposing of their emotions, yet rebirthing it to be conveyed better each and every time.

It made you feel that much worse, knowing that the writer’s feelings are in no way reciprocated. You couldn’t, because the feelings to give back were already stolen in their entirety. By two other people, none the less.

Ironic how one of your two fattest crushes you’ve ever had in your life was basically huddling into you right at this moment, wanting so desperately to know what the paper read.

When finally did unfold the letter, you were met with beautiful, curvy handwriting, not a spelling error or smudge could be found.

. . .

To the one who my heart yearns for the most,

I’ve lost track on how many times I have written this letter. For reference, the bin next to me is now filled to the brim and was completely empty just two hours ago, but that’s not important, is it?

Let’s get the obvious things out of the way, shall we? I adore you. Though I’m keeping this anonymous, I want you to know that my heart has grown ten times it’s size ever since the day I met you. Every single attribute about you I hold as a precious keepsake within my mind. Every time you do anything, say anything, I want to keep it all to myself. I want to lock the sound of your voice, and keep vivid pictures of your smile fresh within my memories.

You, (Y/N), have made me feel things that I thought I had become numb to. I was unapproachable. A man that was blinded by his own psychotic desire to be used, that’s what I was.

You might think I’m exaggerating, but I believe you’re my guardian angle, sent to be due to God’s pity. Now that I’ve written it down, that was stupid, but I’ll keep it, because it’s the truth.

You saved me from myself, causing me to unsurprisingly fall in love with the one who made me realize I was a human, standing among other flawed humans, all having different lives, hopes, talents, aspirations...

Your kindness, no, your everything gave me so much room to simply breathe, and realized what I was doing to myself and to others.

Now that that’s out of the way, I would like to mention something I’ve...conjured.

I’m not very great at using my words, so that’s why I’ve poured everything into this letter, but you deserve to know who I am.

I’m scared, and if you do see me, I might not be able to get a good amount of words out but

In two days from now, after school, I want to meet you. I was thinking on the school rooftop? If you decide to come, I’ll be there waiting.

. . .

Wow

Who...who was this guy? And why...

Your eyes were brimming with tears, glossy from such words. This could be anyone, yet, what did you do? You were friends with many people, but not like this...you don’t think?

You suddenly felt something warm wiping away your now falling tears, gliding over your cheeks to brush away your liquid sadness.

“Hey, don’t cry...it’s not a good fit for you.” Kokichi then used his bandana to gently dry your puffy eyes and crimson cheeks. You looked up at the boy, who had the tiniest smile present on his face. It was almost as if that was how far the smile could go.

The sun broke through a window across the hallway, landing on Kokichi and his facial features. You looked into his eyes, but something was off.

Those eyes, they reflected a lot more light than they usually did, as if they were simply water in a pond. Was he-

“Well, that sure was something, huh?” Kokichi turned around, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, trying to be discreet. You noticed though, but decided to not say anything.

. . .

When you thought things couldn’t get worse, you had totally jinxed yourself the next day.

You wanted to get your water bottle out of the your school duffel bag during class, because humans have to drink every once in awhile, but when you did...

Crunch

What...what even was that?

You honestly didn’t even want to bother until the end of the day with how you were feeling right now.

You were slumped, once again, in an empty hallway, browsing your phone and looking at funny cat videos to raise your vibrations. At least they made you smile.

“Is there a kitten nearby?” A voice had pierced the atmosphere. You looked up, it was Nagito standing over you, a face of half wonder and half concern delicately painted on his features.

You looked downcast, and you hated hiding your emotions, so it was plainly evident to Nagito how you felt in that moment, and he was heartbroken.

He placed his belongings next to you, along with himself, comfortably hugging his knees into his chest. He turned to you frowning a bit.

“You...only watch cute animal videos when you’re sad. Is... there anything wrong?” Nagito questioned, wanting to help you as much as you’ve helped him.

“It’s kinda personal, but your company already makes me feel better, so it’ll all be fine.” You gave the white haired boy a little smile, showing just how genuine you were.

Nagito hummed, nodding in understanding. He was playing it cool in front of you, but he really wanted to punch the person that made you feel like this.

It’s funny, because he probably has an idea of who...

“Oh, yeah, the thing...” You mumbled, reaching over to dig around in your duffle bag. When you felt the crunchy texture, you pulled it out, revealing something something that you honestly weren’t expecting.

It was a large pink lollipop, and it was in the shape of a heart.

It was probably as big as your head, and there was a clear, wrapper-like foil around the treat, preserving it for the consumer.

“Where did you get that?” Nagito raised a brow, because it was quite ridiculous how absurdly large this lollipop was. It was a funny sight though, seeing you side to side with with a sweet that could easily cover your whole face.

“I... think someone game this to me?” You thought, smiling a bit at the silliness of the situation.

But your mind wandered... was it the same person who wrote the letter? Then again, you didn’t think it would make sense with someone like him getting, well, this. Especially after writing something so deep and personal. This just kinda seemed incredibly random.

Either way, you started to unwrap the lollipop, wanting to eat some of it, even though you were most likely not going to finish the thing.

Resuming the cat videos, you repositioned the phone between you and Nagito. The boy took a glance, watching as he saw a fluffy white kitten get scared from playing a note on a piano, making him chuckle.

“You wanna watch somethin’ else, Nagi?” You asked Nagito, making him perk up in attentive nature. His smile conveyed so much care for you, as if you were his most prized gift he had ever received in his life.

“I’m bound to enjoy anything you would like, (Y/N)! Please, pick whatever you would like!” Nagito waved his hands, signaling not to worry about him, after all, you were the sad one out of you two for the moment.

“Ok! We’re watching Gordon Ramsay yell at people!” You promptly spoke, grabbing the phone and setting up the Hell’s Kitchen episode.

“Don’t mind me asking, but who is that?” Nagito questioned genuinely, making you gasp in surprise. How?

“He’s one of the best chef’s in the world, but he’s super strict with his employees, so it’s kinda entertaining. You’ll see!” You exclaimed, scooting yourself closer to Nagito, propping up the phone. You leaned into his side, taking a little nibble from your lollipop.

Nagito’s eyes kept on darting from you to the screen, having trouble with containing his emotion with you simply leaning on him to watch a show about...a vulgar-mouthed chef.

“Hm? What’s the matter?” You looked up at him, face inches apart from his. He didn’t respond, too nervous to trust his mouth. Lucky for him, you cut in.

“Oh! You want some?” You stuck the untouched side of the lollipop to Nagito’s mouth.

His brain and heart were on fire, and not a lick of logic was left. He pressed his lips against the candy, and sucked on a small portion.

It was your favorite flavor...he liked it way better than artificial grape soda, by a long shot.

After licking to his satisfaction, Nagito locked his teeth into the part he had been abusing with his mouth, biting off a piece for to-go.

“I need to go to the restroom, ok? I’ll be back.” He said, getting up from his seated position, making his way and entering into the boys bathroom at the end if the hallway.

You don’t know if he knows, but boy, you were blushing up a storm. He literally just gave you an up close and personal presentation on how his tongue did it’s work. Now, you didn’t really care for dirty thoughts, but after witnessing that, you couldn’t help it...

You looked down at the lollipop, now with a small chunk of it gone missing from the main snack. You examined it, and realized something so blatantly obvious, it was embarrassing.

Rapped around the white stick of the lollipop was a piece of yellow paper, and without much thought, you unraveled it.

It was a note, but it was short, and written it blue colored pencil.

. . .

Found this at a candy store, and bought it because you looked sad the last time I saw you. Seeing you sad makes me sad and stuff so yeah. I’m not signing my name here or anything, cuz that would just give away the surprise! But I’ll confess to you properly in person, cuz I’m better at talking. Meet me tomorrow after school, on the roof!

. . .

Huh?

Was this...the same guy? No, no it’s really couldn’t have been. The handwriting was different, the spelling was off, and they seemed a lot more laid back. Also, the author of the letter clearly stated that he was better at conveying is precious feelings by writing, while this one said they were more than happy to spill their own feeling with their voice.

So, you’ve got two secret admirers now...and both of them want to meet at the same place, and the same time.

Maybe this was all just some twisted, elaborate trick by a group of thugs, wanting to lure you in, then gang up on you like street cats when they found a lowly mouse to pray upon.

You’ll never know, unless you sucked it up and went tomorrow.

. . .

Well, there you were, on the roof after school the next day.

No one was there.

The sky was as clear as your blank mind, which you had forced to stop thinking about the world around you, and what you were doing. The breezed tickled your face, as if the wind tried to replicate the feeling of tips of grass grazing on ones cheek.

The only noise was the muffled chattering from students below, creating the perfect background noise to just...relax.

Until you heard yelling.

It was coming from the stairwell that lead up to the roof. You didn’t move a muscle, it was probably just loud, rambunctious students.

But it just kept on going, and going, on and on like a hyper parakeet who had a shot of expresso.

Well, since your admirers haven’t shown their faces for the past fifteen minutes, there’s nothing better right now than to snoop on the possible drama rumbling around in the stairwell. Might make a good story to tell someday, you never know.

You made your way into the stairwell, only to be met with very familiar voices, but you quickly made your presence unknown to them, hiding behind a wall.

“Kokichi! I told you not to not to get yourself involved!” Nagito raised his voice a little, but not to the point where it was just pure anger talking. Kokichi stood, fists balled up in pent up frustration.

“I know you did! And it was stupid that I did, but-“ Kokichi yelled, desperation in his voice.

“Then WHY? You knew I wrote that letter, hell, you were there helping me write the damn thing, but you go and do this?!” Nagito’s heart was the one talking at this point, because you’ve never heard his voice twinge in such genuine emotional pain.

But now you knew who wrote the letter, it was Nagito.

That didn’t sink in as hard as it was supposed to, until-

Wait, Nagito?

“Y-you don’t understand!” Kokichi responded, clenching his teeth from emotional agony.

“I do understand, and I just want to tell you that you’ve went way too far on this sick joke-“

“IT’S NOT A JOKE!” Kokichi cried out, a rasp in his voice becoming evident.

“Then what is it, Kokichi? Spill it. You know how important this is to me, and I don’t like yelling at you.” Nagito was stern, his voice dominating the purple-haired boy.

“Because...I-I...” his voice broke in sadness and so, so much regret. He suddenly huffed, opening his mouth to wallow out.

“B-BECAUSE I LOVE THEM TOO!” Kokichi sobbed. Thick, wet tears rolling down his swollen cheeks. Nagito was shocked, not saying a word. Nagito’s frown deepend because of the wallowing boy in front of him that he cared so much for. Yet, like always, he could never find the words to wrap Kokichi in warmth and apology. The thought made Nagito’s eyes begin to water.

Look what you did, you hurt him, you absolute scum.

“B-but *hic* I-I-I’m s-so *hic* s-selfish...I...” Kokichi hiccuped, trying his absolute best to get his words across.

“I’M SO FUCKING SELFISH, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU TOO, NAGITO KOMAEDA....y-you b-b-big jerk...” Kokichi wailed, a river of tears poring, falling to the concrete floor; the droplets staining the ground in a darker shade of grey when they landed.

“O-oh my god...K-Kokichi...l-“ Nagito started, hands shaking violently. This was bad, this was really bad.

And you knew that.

So you ran. You ran so fast out of your hiding spot, down to the two people in this world that you cared about the most.

And before you knew it, you harshly brought the both of them into your arms, causing the three of you to to collapse onto the ground.

You let it all out. You bawled into their arms, letting out your cries. Whether it was just from sadness, or of relief, that didn’t matter. You cried, until your eyes went dry, and all of your tears were soaked into the boys’ shirts.

. . .

After a bit, all was silent, except for the breathing of you three all mixing together. Your bodies were intermingled, assuming the best position for comfort and care.

You needed to say something, anything. You needed to tell them, or else everything will fall apart.

“I can’t choose.” You put it simply, the two other boys perked up, tear stains prominently showing on both of their faces.

“(Y/N)...” Nagito mumbled.

“I desperately need the both of you. So badly. I want to love you two so much I want my lips to hurt from kissing you two so much by the end of each day. I want my hands to cramp from holding both of you two’s hands so much.” You proclaimed, letting out everything that has been building up in your heart.

“I want to wake up with the warmth of two. I want to spend my days and nights with all of my love coming from two. And...I want to try each and every new thing life brings me, with the love of two.” You gasped for air, sighing out of your mouth, regulating your breath to its normal pace.

“I understand if you don- mphf!” You were promptly shut.

Kokichi had placed his lips on yours, causing a jolt of passion to ignite your soul. The feeling was delicate and new, but it was incredibly lovely You promptly kissed back, feeling a joy you’ve never felt before in your life.

The two of you parted with the kiss when the both of you felt soft lips gently peck both of your foreheads. It was as soft as a feather, yet it made the two of you go so incredibly soft.

You and Kokichi looked up to see Nagito, a small smile on his face. One of his hands reached up to your left cheek, while the other hand made its way to Kokichi’s right. He then lovingly dragged his thumbs across both of your cheeks, smile growing wider, while his face became rosy.

“There’s...so much I want to say but...I hope my actions can at least convey how my heart wants to treat the two of you.” Nagito said, his voice dropped, but in a more of a endearing tone than anything. The boy was still smiling like this was the happiest day in his life.

“I think it would be fun if we all had a slumber party as our first date.” Kokichi giggled, nuzzling into Nagito’s long, slender fingers.

“That sounds like fun, I think it would be delightful.” Nagito playfully pinched Kokichi’s cheek lightly, causing Kokichi to giggle, smiling wide.

“But we do have one thing to take care of first...” Nagito glanced over to you, chuckling.

You were fast asleep within the palm of his hand. It made him fall in love all over again, to be honest.

Nagito and Kokichi worked to untangle themselves from your limbs, trying not to wake you. They then promptly proceeded to place you on Nagito’s back, in a comfortable position so you could keep on sleeping soundly.

“You up for taking our little Cutie back to her place?” Kokichi snickered.

“Of course, love. Only if you would accompany me? Nagito stuck out his hand, waiting for the warmth of another.

“You’re lucky I really like you, clover.” Kokichi hastily grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together.

As they began walking out to the main exit gate, Kokichi spoke.

“You know, I said a lie earlier I didn’t like. I don’t just like you...I actually really love you. The both of you. That’s something I could never lie about.” Kokichi pledged, the evening orange sky bouncing off of his face. Nagito squeezed the shorter males hand lovingly.

“I love you too, Kokichi. And not just you also, but the both of you. My heart will be forever loyal to the two of you until I rest in my own grave, remember that.”

#Dangonronpa fanfiction #danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa x reader #nagito x s/o #nagito komeada x reader #nagito komeada #kokichi #kokichi oma #komeada x reader #kokichi x reader #Kokichi Oma x reader #Nagito Komaeda x Reader x Kokichi Oma #nagito x kokichi x y/n #nagito x kokichi #nagito x reader x kokichi

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dreamypeaches · 4 years ago

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don’t wake up pt. 6 | rafe cameron x reader

summary: after the night at the kegger, you and rafe tend to your broken hearts

warnings: alcohol use, cursing, drug mention, angst

word count: 3.9k

a/n: okay, so, i know i said this would be the last part, but it was getting so long and I had a great stopping point so there will be one more part after this. enjoy :)

series masterlist

Heartbreak is not a physical sickness, but it can consume a mind like nothing else. As you lay in your bed, your mind constantly filters through every moment, every word, every touch over the course of your relationship with Rafe, trying to figure out if there was something more you could have done. It had only been about two months, but love can feel like a lifetime. And you could very safely say that you were in love with Rafe Cameron, even if he did break your heart.

Three days had passed since the Kegger and you had yet to leave you and your sister’s shared room. It was pathetic really, laying there in silence staring at the wall. You had at least two playlists that you used when you were sad, but even music reminded you of Rafe now. He had called, texted, left voicemails, but you refused to even read or listen to them. It was too much right now.

The Pogues had tried to console you, comfort you in anyway they could but you could hear their thoughts beneath the soothing tone of their voices. That’s what you get when you date a Kook. Especially Rafe Cameron.

Your sisters tried to comfort you too, to the best of their ability, but they were both busy with work, so most of your days were spent with your nephews and niece. Your niece, Jones, was the oldest, five years old and acted more mature than she should, but that was how it was on the Cut. She could tell something was wrong, and cuddled with you on the couch while the four of you watched Disney movies on repeat. You had called into work, not wanting to face anything for the rest of time.

It was lunch time, you were busy in the kitchen making sandwiches for the little ones. There was a knock at the door and all three of the children raced and wrestled each other to be the first to open it. You heard someone talking, but couldn’t make it out.

“Aunt Y/N, there’s a boy here,” Jones appeared at your side with a concerned look on her face, “and he looks like a Kook.”

You dropped the knife you were using to cut the sandwich, a quiet bang echoing through the kitchen. There was only one Kook who would show up at your door. You took Jones’ outstretched hand. She led you to the door where your two and three year old nephews were glaring up at the man standing there, the older one punching him in the leg. They learned early not to trust a Kook.

“Kelce?” You asked, furrowing your brows at the Kook in your doorway. He was grinning down at your attacking nephew, but the grin faded at the sound of your voice. He looked suddenly solemn, giving you a weak smile. You noticed a small box in his hands but couldn’t make out what was inside

“Can we talk?” You nodded, prying your nephew from Kelce’s leg and urging them inside and back to the living room. You turned back to Kelce who looked so out of place you almost laughed. Crossing your arms across your chest, you surveyed Kelce, waiting for him to say something.

Rafe had always spoken highly of Kelce, the nicer of his two friends. Before you had dated Rafe, Kelce had always been the Kook you were least intimidated by. Sure, he was still a dick to your friends, but you had never seen him throw a punch or heard him shout some horrible name at you. So you were ready to hear him out. If it had been Topper, you would have let your nephews bite his leg off.

“You need to talk to Rafe,” He said. You scoffed.

“I don’t need to do shit.”

“Please, Y/N! I know he hurt you and he does too. I’m not saying you need to forgive him but at least listen to him. He’s a mess. I’ve known him my whole life and he’s been bad before but this time…” Kelce trailed off, looking down at his feet and shaking his head.

“Just call him, please. You don’t even have to talk, just listen to what he has to say.”

“Did he send you?” You questioned.

“No, I’m just here as his best friend. He fucked up, bad, but he loves you.” You scoffed again. Kelce held out the box to you and you took it hesitantly,

“I found him this morning, passed out drunk. He’d been holding these. I thought you should see.”

He gave you one last nod and turned, walking down the path to his car.

You waited until he had driven away to go back into the house. Returning to the kitchen, you set the box down on the counter. You looked up at your niece and nephews, who were happily eating their sandwiches and watching PJ Masks. You looked back at the box and took a deep breath, having absolutely no idea what you would find inside.

A sob worked it’s way up your throat as you removed the lid to find a rainbow of scattered sticky notes filling it up. You recognized your doodles and handwriting covering them and slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your cries, not wanting to disturb the kids.

After your first night with Rafe, it became a habit to leave the notes for him. You felt bad sneaking away in the morning, leaving him all alone after the night you had. They were stupid, just something to remind him of you. You hadn’t known it then, but you were already falling hard for him. You had no idea he had kept them. Every. Single. One.

Jones suddenly appeared at your side, staring up at you with a worried look.

“I’m okay, sweetie, don’t worry,” You said, smoothing a hand over her hair. She wrapped her arms around your waist and smashed her face against your side. You accepted the little girls comfort gladly, holding her close to you with one hand while the other sifted through the notes. After the last time you saw Rafe, you had been sure your feelings had been unrequited. How could he do that to you if he really did feel the same? But now, you weren’t so sure.

The moment your older sister got home, you retreated to your room with the box. You looked through every note, picturing Rafe as you did. You thought of how the morning light filtered in through the window, illuminating his bare back. The peaceful look on his face as you sneaked through the door. Then you remembered another Rafe, a Rafe who was already awake by the time you were. An arm thrown around you waist, a sleepy smile on his lips, hair sticking out every which way. Good morning, Angel. A deep and consuming kiss on your lips.

Tears were still silently pooling at the corners of your eyes as you opened your phone, finally opening your text conversation with Rafe.

I’m so sorry, Angel

Please answer me. I fucked up.

Is JJ okay?

Please, Angel, I need to hear your voice.

Y/N, I know I fucked up but please just answer me.

Are you okay?

Please. I need you to know something.

Please answer your phone

The waiting tears spilled out as you read through the several texts he had sent over the past few days. Taking a deep breath, you tapped on his name and held the phone up to your ear. He answered almost immediately.

“Y/N!” His voice was deep and scratchy and desperate. You wanted to reach through the phone and give him a hug.

“Angel, please say something, I need to hear your voice.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, half of you wanting the end the call and through your phone in the ocean. The other half wanted to drive down to Figure 8 and hold him in your arms.

“Just say what you need to say, Rafe.”

You hear him sigh, half relieved half terrified. Then he starts crying

“I-I’m so sorry. I fucked up so bad and I hurt you, and I can’t forgive myself. You shouldn’t forgive me either. I know Kelce came to see you and showed that box. I hope it helps you realize how much you mean to me because…fuck…you mean the world to me Y/N. You may not think so because of what happened the other night, but you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Before you found me on the beach I though I would never be happy. That I didn’t fucking deserve to be happy. But you changed that. You loved me so much that I had to believe I could be loved. ‘Cause if someone like you loves someone like me,” He laughs and you choke back a sob, “than I must be pretty great.”

You barely hear him over the sound of your own sobs. Trying to picture him here, right in front of you, you see a dumb smile on his face. That dumb, dopey smile that always appears when your with him. He’s giving you that look. That look he gave you that night at the beach and again that night in the kitchen and again and again every day after. That sparks sits in his voice as he speaks, willing you to understand that it was still there.

“I love you, angel. I fell in love with you under the stars and fell into an endless hole because I will never stop falling. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I just needed you to know that I am in love with you. I couldn’t go another minute without telling you. What I did was terrible and you should hate me for it. But if I can get even an ounce of your forgiveness, that would be enough.”

Your sobs were still coming, but had decreased in the harshness. You could hear Rafe breathing on the other side of the phone, interrupted every now and again by sniffling. With scotch tape and white glue, your heart was slowly being put back together. It was messy and fragile, but it was a heart nonetheless, put back together by Rafe’s shaking hands and words of love. Taking a deep breath, calming yourself down enough to speak.

“Rafe.” You hear him let out a breath of air.

“Y/N…” Your name is like a prayer

“I love you completely. But you fucked up and you hurt me so…I’m going to need some time.”

Silence. Sniff.

“Okay, angel, whatever you need.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hang up the phone and throw it to the edge of your bed. Emotions wash over you like a wave, pulling you under and pummeling you against the current. You let out a final sob as you sink into your bed, snuggling into the pillow that quickly became soaked with your tears. The bedroom door creaks open and tiny feet creep in. Jones stands in front of you dressed in her pajamas and clutching her stuffy.

“Do you need a hug?” She asks. You nod vigorously and open your arms to welcome the girl. Her arms circle your torso and squeeze you as hard as five year old can. Giving her a kiss on the head, you hold your niece tight and try to ease your recovering heart.

Jones falls asleep quickly. Laying there, you stare up at the ceiling where glow in the dark stars sill lingered from when you were a child. Rafe runs through your mind like a wild fire, igniting every thought that wasn’t about him. Decisions race through your mind behind it, flashing through quickly, but only one stands out.

You detach from Jones’ Koala like grip and grab your phone.

To: Sarah Cameron

I need your help.

To say Rafe missed you was an understatement. His life felt different without you, empty. He was so used to you being there everyday. A call, a text, a kiss away. No longer having that luxury made his heart ache. The only thing getting him through the day now was the possibility that he would have another chance.

After your phone call a couple days before, he had clung to the notion like it was the only thing that kept his head above water. You still loved him. You just needed time. Time. Rafe hated time, the cruel bitch. But he would give you it. He’d give you anything.

As Midsummer grew closer, Rafe felt the ache in his heart grow and grow into a numbing pain. That was supposed to be your night. Everyone would know that Rafe Cameron was the luckiest man on Earth. He would sweep you off your feet and tell you he loved you like it was a god damn fairy tale. If only he hadn’t fucked it all up. If only he hadn’t turned to drugs. If only his dad wasn’t a dick. If only he could control his anger. If only.

“Maybank.” Rafe walks up to where the three male Pogues stand on the dock. JJ’s face is black and blue, one lip split, an eye swollen almost shut. Rafe somehow looks worse than him. Dark bags under his eyes and eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep and crying. You still hadn’t called him.

“Fuck off.” JJ spits.

“I’m sorry.” JJ is suddenly convinced Rafe killed him that night. This couldn’t be real.

“About your face I- um - it was uncalled for and…uh…yeah, sorry.”

JJ laughs suddenly, his one good eye glaring.

“Are you fucking serious? You come over to apologize so I can put in a good word with Y/N, is that it? So you can break her heart again?”

Rafe flinches at the malice in his words, dropping his head to look at his feet.

“No, actually, I would prefer if you didn’t tell her I came. I just wanted to try and make things right. I also just need to know…is she okay?”

Despite the colors painting his face, making it unrecognizable, the hate on JJ’s face was evident. The other Pogues noticed JJ steaming and pushed him back, whispering something to him. Pope stepped forward, a similar look of hate in his eyes, but his exterior was cooler.

“No, she’s not. For some reason, she really liked you. She’d been so happy these past couple months and we had no idea why. Now, she’s the saddest we’ve ever seen her and we know exactly why. The only reason I won’t let JJ smash your face in is because we don’t want to upset her even more. Just leave us alone. Leave her alone.”

With that, the boy stepped back into the boat and floated away.

He should have listened to Pope’s words and left you alone. But you had called him and he couldn’t stop himself from pouring his heart out to you. Every word he’d wanted to say spilled from him, just the sound of your voice being the last crack in the dam before it broke. Rafe was selfish and in love with you and he didn’t know what he would do if he lost you completely. So he would wait as long as you needed him to, even if it meant waiting forever.

But as he woke up the morning of Midsummers, the fact that you weren’t beside him tore him to pieces. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to move from his bed, not when this was supposed to be the day that he showed you just how much he loved you.

He woke up late, only pulling himself out of his bed when Wheezie came in, jumping on him while saying he needed to start getting ready. He showered and slinked into his closet, trying not to look at the dress bag hanging beside his suit as he changed.

He’d spent so much time picking out the perfect dress for you, agonizing over every piece of fabric he came across because it had to be absolutely perfect. He’d even gone as far as to ask Sarah for help, being extra careful not to let her know who he was buying it for, and he would be forever grateful to her for it. She helped him find the perfect dress, it was almost like she knew it was for you. Simple and but beautiful, not too flashy because he knew you hated that. But, as much as he loved the dress, he had been more excited to get it off of you and reveal the matching lingerie set he had bought underneath.

Rafe pulled his suit on and staggered down stairs to find Topper and Kelce waiting for him, passing him a flask as he approached. He saw Sarah, John B, and Kie outside by the pool, the Pogues looking uncomfortable in their formal wear.

“You alright, man?” Kelce asked slapping him on the shoulder. Rafe just nodded, taking another swig from the flask.

“Forget about that Pogue for the night. Have fun, get shitfaced. There will be plenty of girls willing to help you get your mind off things, if you know what I mean,” Topper said with a smirk.

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Her name is Y/N, Topper. Not ‘that Pogue’ and I don’t want to forget about her,” Rafe snapped. Topper held is hands up in defense, taking the flask from Rafe’s hand and taking a large gulp.

“Whatever, dude,” He said, putting an end to the conversation.

By the time they make it to the club, however, Rafe is ready to drown his sorrows in booze and coke. His mind is adamant on torturing him with images of what could have been. He imagines you by his side as you walk up to the door, arm wrapped around his own. Before you walked in, he would lean down and kiss your cheek, whisper to you about how beautiful you looked. You would blush and tell him to shut up, but he wouldn’t. He would have worshipped you the entire night (and every day after).

As the group is about to enter, Sarah grabs his arm and pulls him back, allowing the others to on ahead.

“Can you just wait here moment?” She asks.

“Why?”

“Just do it! I promise, you won’t regret it.” And with that, Sarah turns and hurries after her friends. Rafe huffs in annoyance, fingers tapping against his leg as the need for some sort of substance grows stronger and stronger. He’s about to turn and go inside and drink himself silly, but is suddenly frozen to the spot.

“Rafe.”

Had he woken up this morning? Was he still laying in his bed wasting his life away? There was no way this was real. He turns and your image only adds to his belief that this was a dream. The orange light of the sunset surrounds you, adding to the already heavenly glow that follows you everywhere. You’re wearing the dress he had bought you and you look a million times more beautiful than in his dreams. A crown of daisies sits atop your head like a halo. Rafe had always called you angel, because that’s what you were. An angel that walked the Earth and graced him with your presence. That nickname had never been more perfect than in this moment, because Rafe was sure he had died and gone to heaven.

“Y/N,” He stumbles towards you, hands reaching out hesitantly. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, touch you in anyway he could. Deprived of your touch for so long, he craved it more than any drug. But he doesn’t want to overstep. You’re here, but he doesn’t know how close you really are, how close you want to be. He let’s you make the first move and he doesn’t have to wait long.

You hand moves to his cheek and cups it, thumb stroking across his cheek bone as you smile up at him. He covers it with his own hand, grasping on and allowing himself to believe that this is real. You stand like that for a moment, off to the side of the walkway to the club. People glance and whisper, wondering who that girl is with Rafe Cameron, but neither of you gave two shits.

Tears begin to well up in Rafe’s eyes as it sets in that you are here and you’re smiling at him and touching him and the dawning realization that he hadn’t lost you overwhelms him. Your other hand cups the other side of his face, pulling him closer to you. He collapses into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you into his chest. His grip is firm, refusing to let you go ever again. Burying his face in your neck, he speaks a mantra, hoping that it sinks through your skin and lets you feel every ounce of his apology.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” He repeats over and over again until you shush him, running your fingers through your hair and planting a light kiss below his ear.

“I know, baby,” You pull away, holding his face again and looking into his eyes, “I’m still working on forgiving you, but I want to be with you. We have a lot of shit to work through, but we’ll work through it together, okay?”

Rafe takes a deep breath, pulling away slightly to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He nods and you smile at him and kiss his cheek.

“Tonight, though, I just want to be with you. I’ve missed you like crazy. And I believe someone promised me an incredible night. Which means no crying,” You say, wiping away your own tears. Rafe grins at you, extending a hand to aid you. It’s your turn to soak op his touch. You lean into it, missing the comforting warmth of his palm.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Rafe says with a disbelieving laugh.

“Just what I said! I was promised a wonderful night and I am not going to pass it up! I asked Sarah for help and told me about the dress and stole it from you. She helped me do my make up and hair and whatever and now I’m here.”

Rafe grasps your head between his hands, holding you like you were made of glass. The gaze he has on you is filled with so much love and joy and pure adoration that your stomach begins to flip.

“You’re here. And you’re so fucking beautiful.”

A few seconds of gazing at each other, taking in every inch of the other’s face, passes before you speak.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

The hesitancy from earlier vanishes as Rafe pulls you into a breathtaking kiss. It’s wild and messy loving, just like Rafe. He literally sweeps you off your feet, his arms rapping around your body to lift you, pulling away as he sets you down.

Rafe feels his heart soar. None of his dreams could ever compare to the euphoria he felt, nor any drug. For the first time, he looks into her eyes and speaks the words, “I love you.”

And for the first time, with a smile on your face, you speak the words back, “I love you too.”

taglist: @teenwaywardasgardian @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @obxmxybxnk @butgilinsky @juliarose21 @bluesiderudy @ilovejjmaybank @diverrdown @diverdcwn @mdlyncline @https-luna @broken-jj @nqbmf @ityagirljay @downbytheouterbanks @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @trinnwazheree

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #obx fic #my writing

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cockasinthebird · 4 years ago

Text

Dear anon,

Here’s the Second Part to the request you made about Billy watching Steve masturbate! I would link the first part but then this post wont show up in the tag because that’s how it works, apparently

I think this might be one of my favourite things I’ve written, and yes I know I say that quite often, but there’s nothing wrong in enjoying your own stuff!!!

And I hope that you all enjoy it just the same~

The second time, he sits in a very expensive chair, specifically the one Mr Harrington occupies whenever he’s actually home and dealing with work from his office, the room covered in mahogany furniture and shiny leather seats.

He spins around a few times, taking in the grand paintings on the walls, none of them of the family whose house this is, the glamorous curtains, the small and tasteful plants, and the head of a stag hanging in all its grandiose above the fireplace. Expensive, fancy, ostentatious. A showroom of importance and wealth.

Any one piece of furniture in this room costs more than Billy’s own house, and there is nothing Billy loathes more than rich assholes that think they can buy the world. Which just makes him defiling the heir to this fortune all the more fun for him.

The leather creaks underneath him as he stops spinning. From atop the desk he brings a glass of scotch to his lips, and gives it none of the respect Mr Harrington would believe it to be deserving of; simply bottoms out like it’s a shot of vodka. He licks his lips clean and swallows a few extra times to really enjoy his stealing of the oldest bottle in the liquor cabinet.

Then finally he stands up, slams the glass down with almost too much force on the dark wood, and walks around the desk to sit down in another leather chair, this one facing a couch on where Steve lies naked.

“Enjoying yourself, daddy?” he asks with a smile that runs from one ear to the other, on the verge of cracking his sexy facade.

And Billy laughs heartily at it, throws his head back a bit. “Oh don’t start on that, pretty boy! I am not ready to explore either of our daddy issues just yet.”

Steve can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, then settles it into something more smooth and delicate, teasingly so, as he runs a hand down his side, from chest to hip where it rests. He’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his front turned fully toward where Billy admires the view - still dressed from head to toe - Steve’s cock hard from attention alone, the flushed head resting against the leather. And he waits patiently for whatever Billy has in mind.

When Steve had come home today, Billy had done the whole Marco-Polo charade till Steve found him pouring a drink from the glass bar behind the large desk. He hadn’t bothered complaining or asking any questions about why Billy is in his father’s office, simply sat down when commanded, and stripped without any hesitation when told.

Now they’re looking at one another in silence. Billy spreads his legs as wide as the armrests will allow, and runs his hand rough up and down his girthy cock trapped inside denim still, and Steve’s dark and lustful gaze follows the movement attentively.

“You look amazing like this, Stevie,” Billy mutters, voice thick and salacious as he touches himself through too many layers. “I wanna watch you.”

Steve hums pleasantly and slowly starts slipping the hand on his hip down toward his full erection.

“You said last time you love watching me…” Fingertips graze against his cock, teasing and gentle and slight. “You ever watch me jerk off in private?”

Billy swallows hard, contemplating whether he should tell the truth or if that would be too intrusive to admit. But Steve has yet to get upset at Billy for any of his deviant behaviour. “Yeah, a few times.”

And for the truth he’s rewarded with Steve wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly moving up and down, squeezing around the head that leaks into his hand.

“Ah-h, good,” Steve’s voice starting to waver as he strokes his dick; wetting it with his own pre. “I think about you a lot when I masturbate, fuck, thinking about you at all gets me hard.”

Billy blinks slowly, wanting to meet Steve’s gaze but finds it impossible to look away from how Steve’s hand moves a bit faster. He removes his own hand from the bulge in his jeans and grips the armrests of the chair.

“Do you ever finger yourself when you think of me?”

Steve licks his lips at that, and smiles with certain intent, although Billy doesn’t notice as he’s mesmerised as always by the way Steve touches his own throbbing prick.

“Not always, but whenever I do finger myself, I only think of you.”

“Show me,” Billy demands without hesitation - softly, but with no hint of ‘if you want to.’

But Steve wants to. His breath hitches at the stern tone to Billy’s words, the restraint in his movement clear as he slows down and eases his grip.

“You want me to finger myself in front of you, here, in my father’s office, on his expensive couch?” Steve asks, incredulously, feigning reluctance, yet doesn’t stop the now lazy caress of his lengthy cock, keeps smiling, stays posing on his side.

Billy sits silent, doesn’t respond right away, instead he pulls up a small, inconspicuous, clear plastic bottle from the pocket of his shirt, and tosses it onto the couch.

“Yes.”

Steve looks at it; there’s no labels or text or anything, really the most boring and ordinary little container, but there is no doubt in his mind what it is.

“How do you want me?” he asks and finally meets with Billy’s eyes, a fire there burning hotter than the sun could ever dream of.

“However you do it when you’re alone - when I’m not here to fuck you into your mattress. Show me just how badly you want my thick cock.”

And as is often done in situations where words aren’t needed anymore, Steve simply bites his lip, keeps the bottle firm in his grasp, and gets up on his knees. He turns around on the couch, angling his perfect ass towards where Billy sits patiently like a statue, then bends forward; arching his back and spreading himself before his audience to grant a good look of everything. His leaking prick hanging between his legs, hole exposed fully.

“Fuck, Steve…” Billy nearly gasps at the view - didn’t expect to be this affected by it as he shuffles around in his seat, almost overwhelmed by the urge to just shove his tongue through Steve’s rim and eat him out till he’s cumming and crying. Billy adjusts the taut fabric of his jeans before settling in his place.

The cap of the bottle pops off loudly, lube drips onto Steve’s fingers, and with a careful motion, as to not waste a single drop, he brings his hand behind himself. He runs three digits flat and slick over his entrance, getting himself proper wet, staring straight at how attentively Billy watches, the self control damn impressive as those bluest of eyes twitch at the sight of Steve slipping in his middle finger.

Steve coos and keens, perhaps a bit excessive, perhaps egged on by the way Billy’s knuckles turn white as he strangles the leather armrests. He holds one hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady as he quickly finds an all too pleasant rhythm that leaves him craving more.

Billy hasn’t been this turned on, this painfully erect, since the first time he saw someone play with themselves, back when he was 13 and stole a porn tape from a thrift store in Cali. He still has it hidden away, mostly for sentimental reasons now, because nothing can compare to watching Steve finger himself open, moaning and dripping worse when he adds a second finger.

“Ah-h, mmh- Billy,” Steve teases with his name on that lascivious tongue.

And every sound that escapes makes Billy’s lust boil hotter, bubbling under his skin, the urge to touch like a strong current pulling him under. Touch himself, touch Steve.

It takes all of his strength not to stand up, close the short distance between them and drive in two fingers past that gorgeous clenching ring of muscle, opening up Steve faster so that Billy can fuck him hard into the leather of daddy’s dear couch, press his face against the cushions and have him cumming in less than a minute.

Steve pushes in a third finger, thighs trembling as he moans out, “Shit, oh-” with an overt shudder running through him as he hits just the right spot.

“Feel good, baby?” Billy asks softly, voice husky and smooth, as he unbuttons his shirt slowly.

“S-so good, ah-” Steve’s prick leaks onto the seat, between his knees, fingers pumping fervently in and out leaves him writhing as he abandons any sense of rhythm, and Billy recognizes the way he’s calling out, cursing, close to mumbling his words.

Knows that it won’t be too long now.

“Fuck, Billy! Billy- Billy-”

“Yeah?” Billy groans out, pleased with how erotic his name can sound when it comes from such a pretty mouth.

“I’m- I’m close.” Fingers go as deep as they can, as quick as they can, it’s almost kinda impressive how rapidly he moves those digits, and it all goes to show that this might be something he does more frequently than originally suggested.

Billy unbuckles his belt, flicks free the button of his jeans, and lets the zipper run loose, immediately bringing some sense of relief to his own pent-up, aching cock. He then removes his hands again, one elbow on the armrest, chin in hand as he continues to simply leer at how Steve fingers himself, how his brows are pulled high and tight, how his eyes can barely stay open as they fight the urge to roll back.

“Think you can cum untouched like this?” he asks, impatience apparent in his rumbling tone.

“N-no, fuck, ah-h-” Steve cries and bucks his hips onto his fingers.

“Hmm…” Billy hums like he’s dissatisfied with that response. “I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Mmhn, ahh, yes, yes- in your ha-ands, not- not on my own,” Steve whines and meets Billy’s gaze with all too sincere eyes.

And fuck if that doesn’t make Billy’s full erection kick and leak in its entrapment - to know that he can make King Steve cum on his fingers or dick alone is empowering, strokes his ego just right.

“Fuck, Stevie, baby,” Billy growls with exposed teeth all predatory and lecherous. "Touch yourself. Cum for me, all over daddy's expensive leather couch."

Steve doesn't waste time before he brings his other hand to his weeping prick, and as he wraps his fingers around it to eagerly jerk himself, Billy grunts lightly as his own cock twitches with overwhelming jealousy.

It really doesn't take more than a few strokes till Steve buries his face against the backrest, crying out loud as he moves his fingers hard and precise, back arching in the most beautiful curve, spilling all over the dark seat as he pumps himself dry of every drop, thighs visibly tensing and quivering.

“Gorgeous,” Billy breathes out, convinced that his grip on the armrests will soon tear the leather apart, his underwear completely soaked with pre.

Steve’s arms fall till his palms rest against the leather seat, his entire being pulsating and shivering with every heavy breath, sounding like he just ran a marathon. But as he moves to change his position, perhaps get more comfortable, Billy intervenes-

“Didn’t say you could move,” there’s barely a hint of play to his tone, “Stay just like that for me.”

So Steve does just that - shuffles around a bit on his knees to kneel better, swallows thickly, and hangs his head low to look at Billy from between his legs.

Billy in turn finally pulls his pained cock free with a loud and telling grunt of relief, the air almost sharp in its coldness, but it’s soothed by his firm hand running up and down his slick erection. Already he knows that this won’t last nearly as long as he wants it to; feels it in the way the coil twists pliantly, thighs and abs flexing at his every move.

“Mmh- shit, arrh, baby I- I want you to show me- fuck- spread your ass out for me.”

And Steve obeys all too readily, moving his hands back to grab a full cheek in both to spread them as far apart as he can, exposing his fluttering hole, puffy and well loved.

The sight of it makes Billy’s hips buck off of his seat, an interrupting moan punches the air out of his lungs, his cock spurting pre something horribly, the sounds of his jerking motion obscene and loud and overwhelming as he grips himself harder- tight like how Steve’s ass would feel right now, wrapped around him, sucking him in, milking him dry, right here in his father’s office, soiling the leather, defiling the high and mighty importance with moans of the heir’s hole getting ravished-

Just the mere thought of what Billy might get to do with Steve in every single room of this house, all goddamn 12 of them, has him cumming in near record time - a loud and unexpected orgasm that crashes through him as he lifts up and into his hand, cursing loudly towards the ceiling, cum shooting all the way up his chest to clash with the sweaty tan skin, painting him in white, pumping till he’s sore and lets his cock go with a hiss.

Suddenly so exhausted he could probably fall asleep right here, eyes closed and struggling to catch his breath as he slumps in the chair. That is until hands land on both his knees, squeezing gently and caressing him, and when he opens his eyes to look down there’s Steve, kneeling between Billy’s legs, a slight smile and the most adoring gaze, a glorious vision that shoots straight through Billy’s heart and overstimulated cock simultaneously.

Before Billy gets to make the next move, Steve crawls closer, brings out his tongue to run it hot and flat over Billy’s flaccid dick, pulling forth a pained, “shit, ah-h!” then continues with soft kisses up his stomach, across his abs, till he reaches where cum has been splashed across Billy’s pecks. And under the watchful stare of blue skies, Steve lets out his tongue once more, licks a stripe through the white pool and swallows with an almost delighted little hum.

A whole show that Billy will play over and over in his head those few nights Steve isn’t around.

And Steve finishes his climb straddling Billy’s thighs, kissing him deeply and passionately, as if he’s not satiated quiet yet, mixing the taste of them with dancing tongues, sweet and salty and strong still with an aftertaste of scotch.

#Harringrove #My Writing #lemon #part 2 of that one request I responded to a few days ago #2.4k words #I should start tagging how many words #so that people know how long it is before clicking #Read more

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