#LITERALLY save me how else am i supposed to get through three more hours of SHAKESPEARE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t look like a demon.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

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

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

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

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

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

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

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simple enough. What else?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow?” You wince.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not here.”

“What—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should know this place.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The…promise?

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

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

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

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

///

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

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

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

“Look at me.”

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

“Look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then look at me.”

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

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

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

“Does it hurt?”

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

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

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

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

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t know it was like this.

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

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

///

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

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

Overhaul’s still here.

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

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

“Yes—”

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

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

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

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

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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erythrum · 3 years ago

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𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘱𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 | 𝘑𝘑 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘹 𝘱𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢,𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦,𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶�� 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴,𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵,𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵,𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦,𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘫𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘢,𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 (𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦&𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘷𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹,𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬)

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 @outcrbcnks ,𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 :)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 5.3𝘬+,𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺/𝘯, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

Find the gun, find the gun y/n. It was all I could do to keep me calm down in the sewer, the disgusting sewage the covered my body in a thin layer made me nauseated. Kiara was ahead of me leading the way down the tunnel. The light of the drain was coming in to view. Almost there.

"Kie, I think I might throw up," the smell was making me gag.

"God this is fucking awful, why did we let them convince us to do this?”

“If you remember correctly, we are trying to find a damn murder weapon,” I might have said that a bit too demeaningly, but to be fair, I couldn’t ignore the way my boyfriend looked at her. The hardest part was pretending like I didn’t know what was going on.

“Whatever, let's just find this damn thing and get out of here,” Kiara said.

We eventually found our way to where the sewer met the storm drain on the street above. Searching felt like a waste of time, I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to get involved in this bullshit, but I guess dating JJ came with its ‘perks’. Which happened to include searching for a fucking murder weapon at the bottom of a sewer.

I dragged my hands as deep as I could under the nasty water, trying my hardest to keep my head above water.

“People are so shitty,” Kiara said, disgusted by the trash that easily could’ve been recycled sitting at the bottom of the basin.

“Guys! I think I found something,” she held up something that was definitely not a gun, something dead. It elicited a yelp from her throat, definitely not good.

“Is it Gavin? Is it a body?” The sound of JJ emanated through the drain. That was when I heard the water coming.

“Kie, somethings wrong,” she was so caught up on the poor animal she failed to notice the water beginning to flood in.

“Oh shit!” She was starting to panic. Not good not good not good.

“Guys get out of there!” The voices of JJ and Pope slowly being drowned out by the rising water.

Kiara began climbing up the ladder leading to the drain on the street. Adrenaline was coursing through my body as I climbed behind her, the water closing in on me.

“Push Kie!”

“I am y/n, it's too heavy,” the drain was our only escape now. The water was at my chest, inching closer and closer to my neck. The adrenaline made my body act on instinct, but I also couldn’t keep myself calm. It felt like my body was numb as I tried to pull myself up the ladder, closer to Kiara.

I couldn’t keep my head above water now as it rose up above my head. I took the largest breath I’ve ever taken in my life and prayed that JJ and Pope would come lift the drain. Struggling for air was the worst experience I’d ever felt, I couldn’t hold it any longer. The water filled my lungs, it went black after that.

The boys were pulling as hard as they could on the drain. The combined strength of the two alone just wasn’t enough. But someone else had heard the screams of the two girls and came barreling down the street to help.

Pope had a look of horror on his face as Rafe Cameron himself began pulling on the drain as well. The three of them together much more easily pulling the manhole off and onto the street. Water came flooding out as JJ pulled Kiara out, she was sputtering the disgusting muck out of her lungs, begging for air.

“Kie, Kie! Are you alright?” JJ asked.

“She’s still down there,” she struggled to get out, still filling her lungs with clean air.

Rafe was in panic mode, he nearly dove into the water, reaching his torso as far down as he could. He had to find her. He had too. Rafe's head below the water and into the drain, reaching out for her. After what felt like hours, he felt something, grasping on with all his strength and pulling her body out of the sewer.

"Fuck, Pope! She's not breathing, Pope, I swear to god you better know CPR," Kiara was screaming, still in the arms of JJ.

Rafe began pumping his fists down on her sternum in a steady rhythm. All hell broke loose when he plugged are nose and connected his mouth to hers, blowing air into her water filled lungs.

"What the fuck are you doing!" JJ viciously pulled Rafe from her body, throwing him back onto the concrete.

"Saving her fucking life asshole," Rafe pulled himself back up, rushing back over her and continuing to do what her boyfriend could not. He pushed another breath into her lungs, pleading with himself that she would survive.

That was when y/n began coughing up the sludge lodged in her lungs. She was nearly throwing up her lungs as Rafe stared at her, a look of relief washed over his face. He was the first thing she saw when she came to. Then she saw JJ, clinging onto Kiara in a way she'd always knew would happen.

"Y/n! Fuck I'm glad you're oka-," JJ tried reaching out for her.

"Get the fuck off of me JJ," y/n pushed him back, disgusted yet not surprised by his actions. She had just been brought back from the dead and it felt like he didn't even care. The one person who did care was supposed to be her mortal enemy. A million thoughts were trying to process in her head all at once. Having no idea what to do, she picked herself up and began walking as fast as she could away from the group. On her heels was that same kook, the one she hated, the one she couldn't keep off her mind, the one who ruined her life, the one who saved her.

Y/n only made it 30 feet before hunching over and resting her hands on her knees as she heaved onto the sidewalk. Rafe had chased after her, now pulling the drenched hair from around her face. Once she had emptied her lungs of the filth, she only had one thing to say.

“Get the fuck away from me Rafe,” she said, still hunched over. He stood in shock, not knowing what to do next.

"At least let me take you home, for the love of God I literally just pulled you out of a sewer." She hesitated for awhile, finally recognized the car she had been throwing up next too. It was Rafe's truck.

The truck was filled with nothing but silence as they drove, y/n ignoring every word Rafe said. They had been driving in a giant circle around the island with no destination for hours. Finally Rafe pulled over on the side of the road, hazard lights on.

"Listen, y/n, we can't stay in the car all night, and it seems to me like you don't want to go home, I can take you back to Tannyhill, you can take a shower and get cleaned up, we have a guest room, stay the night if you'd like," Rafe said, hoping she would say yes. Y/n let out a deep sigh before speaking.

"Fine," it was all she could muster up. Her heart was hurting. Y/n had come to the realization that her boyfriend instinctually went for Kiara, and that she would always be his second choice. She never wanted to be a second choice, she wanted to be the only choice.

His house was enormous, probably bigger than any she had seen on figure eight. Rafe hopped out of the truck, racing over to the passenger side door to let her out. He led her into the massive home, before arriving at the guest room.

"There's a bathroom through that door, I'll bring you some clothes to wear," he said. She barely let him finish before bolting towards the bathroom door, locking herself in. She laid her back against the door, wondering how in the world she ended up here. It took a moment to take in the beauty a bathroom could hold. She'd never seen anything like it. Marble floors and brilliant gold detailed fixtures. It was easily the nicest thing she had ever seen. Finally, she reached her hand to the shower faucet, turning on a beautiful cascade of water. There was nobody in the world she believed needed something so fancy. Y/n stripped out of her muck caked clothing, tossing it onto those beautiful floors. Stepping into the waterfall was exactly what she needed.

Meanwhile, Rafe ran upstairs, grabbing whatever he could out of Sarah's closet. He ran over and over again in his head what to do next as he raced back down to the guest room. Leave the clothes next to the door? Wait for her to come out of the shower? Before he had a chance to decide, y/n came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body. Rafe had a look of shock in his eyes, he never thought he'd see the girl he couldn't keep off his mind here, in his home.

Rafe stuck his arm out, holding the clothes just in front of her. She looked Rafe up and down before gently reaching out for the clothing.

"Thanks," that was all she said before turning around and locking herself in the bathroom again. Y/n struggled to hold her tears in, knowing what she would have to face in the morning. It wasn't an easy decision, but it needed to be done.

It was possibly the best sleep she had ever gotten. The satin pillowcases soft against her cheeks as she slept, the warm comforter encasing her. No interruptions or pogues banging on her bedroom door for her to wake up. Just peaceful sleep.

Y/n laid awake in the bed, sunrise creeping through the curtains, dreading the next few hours. She left the massive home as soon as possible, sneaking out at daybreak, making the nearly hour long walk back to the cut.

Rafe found no trace of her left behind, everything was in its place just as it had been before y/n occupied the room. She couldn't have gotten far.

He caught up to her in his truck, she had only made it maybe a quarter of the way to her destination. Wearing Sarah's clothes he had lent her, she fit right into the neighborhood. She kept her head held high and determined to ignore him.

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing?"

"Fuck off Rafe," she shoved her middle finger towards his window as he drove along side her.

"So I save your life, let you sleep at my house, lend you Sarah's clothes, and now I can't offer you a ride?"

"Correct, I don't need your help, the only thing I know you to be good for is hookups and rebounds," she said rather matter of factly. He couldn’t lie to himself, hearing her say that made his heart hurt a little bit.

“Whatever, there's a party at Topper’s tomorrow night if you’re interested, but I’ll go ahead and guess your answer is a no,”

Y/n stopped in her tracks, causing Rafe to slam down on his breaks. She finally turned to look at him, a smile growing on her face.

“You’re absolutely whipped.”

Rafe hesitated before driving off, this girl left his head spinning in circles.

Once she reached the cut, y/n made a B-line for the chateau. Finding the rest of the pogues wasn’t hard, they were usually out back up to whatever shenanigans they had planned. JJ especially came up with bad ideas, somehow convincing the rest of the group that they would work. Y/n rested her body against a doorway, finally making eye contact with JJ, then nodding her head back gesturing for him to follow.

They creeped back towards the front of the shack, still trashed from the hurricane.

“Jesus, where were you y/n? I was worried sick that fucking kook hurt you,” JJ hugged her, squeezing as tight as he could. When she didn’t return the enthusiasm, he knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” He questioned.

“Listen JJ, this, us, it’s not going to work,”

“What the hell are you tal-,”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about JJ, I've seen the way you’ve looked at her for months, you’re always going to choose Kiara over me, always. I am not a second choice. I know what I saw.”

“Did that kook get into your head or something?” She was sure the others could hear them now.

“It’s not about that JJ, I was fucking drowning and you didn’t even try to help me, I’d probably be dead right now if it wasn’t for him!”

“Oh so it is about him huh? Did you have fun last night curled up in figure eight? Wait wait, I see, he didn’t get into your head, he got into your pants instead didn’t he?” Y/n didn’t know how else to react, slapping him square across his face.

“Don’t you dare, fucking accuse me of that, or I swear to God JJ,” she could barely hold back the anger boiling her blood right now.

“Its over. Done. Have a nice life.” Y/n ran as fast as she could out of the chateau, tears pooling in her eyes, looking for any escape.

The next 36 hours were a daze, and before y/n knew it, she was getting ready for a kook party. What does a girl even wear to a kook party? A nice sundress? Little black skirt and a crop top? How fancy is this supposed to be? In the end she decided to wear a sleek black dress, knowing she would stick out like a sore thumb, regardless of what she wore. Being likely the only pogue in the middle of hundreds of kook's, it wouldn't matter.

Meanwhile, Rafe was already at Topper's house, making preparations for the oncoming chaos.

"Boys, if you see a little y/h/c pogue try to walk in here, let her in," Rafe said, handing each a $100 bill. The two door boys nodded their heads in understanding.

The easiest part was over, now y/n just had to get there. She didn't even know where Topper lived, well, figure eight obviously, but where? Actually, that's a stupid question, just follow all the BMW's and audi's driven by reckless teenagers.

Y/n knew something was off when the two kids stationed at the door let her through without question. Fucking Rafe. He was surely already here, and she was questioning what in the world led her to make the decision to come here tonight.

Rafe found her in the kitchen, downing shots of tequila.

"Didn't expect to see you here y/n," he slid next to her, pouring himself a shot as well.

"Didn't think I'd be here either, I have much better things I could be doing right now," she snickered back.

"So how'd it go when you got back to the cut?" Rafe asked, knowing something had changed.

"Well, I dumped JJ, so I am officially a free woman," she said, downing her next shot.

"And you're taking it well, obviously," he laughed, smiling as he watched her take the shot with ease. In true y/n fashion, she flipped him off before grabbing the bottle of tequila and disappearing into the house. He watched the way her dress clung to her hips as she moved, now more than ever aware of the ache he felt.

Only fifteen minutes had passed before Rafe went looking for her. Searching through crowds and empty rooms, finally finding a door on the second floor that was cracked open. Not locked out, but not to be unfound. He poked his head through the door, not seeing much at first, until his eyes landed on an open window. The cool breeze of the ocean drifted into the room. He climbed through the window and out onto a small section of the roof overlooking the backyard.

As soon as she saw him, she knew there was no escape.

“Ugh,” y/n rolled her eyes, taking another drink from the bottle she had smuggled.

“Excited to see me?” Rafe said as he settled onto the roof.

"How did you guess?"

"Just the fact that you even showed up, your actions speak for themselves," he said rather confidently.

"Do they now? Because it seems to me like you're the one who is stalking me," she let out a giggle.

"Well, I still need Sarah's clothes back,"

Y/n shoved his shoulder, the both of them laughing as she did.

"Mhm, I don't know, I think I look pretty good dressed in kook," y/n passed him the bottle now, he accepted her offer. He had to think long and hard about what to say next, his heart beating relentlessly in his chest.

"More than pretty good," there was a silence between the two, both reading into what he said.

"Y'know, I don't even know who I am anymore."

"And by that you mean?" Rafe asked.

"On this island, it's always kooks or pogues, no in-between, and I thought I was a pogue for the longest time, but I never quite, I don't know, fit in? It sounds fucking stupid, forget it."

"No no, it's not, I feel like we're actually having a conversation, not just bickering at each other, and it's, it's nice," his voice was becoming shaky now. She took a deep breath before continuing.

"I think I'm just in a rut, I don't know what I'm supposed to do with myself. All I ever did was for JJ, I gave him everything,” he understood the magnitude of what she had given him.

“And now that we've broken up, I have this new freedom that I don't know what to do with, it was the first relationship I'd ever been in, and at this point I don't even remember how to be single. I hate to say it, but I feel like he took everything I gave him for granted."

Rafe smirked at his thoughts, knowing exactly what she needed.

"Oh what's so funny?” She said.

“You desperately need a rebound.”

“I do not!”

“You do, and I know the perfect guy for the job.”

“And who would that be exactly?” Their witty banter had turned to flirtation, and they were now physically closer than ever. Rafe had his hand cupping the side of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, leaning in closer to her. Her breathing has quickened as his face came closer to hers, knowing what he was insinuating.

The connection of their lips sent shockwaves through her body. It was the first thing in a long time that felt like it made sense. They disconnected for a moment, staring longingly into each others eyes for permission. A sense of understanding overcame them as their lips smashed together once again. Rafe's hand moved lower down to her neck, tracing his thumb to the other side and giving a light squeeze.

"Rafe I, don't get me wrong, I want this, but I don't think it's a good idea right now."

"You're right," he whispered as a whirring noise approached in the distance.

It was maybe thirty minutes past 11, the sound of an approaching boat caught their attention. They both looked at the boat coming to dock on the Thornton's boat dock. Rafe and y/n climbed back into the home, recognizing the boat pulling up to the dock. Rafe raced out the back door, y/n steps ahead of him as anger and adrenaline rushed through her body. She ran down the dock, ready to fight the boy hopping off of the boat.

"JJ, please explain to me why the fuck you are here right now, and it better be a good reason or I swea-,"

"Y/n please, I just need to talk to you okay? I've been thinking about the other day and I just needed to-,"

"Not good enough JJ, you had your fucking chance, got it? I never want to see you again," she had tears of anger streaming down her face, that was when Rafe lodged himself between the argument.

"You heard her pogue," Rafe said threateningly.

"What are you gonna do about it huh?" JJ pushed his hands against Rafe, knocking him back only slightly, Rafe stood solid.

"What am I gonna do?" Rafe shoved him back with all his strength, knocking JJ onto his back.

"I'm only going to say this one time for you," Rafe crouched down, grabbing fistfuls of JJ's shirt.

"Stay," he landed to first punch.

"The fuck," and the second.

"Away from her," finally the third, then forcing him back onto the ground in a sheer competition of dominance. Crowds had gathered around the commotion, watching the kook and pogue battle it out. Y/n felt a sense of relief, someone had finally chosen her.

"You already fucked her didn't you?" JJ struggled to spit out, coughing on the blood lodged in his mouth. Rafe promptly pulled JJ up by his shirt, making sure to look right into his eyes as he made his next threat.

"Stay off figure eight, or so help me God JJ, I will kill you." Rafe tossed the boy back onto the ground, watching as he struggled to pull himself back to his boat.

"Show's over everyone! Get out!" Rafe said, the crowd watching dispersed over fences and into cars, not wanting to face the same fate.

She was the only one who didn't leave. Y/n watched as he came closer to her, pulling her into an embrace.

"I'm sorry y/n, that asshole deserved it,"

"Thank you," her tears were staining his polo as they held each other.

"Also, neither of us are in any shape to drive, so what's the plan?" She asked.

They made the short walk back to Tannyhill, ending up in the same rooms they had been in the day everything changed. When morning came she stayed in her bed, enjoying the comfort she felt in this home. The sudden knock on her door awoke her from her daze.

"Hey, I uh, brought breakfast," Rafe said, holding up the bag of breakfast burritos. Y/n patted the empty place on her bed, inviting him to sit down. They sat and ate in silence, unsure of what to say to one another. Once finished, she ended up snuggling her head into the crook of his neck, arm tossed across his abdomen. Rafe wrapped his arm around her and they stayed there for awhile, simply enjoying each others presence.

Rafe placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, rubbing his thumb across her shoulder at the same time. Y/n looked up at him from her spot on his chest, moving herself up so their lips connected. The kiss was just as good as she had remembered. Rafe began deepening their kiss, pulling her in by the waist with his free hand.

I had woken up. For the first time in a long time I felt it. How it felt to be the only choice for someone, to be at the top of someone's priorities. Feeling his hand pull my waist into his sent lightning through my body, and I've never wanted anything more in my life than right now. I threw my right leg over his hips, anticipating to climb on top of him. I brought my hand up to the back of his head, threading my fingers through his hair.

"Think it's a good idea?" Rafe asked.

I simply nodded my head in response, bringing my mouth back to his. His hands began tracing further down my body, grabbing at my hips as he pulled me in closer. I got the message. I threw myself over him, sitting perfectly in his lap, hair hanging almost in his face. We reconnected and the speed at which we kissed quickened. My arms had snaked behind his neck, my entire body resting on his, legs straddled across his lap.

He was surprised when I removed my mouth from his, only to begin trailing kisses down his neck, towards the collar of his polo. He sat up, leaving room for him to pull his shirt up and over his head. I pushed him back down into the bed as I trailed lower and lower. Reaching the spot I needed most, I unbuttoned his pants, pulling them as far down as I could. He was already hard, clearly anticipating this when he walked into the room an hour ago.

I began leaving kisses down his clothed dick, teasing the throb. But I myself was too in-need to tease for long. I pulled his boxers down, revealing the eager member. Wrapping my hand around him, I pumped it a few times, leaving light kisses all around him. The taste of him spread in my mouth as I took him in. His hands pulled my hair back as I sucked on him, the pace of his breathing becoming more of a pant. One of my hands grasped onto his hips as the other pumped him in sync with my lips.

A shock ran through my body as he flipped me over on the bed. Rafe nearly ripped my shirt in half when pulling it over my head. He sat over me for a moment, taking in the sight of me like he'd been waiting to for so long. Just after, his hands came to either side of my head, propping himself up as he began kissing down my neck, surely leaving bruises. Moving lower to my breasts, he continued, tugging and pulling at the straps of my bra. He was now resting his entire body on me, his elbows at my sides as he started massaging my breasts through the fabric.

"You can take it off, you know," I said.

That was all he needed to hook his hand underneath me, tugging at the clip holding me together. Rafe popped it off with ease, not that I was surprised. His mouth attached itself to one of my nipples, teasing it with his tongue. The cool air hitting the wet spot he left behind causing me to gasp. Meanwhile, he had been rolling the other between his fingers, sending arousal between my thighs. The sensitivity rolling between my hips was begging for more.

Rafe's hands began trailing lower down my body, his mouth not far behind. The ache in my core was growing more and more with every inch he passed, until finally I felt a finger graze over my shorts.

"These need to come off," it was more of a question than a statement.

I nodded, because I needed more. He slid the shorts off of my legs, tossing them onto the ground, leaving my panties on full display for him. Then his mouth moved to my thighs, starting closer to my knees, slowly moving in towards my center. I could feel every breath he made against me, and knew he was just as in-need as I was. It felt like ages before he finally made contact with my core. His lips left kisses over my clothed clit, at this point I was begging for more.

He knew too, knew how much I needed him right now. The wetness soaking through my underwear as he played with me through them, thumb massaging little circles around my clit. My legs shuddered as he did, needing to desperately to be released. His fingers latched underneath the waistline of the fabric, and he pulled them all the way down my legs, exposing every inch of myself, and discarding them on the floor.

I was absolutely soaked, and he had barely even touched me. I could barely imagine what I’d be like once he had. When his fingers finally returned, I was a mess. He was eager too, not even waiting because I was already ready for him. His middle and ring finger teased my entrance, before plunging deep into me. The gasp that came out of my mouth was the loudest I’d ever had, causing my hand to close over my mouth in response. But Rafe didn't care how loud we got as his mouth came down to me, his tongue flicking at my clit, fingers beginning to thrust in and out.

My hips were rolling, legs shaking as the combination of his mouth and fingers pushed me closer and closer to the edge. Whimpers came out as his free hand was grasping onto my stomach, thumb tracing circles below my navel. I tugged at the sheets around me, needing some sort of grounding as he continued fucking me with his fingers. My pussy was aching for more, begging for something bigger to ease the ache.

"Rafe, I need you inside, like right now," I struggled to get the words out. But he wouldn't let up, he was determined. His fingers were moving faster and faster and his mouth was lapping at the wetness of my pussy. I couldn't take it anymore, and my legs closed around his head, squeezing as I came.

I barely had time to recover before Rafe was on top of me, lining his cock up with my entrance, then pushing himself all the way into me. My walls clenched around him as I tried to adjust to his length, but he wasn't waiting. Slowly he began thrusting in and out, plunging himself deeper each time. He reached down to kiss me as he pounded me, hand wrapping around my neck and squeezing.

"Fuck," I squeaked out.

It only got better when he threw my legs over his shoulders, they were nearly at my chest. He pounded into me at a hard but steady pace, and it was driving me to the edge once again. The whimpers coming from me were more than enough to tell him to keep going.

"You like that princess?"

"God, yes Rafe, harder," I pleaded.

He listened, but it was taking a toll on him, his breathing was now broken and unsteady as he thrusted. I could feel his body beginning to tense up on top of me, he was getting close. It was my turn now.

I used all of my strength to flip him onto his back, my legs on either side of him as I began riding him. Rafe's hands came around to my ass as I repeatedly moved up and down on him. Then I laid down on him, arms behind his neck for support as his arms held onto my waist tightly. Rafe propped his legs up for support and began thrusting into me harder than he ever has. The feeling of my walls clenching around him as he pumped into me, using me as a toy.

"Cum in me Rafe, please," but it wasn't a question. I nearly screamed as he released inside of me at the same time I came. We stayed that way for a few moments, simply taking one another in as our breathing steadied.

Finally, I slid off of him, releasing the tension of him inside of me. I could feel his cum leaking out of me as I laid on top of him. I could go to sleep right here if I wanted to. His hand laced into my hair, playing with the ends of it.

"I still need Sarah's clothes back," he laughed.

"Don't think so, consider it the start of my kook wardrobe,"

"To going full kook?" he asked.

"To going full kook."

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

#rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outerbanks #outerbanks imagine #rafe obx #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outerbanks smut

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obsidiancreates · 3 years ago

Text

Two Halves Are NOT Better Than One

When Danny's parents found out he was Phantom after a fight gone wrong, he thought they'd taken it surprisingly well. They apologized for shooting at him, helped patch him up, and sent him to rest. For a week, he heard nothing more about it.

And then he walked into his house, Sam and Tucker behind him, and was blasted in two.

Tucker caught the Human Danny, and Sam caught the Ghost Danny.

"Got 'im!" Jack pumps his fist with joy while Maddie lowers the gun, smiling.

"WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!"

"We saved Danny!" Jack gestures to the Human Danny. "Ghosts were after him because of his condition, so now they won't be!"

"But you split him in half! The last time this happened it was terrible!" Sam shakes Ghost Danny at them (he's very light of course, like a tuft of fuzz).

"Into a hippe slacker and an old cartoony superhero, right?" Jack says. "We prepared for that! His brain isn't split like that this time, don't worry!"

Sam and Tucker share a look. Yeah, they're still worried. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Danny is frowning, arms crossed. "Three."

Maddie grins. "Perfect! Alright, now-"

"Mom. Give me back my ghost half."

"It's too dangerous, sweetie. But don't worry, your father is making sure it's also functioning right. And it'll stay with us until it's adjusted."

"He, Mom."

"Sure. He."

Jack nocks on the door, and slowly opens it. He has a sheepish grin. "So... you know how ghosts can go through walls? The good news is the Ghost has that power working just fine."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny slams his locker shut. "I feel worse than when Spectra was counseling everyone!"

"Because you can't phase out of lockers anymore?" Tucker asks.

"Because of all of it! I swear, I'm about one bad piece of luck away from-"

"Hey, Fen-Turd!" Dash picks up Danny by his shirt collar. "What's wrong with you? Miss your Nerd Club? Ha!"

Danny scowls. "Not in the mood today, Dash."

Dash drops him. "Not in the mood, huh? Then let's see who is!"

He grabs Tucker next. "Hey Drool-y! Let's see how you look with this stupid beanie stuffed down your throat- AHCK!"

Dash drops Tucker as Danny leaps to tackle him like a raccoon! Dash doesn't fall over, but screams and stumbles as Danny tries to take him down, completely clinging to his torso!

"AHHHHHHHH! GET HIM OFF OF ME! GET HIM OFF!"

"I'M GOING TO TAKE ALL MY RAGE OUT ON YOU!"

"NOOO! NOT A TASTE OF MY OWN MEDICINE! THAT FORTUNE TELLER WAS RIGHT!"

"... I think we need to find Phantom," Tucker says, watching Danny pull on Dash's hair.

"You think?" Sam snarks back, already grabbing the Thermos and a detector.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny kicks a pebble as they walk home grumbling.

"Danny, it's been like, hours. You need to chill."

"I can't chill, Tuck!" Danny kicks the pebble harder. "Mom and Dad think no powers means no ghosts, but these guys hate me for me! It's personal! I have no powers, no way to defend myself, no way to defend you guys or anyone else!"

"And no ice powers," Sam adds.

"AND NO ICE POWERS! I LITERALLY CANNOT CHILL!"

"Look, we'll find him." Sam pats her bag. "I grabbed your Thermos when you were mauling Dash-"

"I wasn't mauling."

"You bit him, dude."

"Once!"

"-but we didn't find him anywhere around the school. So you go inside and meditate or something, and we'll find Phantom."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They find him pretty easily. Not hard to miss a ghost boy lounging atop the Nasty Burger sign, stuffing his face.

"HEY!" Sam waves her arms. "PHANTOM!"

He looks down. "HI SAM!"

"COME DOWN HERE!"

"OKAY!" He flies down and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "What's up?"

"Danny is losing his mind."

Phantom nods. "We're supposed to be one person. Plus, I have our Core." He taps his chest. "That's got to mess him up, haing this ripped out."

"So you'll come back with us?" Tucker dares t ask hopefully.

Phantom shrugs. "Sure."

Sam crosses her arms, eyeing him warily. "... Why're you being so easy about this?"

Phantom shrugs again. "I just don't feel like fighting."

Tucker's eyes go wide. He points. "Because you are Danny's Chill! You're the missing Chill!"

"Yeah, I just said that." He taps his Core again.

"No! I mean, yeah, but, you're his ability to be calm! Oh man Danny's parents are really reckless!"

Phantom nods, and then winces. "Oh, yeah. If I'm his Chill, then he's probably going to blow soon. We go through way too much stuff on the daily for him to be okay right now."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Danny, now calm down son-"

Danny shoots the laser again. "I'M GOING TO BREAK THAT THING!"

"It's a good weapon!" Maddie snaps from behind a table. "If more Halfas show up we ca save them too!"

Danny blows up another ghost hunting device. "I AM CLEARLY NOT DOING BETTER!"

"He's not wrong," jack points out while hiding behind the table.

"WE'VE GOT HIM!" Sam and Tucker sprint down, Phantom following lazily behind.

"Hi Danny." Phantom waves.

Danny waves back, very angry. "I'm blowing up the gun that did this to us!"

"Okay. But um, you've blown up a lot of stuff."

"I KNOW! I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WORK THIS THING!" Danny smacks the gun, making it fire again. "JUST- WORK, DARNIT!"

Phantom drifts over. "Let me see it. ... Maybe this is the auto-aim?"

"... Maybe," Danny huffs.

Phantom nods. "Let's see... here's the off button." Phantom presses it. "How come you didn't see it?"

"I was too frustrated," Danny says, scowling. Phantom pats Danny on the back.

"It's okay buddy. We've all been there. ... I guess I haven't, as a, separate being from you right now."

Jack ad Maddie peek out, watching the two halves of their son work together.

"So let's aim it like this-" Phantom helps lift the gun. "What're we shooting again?"

Danny points at the splitter. "That!"

"Oh, yeah."

They shoot it, blowing it to smithereens! They both look quite pleased.

"Wow, I hope that Skulker didn't hear that," Phantom says, sitting down.

"Um. Why?" Danny tenses.

"I saw him earlier. He tried to get me but I just went into the ground when he wasn't looking and got away."

"You didn't fight him?! What if he hurts other people!"

"Oh. I didn't think of that." Phantom puts his hand to his chin. "Huh."

"How did you not think of that?!"

"I wasn't worried about it."

"You should be!"

"Um, guys?" Tucker taps Danny's shoulder.

"You don't think of everything, either."

"I WOULDN'T MISS SOMETHING LIKE THAT!"

"Maybe separating them wasn't a good idea," Maddie says, tapping the table nervously.

"One brain, two boys." Jack rubs the back of his head. "I guess halving his soul had consequences, who could've guessed?"

"GUYS!" Tucker shouts. All eyes turn to him. "How're we going to put them back together?"

Silence.

"... Well." Phantom looks resigned.

"We're ruined." Danny sinks to his knees.

"I guess Passive Phantom and Danny Feral are here to stay." Sam sighs and looks at The Fenton parents. "Please tell me you ca fix this."

Jack moves his hand in the 'fifty-fifty chance' movement.

"Great."

"At least Dash isn't going to mess with us for a while," Tucker tries to joke.

"You're next if you mention it again," Danny growls. Phantom rubs Danny's back, and shakes his head at Tucker to let him know Danny was fibbing. Hopefully.

"Maybe now you'll seriously consider my suggestion of therapy?"

Everyone screams at Jazz's sudden appearance, except for Phantom. He just waves.

(Random joke fic, based on the idea of "What if Danny Without Powers was just a Feral Little Man who attacked Dash like a cartoon raccoon)

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #Jack Fenton #Maddie Fenton #guns tw #shooting tw

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absolutepokemontrash · 4 years ago

Text

MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Underground Tomb edition!)

Hello friends and degenerate sinners, this is basically a mini headcanon set for Luci’s kid!MC about how the incident with Luke and the Grimoire would go down in this AU to tide you all over until Part 3 comes out! Enjoy!

It was a normal night in the good ol’ HOL... Lucifer was doing paperwork at an ungodly hour of the night, Beel was in the kitchen, and Mammon was screaming and running for dear life. Ah... sweet normalcy.

The custard incident remained the same, MC got force-fed custard and Beel threw a truly fantastic hunger tantrum that culminated in the wall connecting to MC’s room collapsing.

Cue lecture from Luci-father.

“I am very disappointed in you three.” Lucifer rubbed his temples as MC, Beel, and Mammon awkwardly stood in his room. Mammon of course, was trying to avoid the death glares MC was giving him. Poor bastard.

“Especially you two, MC and Beel.”

“Whuh?!” Mammon sputtered. “What about me?!”

“I expect this from you. These two on the other hand,” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at MC who was awkwardly trying to suppress a laugh at Mammon’s aghast expression. “Should know not to act like this.”

“We’re *snrk* sorry, father,” MC paused to try and muscle through a giggle. “It won’t happen again.”

“He ate my custard...” Beel pouted.

“So, MC won’t be able to use their room anymore due to the wall... collapsing.” Lucifer gave Beel a pointed glare.

Mammon smirked, and if he were sitting on a couch, we would have leaned back and kicked his feet up. “Well, obviously since I’m a kind and generous soul I’ll open up my room for poor MC to stay in. My babysittin’ rates are quite high though-”

“BABYSITTING?!” MC snarled, giving Mammon a death glare that could probably kill lesser demons.

Lucifer felt a twinge of pride upon seeing his child give someone his signature bone-chilling glare, if he weren’t supposed to be disappointed he would have given MC a pat on the head and let them hang Mammon from the ceiling.

“Uh- heh- MC, I’m your favourite uncle! Me babysittin’ ya should be an honour!” Mammon was sweating bullets and desperately looking to Beel for help.

“Levi is rapidly approaching favourite uncle status.” MC crossed their arms and huffed.

“Levi?! Wait- does that mean I was your favourite-”

Lucifer was almost tempted to stick MC in Mammon’s room just to have MC punish Mammon so he could get some sleep, tragically, his common sense won out. “MC will be staying with Beel. He has an extra bed in his room after all.”

MC looked over at Beel and smiled. “Could be worse, right? I’ll replace the custard.”

Beel’s smile upon hearing the last part could have lit up the entire Devildom. What a sweetie.

MC still chilled in Beel’s room. They finally got to ask more questions about Belphie, and Beel is more inclined to share what’s up because MC is his big bro’s kid after all!

Because of MC’s half demon-ness, they hadn’t met Belphie at that point in the story unlike in canon. They were just curious about their missing uncle. They ALSO already knew what Belphie looks like because Lucifer gave them an in depth tour of everything and he pointed out all the portraits.

MC, being the sadistic sweetheart they are, went out and bought themselves and Beel replacement custard. MC made sure to eat it right in front of Mammon.

But my oh my, who was texting them? *gasp!* Luke!

MC obviously let their little angel buddy into the house (Luke did not know about MC’s parental situation at that point, keep that in mind). Luke was fun to tease a little after all! And it was nice to have another kid around, but MC would never admit it.

Since MC had literally no reason to be afraid of their dear old dad, they went right up to him and asked him if Luke could stay over. No fear.

“Father?” MC leaned on the doorway to the backyard, Lucifer was playing fetch with Cerberus. MC had never seen someone play fetch so robotically.

“Yes, MC?” Cerberus’ middle head dropped a slobber covered squeaky toy into Lucifer’s gloved hand, the other two heads snapped at the middle one.

“Can I have a friend over?” MC asked, trotting over to give Cerberus some pets. On the first day the dog had tried to eat them, but after giving him some much tastier bacon treats, Cerberus was sweet as pie. Murderous and dangerous pie, that is.

“Do I know this friend?”

“Yes, it’s Luke. Can he stay over?”

Lucifer wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. “Cerberus is right here, you have access to a dog. Why on earth would you bring the chihuahua over?”

MC snorted and gave Cerberus’ right head some scratches behind the ears. “He’s not a chihuahua all the time, come on, it’s for the good of the exchange program!”

The two had a stare down for a little while, and to his absolute horror, Lucifer felt his resolve cracking. This child of his was too adorable for their own good. “Fine, MC.”

“Yes!” MC fist pumped as Cerberus’ middle and left heads tried to join in on the ear scritches.

“But note,” Lucifer continued. “I expect a full report to give to Lord Diavolo on this whole experience.”

MC frowned and debated sticking their tongue out at their father, they decided against it. “A paper? On a sleepover? Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Lucifer gave MC a flick on the nose. “Like you said, it has to do with the exchange program. Now go make sure the chihuahua doesn’t die and leave you with a mess to clean up.”

The look of complete terror Luke gave MC when they told him that Lucifer said he could stay over was completely worth the paper they were going to have to write.

“What?! You weren’t supposed to tell him I’m here!”

“He said you could stay.”

“Why?! Oh no... did he demand your soul as payment or something?! MC! You shouldn’t have put yourself in that nasty demon’s debt! Don’t worry, I’ll get your soul back somehow.”

MC should have been offended... but they weren’t. I mean, could you stay mad at Luke when he just offered to fight arguably the second most powerful demon in the Devildom to get your soul back?

Now that Luke’s presence in the house was known to everyone, the challenge was no longer keeping Luke hidden, it was making sure Luke didn’t say anything that would get him killed and making sure none of the demon bros made Luke cry.

Mammon was the main culprit of the teasing because Lucifer actually had better things to do. And he had a (totally not a) date with Diavolo so he’d be back late and wouldn’t be home to tease the chihuahua.

Mammon’s status as favourite uncle was hanging by a thread by the end of the first day.

Asmo thought Luke was positively adorable and also very annoying. He offered to paint MC and Luke’s nails. Luke declined, but MC was all for it. (Their cuticles were a MESS by the way, they needed the manicure.)

Luke’s nails were painted gold to match the gold on his outfit! Asmo was quite proud of his work, and was very offended when he was not allowed to try and braid Luke’s hair.

“It looks so soft!”

“You’re not allowed to touch my hair, demon!”

Satan still disliked MC on the basis that they were just a mini-Lucifer and hung out in his room or the library to avoid them and Luke.

It was incredibly annoying when Luke and MC burst into the library to look for cookbooks and treat recipes after Luke told MC about his baking endeavours. Satan debated ordering a pair of ear plugs on Akuzon...

Or perhaps a laser gun...

Both would make him stop hearing the children’s grating voices.

“You two, be quiet.”

“We haven’t spoken since we got in here...”

“You’re breathing too loud.”

Beel remained the only brother who was actually decent to Luke, they all played Go Fish in Beel’s room.

Levi was in his room playing his new video game just like in canon, but he could hear Luke and MC running around outside his room.

He was fully prepared to do that introvert thing where you stay in your room until you hear someone say goodbye to the guest.

Levi’s eyes were glued to his computer screen, just eight more skeleton monsters to kill and he’d get the achievement! His attention crumbled the moment he heard the dreaded sound of...

Guests...

“Hey MC! Whose room is this?”

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall caused Levi to jump in his seat. Oh no... his worst fears were realized! There was another person in the house!

“That’s Asmodeus’ room. Luke you shouldn’t go around opening everyone’s doors-”

The sound of another door opening and shutting made Levi pause his game and look at Henry 2.0 for help. Maybe if he jumped into the tank and wrapped himself in his tail he’d camouflage into his surroundings...

BAM!

AAAAA! Not enough time! The guest was drawing nearer... he was going to have to... *barf*... SOCIALIZE!

“How about this room?”

Levi braced himself for the incoming social contact... Fs in the chat everyone...

“We shouldn’t bother Levi, let’s do something else.”

HAJEKDJSJSJSJD- BEEL! BEEL JUST SAVED LEVI’S LIFE!

The poor third born slumped back in his seat, the awfulness of socialization avoided. He uh... hadn’t actually left his room in maybe three days... maybe he should actually go outside... enjoy the nonexistent sunlight, y’know?

...nah. Levi went back to his game.

Since the kitchen was broken, Beel, MC, and Luke went out and get AkuDonald’s. They were all out of the toy that Luke and MC wanted so that trip was a disaster! A disaster I say!

Just the image of Beel happily chomping on his eighth burger while Luke and MC angrily pick at their fries makes me want to laugh.

Now the question you’re all waiting for, did Lucifer try and kill Luke and Beel and then MC for trying to take the Grimoire?

N O

“Whose room is behind that door?” Luke pointed to the door to the attic staircase.

MC shrugged and hit their knuckles against the door a few times. “It’s just the door to the attic. My uh- Lucifer said not to go up there because it’s just full of old junk.”

Normally MC would scoff at the idea of being told what not to do and do it out of spite, but MC was a child, and like most children, they hated scary attics. They hadn’t even attempted to open the door in the month they had lived in the house.

“Hm, maybe he’s hiding something...” Luke puffed out his cheeks and knocked on the door. When met with no answer, Luke turned the doorknob. The door creaked open, and the two peeked inside.

A tall spiral staircase greeted them as they tentatively stepped inside. Not so-good Lord, the room was freezing, but it didn’t seem to bother Luke as he walked further into the room.

“What do you think’s up there?” Luke asked, craning his neck to try and get a look at what could be at the top of the stairs.

MC shuddered and crossed their arms. “Like Lucifer said, junk. Nothing important.”

There was a tingling feeling at the base of MC’s neck, their hand flew to the spot only to find nothing, but the uneasiness didn’t cease. Something was very... very off. A shudder creeped up their spine as Luke stepped closer to the staircase.

“Come on,” Luke tutted, placing a hand on the railing. “Demons are known liars!”

Luke was quite difficult to be friends with sometimes, MC had to admit.

With every step Luke took up the stairs, the sense of dread brewing in MC’s gut grew, but they remained rooted to the spot, it was almost like something was physically stopping them from getting closer to those stairs.

Luke stopped on the sixth step and craned his neck to look up again. “Hello?” He called out.

His little voice echoed up the staircase, he was met with no reply for a moment, until a massive shudder wracked both his and MC’s spines.

“Hello.” A voice replied.

Quick as lightning MC dove forward, taking three steps up the stairs despite what felt like electric shocks stabbing into their skin, and yanked Luke back down the stairs and out the door, closing it behind them. MC heard a lazy, carefree chuckle reverberate through their head, and a message that only MC could hear.

“Leaving so soon, Lucifer?”

...

Spooky right?

Anyway- back to Luke and MC being idiots together.

They headed back to Beel’s room to watch some Devildom kid shows, I assume Tom and Jerry just played on repeat.

Luke explained the reason he ran away from Purgatory Hall, and MC legitimately debated whether or not they should throw Luke out of the nearest window for all the jabs he was taking at demons.

“Simeon was going to go out for tea with Diavolo! He even said that I could ask Barbatos to instruct me on the finer points of baking!”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“They’re demons, MC! Simeon and I are angels from the Celestial Realm! We shouldn’t be consorting with demons.”

Once again, bless Beel and his lack of murderous rage when it came to anything other than food.

“MC, Lucifer would be upset if you broke a window.”

“What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing Luke, nothing you need to worry about.”

Don’t worry, no angels were harmed during the visit.

On day two of the extended sleepover, Luke and MC decided to go running around the house again.

“And this is the basement.” MC put their hands on their hips and kissed their teeth as they looked around the Underground tomb. “Perfectly creepy.”

Luke shuddered. “Is this house nothing but one creepy room after another..?”

MC smiled and stuck out their tongue. Their fear of the attic did not extend to the underground tomb. Not that they were actually afraid of the attic or anything...

“Why? You scared some big monster is gonna getcha?” MC teased.

“No!” Luke gasped. “I’m not scared!”

MC began to walk backwards into the darker depths of the tomb, their teasing tone echoing off of the walls. “Then come on! Don’t be chicken!”

Luke looked back and forth from the door out of there, to the rapidly disappearing figure of MC, he rushed after MC.

“I’m not scared of some dark basement.” Luke huffed.

“Why not~?” MC snickered. “There could be ghosts down here... tortured souls of those who were damned to Hell for all eternity~!”

MC swiped Luke’s hat and placed it on their head, Luke jumped at the sudden contact and began to try and get the hat back from MC.

“Stop trying to scare me!” Luke yapped, MC laughed and began to jog deeper into the tomb.

“Maybe there’s a monster that eats chihuahuas down here too! Who knows!” MC twirled the hat with their fingers and ran a little faster when Luke ran after them.

“I AM NOT A CHIHUAHUA!”

Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best course of action to tease and scare one’s friend instead of telling them what they said earlier was mean, but MC wasn’t the best at decision making.

When MC reached a dead end, they stopped and looked around, Luke crashed right into them. He managed to swipe his hat back from a now disinterested MC.

MC’s gaze landed on a book being held up by a statue, they padded over and looked up at it.

“Luke, do you know what that is?” MC asked, turning to look at their now very miffed friend.

“The... book? I don’t know.”

Truthfully, MC didn’t know either. During their first tour of the house, Mammon had interrupted the Underground tomb segment and Lucifer had to cut the tour short.

“It’s uh...” MC pursed their lips and tried to think of a convincing lie. “A spell book. Lucifer told me that it makes your magic really really strong, so he stuck it down here to hide it from Solomon.”

“Did I now?”

MC and Luke screamed and whirled around, there stood Lucifer himself, not looking terribly pleased with the two of them.

“MC, care to explain why you and the angel are so close to the Grimoire?” Lucifer’s words were icily calm, and MC knew that meant if they didn’t come up with a good explanation they’d be in big trouble.

“W-we were just playing down here...” MC trailed off, looking to Luke for some kind of backup before realizing what a stupid idea that was.

“Y-yeah! We were just-”

Lucifer stuck his thumb over his shoulder and glowered at the two. “Out.”

“Yes sir.” Luke and MC mumbled as they stepped away from the Grimoire, Lucifer relaxed slightly as the two walked past him and down the hall.

When the two got back up to Beel’s room, Luke suddenly gasped and turned to MC.

“You said it was a spell book!”

After that, MC got the feeling that Luke was no longer welcome in the house. What was the big deal about almost touching the Grimoire anyway? It could only override pacts and control demons-

Oh.

Balls.

Simeon got called to pick up Luke and before the two of them left MC assured Luke that he could come over and hang out anytime as long as he texted first.

Beel said Luke could come over and bake when the kitchen was fixed, poor Beel would have to do without Luke’s baked goods for a little while longer.

MC rested their chin on the coffee table they were kneeling in front of, stewing in annoyance. Their unfinished homework was practically mocking them, but the Demonology textbook was not what had them in their funk.

“MC, do your homework.” Lucifer said from the living room couch, he was comparing his phone to notes in a binder that was placed on his lap.

A grunt from MC caused him to raise an eyebrow. Their grasp on demonic language had improved, but Lucifer did not approve of them using their new skill to sass him.

“MC.” Lucifer chided, MC turned to look at him with a deadpan expression. “If there’s something wrong, either tell me, or do your work without complaining.”

MC turned back to their homework and tapped their pencil against the textbook, before puffing out their cheek and turning back to Lucifer.

“What’s in the attic?”

For the briefest of moments, Lucifer froze, he forcibly relaxed and went back to his work.

“Junk.” Lucifer replied. “Did you try and go up there?”

MC shook their head. “No, I went into the staircase room, but not up the stairs.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed, he then took a deep breath and looked at MC. “Good, there’s nothing of interest up there anyway. If you did go up there you might break something or hurt yourself.”

“Okay.” MC sighed, trying to push the voice from the attic out of their mind. “What about the Grimoire? Why is it down in the tomb?”

Lucifer could feel his patience growing thinner and thinner with every question. “So it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Why not just destroy it?” MC asked, their question wasn’t meant to be taken as an insult or be malicious, it was just legitimate curiosity. “Wouldn’t that be safer?”

The first born hesitated before he answered. He looked over MC, before shaking his head. “...I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

MC’s eyes narrowed, but they went back to their work all the same. It would be about ten minutes of quiet before MC spoke up again.

“When Belphegor gets back from the human world, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do, huh?”

Lucifer’s eyes snapped up to look at MC, who still had their back turned to him as they scribbled notes from the textbook. His grip on his DDD tightened as he replied.

“Why do you say that, MC?”

MC didn’t seem to register their father’s clipped tone, and shrugged. “Beel said that he isn’t answering his texts or calls, and when he sent up a letter Belphegor didn’t respond to that either.”

“The life of an exchange student is a busy one, as you can see.” Lucifer forcibly injected his last bit of remaining calmness into his words as he gestured at MC’s homework. MC laughed at that.

“Yeah well, I still make time to call my friends and ren back up in the human world.” MC giggled. “And I’m sure those text notifications about his older brother discovering that he has a child would make him pick up the phone.”

“Belphegor might have a much larger workload.” Lucifer retorted, trying to keep himself from snapping at MC.

“But still, you’d think he’d call his-”

“MC-” Lucifer snarled, MC whirled around, the fear and shock in their eyes caused anything Lucifer was going to say to die in his throat.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, before Lucifer took another deep breath and turned back to his work.

“Not right now, MC,” Lucifer whispered. “I’m working.”

...

To be continued...

#Obey me #Obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me headcanons #obey me! headcanons #Obey me MC #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Satan #Lucifer’s Kid #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Luke #when I say to be continued- I mean more diverging from canon #I have a feeling the lovely London family trip went smoothly... totally

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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

Text

- 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

◤ currently write for

most popular posts are in bold

↞ back to masterlists

⤷𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝟏𝐀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➶ coming soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“you could never last no nut november” | 1k event (0.9k) ↠ nsfw

in which bakugo bets kirishima he could never last no nut november, but in the last hour of november he finds you in bed all pretty and he just has to have you, even if he does lose the stupid bet

“i’d do anything for you” | 1k event (1.9k) ↠ fluff

in which kirishima helps you throughout the day and you finally ask him why he’s always so nice to you, gaining a response you’d never had expected

☆ headcanons ☆

“how do you expect me to not fucking love you, when you come in looking like that” | requested (1.1k) ↠ fluff

in which you have a cow quirk and in a relationship with kirishima

“if you win, i’ll take you out tonight” | requested (1.2k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re performing at the ua pageant and get a surprised visit from kirishima with a proposal in mind

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐎 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➶ coming soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➶ coming soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“that’s literally the definition of jealous, you dumbass” | (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which bakugo finds y/n and todoroki getting closer than normal, the more he sees them together the more rage he builds up over someone who he thought was just an extra to him

“when he put the what, in the where...” | (1.3k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re in a secret relationship with bakugo until one fateful night in the dorms

“probably married to this dumbass” | (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which you and bakugo get interviewed on a talk show on what it’s like being pro hero, what turns into a simple where do you see yourself in five years leads to your relationship being announced on live tv

“look bakugo you’re surrounded by extras” | (2.7k) ↠ fluff

in which you and bakugo are both pro heros and it’s work studies, what bakugo thought would be a pain seemed to have the benefits as he saw you in a better light

“they’re are what?” | (2.8k) ↠ fluff

in which you and bakugo sneak out for a late night date and meet two kids, confused and lost, you take the kids back to the dorms trying to get help, the thing is they looked strangely familiar

"you want to sleep on the floor”

part one | (3.4k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re neighbours with pro hero katsuki bakugo, one night your roommate and her boyfriend get a bit too loud, with no where else to turn you end up in the apartment of bakugo’s, sleeping beside him you both realise the hidden feelings between one another

part two | requested (5.4k) ↠ fluff and nsfw

in which bakugo takes you on that date he promised you and leads your roommate to be the one to hear all the moans and screams

“what’s 6 inches long, 2 inches wide and makes everyone go crazy?” | requested (2.3k) ↠ nsfw

in which you and bakugo are studying together and after being interrupted by kirishima who tells you mina wants to study with you, you go out and help mina study but instantly get threatened by mina to go back, you realise you’ve got a long night ahead of you

“y/n just tell me the fucking truth for once” | requested (5.2k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which you were raised by villains, by being saved by the heroes, the trust issues and lying you were brought upon reflects you now, bakugo grows ever more frustrated at your lying and all your truths come out

“you really think i wouldn’t recognise you” | requested (1.2k) ↠ fluff

in which you have a transformation quirk and whilst trying to find information from bakugo about his crush, he reveals his love for you but most importantly how easily he could see past your quirk

“really? you wanna have sex...here? now?” | impatient collab (2.1k) ↠ nsfw

in which you arrive at a pro hero event and with bakugo unable to keep his eyes off of you, you end up doing a lot more than catching up and drinking with your friends

“i hate your old friends” | (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which bakugo gets a visit from some old friends, making remarks about you and the other girls, a much more angrier bakugo realises that his past friends never grew up in the past months and he as sure as hell wasn’t letting some idiots talk about his girl in that way

“we’re you two...from the future” | (3.8k) ↠ fluff

in which you and bakugo sneak out intending to go see some stars but are met with the unlikliest of people, explaining their situation, you end up fighting alongside them, and realising just how far your relationship will go with the blond

“i’m not sick, i always look like this” | requested (2.0k) ↠ fluff

in which your bakugo ends up getting sick, being the loving girlfriend you are you happily look after the angry boy who’s adamant he is not sick

“becuase i’m fucking in love with you” | 1k event (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which bakugo watches you get too close with another man and can’t help but let his anger take over seeing you with anybody other him

“that blood, it’s not yours is it?” | 1k event (1.5k) ↠ angst

in which villian!bakugo comes to your apartment, confessing to his sins before finding himself surrounded by pro heroes after your call for help, with nowhere else to go, his only option to take you down with him

“good girl, spread your legs more, you want me to make you feel good?” | corruption collab (4.0k) ↠ nsfw

in which bakugo has always been infatuated with the pure guise you put on, when you come to his office late at night, how can he not resist the temptation of ruining something so sweet?

"you promised...” | (0.7k) ↠ angst

in which you see the first time you and bakugo fell in love

“you think that waiter could make you cum the way i do” | 1k event (2.0k) ↠ nsfw

in which after having a dinner date with bakugo, his irritation at how the waiter seems just a bit too close to you, he can’t help but take you right back to his car, ready to show you who’s really in charge

☆ headcanons ☆

“she’s doing what?” | requested (1.5k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re seen as the mom of class 1a, the boys got to spy on the girls sleepover and what they didn’t expect was you to confess your crush but also for you to have hidden talents that makes bakugo realise he needs to have you

“if you win, i’ll take you out tonight” | requested (1.5k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re performing at the ua pageant and get a surprised visit from bakugo with a proposal in mind

“how am i supposed to protect everybody if i can’t even protect you” | requested (1.5k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which you and bakugo are the ones to go against each other in the final of the sports festival and after you win, he makes it seem like he let you win, after confronting him he finally gives you what you wanted.

“you’ll never be a fucking hero if you keep acting like a dick to midoriya” | requested (1.4k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which after seeing bakugo continue his bullying with midoriya, you take it upon yourself to stick up for the boy and bakugo get’s a lot more than he expected, finally realising that his act cannot go on for any longer

“you bought more, didn’t you” | requested (1.1k) ↠ fluff

in which your sweet tooth becomes the bane of bakugo’s life, finding out you house even more sweets in your pockets, his only way to finally get you stop seems to be a bit more different than his initial plan

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“your ability to remain silent really pisses me off” (1.1k) ↠ fluff

in which you go to a haunted house with the class and get stuck partnered up with todoroki

“i thought you hated me” | (3.1k) ↠ fluff

in which todoroki has a crush on you, and whilst trying to get closer to you his social awkwardness kicks in, making it harder and harder to not mess up whilst talking to you, but in the end he finally confesses after a whirlwind of a week

☆ headcanons ☆

“i want to talk about it now” | (1.0k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which at the sports festival, you finally talk to the boy in your class who seemed to always keep to himself, you both unveil your own trauma that you went through

⤷ 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝟑𝐀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“if you ate pussy does th-” “y/n do no finish that sentence” (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which you had been shot by a quirk that makes you say your thoughts aloud, the big three come to class 1a, you’re long time crush and friend tamaki gets made to answer questions and you stupidly raise your hand

⤷ 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“you guys did it where” | requested (2.1k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re in a secret relationship with shinso until at his party celebrating his first day in the hero course, he can’t keep his hands off of you

“why aren’t you scared of me?” | requested (4.0k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which shinso joins class 1a and whilst everybody seems to be scared of him out of fear he’ll use his quirk, you try to befriend the boy and he develops feelings as soon as you talk to him

“one more word out of you and i’ll leave you tied up with no release” | 1k event (1.2k) ↠ nsfw

in which after teasing shinso all day he can’t wait to get his revenge by overstimulating you until your crying, begging to cum

“i want you to have me...all of me” | corrupt a virgin collab (5.3k) ↠ nsfw

in which shinso finally takes the next step with his sidekick after being unable to confess he finally works up the courage finding out your own secret as you both decide to take the next step in your newfound relationship

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐀 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“who ruined you, go on, say my name” | 1k event (1.7k) ↠ nsfw

in which after an encounter with your ex boyfriend, monoma makes sure that everybody in the restaurant knows who you belong too

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“what else can vibrate?” | (2.8k) ↠ nsfw

in which you meet a pro hero who can vibrate and things get a lot personal

⤷ 𝐏𝐑𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐒

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“did he steal two babies?” | requested (3.0k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re aizawa’s secret wife, aizawa gets a call in the middle of class that you’re going into labor and eventually leaves, the class being noisy pricks follows him to a hospital, feeling worried they continue to follow until they see him holding two babies with a smile at his new family

“i’ll always support you” | requested (1.0k) ↠ platonic relationship and fluff

in which you confide in your teacher about your sexuality and he brings you the support your parents never gave you

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“you really have got nothing to do on a friday night” | (4.4k) ↠ fluff

in which your friend keigo invites you to a pro hero event as his plus one, the event leads to a lot more than you expected

“you’re going to show the whole world who you belong too” | 1k event (1.0k) ↠nsfw

in which you find yourself in a hotel room after your dinner with keigo, pressed against the glass window for the whole world to see

☆ headcanons ☆

“where the fuck did you learn how to do that" | requested (1.1k) ↠ fluff

in which keigo hears you rapping in the shower and even though it was a shock he can’t help but to join you showering

⤷ 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐒

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“i tried to move on, but nobody was you” | (1.4k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which you find yourself in front of the league of villains base as nobody could compare to how your ex made you feel

“we’re you” | (3.3k) ↠ fluff

in which you and dabi go out to get food and find yourself meeting some familiar faces with destruction arriving with them

“your boyfriend is going to kill us” | 1k event (2.2k) ↠ nsfw

in which dabi finds himself at your apartment seeing an upset you, how could he resist not comforting his girl even if your boyfriend arrives half way through

“you don’t remember me?” | 1k event (3.0k) ↠ angst

in which after losing your memory in what seemed to have been a week, the capture of shigaraki is the only thing on your mind but when you meet face to face with a distant memory, the reality of the torture the heroes inflicted on you finally comes to light

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“keep moaning, go on” | 1k event (2.0k) ↠ nsfw

in which after a loss to all might, all shigaraki needs is a relaxing bath with you which ends up turning into a lot more

#my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #yo shindo x reader #keigo takami x reader #dabi x reader #tamaki amajiko x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #shota aizawa x reader #denki kaminari x reader #izuku midoria x reader #hanto sero x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #neito monoma x reader

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hogwartsmarvelmommy · 3 years ago

Text

Sleep talk

Harry Holland

A/N- i literally have no patience so i’m giving you all this way earlier than i anticipated. OOps 🤭❤️

Summary- a bad habit of talking in your sleep gets you into a predicament you would have never expected

Word count- 4k

Warnings- sleep talking. Smut. So much smut. additional warnings under the cut.

🌸🌼 Masterlist 🌼🌸

Warnings: Wet dreams. oral (F receiving) unprotected sex, (Please wrap it up!)

You wondered if anyone else felt that the car was stuffy. Sandwiched between Sam and Harry with Tom and Harrison in the front, there was little to no room. This was day three of the ten day road trip, and you were officially tired of sitting in the car. Sam was respectful, trying to give you as much space as he could with you being in the middle seat, Harry on the other hand was pushed up into you with his hand resting on your leg for the umpteenth time. Not that you particularly minded, but you weren't sure why he was being so touchy with you. Your mind kept wandering every time his fingers brushed across your thigh, and as much as you tried to not think the things you were about him, you couldn't help it.

You had finally given up, and closed your eyes, hoping the ache that was in your core would dissipate. There was quite literally nothing you could do about it yourself, at least in the moment. So with your eyes squeezed shut and your head thrown up on the headrest you tried desperately to get the dirty thoughts about your close friend Harry Holland out of your head.

It probably would have worked too, until you felt his face nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His warm breath ghosting the skin of your neck, spreading goosebumps all through your skin and making that desperate ache grow ten times. You couldn't take it anymore. With your thighs squeezed together, in hopes of any relief you let out a loud sigh. “Harrison, can we please stop at the next place with a restroom?” You asked, hoping that no one noticed the desperation in your tone. Harrison obliged, pulling into a nearly empty rest stop only a few miles further down.

As soon as Sam was out of your way you bee lined it towards the building, rushing to the bathroom like your life depended on it. You stood in the tidy restroom, with mirrors that barely offered a reflection. You splashed cold water on your face hoping the ache would disappear now that you weren't stuck to Harry.

Years upon years of knowing the Hollands, and since day one Harry had always tickled your fancy. The curly red hair, the humor the boy quite simply radiated, the warm kind eyes, and his smile. Oh his smile. This road trip was supposed to be a fun experience, a vacation of sorts, but it just seemed to be a constant torture for you. The other boys sticking you with Harry every chance they got. You were sure it was merely a coincidence, there was absolutely no way they knew about your crush. Right?

Last night though, had taken the cake. The hotel had only one room left and they had stuck you and Harry in one bed. You claimed it was no big deal, but in the middle of the night when he had unconsciously thrown his arm around your waist and pulled you into him, you were sure you were going to explode then and there. And the ache just seemed to keep growing.

The door opened causing you to jump. You looked over to see Harry walking in, weary of the fact that he was in the ladies room.

“What are you doing?” You asked him. The smirk that creeped up his lips let you know, he knew. He had to know. Why else would he follow you into a rest stop restroom?

“I was just worried about you, love,” his voice was low, deeper than usual, and you could feel your pussy clench at the sound of his voice.

“I'm alright,” You whispered. His eyebrows raised as he took another step towards you. You shivered as a million ways he could simply take you right now flashed through your mind.

“I've noticed the things you have been doing you know,” he smirked. Your eyes grew wide, not sure exactly what he meant. You have been doing an awful lot lately. “Every time i touch you, your thighs clench together, probably in hopes to relieve some of the pressure that has surely built up over the last few days,” the truth behind the things he said had your mouth hanging open, unaware of what to say to him. He closed the distance between the two of you arms boxing you in as you leaned against the wall in absolute complete shock.

“I-” You began to try and say anything but his finger pressed against your lips. He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked over you, a fire in his eyes you had never seen before.

“Am I wrong?” He whispered as he brought his lips to your neck, leaving the softest kisses down from behind your ear to your shoulder. You let out a moan, as you felt yourself grow wetter. “Didn't think so,” Harry mumbled before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss started slowly, his lips familiarizing themselves with yours. Moving gently over yours, but soon it became deep and with intent, you could feel his hand traveling down your body stopping right before the pool that had accumulated in your underwear. This was it.

The car screeched to a halt and you could hear Tom cursing at the driver in front of you, you looked around shocked that you had fallen asleep. When did Tom and Harrison swap seats? More importantly, how long had you been asleep and how much of your dream had slipped from your unconscious lips. You were a sleep talker, like majorly, so the panic set in instantly, having just had a wet dream about the boy to your right.

Harrison noticed you had woken up first, turning around in his seat as much as he could to look at you. “Morning y/n, have a good sleep?” it didn't seem as there was any teasing behind his question so you were hopeful.

“S’allright. How long was i out?” you felt Harry's body move as if he was chuckling you turned to see a giant shit eating grin spread across his face. You felt your stomach twist. “What did I say?” you asked burying your face in your hands, you knew this could be bad.

“It's okay love, think only I heard,” Harry whispered.

“I heard,” Sam piped in.

“So did we,” Tom announced from the driver's seat. You groaned in embarrassment, why did you have to have a wet dream in a car with your closest friends.

“Was it bad?” you finally asked, peering through your fingers to see Harry's face. You could clearly tell he was holding back something.

“Oh Harry,” Tom mimicked your voice.

“Better than my dreams,” Harrison added.

“Soo soo good,” Sam chuckled.

This was it, the end of your life, this was by far the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened.

“Please don't stop Harry,” Harry whispered in your ear, eyebrows raised, obviously enjoying this. You were sure you were as red as a tomato at this point, your worst fears coming to life.

“Oh my god, you could have woken me up!” You shrieked, burying your face deeper into your hands.

“It seemed like a very good dream, didn't want to interrupt,” Harrison chuckled from in front of you.

You decided to keep your eyes closed for the next few hours, being sure not to fall asleep. When you finally arrived at the small cabin that had been rented for the night, prior to the trip you were relieved to be able to breath and stretch. You had stayed relatively quiet, you were absolutely mortified and you didn't want to become more embarrassed by anything you could say or do at this point.

“Y/N” Tom called. You turned your attention to him, not having heard what he had just said. “Only two rooms, so I'm going to have you bunk with Harry again. You don’t mind right?” He said the last part with a smirk and you knew instantly you would never live this down.

“Course she doesn't,” Harry chimed in, throwing his arm around your shoulder. saving you from having to respond in any way. You smiled up to him through your lashes, silently thanking him. He nodded at you and winked.

Your heart skipped a beat.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Sam whipped up a quick but delicious dinner before the five of you went to your sleeping areas. Tom and Harrison took the bunk room, Sam settled with the pullout bed, leaving you and Harry to share a full sized bed. It would be a snug night.

“You okay darling?” Harry asked as he settled into the bed next to you, you were trying to not let your mind wander. Sleep, you were going to just sleep tonight.

“Other than being mortified, I'm alright,” You mumbled as you rolled onto your side facing away from Harry.

“Because of your dream?” you felt him shuffling on the bed before his hand reached out gently resting on your hip. “You can't control the things your subconscious comes up with. Honestly it was flattering,”

“Seriously?” you asked, face deadpan. As you turned to look at him. He raised his eyebrows at you. “It wasn't my subconscious Harry, yes i happened to be asleep, but i have been having these thoughts for weeks. Imagining you stripping me naked and having your way with me. Every time you touch my leg, I hope your hand will travel between my thighs. I'm longing for you to scratch an itch I wasn't even aware I had,” you took a deep breath and then realized what you had just said. “You're my best friend, I'm not supposed to be thinking like this,” You went to turn back around, but Harry reached out grabbing your waist. Before you even had a second to respond you felt Harry's lips crash into yours. His fingers gripped onto your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you, you of course reciprocated, your hands rested on his chest as he pulled your body closer to his. His lips left yours causing a whimper to leave your mouth.

He moved his mouth to your neck, leaving soft kisses and light nibbles down the sensitive skin, till he reached your collar bone. He looked up at you, with lust filled eyes. “I haven't been able to get you off my mind,” He admitted shyly, returning his lips to yours. You smiled into his kiss.

“You're joking,” he took his bottom lip between his teeth while shaking his head. You were sure everything melted away at that moment. Your arms went around his neck as his arms went around your waist closing any distance that was between the two of you. The kisses became sloppy and hungry as Harry's hands slipped under your shirt. The feeling of his fingers on your bare skin sending a wave of excitement through your body. “Harry,” You moaned as his lips ghosted over the skin on your neck.

“Tell me what you want love,” his voice was deeper than normal, and filled with lust making you shiver.

“Touch me please,” You nearly begged him. He raised one eyebrow before letting his hand that he had moved to your cheek travel unimaginably slow down your body.

“Where do you want me to touch?” He asked you as his hand made its way to your breast, cupping it and feeling around over your shirt until he had the bead of your nipple between his fingers gently rolling it. You gasped at the sudden stimulation. He lifted your shirt replacing his fingers with his mouth letting his tongue roll it around while his hand glided down your stomach stopping just before the waistband of your pajama bottoms. “Can I?” he asked coyly.

“Please,” You let out as his hand slipped down past your pants and your undies. His fingers gently glided through your soaking folds, before finding your bundle and rubbing it lightly in a circular motion. You let out a moan at the action.

"Take it off for me," Harry said as he pulled his hand away from you.

You began to shake slightly your eyes shooting open, was this seriously happening a second time in the same day? You looked over to see Harry propped up on his elbow next to you, his features illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the curtains. His grin was undeniable.

“Please, i don't even want to know,” You groaned as you buried your face deep in the pillow.

“Oh but I want to know,” He said as he ran his fingers down your spine. “Please tell me what I am doing in your dreams to make you make those noises?”

You lifted your head, looking at him. You could tell him everything and maybe he would feel the same and actually act on your wild dreams, or you could pretend not to remember and hope this never happened again. He leaned in closer to you and his lips brushed against your earlobe. “Tell me how I'm making you moan like that in your pretty little head,” he whispered.

You let out a gasp, at his sudden close proximity to you. You could already feel the juices pooling in your panties.

“Well,” You gulped. “It usually starts with you kissing me,” His grin grew as he leaned in, letting his lips nearly touch yours. You were sure you were about to melt.

“Just like this?” he whispered, not actually connecting your lips.

“Y.y.yeah,” you stuttered out, your mind going wild at what was actually happening.

“And then?” he asked, licking his lips as he stared into your eyes.

“You move to my neck.” He moved his hand so it was on your neck, his fingers brushing up and down your skin.

“Kissing, sucking, or biting?” he asked. You nodded to him, unable to think about anything. He flashed you a smile before moving his lips down to your neck, barely kissing your skin.

“What's next?” he asked into your skin, not moving his lips from where they were peppering the most gentle kisses.

“Either you touch my boobs or go down lower, but then i always wake up,” you admitted, your voice breathy and uneven. Harry lifted his head from your neck with wide eyes.

“You're telling me that's as far as it goes and I have you making noises like that?” The shock on his face and in his voice was cute, and you couldn't help but giggle at him.

“Yes,” you said coyly, a serious blush spreading across your cheeks.

"How long have you been having these dreams y/n?" He asked you quietly. You felt your breath hitch and you didn't want to admit to him that this isn't a new thing, your attraction to him has been a thing for years. You shook your head, not wanting to answer the question. “How long?” he repeated.

“Months,” You whispered, barely audible, But by the cocky look on his face you could tell he had heard you loud and clear.

“And you have never said anything, because?” He asked as he placed his hand on your stomach slowly sliding it down.

“I didn't think it was appropriate,” You mumbled, as you watched his hand as it slipped between the hem of your pajamas and panties. You let out a gasp as his fingers slid up and down your panties.

"So wet, and for what? I haven't even done a thing," Harry teased. You couldn't believe this was happening, especially after the day you had. To say you were embarrassed was an understatement, but in this moment you could care less. "Tell me what you want me to do," he told you as he rubbed you over your panties.

"If we're being honest Harry, all I can think of is how you would feel inside of me," as soon as the words left your mouth you were shocked at yourself, unsure of what exactly had come over you.

"Let's find out then princess," he whispered as he grabbed your pants and panties and peeled them off your body. You felt exposed laying sans bottoms in front of Harry, your friend, who you had feelings for. He reached down, running a finger through your slick folds, and then bringing it up to his mouth. The motion alone was enough for you to nearly die, the idea of Harry tasting you was unbelievably hot, and judging by the obvious bulge in his pajama pants, he agreed.

You reached out to palm him through the fabric of his pants, and as soon as you made contact he let out a quiet groan before pushing you down onto the bed, and finally connecting your lips.

Kissing Harry was everything you expected and more, his lips were soft and gentle all while being rough and hungry for yours. He kissed you with such passion you were sure this had to be yet another dream. It wasn't until you managed to push his sweats halfway down his thigh, revealing his hard outline in his boxers that you were fully sure this was in fact happening.

He moved his lips from yours and down the entirety of your body, focusing a little on your breasts, being sure to pay each one the equal amount of attention, until finally making his way to right above your heat. This was always the part you would wake up, never having experienced Harry between your legs, tongue at work while his curls tickled the inside of your thighs, just the thought of wrapping your fingers in those unruly curls to hold him closer to you made your mouth salivate. When he finally dipped his head down, running his tongue all the way from your entrance to your clit you let out a loud moan, forgetting that the three others were only separated by thin walls. The noises you were making were like music to Harry's ears, telling him he was doing a perfect job, and once your fingers grasped at his hair and began to tug tightly he knew you couldn't get enough of his tongue. He moved his hand from where it had been resting on your knee, slid it up your thigh slowly until his fingers were able to tease your entrance while his tongue focused all on your sensitive nub, drawing circles and flicking it so perfect that once his finger went inside it only took you about two brushes against your g spot for you to completely let go, and Harry rode that shit out, not stopping his precise movements until your moaning and gasping had quieted a little.

He pulled away from you, face glistening in the moonlight with a mixture of your orgasm and his saliva, he wiped his face with the back of his hand before crawling over you, and kissing you again. This kiss was different, more soft and gentle, still with purpose but unlike the first it seemed rather intimate, Harry let his body sink down onto yours, his clothed bulge brushing your sensitive nub while he continued to kiss you.

"Harry," you moaned into his lips, as you hooked your fingers in the hem of his waistband.

"We'll get there baby," he said brushing a few loose strands of hair from your face. The unusual pet name towards you just made your want for him grow. Harry Holland was to good for this earth, too good for you, yet here he was, fueling your fan fiction fantasies, and he was doing it so well you could almost forget that once this was over, you would go back to just being friends, and nothing more. Cause if you were sure of one thing it was that despite your ever growing feelings for Harry, he was not one to develop feelings, in the years you had known him you had never seen him be in a relationship. Which made you think he just wasn't interested.

With his hips grinding against yours while the two of you kissed for what felt like forever you could feel the ache building back up, needing more of him, needing to feel him. He disconnected your lips, pushing himself onto his knees so he could pull his boxers down, his cock which was oh so yummy slapping up against his stomach before he grabbed it and pumped it a few times. "You sure?" He asked you. Eyes full of worry. Once you did this there was no going back, even though your heart would probably break knowing he would never be yours.

"Never been more sure of anything else," you told him. He flashed you his giant Harry smile before lining himself at your entrance, his cock teasing you as his eyes were focused on your face. He wanted to see your reaction to him, to see how he made you feel. He pushed in slowly, giving you ample time to stretch to his size, though with how aroused you were you didn't need all that much. When his hips were flush against yours he started to thrust in and out, slowly at first, bit then harder and faster, stroking your spot with every thrust. The noises coming from the two of you sounded like they were out of a porno, skin slapping against skin, moans escaping from your lips and groaning from him as he pounded into you. After a few minutes of that he brought his hand down between you, letting his fingers rub circles on your nub, it wouldn't take you long now.

"Harry, 'm Soo close," you moaned, your fingers digging into the skin on his back.

"Me to baby, me to," he mumbled as he sped up his rhythm. When the cord finally snapped you felt a wave wash over you, of complete and utter euphoria. You felt Harry twitch inside you before slowing his thrusts down and falling onto your body. Your pretty sure you blacked out for a bit after that, cause when you finally open your eyes, the sun is streaming through the curtains and you are snuggled up against Harry. For a second you're worried it was just a dream, until you notice you are both still sans clothes under the sheet.

"Morning," Harry mumbles, eyes still closed.

"Good morning," you say quietly, not sure what's going to happen from here.

"Last night was amazing," he says after a few excruciating seconds. You giggle and nod your head, afraid that your word will betray you. "I've been waiting for that for years," he adds. Your eyes grow wide as you prop yourself up to look at his face.

"What did you just say?" You demand. His eyes flutter open and look directly at you, a smile on his face.

"I have been waiting for that for years," he repeats matter of factly. He could see the shock written on your face, so he reached out to grab your hand, interlocking your fingers. "You didn't honestly think I didn't have feelings for you did you? Why do you think Tom and Haz were always forcing us to bunk together?" You think back to all the times where the other three boys would group you and Harry off, leaving the two of you alone, and suddenly it all makes sense.

"You like me?" You ask, a smile spreading on your face.

"Baby, I'd be crazy if I didn't," he whispers, leaning up to kiss your lips.

Right then the door flies open and an irritated Tom, Harrison, and Sam are stood in the doorway. You're fully aware of your naked state now, clutching the sheet to cover all the exposed parts of your body.

"You guys were SO loud last night," Harrison says looking back and forth between the two of you. You mumble a sorry, completely embarrassed, until Tom starts to laugh.

"It's about time," he says, walking over and patting Harry on the shoulder before the three of them disappear back into the main area of the cabin.

"Whoops," Harry laughs, placing a kiss on your temple. You look up at him and can't help but smile.

#harry holland smut #harry holland #harry robert holland #harry holland x y/n #harry holland one shot

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nat-20s · 4 years ago

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Part 4 of Wonderful! Au! This one isn’t an episode! And It’s not funny! It does, however, provide the context around Part 3! Also, Jon signs in this one, and sign languages have their own grammar and structure, but I display his signs translated into English and denote them with <> instead of “”. Here goes!

~*~

When, two days ago, Jon woke up gasping at 3 am, Martin didn’t think anything of it. Their nightmares were much like their chronic headaches: sometimes occurring daily, sometimes going weeks in without showing up. They were uncomfortable, surely, and sometimes had lingering effects, but there was a routine to them that took away much of their sting.

When he then throws off the covers, grabs the pack of cigarettes that only gets touched maybe three times a year, and makes a beeline for their balcony, Martin realizes that something worse is going on. Dread starting to settle in his stomach, he attempts to stave it off through action. He grabs the comforter and puts on a pair of slippers, going to accompany Jon. The early morning spring air is bracing enough to someone like himself, who, barring a certain deeply unpleasant year, had always run hot, it must be awful for the heat sink that is Jon. Sure enough, he finds Jon shifting on his feet, trying not to shiver too much as he’s handling the lighter.

Getting closer, while still allowing Jon breathing room, he offers over the blanket with a gentle smile and gentler words “Wanna talk about it?”

Jon doesn’t take the blanket. Jon doesn’t even look at him. “Talking to you has often been the problem, so no, thank you.”

Oof. Instinct tells him to react with a matching tone, to jab right back. That instinct is one that he’s long learned to ignore. Instead, he wraps the blanket around his own shoulders and replies with a certain level of blitheness, “Huh. Probably shouldn’t have married me then.”

Jon’s shoulders slump, and the harsh lines of his features soften. He still, however, won’t look at Martin. “Sorry, that was...a poor way of phrasing things. Sometimes I just think..”

There’s a silence between them for a few seconds as Martin waits for him to expand on the thought. When he doesn’t, Martin prompts, “Yes?”

Jon sighs with all of himself, before taking a drag of his cigarette. “Four years ago. If you hadn’t been there, I think I would’ve gone through with it. I’m glad for the life we got to build afterwards, but. Sometimes it feels as though I’m being rewarded for failure. Or perhaps, more accurately, for compliance.”

Four years ago. Four years ago exactly. The date dawns on Martin, simultaneously the worst day of their lives, and the day of their freedom from the fears. The realization makes him understand why Jon’s treading the ruts of a worn out argument, a old ache. These days, Martin doesn’t have much to say on the matter. He thinks the second Fucking Jonah Magnus opened the door, and that it was Fucking Jonah Magnus who did it, they no longer had any right choices to make. No matter what way they did the math, the outcome was always going to be terrible. However, when he wakes up warm, with their cat curled up at their feet and his husband curled into his side, he can regret the build up all he likes, but he can’t deny his joy at how it, eventually, all shook out. “Reward would imply intent, and I don’t think what we have now was orchestrated by anything other than ourselves. It’s not like the web promised us a summer wedding if we finished opening the rift.”

It’s too early to have the conversation. Jon seems to realize this at the same time that Martin does, because he snuffs out his cigarette on the railing, and says he’s going back to bed.

Four hours later, Jon leaves the apartment. He doesn’t say where he’s going, and Martin doesn’t ask. In the past, it would’ve been enough for his anxiety to spike, for the insidious thoughts of “this is it, he’s finally sick of me, always knew this would happen,” to circulate. He’s mostly able to stave off that way, able to come to the rational conclusion that this day was hard every year, and that they both needed space to process, that they weren’t even fighting, really. Mostly. He still has to keep himself busy to stave off the worst of it. The sardonic part of himself notes that their apartment’s always sparkling when they’re at their lowest, stress cleaning a habit the two of them share.

Jon gets home close to midnight, and doesn’t look at him as he falls asleep. On the couch. Maybe they’re fighting after all. Martin wishes someone had told him.

This morning, Martin wakes up cold for the first time in months. Blearily, he makes his way towards the kitchen, and finds Jon upright and scrolling on his phone. The bags under his eyes suggest he slept about as well as Martin. He looks up, at Martin, when he walks by, which is a marked improvement. Martin stops in his tracks, and he wants to think of something easy to say. He wants to offer tea or breakfast, he wants to give reassurances, he wants to remain steadfast in his conviction that saving their former world and ending up somewhere else was the best move, he want to smoothly open up discussion. Instead, he blurts out the question that’s been keeping him tossing and turning for the past several hours. “Are we okay?”

Jon opens his mouth, closes it, and lets out a frustrated huff through his nose. He raises his hand in a fist and nods with it. <Yes.>

Inanely, he asks, “Are you okay?,” which only gets him a flat stare before Jon signs <I’m getting some damn sleep.> and shoves past Martin to what is supposed to be their shared bed. Martin lets him, for now, but they’re going to clear out some of the tension this afternoon.

He makes the elective decision to record the episode by himself. He supposes he could send out a tweet telling their audience it’s an off week, but he wants to record it, both for himself and for Jon. After he’s done, he does a three knocks in rapid succession on the doorframe of the bedroom, a code they had established, god, back in the Prentiss days to let the other know it was them. Jon stirs under the covers, so he asks, “Can I come in?”

A hand rises up, giving the same nod as earlier. Before he walks in, however, he also asks, “Can I join you on the bed?”

<Yes.>

Martin crawls in next to him, and Jon immediately turns over to face him. Before he says anything, Jon signs <I love you.>

“I love you too. Hey, did..did you hear me recording?”

<No. You did an episode solo?>

“Yeah. Sort of figured you weren’t up for it.”

Jon shrugs and gives a tilt of his head that Martin reads as “Fair.” <What’s it about?>

Martin gives a shit-eating grin, the first smile hes given in the past two days. “It’s a surprise.”

Jon sticks out his tongue at him, which makes some of the weight on his lungs lift. “It’s also not what we need to discuss. What’s been going on, my love?”

Martin knew all that already, but, “There’s something else though, this time, isn’t there?”

Jon drops his eyes down to his hands, which he keeps resolutely still. With nothing but an earnest plea, Martin asks, “Why did you sleep on the couch? That’s not ‘same old, same old’.”

To his surprise, Jon comes in closer, only leaving enough room between them that he can still sign. <I love you. So much. Enough to terrify me, sometimes, but.>

“But?”

Involuntarily, Martin glances down to Jon’s abdomen. Despite his torso being covered, Martin knows the shape of the scar there, because there are times where he can still feel himself creating it. “I know how you feel. And it’s. It sucks, but I think it’s okay. As long as..as it’s not the only thing you see looking at me.”

Jon shakes his head, and gives an only slightly fragmented smile. <Not at all. Mostly I look at you and I see my favorite person in all of existence, literally.>

Martin relaxes into the mattress and runs his fingers through Jon’s hair. Pressing their foreheads together, he replies, “Ditto. Don’t tell The Duchess though, she’s the jealous type.”

That gets a proper laugh out of Jon, and Martin’s sure that they both know tomorrow is going to be better.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #post canon #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #THIS TOOK ME MENTALLY THREE DAYS I HATE WRITING THEM IN CONFLICT EVEN IF THE CONFLICT IS RELATIVELY GENTLE #also i didn't know!! what level they would be at after four years!! I think they're mostly okay but also!!! sometimes there's bad days!#anyway....they love each other...#part 5 will be fluffier i promise #also also should I transfer the main fics over to ao3 as well???

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butgilinsky · 4 years ago

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there are answers in your silence // mb

warning; language, asshole (kinda toxic ngl) barzy, a sprinkle of asshole tito too, toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, angst- the whole thing is angst, carter hart

summary; where you and mat are falling apart faster than you can try to fix it.

word count; 8.3k+

a/n: hi guys! this is a rewrite/continuation of this blurb i wrote. the main pairing is mat x reader but there are a lot of carter x reader themes throughout. there won’t be a part two seeing as i don’t normally write for carter, and i like where it left off. if you have any questions i’d be happy to answer any(: enjoy!

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

You loved your job, truly. You loved photography, and you loved the opportunities you’d been given by joining the islanders organization, but you managed to make things messy for yourself. It wasn’t written into your contract that you couldn’t date the players, but it was assumed that you would distance yourself from them.

Mathew Barzal, however, threw caution to the wind when it came to that unspoken rule.

You were knee deep in it by the time you realized it was a bad idea. Most days were fine, the two of you were professional in the walls of the rink and you knew how to keep it under control. On any other day, you were capable of keeping it all under control just fine, but going to the rink and smiling at Mat from across the halls was not the same as coming to the rink when the two of you were neck deep in an argument. An argument that had been oncoming for a long time now.

You couldn’t focus on anything when you were arguing with Mat. You had fallen behind on editing this entire week, and now you were tiptoeing around the rink that you worked at because Mat was everywhere you turned, it seemed.

You kept your post at the glass throughout the entirety of the game against the Devils, trying to get yourself out of your head when Mat was in your camera’s line of sight. You took pictures of the whole team, you had to, it was your job, but it was hard to do that when Mat was smiling like an idiot after Tito scored, and you had to take a picture of their shared celly.

Even when he turned towards you and you sent him a gentle smile, the sight of his falling from his lips was heartbreaking. You knew he was mad at you, but the ache in your chest wasn’t able to recognize the fact that the two of you weren’t on the best terms.

Truth be told, this was anything but out of the blue. Mat had been on edge for a while now, and while you knew it had everything to do with hockey and how he was playing, it wasn’t easy to accept everything he had been continuously throwing at you. You had a lot going on, just like he did, and you didn’t have the time nor energy to exude on this week-long argument. A week long argument that had eventually shifted into radio silence from your boyfriend.

The next few days proved to be harder than you initially expected, no conclusion being found between the two of you. It was getting out of hand, if you were being honest, and now you had to fly to Philadelphia with the team for two games. You didn’t think all that much about the ride over to Philly until you were faced with your boyfriend happily sitting beside his best friend, not a seat for you in sight.

You sat at the front of the plane, shoulder bumping against Marty’s while you kept your head low and hopefully out of sight.

“What’s up with you and Barzy?” you huffed, shrugging gently and telling Matt that he could tell you as soon as he figured it out because at this point, you weren’t entirely sure what the two of you were arguing about either. All you knew was that Mat was mad at you and had been ignoring your calls and texts for the past three days.

It was confusing to most, given that when you and Mat were on good terms, it was impossible to not see the two of you together. You were both all smiles and giggles when you were around each other, but not recently. You were worried that your spark had died out, that whatever you had built over the last year was fading away with every passing moment, and you were out of solutions.

You had been lost in the Wells Fargo Center for upwards of thirty minutes when you ran into a boy who seemed like he could be your saving grace. He had a granola bar hanging out of his mouth and his eyes were glued to his phone screen while he walked down the hall in your direction. You weren’t sure who he was, but the Flyers shirt on his torso paired with the backwards hat on led you to believe he was a player and would therefore know the layout of the rink quite well.

“Hey!” you called out, just loud enough to have him looking up from his phone and over to you. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but I have no idea where i’m going.”

He laughed gently and slid his phone into his back pocket, not overlooking the Islanders logo on your shirt or your name tag that hung around your neck. His eyes were soft and his smile was endearing in a time where you barely had anyone else look at you over the last few days.

“No worries, though i’m not sure i should be helping the enemy.” you laughed gently, about to make a remark about the Flyers not being your favorite team either, but he spoke again before you had the chance. “Where do you need to be?”

Some time later after you learned that the boy’s name was Carter and he was the Flyers’ goalie, he showed you everywhere you’d need to be over the next few hours. He pointed out different rooms and halls that would be of great use to you and now the two of you were sitting in the middle of the empty seats, looking down on the empty ice.

“It’s weird, seeing it like this.” Carter whispered softly, more to himself than to you, but it caught your ear nonetheless.

“Not used to seeing it completely empty?” he shook his head, telling you that there’s usually always someone down there. Whether they’re cleaning or moving things around, there’s almost always somebody down there.

“Why are you here all alone, by the way?” you hummed softly, letting out a deep sigh with a smile that Carter was easily able to identify as forced. “Don’t you have a hot shot boyfriend that could show you around?”

“And how would you know that?” your voice was light, playful, and it showed in your smile that Carter easily matched.

“I’m not sure there’s a single person that doesn’t know what Mathew Barzal’s girlfriend looks like.” he tore his eyes away from the rink, looking over at you with a look that had your stomach turning, a lump starting to form in the pit of your throat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” your voice was soft but the silence across the rest of the rink was enough to lift your words up to his ears, the far corner of his mouth twitching up ever so slightly as he registered them.

“Y/n!” you jumped, startled by the outburst from the top of the section, craning your neck around to lock eyes with your boyfriend. “Where have you been?”

You groaned, one that resided in the back of your throat and was only heard by Carter due to his close proximity. He sensed the agitation in your body language and the way your eyes fluttered shut while you took a deep breath to compose yourself.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming!” you yelled back, muttering a small ‘jesus’ under your breath before pushing yourself onto your feet. “Well, Mr. Hart, thank you for showing me around. I’d be lost without you, literally.”

He laughed at your joke, though corny he thought it was cute. He shook your hand playfully and watched you climb the stairs to your boyfriend who was glaring at Carter even from his place all the way at the top of the section.

“What are you doing down here?”

“So you’re talking to me now?” His jaw clenched, muscles tensing as he soaked in your question. He had almost forgotten the two of you were arguing currently, too focused on getting you away from Carter to assess the situation properly.

“What am i supposed to do? Watch you cozy up beside the goalie I'm about to score a hatty on?” in any other scenario, you’d be laughing, chirping him for claiming that he was going to score a hatty tonight, but you couldn’t do that right now. All you could do was laugh bitterly, focused on the fact that the only reason he was speaking to you for the first time in three days was rooted in jealousy.

“I wasn't cozying up next to anybody, Mat. I was lost and he had time to spare so he showed me around the rink. That’s all-”

"That’s not exactly how it looked to me just now.” you rolled your eyes and walked past him, ducking around his shoulder and walking in the direction of the room Carter pointed out for you a few minutes earlier. “Y/n! We’re talking!”

“I’m busy! We’ll talk later!”

It felt like you were running across the arena during the game, opting to tie your hair back halfway through the first period when you realized you wouldn’t have your own post like you normally would. You were doing your best to get the best shots you could possibly get, but that unfortunately had you breathing heavily and worn out by the time the second intermission rolled around.

Mat hadn’t scored once yet, and you could tell he was getting aggravated. He was playing rougher than he normally would, and you could see chirps being thrown around the ice, almost always directed towards your boyfriend. He took them in stride most times, only opting for a clenched jaw or maybe a hard hit against the boards.

When the second intermission began, you were given the okay to take a breather from your job while your boss flipped through the photos on your camera, laughing when you opted to lean back in one of the stadium seats with your limbs spread out around you haphazardly.

When you were switching sides for the nth time of the night, you ran into Carter again, decked out in his gear void of his helmet, the same charming smile shining in your direction once he saw you.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he joked, earning a few questioning glances from the few teammates gathered around him, all turning towards you with soft smirks and knowing eyes. They knew who you were, a lot of guys in the league knew who you were.

Everyone knew who Mathew Barzal was, and his need to show you off to the entire world once the two of you began dating was loud and in everyone’s face. Everyone who followed Mat on instagram or opened up a gossip article every now and again knew your face, knew how you looked tucked under Mat’s arm. It also didn’t help that the boys surrounding Carter had heard about his adventure with you around the rink earlier today.

“Well if it isn’t Mrs. Barzal.” You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the insult tickling the tip of your tongue and deciding to focus on Carter nudging him in the ribs.

“Ignore him, he’s not even sure what the word filter means.” One of the taller ones, hair down to his shoulders and bright blue eyes sending you a gentle look, tried to assure you that his friend was anything but thoughtful in moments like these.

“I guess that’s why they call him the team rat, huh?” Travis, who had no idea you even knew who he was, narrowed his eyes at you just before a small smile stretched across his lips.

“How’s the game?” Carter’s smile practically hung off of his lips, confidence bursting at the seams as he silently referred to the fact that Mat had threatened him with a hatty not too long ago, and the Islanders had only scored once all night long, and it wasn’t even Mat’s.

Going into the third period, the Flyers were up 4-1.

“I plead the fifth.” you said gently, hearing a few laughs erupt all around you.

“Looks like your hubby’s not getting his hatty tonight.” One of the boys who you didn’t know the name of sent you a gentle elbow into your arm, offering up a smile with his chirp.

“Looks like he’s not getting a lot of things tonight.” your eyes found Carter, who was already looking at you with a wide smile. You took a deep breath, prying your eyes away from the boy and looking around the small circle that formed in the hall. “Well, boys, if you’ll excuse me-”

“Y/n!” you sighed then, unable to suppress a physical reaction to having your name yelled across the hall for the second time today. You were annoyed, given that this was only the second time Mat was speaking to you today and it had all of the same intentions as his last attempt.

“Yes?” you turned over your shoulder to see not only Mat but Tito as well, both looking at you as if you’d grown two extra heads. Tito looked to Mat, expecting him to answer your questioning eyes, but he never did. He just stared at you, lips parted but never speaking.

Truth be told, you needed him to say something. You needed him to say something because he was the one that had left you in the dark this week. He was the one that was going through a time so tough he took it out on you. You did your part, but Mat had yet to do his part, and it was killing you on the inside.

“I have to go.” you took off in the direction you were originally walking, searching for your next post in the stands.

You tried to distract yourself, but it didn’t seem to be working. Your hands were shaky while you tried to snap shots as much as you could, and when Mat had a breakdown on the ice, it all went even further downhill.

Carter didn’t take the brute of it, which surprised you in all honesty, but you weren’t all that surprised when your number 13 was going hit for hit with their 11. Gloves were dropped in the last three minutes of the game, both of them walking away with sore knuckles and five minute majors.

You weren’t even sure what started it, seeing as you were trying to snap a picture of Tito taking a shot on goal, the other two dropping their gloves on a different part of the ice and out of your view. You couldn’t watch it, instead dug your chin into your chest and tugged on the roots of your hair in frustration. You knew that the Flyers were going to win, given their four goal lead and the Islanders’ inability to get their shit together it seemed. You knew Mat was going to hit a rough practice tomorrow, and it somehow made you more excited to have a hotel room to yourself and the morning off.

You didn’t see Mat until you got back to your room, shoulders slumped and exhaustion raking through your body. You pushed the door to your room open and jumped a foot in the air at the sight of your boyfriend sitting at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together in his lap and head hung low. He was anxious, you could tell by his posture and the fact that he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

A sick feeling resided in your stomach when a minute passed and neither of you spoke up, both waiting for the other to take the leap. Mat tried to collect his thoughts, despite having plenty of time to do so while he waited for you. He wasn’t even sure how he made it back before you, if he was honest.

“Where have you been?” it was a bad lead in retrospect, given that he showed no real care as to where you were at any other point in the week. That on top of the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place made for a bad start to a hard conversation.

“Working, Mat. I do more than snap pictures of the team at games and run back home.” he knew that. He knew because he’d been the one that woke up in the middle of the night to you relentlessly editing things and piecing things together for a deadline. He was the one that woke up to an empty bed, finding you posted up at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee beside you and your head burning from the strain on your eyes.

You didn’t, however, tell him exactly what you were doing. You were working, yes, but you kept specifics to yourself. He didn’t deserve specifics when he was acting like this. You deserved an apology, an explanation, quite literally anything more than you currently had before you had to give out your whereabouts.

“I’m sorry this week’s been the way it has. I just- there’s a lot going on right now and I can’t get it all under control.” you sighed, setting your camera bag down on the desk before standing in front of Mat

“It’s fine if you don’t have things under control all the time.” you set your hands on his shoulders and waited for him to look up at you, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite map out. “It’s not fine that you take things out on me when I didn’t cause you this distress.”

“I know.” he spoke softly, understanding that he was doing something wrong but not entirely providing a solution for it, nor figuring out a way to fix it. “I’m going to figure it out. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, accepting the soft kiss he silently asked for. You let him stay the night, though you couldn’t fall asleep. You leaned back into his chest, held his arm that was wrapped around you close to your chest, but you couldn’t sleep. You didn’t sleep for more than an hour or two before Mat’s alarm went off and he left for practice.

You were able to sleep after Mat left, only logging about three hours before your own alarm went off and you had to make it to the rink. The day seemed to be uneventful for a while, but when you finished all of the things you had to do for the day and found a seemingly decent restaurant to stop in on your way back to the hotel, you were met with four smiling faces that you recognized easily.

“Y/n!” Carter’s voice caught your ear easily, making you spin around in line, seeing the smiling boy give you a gentle wave from the table he was sitting at with the others, all who offered you a similar expression.

You held up one of your fingers, seeing four boys nod at you in response as they waited for you to order your food. By the time you ordered and paid, grabbing the number that the cashier slid across the counter to you and spinning around, there was a chair at the end of the table that Travis was sitting in, leaving the spot in the booth beside Carter vacant. All four of the boys were pointing at the seat, ushering you into it with wide smiles.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise.” you smiled warmly at the boys as you approached their table, sliding into the seat they vacated for you.

“You’re telling us.” Carter offered, his smile cutting through you just like it did every other time it was given to you.

Carter was cute, that much you could admit to. You hadn’t spent much time with him other than the other day when showed you around the rink, but you’d talked to him more than your own boyfriend in the past week so that was saying something. You were grateful for his hospitality, and even if you knew there was something else brewing beneath the surface, it wasn’t anything you were going to acknowledge and you certainly weren’t going to act on it.

The rest of the boys were nice. Travis was a bit of a pest, but Nolan was able to keep him under control most of the time. They balanced each other out and you were aware of that from the very beginning. Joel was a nice kid, not the loudest in the room but certainly not the quietest either. Overall you had a good time sitting with and talking to them, appreciating the good company in a time where you had felt pretty isolated.

They showed you a few places around Philly, sticking things within walking distance of the restaurant the five of you came from. It was fun, being able to forget about the chaos going on in your life for once. They even walked you back to your hotel, leaving you with each of their phone numbers to assist you in the rest of your time in Philly, and warm smiles.

Just as they were leaving, Carter hung back for a bit to offer you a softer smile than the one he was giving you throughout the day, his eyes telling you that there was something brewing in his mind, something he had been holding back about all day.

“I just wanted to say that you’re doing great. I don’t know what’s going on in your life, that much is obvious, but you deserve better.” he gave you one last smile and told you to call him if you needed anything at all before turning to catch up with his teammates.

Carter’s words hung in your mind longer than you would’ve expected. They made you rethink everything that had occurred in your life over the last few months, every up and down, every bridge you built both by yourself and with others. You wondered if you were where you were supposed to be, if this is where you were meant to be in life and how long you were meant to be there.

You loved Mat. You loved him completely, but there were things missing. You weren’t sure what it was, and part of you wanted to believe that you were just in the middle of a rough patch, but a greater part of you knew better. You knew that Mat was going through the thick of it, and your mind couldn’t help but wander over the chance that the time for you and Mat had run its course.

You went another night without sleep, the stress from overthinking yourself into oblivion making it impossible to get any consistent sleep throughout the night. It showed in the way that your bags were deeper, darker than normal and the way you yawned every few minutes. However, instead of dozing off in your seat or complaining about your lack of sleep, you grabbed a coffee with two extra shots of espresso on your way to the rink and threw yourself into your work.

You were neck deep in assignments, legs tucked under you and headphones stuck in your ears when a flash of blue entered your sight, prying your eyes away from your laptop and casting them up to the blue eyed boy from Quebec. He was looking at you like you’d done something wrong, like the world was on fire around you and you were holding a match.

You and Tito were good friends, especially after you started dating Mat. with the two of them being inseparable and Mat making a special place for you in his life, you and Tito naturally spent a lot of time together. You were good friends, honestly, but there was never a time when Tito took your side over Mat’s. Sometimes he passed judgment without hearing every side of every story, but you understood. You knew that Mat needed people to lean on when the two of you were in the thick of it, you just wished it didn’t morph Tito’s opinion on you.

“What can I do for you, Beau?” he hummed, a noise of disapproval that you had heard from him too many times to count. He sat beside you, not surprised to see you shut your laptop and turn your attention towards him.

“The two of you need to figure this out soon. You need to figure out what’s wrong and how to fix it, and by god you need to get him out of his head.” You could tell his intentions were genuine, that he just wanted his friends to be happy, but he wanted the two of you to be happy together, and you weren’t sure there was any more room for that.

“I’ve tried, Beau-”

“No, you haven’t. You haven’t tried, because when the two of you try, things get resolved.”

“You’re right. When the two of us try, we fix things. When the two of us work through things together, we come out of it alive. But you’re missing the big picture, Tito. the two of us aren’t trying. I’m trying. I’ve been trying. I try so hard, and he gives me absolutely nothing. He ignores me for days, only speaks to me when we fly out to a different city and he sees me interacting with somebody who isn’t him. It’s not my fault, Tito, and I know that’s hard for you to see because you’re so far up his ass that you can’t see the bigger picture but here I am. I’m here telling you how to see things for once and I’m begging you that you just hear me out.”

He was speechless, but nodded. He didn’t know what to say to you, but he wanted to hear you out because the crack in your voice and the exhaustion that was bringing tears to our eyes was breaking his heart right in front of you.

“I’m trying, whole heartedly. I ask what’s wrong and I offer solutions, and he takes none of it. He comes into my hotel room with a key, that I'm not even sure how he got, and he tells me he’s sorry but then nothing changes. He stopped coming over after practices, and gets annoyed when I have deadlines I can’t miss. I try and he doesn’t, and if that makes us fall apart then so be it, Tito, because I can’t fucking do it anymore.” your eyes burned, filled to the brim with tears you tried to suppress as Tito looked at you like you were fragile. He looked at you like you were the broken one, like if he even touched you on the shoulder you’d break into a million pieces.

“Y/n-”

“I have to go.” you stood up, grabbing your things that sat around your seat and took off in any direction that looked safe enough for you to escape the headspace you were slipping into.

You’d made it down one hall and around a few corners before you ran into somebody, the impact shaking you enough to have you distracted from the intrusive thoughts you were having. You looked up, met with soft eyes and a look of concern that had your heart sinking further into your stomach than it already had been. His hands reached out, brushing hair out of your face and holding your head back long enough for him to try to piece together what could be wrong.

“What happened?” your lip wobbled then, enough for your chin to twitch and have you bite down roughly on your bottom lip.

Carter grabbed your hand, the one that wasn’t gripping onto your laptop, and pulled you into a room not too far from your place in the hall. It was a small room, only met for equipment that had no other home, but it was enough to get you out of the wide open hallway where anyone would be able to see the breakdown you were about to endure.

He pried the items out of your arms, set them on the shelf beside you so your mind would be at ease with their safety, and wrapped his arms around you. He didn’t know you very well, but he saw the way you reacted to physical touch. He saw the way you leaned into hugs or shook people’s hands for a second longer than most. He made a judgment call within seconds, but he knew he did the right things when you pressed your face into his chest and let out sobs that you’d been holding back for weeks.

He didn’t pester you nor rush you, just held you in the room that could be classified as a closet and let you get everything out. You clung to him, and he held you softly, hands running up and down your back in a soothing manner while he waited for you to catch your breath.

When you did, he pulled back, soft smile still as heavy as it always had been. He waited for your cue, something to tell him it was okay to pry. He didn’t want to overstep your boundaries, and he had no idea where the lines were drawn so it was a dangerous game.

“It’s too much.” you whispered softly, closing your eyes gently while Carter hummed, not entirely understanding your words.

“What’s too much?”

“Everything. Everyone’s expectations, everyone’s thoughts and opinions. The fact that i’m trying to fix a relationship all on my own and still getting the heat for it not working out. Having a full time job where I can’t run away from problems in my personal life. I wish I was still in college, wish I wasn’t surrounded by these people who are staring at me like I’ve burned down the entire planet when I’m the only one that’s trying to save it.”

He listened the whole way through, not interrupting nor giving his unwarranted thoughts and while it was just a common courtesy, it was groundbreaking for you. To be able to pour out everything you’re feeling and thinking without someone trying to pick your brain on the subject was refreshing. You couldn’t remember the last time you put everything out on the table like that without seeing it knocked off right after.

“Hey” you looked up at him, sniffling softly and watching his lips turn up in a smile at the sound. “You’re okay. It’ll all be okay. If you feel invalidated or uncomfortable in the situation you’re in, there’s always an out. Even if it feels like there’s not, even if it feels impossible to claw your way to the exit, there’s always a way out. And if you need help getting there, I know a guy or two who’d be willing to help.”

Carter had a way of knocking you off of your feet with a simple sentence. His words cut through you like a song you’d never heard before, like lyrics that dig so deep you feel like it was written just for you. Carter was picking your brain in the gentlest way possible, and you were eating up every single second of it.

You thanked him for his comfort, for his ear and his wisdom. You were sure that there were things you would have to do in the coming days that would be harder than you could’ve ever imagined, but you were sure that they were necessary in order to better your life for yourself.

You were going to get through this.

All was said and one until the door swung open and you stepped out of the equipment room, locking eyes with the one person on the Flyers bench that didn’t know the meaning of the word silence. Travis meant well most of the time, truly, but that didn’t mean you’d spill all of your secrets to him.

But he smiled at you softly, noticing your red rimmed eyes and tear tracks on your cheek. He saw the look that Carter gave him from behind you and so he simply put his fingers up to his lips as if locking them shut and tossed the key over his shoulder. It was simple, but effective, and he truly had every intention of keeping the knowledge to himself, until he was standing on the ice face to face with the centerman that dropped his gloves opposite him the other night and well, Tk found an opening.

You weren’t sure what was said, nor who started it, but you were sure that in the middle of the second period with a tied game, tensions were not high enough for there to be multiple scrums on the ice.

No other fight mattered until your eyes locked in on Mat saying something, neck vein popping out and spit flying. Whatever he said must have struck a chord with Travis because in an instant, you saw Travis’s lips moving and Mat’s fist flying. It was his second fight in two games and it was highly unlike him to fight this often, but it seemed that he was on edge.

The tension didn’t boil down for the rest of the game, chirps only growing more intense and penalties being called more often than not. It was a head banger, a nail biter, and you were almost distracted from your work to watch it.

Mat was enraged by the time you got to him. His body picked up a couple more cuts and bruises, one that landed on his right cheek bone from a high stick in the beginning of the third. His knuckles were bruised from punching Tk and his eyes were darker than the bright blue color you adored.

You knew it had everything to do with you when the rest of the team sent you careful looks, both of disapproval and warning. You knew something was wrong, something had happened and you were unintentionally standing in the middle of it. When Tito passed you, a scoff dropping from his lips and his shoulder knocking yours gently, you knew it was bad.

“Beau?”

“Oh I'm not helping you out of this one.” he said softly, a careful look thrown over his shoulder at Mat who was glaring at you from his place against the wall. “You have to go fix that one by yourself.”

You wanted to shove him away from you, wanted to tell him that he was being ridiculous and unfair, but you didn’t. Instead, you let him grab his back and walk out towards the bus that would take you all to the airport.

“Mat-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” his voice was low and dark, an animosity dripping from his tongue that you’d never heard him use before. He walked past you, leaving the rest of the guys to let out low whistles and shoot you apologetic looks because in retrospect, they witnessed what happened on the ice. You still had no idea.

“It’s bad, y/n.” You looked over at Marty who stood a few feet away from you, throwing his bag over his shoulder and shooting you a careful look. “I’ve never seen him so mad.”

You sighed and thanked him, giving him one more thanks when he said he’d save you a seat on the plane and took off after Mat. he wasn’t too far ahead, but his angry strides took him far enough to send you into a jog through the facility.

“Mat, wait! Mat! Jesus, Mat just talk to me!” he paused in stride, turned on the balls of his feet and glared into you from his place across the hall.

“Frankly, I don’t want to hear it, y/n. I don’t want to talk to you, and I don’t want to be round you. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.” he went to turn again, hoping that that was good enough to get you off of his back for now.

“So we’re just going to ignore it until it blows over? That’s not going to fix anything Mathew!” he dropped his bag, loud and harsh against the tile beneath his feet. He spun around and strode up to, face to face with mere inches between you.

“There’s nothing to fix. You made your point, you chose your side, and you chose to throw me out to the wolves like I never meant anything to you. So yes, we’re going to ignore it for now but no, it won’t blow over. If you wanted to fix things you shouldn’t be shacking up with goalies in closets.”

“I wasn’t shacking up with anybody in a closet you douche. I was crying in that closet because you’re too stubborn to talk to me. I’m trying so hard, and you’re giving me absolutely nothing to work with. You send Beau to convince me to fix things but you’re not even trying, Mat! You’re the one ignoring me and I’m supposed to fix things?”

“You’re not supposed to cheat on me!” you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress the emotions bubbling over currently. You were trying to get through this conversation but it was defeating, and having him yell at you in front of his entire team was not helping.

“I didn’t ch-”

“That’s bullshit! You expect me to believe you were just hanging out in there for fun?”

“She was crying, dude.” Mat looked over your shoulder at the same time you let out a string of profanities under your breath. Why he was here right now, you had no idea, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to help any.

“You’ve got some nerve to be here right now.” Carter shrugged, showing no intimidation towards Mat at all. He wasn’t scared, wasn’t backing down, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stand by and watch Mat scream at you for something you didn’t even do.

“You’ve got some nerve to scream at her like that.” When Mat moved you pressed both of your hands into his chest, steady and hard enough to keep him in his place, not even taking a step towards Carter.

A silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable like polluted air that clogged your lungs. Everyone could feel it but nobody made a move. Nobody stood up or down, not weighing in to the conversation with a viewpoint on either side. Everyone simply watched, waiting for you or Mat to say something to the other one, or maybe for you to say something to Carter.

Mat looked down at you, eyes still dark as they were earlier, jaw clenched and breathing fairly regular. He looked angry, angrier than he ever was off the ice. You wanted him to know you didn’t do anything with Carter, nothing more than crying into his chest about problems like the one you were currently stuck in. But then he spoke, he spoke and you felt everything around you wither away.

“Get on the bus right now, or we’re through.” he picked up his bag and gave both you and Carter one final glance before taking a few steps backwards. He was waiting for you to move, waiting for you to choose your side right here, right now.

“Y/n.” Carter’s voice was much more gentle than Mat’s, giving you a break from the screaming and crying. It broke his heart when you glanced over your shoulder and showcased red rimmed eyes and wet cheks just like you had earlier. He knew you were hurting, knew you were in a sticky situation that you couldn’t find your way out of, and all he wanted to do was help.

“Now, y/n.” you looked back at Mat, who had stopped walking by now and was raising his eyebrows in your direction.

It was harder than it should’ve been. You’d known Carter for just over 48 hours and while you appreciated everything he had done for you in the short amount of time, Mat was your boyfriend. Mat was there in times you thought you’d never make it out of. He knew you, knew how you operated. He knew things about you that you didn’t even know about yourself, and he held a piece of your heart in his hands, even if he didn’t protect it the way he used to.

You couldn’t walk away from Mat, but there was a hesitation in your movements. Your slow movements as you wiped your cheeks and walked towards him, head hung low and accepting the arm that was thrown around your shoulders.

You didn’t turn to see Carter’s face, didn’t even look up to see Mat’s. You didn’t want to see either of them, didn’t want to talk to them or hear what they had to say. All you wanted right now was to crawl into your bed at home and cast out the world around you.

“You made the right choice, baby.” The kiss that dug into the side of your head was anything but comforting, if anything it was degrading. It was his way of showing you that choosing him was the easier path, that he would’ve flipped the world completely upside down if you had turned on your heels moments ago.

You and Mat didn’t come to a conclusion that night. You didn’t resolve anything nor did you truly talk about anything. Instead, you let him into your bed and you let him drive away the pain that he caused over the course of the last few weeks. You let him convince you he’d be better, that he loved you and he’d do anything to be there for you. You let him convince you that he was the one for you, that nobody could make you feel the things that he did and while you believe all of this at one point, you weren’t sure you still did.

You added another night to the count of sleepless ones, basking in your thoughts and the ache in your chest after Mat dozed off. Having him just behind you was oddly comforting despite the fact that thoughts in your head were too loud for sleep.

Another week went by before anyone said anything, despite the few Flyers that were blowing your phone up with messages to check if you were okay and ask why you went with Mat when he clearly didn’t deserve an ounce of your attention. You explained that you loved him, that he was your boyfriend and you owed him a clean break if that’s what ended up happening. You also worked with the Islanders, and you couldn’t just stay in Philly with no way to get back home and hours away from work.

Carter had been receptive and understanding, though you weren’t sure you expected much else from him. He didn’t expect you to stay, didn’t even expect you to choose him over Mat, but he expected you to do better for yourself. He expected you to be strong for yourself, to offer yourself a better future than the one you were seemingly drawing up for yourself.

It wasn’t until you got a peculiar phone call that you were even thrown out of the routine of clawing your way through the night and chasing it down with a large coffee and one too many espresso shots.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Ms. Y/l/n?”

“This is she.”

“Hi Ms. Y/l/n, this is Chuck Fletcher with the Philadelphia Flyers. I was wondering if you had a minute to talk.”

You did a 180 after that phone call, pressed with another decision to make and seemingly no time to make it. You didn’t have many people to turn to about the decision, seeing as most all of your friends were biased in their decision making. Your friends loved Mat. They loved Mat and they loved going to Islanders games.

You called Carter after you hung up the phone, anger bubbling over to the point of tears by the time he answered the phone just to let you rip into him. You accused him of getting you the job as the Flyers’ photographer just to have you closer to him, just to pry you away from Mat and New York as a whole. You accused him of not even knowing your skill level, just using this as a ploy to ask you on a date if you showed up.

He listened the whole time, waited for a break in your words to ask if you were serious, to tell you that he’d seen your portfolio because his GM brought it over when he noticed Carter had spoken to you. He told you that he had no say in you getting this job offer other than him telling his GM about the sincere interactions he’d had with you. He put in a good word for your personality, but he never made a comment about your skill level.

Now, you had a decision to make. A decision that would lead to many other decisions, so you thought. You thought you’d have to make a yes or no decision that would snowball into so many decisions you’d be left to suffocate in unanswered questions. Little did you know that by making one decision, the rest were made for you.

“You’re doing what?” you sighed, trying to find the point in this conversation where you’d be left with a new job and a happy relationship, but it seemed as though that wasn’t in the cards for you.

“I’m moving to Philly-”

“It’s because of him isn’t it?” you shook your head gently, feeling the weight of the world trying to shove you beneath the surface. It was weighing you down, pushing you further and further until you reached the core of it all.

“It’s because it’s a better job for me, Mat.”

“How in the hell is a better job for you?” he didn’t believe you. Not after everything that happened. He didn’t think there were possibly any other explanations for your move.

“It pays more, the cost of living is cheaper in Philadelphia, I get more benefits with the Flyers and I get-”

“A new boyfriend.” you paused, took a deep breath. You tried to breathe through the panic coursing through your body, tried to assure yourself that you must have heard him wrong.

“A what?”

“If you move to Philly, you get a new boyfriend. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You don’t want me anymore, you want him. So he gets you a big new fancy job and you get to leave New York, right? Because you didn’t want to live in New York your whole life so this is the time to get out. This is the time for you to leave your life behind, to start fresh and meet new people. It’s time for you to start looking for studios, right? For you to start booking freelance shit.”

He comes to the realization too late, when he’s already said enough things to hurt you for a lifetime. He realizes that you moving makes more sense than he wants it to. You never wanted to stay in New York for your whole life. Sure, if things with Mat ended up better than they did, you would’ve stayed for him in a heartbeat. You would’ve gone wherever his career took him because yours can truly be done anywhere, but he knew New York wasn’t your preferred state to live in.

The Mat you fell in love with, the one that took you on dates to your favorite restaurants and brought you home flowers just because, was finally coming back to the surface. The one that offered you his heart on a platter without asking for it, and treated yours with the gentlest touch. You were seeing him again, for the first time in a long time. You wanted to hold onto him, to open up your heart and make room for him again but the truth was there was no more room. You’d vacated a space for him a long time ago and he threw it away. It was too late for that Mat to come back.

“It’s giving you room to grow right? But the growth is different this time. The growth is away from me, apart from me. The growth is individual now, all on your own, but that’s good. That’s good because you need to grow and I- I’m not right for you anymore.” he started shaking his head, letting the dam of tears that he had kept in for so long finally burst.

You were there to catch him, to hold him tightly and kiss his damp cheeks. You were there to assure him that he deserves the world, that you tried to give that to him but truthfully, maybe you just weren’t trying the right things. You assured him that he wasn’t a bad person, that he wasn’t good for you but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be good for somebody else.

You were there to catch Mat when he fell, and you helped him stand back up again.

Now you were walking away, your head held high and a smile finally living on your lips as you assured him that this was good for both of you in more ways than one. You were going to be okay, and you were sure that Mat was going to be okay too.

So you moved to Philly. You moved into an apartment not too far from the rink, one with a cheese steak place right around the corner. You started working with the Flyers and seemingly fell right into place with them. You made friends and found your footing, feeling like everything leading up to now was exactly for this. All of the pain and hardships you endured was for this, for you to feel like you had finally done the right thing for yourself rather than for everyone else.

You made the right decision.

italics mean it wouldn’t let me tag you!

barzy taglist; @extratragic @babytkachuks @heybarzy @teenagekook @stfukie @smit41 @kiedhara @sidscrosbyy @golfergirl810 @baby-cat-nol-pat @c-hartsy @storiesbymads @aasimarr @bucky-ish

and the himbos, as always; @barzysthighs @damndunner @anxietyandtacos @dmonchld @sortagaysortahigh @bricksatlandyswindow

#mathew barzal #mat barzal #mathew x reader #mathew barzal imagine #barzy #new york islanders #islanders #isles #carter hart #carter hart x reader #mathew barzal x reader #carter x reader #philadelphia flyers #flyers #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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multi-fandom-imagines-stuff · 3 years ago

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could you do one where the reader was natasha and yelena’s “sibling” when they lived in ohio, and reader was taken by the red room with them, and then when reader was a teenager, they managed to escape, leaving natasha and yelena behind, thinking reader was dead. after they take down the red room, they find the reader and have a sibling's reunion? and could you keep it gender-neutral please?

Castle on the Hill

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/sibling!reader, Yelena Belova/sibling!reader

Description: The reader was Natasha and Yelena's "sibling" when they were undercover in Ohio, and gets taken into the Red Room with them. After escaping as a teenager, the reader stays alone, leaving everyone to believe they are dead until one day, they recieve a call from a familiar voice.

Warning: mentions of the Red Room and the torture they caused, i think that's pretty much it

Word count: 2,002

A/N: i had so much fun writing this omg it seriously made me want to cry! i hope you enjoy it!!

✩❀✩❀✩

“Tasha, stop!” I cried, giggling slightly as my sister and her friend chased me through the fields that were located a few blocks away from home.

The fields were my favorite place to play. My older sister Natasha, who was three years older than me, always liked to come to the fields with her friends. A few months ago, I had turned six and mom told me that I was old enough to go play in the fields with Tasha. My younger sister Yelena was only four, so she was still too young to play with us. But that was okay, I still liked to play with her in our backyard. We even had a playground. Tasha had taught me how to do the monkey bars without getting scared, and I passed the skill on to Lena.

Today, I was playing tag with Tasha and her friend. Of course, with them being nine and me only being six, they were a lot faster than me. Being faster than me meant that no matter how fast I ran, they would always catch up to me. Nat reached her hand out and shoved me lightly in the back. However, I wasn’t expecting it, and it caught me off guard, making me stumble a bit. My foot caught on a rock and I went tumbling forward, rolling down a small hill. The smell of grass overcame me as I continued to fall, hearing a sickening crack followed by a blinding pain in my leg. Finally, I came to a stop as I reached the bottom of the hill. I looked down at my leg. It was bent at a weird angle, and the pain was almost unbearable as I started to wail.

“Y/n!” Tasha screamed as she ran down the hill after me. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I cried, grabbing her and burying my head in her shoulder. “My leg really hurts.”

“Okay, hold on, we’re gonna get you home to mom, okay? She’ll know how to make it better,” Tasha reassured me.

I nodded feebly as she helped me up, sitting me in the basket of her friend’s bike before riding back home to get help.

——

My eyes shot open, tearing me from my dream. It was rare that I dreamt about my childhood. I had very few memories from that time, and the one I had just dreamt about was one of the most vivid. I broke my leg that day, and it took two months to heal. I remember Yelena being upset because it meant I couldn’t play outside with her for a while. As much as I didn’t like to recall that time in my life, I couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Amongst my other memories from my childhood, there were things like my first crush—a kid in my kindergarten class—when I was five, the friends that I had made and had to leave behind, and family dinners every night. But what I remembered more than anything else were the fields we always used to play in. In the distance of those fields, there was a huge mansion made from stone, and Natasha and I always used to imagine it was a castle. Whenever the sun was setting, the orange sky made it look like there was a dragon in the castle blowing fire into the air.

Suddenly, I was pulled from my memories by the sound of my phone ringing. I looked at it sketchily. I never gave my phone number out to anybody, so the odds of getting an actual phone call were extremely rare. Against my better judgment, I picked up my phone and answered the call.

“Who are you and how did you get this number?” I asked, trying my best to sound intimidating.

“Y/n?” A voice came through from the other end.

The voice almost sounded familiar, like I had heard it before, but I couldn’t place it.

“I’m not going to ask again,” I said, my fist balling up at my side. “I am not the kind of person you want to piss off.”

“Oh my god, Yelena, it’s them,” the voice spoke, but it sounded far off like the speaker had brought the phone away from their mouth.

Did she just say Yelena?

“Tasha?” I questioned, my voice cracking ever so slightly as realization set in.

“Yeah, it’s me,” She whispered reassuringly. “It’s me.”

I fell speechless, the phone almost dropping from my hand as I moved to wipe away the tears that were already beginning to roll down my face.

Natasha, Yelena, and I were all brought into the Red Room at the same time. Natasha was eleven, I was eight, and poor little Yelena was only six. What we went through was something that no child—or grown adult for that matter—should ever have to go through. I was there for ten years. Ten years of being held prisoner, of being tortured, of being forced to kill.

I was sixteen when I graduated the Red Room. I thought it meant things were over, that I could run as far away as I could and never look back, but I was wrong. The Red Room continued to control me for two years after that, until one day I faked my own death and got out. It killed me inside to know that Lena and Tasha thought I was dead, but I knew I had no future if I stayed. My only regret was that I couldn’t save everyone else.

I distanced myself from the world, afraid of what I had become, what I had done, and what I was capable of. I escaped eleven years ago, and I’ve been alone ever since.

“Y/n, are you there?” Natasha’s voice came through the phone again, drawing me back to reality.

“How did you find me? I’m supposed to be dead.”

“I know a guy,” She responded, and I could practically hear her smirking.

Right. She’s friends with the Stark guy who owns practically the best technology on earth.

“Listen, there’s a lot we need to tell you about, and I think a reunion is in order,” Natasha explained. “We have your location and we’ll be there in an hour. Be ready.”

With that, Natasha ended the call, leaving me alone in silence. Half of my brain told me this wasn’t happening. That wasn’t really Natasha on the phone, it was just some cruel way for the Red Room to find me. But the other half of my brain believed that everything that just happened was real. As much as I wanted to err on the side of caution, the thought of seeing my sisters again made me the happiest I’ve felt since I was a child.

I glanced down at my phone to check the time. Ten minutes had passed since the phone call, giving me about fifty minutes to pack up my things and get ready.

Packing wasn’t hard. I lived a very minimalistic lifestyle, mainly due to the fact that I didn’t have a proper job, and I was always ready to run at a moment’s notice if I ever caught wind of the Red Room near me.

I finished packing and proceeded to pace the floor until the hour was up and I heard a knock at my door. Deciding that I could never be too cautious, I grabbed my handgun and checked that it was loaded before pointing it at the ground and approaching the door.

“Who’s there?” I called.

“It’s us. It’s Natasha and Yelena,” A voice with a thick Russian accent called back.

Yelena.

“Prove it,” I said again, still keeping my guard up. “Tell me something that only you two would know.”

There was a moment of silence before someone spoke up. This time, it was Nat.

“When we were little, you would spend almost every summer night catching fireflies because I told you they could grant wishes. When you found out they couldn’t, you were so mad, you didn’t talk to me for a week.”

I smiled slightly at the memory. Turning the gun’s safety on, I tucked it into my waistband and opened the door, staring face-to-face with my sisters for the first time in over two decades. Almost immediately, the two of them embraced me in a tight hug, and I never wanted to let go.

“So, what did you need to tell me?” I asked once we all pulled away from the hug.

“We’ll tell you in the car. We have to get going though, we have a long journey ahead of us,” Nat told me.

“Where are we going?” I questioned.

“Home.”

——

Natasha and Yelena explained everything to me. About how they teamed up, about how they killed Dreykov, and about how the Red Room was finally gone.

“So, the other widows, are they safe?” I questioned, processing everything they had just told me.

“Yes,” Yelena answered from the passenger seat, turning around to face me in the back. “There is no one controlling them anymore, and we are currently working toward undoing all of the mind control the Red Room created.”

“I can’t believe you guys took down the Red Room without me!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms. “I would’ve loved to help.”

“Y/n, we thought you were dead!” Nat tried to reason, but I wouldn’t listen.

I wasn’t seriously angry with her, and she knew that. Teasing each other was something we did all the time as kids.

“You can’t be mad at us,” Yelena raised her hands in mock defense. “We literally just saved so many lives.”

I continued to cross my arms, ignoring them both.

“C’mon, y/n, talk to us,” Nat glanced back at me through her mirror as she drove.

Still, I said nothing. I was extremely stubborn as a child, and I guess somethings never change.

“I’ve got an idea,” Lena whispered to Nat.

“February made me shiver,” Yelena started singing. “With every paper I’d deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn’t take one more step.”

“I can’t remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride,” Nat joined in. “But something touched me deep inside. The day the music died.”

The two of them went quiet and I knew they were expecting me to sing the next part. Yelena looked back at me, and eventually, I caved.

“So bye-bye, Miss American Pie,” I sang slowly, a smile creeping onto my face. “Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. And them good ol’ boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singin’ ‘this’ll be the day that I die. This’ll be the day that I die…’”

Suddenly, all three of us were singing as loud as we could.

“Did you write the book of love, and do you have faith in god above? If the bible tells you so. Now, do you believe in rock ‘n’ roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow?”

I burst out laughing with glee, causing Yelena and Nat to follow suit. We laughed for what seemed like an eternity, until we were all red in the face and gasping for air.

Trying to catch my breath, I looked out the window just in time to see us speed past a sign that read:

Welcome to Ohio

I continued to stare out the window as I watched the fields fly by. The sun was just beginning to set, and out in the distance, I could see the “castle” that we always used to admire.

Suddenly, I thought back to when we were kids. I was filled with all the memories we made in Ohio, as a family. Even though I knew it was all fake, it was real in my head. Melina and Alexei were my parents, and Tasha and Lena were my sisters. Ohio was my home, and nothing anyone said or did could take that away from me.

#request #mcu oneshot #yelena belova #yelena belova one shot #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff oneshot #mcu x reader #black widow #black widow spoilers #mcu

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icantthinkofanythingcool3 · 3 years ago

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Hii I saw ur post about short blurbs and was wondering if you could do 5 or 13 🤍🤍

Well this did not end up being short 🤦‍♀️ but here ya go! Hope you enjoy!💜

It had been 2 years since y/n had moved away from Beacon Hills and half of her friends. Kira and y/n had ended up at the same college and in the same dorm. Lydia and Stiles both ended up about a half hour from them in different directions. The group was still close, but things were definitely different for all of them. Kira and Scott had grown apart and Scott and Malia had grown closer. Lydia and y/n had grown closer than before, they were always going back and forth on the weekends visiting with each other. Although y/n and Stiles were really close before, things had simmered down right before they left for school two years ago.

All their friends had sworn that the two were going to be together, even with college coming up. They were going to school close enough where they could totally still pursue a relationship. Somewhere though, Stiles and y/n had ‘grown apart’. At least that’s what their friends thought. In reality, neither of them really knew what had happened. It was like one moment they were falling for each other and the next it was just gone. Y/n and Stiles had both tried on different occasions to talk to each other, but something always got in the way.

Y/n walked into her apartment, that Kira was decorating...for Valentine's Day. “UGHHHHHH. Kira I thought we decided not to make a big deal out of this stupid holiday.”

“No...you decided that. Just because you’re still stuck on Stiles, doesn’t mean everyone else can’t be happy about love.” Kira announced.

“That’s not-no you’re. Ugh, whatever.” y/n replied, not having a come back, because what she had said was true.

y/n was still really hung up on Stiles, she was still so confused about what had happened to them back in Beacon Hills. There had been plenty of times since then that Lydia, Kira, y/n and Stiles had gotten together to hang out, even times when Scott and the others had come down to visit. However, their interactions were always strange and confusing. She hadn’t been able to date anyone else, and was honestly just making herself super unhappy.

“Before you make yourself too depressed, this was slipped under the door for you today.” Kira handed her a note, folded up with a huge heart on one side and y/n on the other.

“What...what is this?”

“I don’t know silly, clearly I haven’t opened it...since it’s for you…”

Y/n’s eyes rolled as the note was opened. It was typed and it read:

"When love is not madness it is not love." –Pedro Calderon de la Barca.

I have felt nothing but madness from the moment I laid eyes on you.

As she read it to Kira, she let out a screech, “y/n!!!!! Omg you totally have a secret admirer! This is so EXCITING!”

However y/n was doubtful, she left Kira to go to her room. Who on Earth could have sent this to her? Was it a joke? Was it real? The next day, nothing appeared under the door and it disappointed y/n, even though they would never admit that, especially to Kira!

The next day however, when y/n got home from work Kira was waiting impatiently by the door with a note in her hands. It looked exactly like the other one. She basically threw it in my face and stood over my shoulder as she repeated ‘open it, open it, open it’ in my ear.

This one read:

“Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the brain empties.” – Jules Renard. This, I can assure you, is true. I make dumb mistakes every time I’m around you.

“I literally have no idea who could be doing this. I don’t talk to anyone, no one even notices me around here!” y/n exclaimed, confused.

“Well, you must be wrong, because someone is DEFINITELY noticing you!!!!”

“No, this is just wrong. This has got to be a joke or something. I’m telling you. Throw away any other ones, I’m serious.” With that, y/n walked into her room and slammed the door, she was done with this.

The next day was normal, but y/n wasn’t hopeful that she wouldn’t get another letter, and the next day, the 5th of February, Kira was waiting again with another note.

“You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.” – Conan Doyle. You are the only thing I can think about lately, you’re in my every thought.

y/n didn’t know what to think anymore. Was this person a freaking psycho stalker? How did they know where I lived? We’re they stalking me?

“Kira, I know that you’re sitting here thinking this is some romantic love story...but what if this is some crazy stalker that now knows where we live? Like what if they break in and kill us in the middle of the night?”

“y/n I think you’re being a little dramatic. I feel like this is someone that has to know you in some way. This is some intense shit.”

“We’re gonna die...watch.” y/n finished, over the anxiety this was causing her.

Two days later, y/n didn’t have class. She was going back and forth from the front door, to her room. She was stuck between being excited and worried. Half of her believed that this was some kind of cruel joke, the other half thought maybe someone actually did like her. By 4 o’clock, she thought maybe that it was over, but as she made her way out of there room, there was a note by the door.

"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back." - Plato. This one may be corny, but it’s true, I feel this with you.

This definitely sounded like someone that knew her. But how could she be so oblivious? How could there be someone this into her and she had no idea. That’s why she still believed that this could be a joke. Like clockwork, two days later she got another note.

“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” – Dr. Seuss. I swear since I started these notes, I haven’t been able to sleep at all. I know this is probably starting to creep you out, I promise that you know me and I know you. I’m not a random person.

“I’m sure that this is supposed to make me feel better Kira, but I feel worse. How do I not know this person likes me, if they like me this much?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking from the beginning of this, do you think it could be Stiles?”

“WHAT?” y/n asked incredulously, “Come on, there’s no way. First of all, that would mean he would have to drive a half hour here and back every other day to slip these under the door? There’s no way, that would be crazy.”

“I mean, you guys definitely had something and then suddenly you guys just stopped. You’re still awkward around each other, maybe this is the only way he can get you back?”

“No. Seriously. Stop that’s, that’s. No, that's crazy.” But later that night, what Kira said had gotten the best of y/n. She did something she hadn’t done in a while, she called Stiles.

As soon as he answered, y/n regretted it, “y/n? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no nothing’s wrong. Sorry, I’m not even sure why I called…...I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for calling, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry- shit I mean okay. I-I gotta go talk to you later.” And she hung up, she felt so stupid why would she call him? Kira and these damn notes have gotten her head all twisted up. She should know better than to think Stiles could have done this, she was getting her hopes up just thinking about it.

Two days later, y/n could hardly think at work. Her mind was all in a swirl and she kept making mistakes and dropping shit, by the end of her shift she was exhausted. As she had expected, when she got home, Kira was sitting on the couch, holding a new note.

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” – Rumi. I haven’t known you forever, but when I met you it was like I had known you my whole life.

“There’s only three days left until Valentine's Day. What’s going to happen? Is this all leading up to something? Or are the notes just going to stop?”

“I guess that’s the fun part!” But when y/n looked at her pointedly she continued, “I know this is freaking you out and giving you anxiety, but this could be a good thing. Whoever it is, really cares about you. And I’m not getting creepy vibes from any of this, if someone was going to break in and kill us, I think they already would have.”

y/n knew that Kira was right, she shouldn’t be so freaked out about this. It didn’t seem like a creepy kind of thing, the notes were sweet and heartfelt, and they definitely, probably would have already been killed. So all y/n could do was wait.

As y/n made her way through the day before Valentine’s hazily, she could barely focus. She kept texting Kira, asking if she had found anything yet. Seeing as she was still in class, she had not. Y/n wanted nothing more than to leave her classes and go to the apartment, but she knew if the note wasn’t there yet, she would get even more impatient. So when Kira finally texted her that she got home and there was a note, y/n excused herself from her class and rushed home. Kira was waiting, almost as impatiently as y/n, with the note in her hand!

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” – Lao Tzu. Meet me at Hilton tomorrow, 7PM, there’ll be a note left at the front desk.

“What? Kira, am I really supposed to just go to this random hotel and meet this random person?”

“I mean they said you know them, so they’re not that random!”

“I know a lot of people! It could be the cute barista that gets my coffee everyday! I technically know him, but would I go into a random hotel room with him? NO.”

“Okay, then I drive you there, and you keep me on the phone. If anything funky happens I’ll run up and save your ass. I think you should go. I see the look in your eyes when you read the notes, you’re excited. I haven’t seen you genuinely excited in a long time.”

Kira had saved my life multiple times, I trusted her, and it was a good plan. I was excited, she was right, I was stupid for thinking that I would get it past her. And I wasn’t exactly defenseless, I had learned to fight through many years of fighting off the supernatural. I decided it couldn't hurt, if anything it would end up a good story to tell one day.

The next day was torture waiting for 7pm. Especially since y/n had no class and only finding an outfit to distract her. y/n called Lydia in the morning, while Lydia had been pissed that she’d only just heard about this, she insisted on y/n video chatting her to pick an outfit. Together, they had decided on a blush pink dress, with a small flower design. There was a belt that tied right under the chest, that accentuated the top of y/n’s body and flowed down nicely to a little above the knee. They picked out black kitten heels, which according to Lydia, y/n should have already had. It was 4:30 when she got home, already ready to start her makeup to keep her distracted. Kira helped her do her hair nicely and put on minimal makeup, to highlight her best features. By 6, y/n was ready to get in the car, but the drive was only 15 minutes. Kira tried to distract her with finding things to fix, like an out of place hair, or too much highlight. At 6:30, she couldn’t distract her anymore and they got in the car. She drove slowly, constantly trying to hit red lights. Although, y/n had noticed, she pretended not, too.

Freaking out at 6:50, y/n got out of the car by the entrance. Looking at Kira who gave her a thumbs up, y/n walked in and to the front desk.

“Hi, um, I was told there was a note going to be left for me here?”

“Ahh, you must be y/n, yes?” The desk attendant said to me, smiling brightly.

“Yes, that is me!” I said, nervously.

“Here is the note, don’t be so nervous. I think you’ll like what is waiting for you!”

She looked at the note that looked the same as all the other ones. The note said:

Go to hotel room #33.

y/n double checked that Kira was still on the phone and went up the elevator to the correct floor. She walked up to the door, but was hesitant to knock. It took her a full minute and many deep breaths to finally knock. When the door opened, she gasped at what she saw.

“Stiles?” She asked incredulously.

“Hi, y/n. I was nervous you weren’t going to come.”

y/n looked down at her phone to see that Kira had already hung up, “I-I, the notes were you the whole time?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to do it. I was freaking out about the whole thing. I know things got messed up before and honestly, I don’t even know why. I didn’t want to mess up again, and I just thought this was the best way to get you to see that I was sorry.”

Y/n took a minute to look around the room. There were two queen beds, both covered in rose petals. There was a small, pink and red bag on one of them. There were actually rose petals everywhere. There were small candles lit all over the room, lights turned down. There was a bottle of champagne on ice and room service on a trolley that contained y/f/flowers in a beautiful vase. It was beautiful honestly, and clearly took a lot of thought.

“y/n?” Stiles started, as she had not said anything after his confession.

“I’m sorry, it’s- I mean this is beautiful. It’s amazing honestly. I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I’ve loved you for a long time y/n. And I don’t know how exactly we got all fucked up, but I was nervous and scared about what would come to us when school started. I’ve wanted to tell you everyday since that whatever was going on was stupid and that we should be together, but I never could get it out and I’m sorry.” Stiles was nervous, not sure y/n felt the same.

“I don’t know what happened either, if I’m being honest..I felt the same. Scared and nervous. I’ve literally made myself miserable everyday, knowing that I should have done something about what happened. I love you. I’m sorry too, that I didn’t do anything to fix whatever happened. I knew from the moment I met you, that we were meant to be more than just friends.”

Stiles couldn’t hold back after he heard y/n’s confession, his feelings had been overwhelming for so long. He walked closer to her, placed his hand on her face gently, and placed his lips on hers. At first, it was sweet and slow, but y/n moved her hands to the back of his head, pulling him closer. When they both ran out of breath, they pulled away smiling at each other.

“Can I ask you a question?” y/n spoke first.

“Of course, anything.” Stiles answered.

“Why are there two beds?” y/n wiggled her eyebrows.

Stiles face turned red and his hand went to rub his chin, “I well, I mean I didn’t want to-uh...I didn’t want to assume anything, I just, I didn’t want to mess anything else.”

“Well I don’t think we’ll be needing it.” y/n said and pulled Stiles back to her, placing her lips on his again.

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles x reader #stiles x y/n #stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinski #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf #stiles stilinksi imagine

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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Persephone’s Symphony | Day One | Hades

Hey lovelies— here is the next part! I wanted to pause here and add a little note: the word tiny is thrown around here. I don’t want this to hinder anyone of you to not read this because you think the word doesn’t apply to you. I want to make a couple things clear. 1) All shapes and sizes are beautiful and I, myself, am a wonderfully plump lady. 2) I don’t use the word as a physical description in a way meant to limit a ‘reader insert’ type of fiction— I use it because Bucky Barnes is a super soldier and anyone would be small to him. Thus I hope you can enjoy it the same way I can— because sometimes we all just need to feel like a super soldier could rip us in half. Stay safe my lovelies and please do enjoy!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: some angsty moments but overall no warnings

Word count: 4.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She’s tiny. That’s the only thing he can think for the first couple hours. She is so damn tiny and fragile and soft and he doesn’t know how to be around a human that tiny and fragile and soft. Maybe it’s worse because he has to keep this tiny human alive. He hasn’t had to do that before— all the other tiny people in his life have been perfectly capable of keeping themselves alive. Even Steve all those years ago, when he only came up to his shoulder—barely— would have fought tooth and nail to stay alive. Even then it always felt like Bucky was just there in case. Maybe that was just Steve though.

He blinks— he doesn’t want to think about the man right now. He can’t afford to get lost in his head. Gods only know if he starts thinking about those days— the ‘good’ old days— he won’t stop. Maybe not for days. Maybe because they’ll remind him that he’s not supposed to be here— that he isn’t made to keep tiny, gentle, grilled cheese cooking, question asking things alive. Usually he’s the one hindering people from being alive— hindering life itself. Usually it doesn’t bug him this much but he can’t help but equate the girl in the Caltech hoodie with life—

“Is what they say about New York pizza true?”

— And himself with death.

“S’alright— Chicago is better.”

He watches as she flips through a book that she had picked up off the coffee table a few minutes ago. The Big Book of Dogs. Is he supposed to laugh at that? She is— giggling and flipping through pages upon pages of puppies. It isn’t aimed at him, her musical, soft sounds. She isn’t laughing at him. It only feels like she is. He’s learned to separate the difference these days— it’s just in his head. Still, he has to turn away from her, using the guise— his job— of being a bodyguard to keep his gaze moving.

From the corner of his eye he watches as she lowers the book, peaking over at him from behind a peppy looking Alaskan Malamute— yes, he knows his dogs. He is one, after all.

“You know, I think there are quite a few people who disagree with you on that one.”

Bucky pretends to ignore the way she quirks a brow at him, her eyes drifting back to the page. He also ignores the way his heart spikes at the little movement. Snap out of it, Barnes. He stands, stalking to the living room window and pulling back the heavy green curtain. Nobody is out there— he didn’t expect there would be someone, he just needed to move. How many more hours?

“Thought you were asking me.” He quips, staring out towards the bayou where the water has turned grey and choppy.

He watches as the rain pours down the window pane, tap tap tapping in front of his nose as the sunlight surrenders to the misty storm clouds. As much as he hates to admit it, Wilson was right— the rainy season’s rolling in on the dot. Even he is starting to feel the effects, his bones beginning to leaden.

As if on cue, she yawns, setting down The Big Book of Dogs and curling her legs into her chest, hiding them beneath the mountain of fabric she wears. “I was gauging. Consider it a test.”

Bucky huffs— not sure if he’s annoyed because of her questioning or because of how, despite the tension still laced through his shoulder blades like sailors knots, he isn’t that bothered by it. Annoyed because he isn’t annoyed— that’s a first. He lets the curtain drop again and turns to the TV where Netflix lays open but unused, blocking out one mind numbing haze for another. What would they even watch together?

“Oh yeah? Did I pass?”

Maybe some cheesy sit-com. That feels harmless enough and he’s been catching up on a few of them. Some of them even make him laugh. Maybe that’s in poor taste though. He’s never had to deal with someone else’s grief before— he rarely deals with his own as is.

“Maybe it would be better to just not ask that.”

He doesn’t think before he says it— he doesn’t have time to, it slips out before he can grab it and shove it back in his stupid, sentimental mouth. “You sound like Steve.”

Fuck. Her head pokes up, her doe eyes somehow managing to meet his gaze despite how hard he tries to force his neck to turn in the other direction. How does one person look so soft? He can see the question in her eyes, the way they spark with intrigue. He watches in slow motion as her lips— not glossy like they had been in the picture but still just as pink— peel apart.

“Who’s Steve?” Her voice is too sweet— too sincere. Like she actually doesn’t know. Then again, maybe she doesn’t— they never really used his name.

Bucky can’t answer. It’s too early and Steve is too long of a story. One hundred years worth of story, to be precise. How is he supposed to fit all of that into one answer? He can’t. He can’t answer but he can’t not answer either— not when she’s looking at him like she wants to know every little thing about him.

Bucky can’t answer so he doesn’t answer. “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

She sinks back against the leather cushions, pulling her hands into her sweater. He almost curses when she curls her knees closer to her body. He can’t really see them from under her hoodie but he can see the movement— the way she wraps her arms around her legs so that she looks like a tiny blob of fabric and a head. His chest squeezes at the sight of her pulling away from him. Can he ever say anything right?

He told Wilson— he told him that he wouldn’t be a good fit for the job. What, a man like him? Man, dog, wolf, asshole. What’s the difference? He was right, that’s all that matters. It’s been all of five hours and he’s already making her uncomfortable all because he can’t—

“You’re the one who brought it up.” She grumbles, her soft— less sweet— voice pulling him from his unintentional staring contest with her forehead. His neck flushes with heat. Shit.

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know it’s just— it’s a long story, doll.”

Again, it just slips out. Instead of wanting to push the word back into his lips this time, though, he wants to punch himself in the mouth. Doll? Really? He watches as her eyes blow wide, his stomach sinking when her pink lips peel apart again, her jaw going slack but none of her honeyed words coming out this time. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Immediately he begins running through apologies in his head. Of course none of them are actually worth their weight— not in gold or anything else. Not even in the energy it would take to say them. What’s he supposed to say? Sorry the last time I spoke to a woman was eighty years ago. That would be even more explaining. Damnit, Bucky!

He tries not to groan out loud, clenching his jaw, still staring into her eyes. Look away, you idiot! He can’t. He’s about to say something— or maybe he’s about to literally throw himself out the window, he isn’t exactly sure which is going to play out just yet— but before he can do either the delicate girl in the Caltech sweater speaks first.

“I— erm—” she squirms in her seat but her eyes stay latched on him the entire time— maybe she’s a fighter after all— “we have time?”

For a moment he just stares at her, lost in the way her nose scrunches, her lips pressing together like she’s the one who said something out of line. Like she, too, is contemplating punching herself in the face. That’s when he caves. It’s to save her from a broken nose. He repeats it like a mantra. He isn’t giving in because he’s weak, he’s giving in because it’s his job to make sure she’s safe— even from herself.

He takes a step forward, only now realizing he’s been standing in the middle of the room the entire time. Has he always been this fucking awkward? Nodding his chin towards the floor, the space in front of where she’s perched, he shoots her a look he can only hope resonates as something along the lines of ‘can I sit?’. She nods and he lowers himself to the ground in front of her, leaning against the side of the couch as gently as the super soldier can muster. Despite his efforts he still lands with a thud, the couch shifting backwards a couple inches. It’s not terrible— she only slightly flinches this time and he only kind of wants to bury himself alive.

“Not that much time—” he watches as her face drops, the way her her cheek twitches like she's sinking her teeth into it, and he hurries the rest of his sentence— “but if you ask—” he tries for a smile that feels more like the right side of his face seizing than anything— “then I’ll answer.”

He waits for a beat, his gaze locked on her hands which she pulls from her sleeves only to twist together again. He has to stop himself from looking down at his own hands— from thinking again about how fragile and delicate she is. He doesn’t have to look to know that both of her hands could fit in one of his. Especially his special hand. She hasn’t asked about it. A few times he’s caught her peeking at it, no doubt a million questions swirling behind those wide eyes of hers, but those are questions she has kept to herself. He wouldn’t blame her if she did ask, though— or if she was terrified.

“Alright,” his eyes flick back to her face, meeting her determined stare and avoiding the way his chest lightens, “deal.”

He nods.

“But—”

Oh no.

“You have to ask me things too. It’s only fair— that way we both know things about each other.”

It’s only fair. He doesn’t know what to say. Again. It seems that every time he feels like he’s beginning to figure her out he gets shoved on his ass. Literally— he is quite literally on his ass right now. All because of what? A little girl? A little girl with small hands and a stare worse than his?

A little girl who thinks he of all people deserves fair. He knew life was cruel but this is worse— this is evil.

“Ask away.”

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

“Wait, wait, wait— you can’t be serious!”

Her giggles sound more like music than laughter to him. Usually he hates music— the newer stuff at least, maybe Wilson was right; maybe he is an old man— but this is bearable. This is mesmerizing.

He glances up at her from over his shoulder, fighting the same smile that’s been threatening his lips for the better part of two hours now. He isn’t sure why exactly he does it. Maybe because he knows it would be nothing compared to hers. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t deserve to be compared to hers. He isn’t a religious man but it feels blasphemous to even suggest he could exist with a margin of the sanctity she exudes. He’s committed many sins— that he can say with certainty— but to propose that he is the same as her would be the worst one of all.

Of course, that doesn’t stop him from soaking up every pious laugh into his wicked skull— he isn’t a perfect man, after all.

“Deadly serious. Steve was pissed at me for weeks. How was I supposed to know she had a husband?” He is rewarded with more giggles, ones that set his chest on fire.

Is that what happens when demons spend too much time around angels— they start to burn?

She pulls the blanket she acquired around an hour ago over her face, muffling her laughter much to his dismay. “You could have asked her!”

Bucky lifts a shoulder before letting it flop back down again. “You’re right.”

This is how it has gone since he proposed she ask him questions. She asks him her question— usually something light and easy— favourite color, favorite food, what was the last thing he bought. That one threw him for a loop but he answered anyway— Chinese food. She had giggled at that. You don’t seem like a Chinese food kind of guy. She’s not wrong. That is usually what she does after the questions, though— giggles. Giggles and teases him. Tortures him. Same thing. He doesn’t even think she knows what she’s doing.

Then, of course, he asks her questions of his own. They’re pretty much the same— favorite animal, middle name, what Passadena is like. Warm and busy. That was her answer— he’s never been to SoCal so who’s to say whether or not she was telling the truth. He really doesn’t care. He was more paying attention to the timbre of her voice— the way she makes normal words sound important. He didn’t know he could be so enthralled listening to someone talk about a cat named mittens.

For the first hour or so it was questions like that. The easy, no commitment kind. He wouldn’t have minded if they had stayed like that but, as he kept answering, she had grown more and more confident. Honestly, he didn’t mind that either. It was interesting to watch as she became comfortable around him. Well, more comfortable than before— more comfortable than he would have thought she could be around a guy like him. Her knees eventually pushed out of that hoodie and she relaxed into the couch. It was strange— completely and utterly strange.

By the second hour she had braved the first of many hard questions. It wasn’t what he thought it would be— still nothing about his arm— it was nothing close to that, actually.

It was about his mother.

Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be a hard question but it was, unexpectedly so. His mother. He hasn’t thought about his mother in years. Longer. Decades. He wasn’t expecting to feel so guilty about it but there he was, feeling like his throat was being crushed, while describing to the tiny, lovely girl— who has just lost her own mother— his mother’s lily of the valley perfume. He assumed that’s why she asked— because she misses her mother. He doesn’t blame her. He just never thought that he would miss his mother, too, today.

The rest weren’t as bad as that one. They still made his jaw ache, sure, but not like that. The ones about Steve were the only ones remotely comparable. How did you meet him? What was he like? What’s your favourite story with him in it? That was the last question— the one that made her giggle herself into a half hanging, half sprawling position over the arm of the couch— the position she is currently in right now.

He doctored the answers a little bit— he figured now isn’t the right time to tell her he’s pushing a hundred and ten— but he kept the good parts. Like how Steve and he had run through the streets of Brooklyn that night— Steve without a shirt and him in nothing but a pair of boxers that he is pretty sure to this day had belonged to her husband— being chased by the New York police. Good times.

“What, erm, what was her name?” Her voice is extra gentle— airy.

She’s nervous or maybe out of breath. He can’t quite tell, she’s too flopped over to get a proper look. She’s breathtaking either way.

All of a sudden it’s extra hard to fight back his smile. “I thought it was my turn to ask a question.”

Sitting up, she pools back into her seat. She scrunches her nose at him but doesn’t object. He can see that she wants to, though. Her eyes hide nothing. Then again he’s been trained to read people— to see the minute tick of her jaw and the invisible pulsing of her pupils. Invisible to anyone but him. Invisible to anyone who isn’t a monster— the big, bad wolf. His borderline smile dies quickly and he can’t bring himself to search for it again. This is how it should be.

Bucky clears his throat, mulling over what to ask her next. His eyes drift over the tan hoodie, the frays on the cuffs and the fact that there are no strings, and, like that, he has an idea.

“What’s the deal with that hoodie?” He tries to make it casual but he really does want to know— it’s like four sizes too big, there has to be a story.

He tries to make it casual but she still sobers. Like her hands receding once more into the cuffs of her sweater, the last remnants of the giggly girl fade from his line of sight. He chases it as far as he can, watching as her fingers disappear completely and lingering just in case it’s only a fluke. But no, they don’t come back, and he wishes he could disappear with them.

“It was—” her tongue pokes out, swiping against her pink lip and making it shine— “it was my dad’s. He, uh, he went to Caltech too. Was part of their alumni.”

The super soldier nods, pulling his legs up as well, hoping that by copying her she’ll see it as a signal to keep going. He doesn’t want to speak over her and accidentally derail her thoughts. He wants to know about her dad— her whole family actually. Whatever is important to her, like the hoodie.

“We used to go to these big alumni dinners and he would talk at them. Families like us were invited I guess— like a thank you of sorts.” Her eyes take on a faraway look, still latched on his but glassy and distant, no longer actually seeing him. It’s a look he understands too well. “One time he pulled me on stage with him. I think maybe I was thirteen? He said—” she stops, swallowing so hard her throat bobs, and he has to shove his hand under his leg to keep from reaching out— “ah, I’m sorry. He said ‘this girl right here— this is my daughter! If you think I’m good at what I do then you should see her. She’s something I tell you— Gonna be the best this school has ever seen!’”

His chest tightens— not necessarily from her story but from the way her voice cracks, her soft tone becoming scratchy. She swallows again and he hates it. He hates that he can see tears ready to fall and he hates that she’s even here with him under these circumstances.

He hates that he’s still grateful to be here anyway, being the person who she tells her story to.

“Was he right?” He knows it isn’t his question but he has to say something— anything— to make this better. He has no idea if this is it but it’s worth a shot.

Her brows push together, her head tilting slightly to the side, much too elegantly to be normal— are all women this pretty or is it just her? She blinks, clearing some of the mist, eyes drawing over his face. She traces across his brows, down his nose, stopping on his lips for a pulse— like tracing out the rhythm to a song only she can discern. Everything she does is like music. It must just be her.

“What?” She doesn’t say it rudely; she says it like she didn’t hear him— like she was too far lost in the wonderland of her memory to hear anything— and his chest tightens even further.

“You said your father told everyone you were going to be the best— were you?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of her, slowing his words and waiting for the recognition to creep in. It takes a moment but it does, the last of the glass evaporating into something else.

“I, uhm, I don’t know—”

“You do.” He presses— he can hear the edge of that something in her tone. The downplay is scribed over her feature— lowered eyes, flat mouth, trembling fingers— she wants to say something.

“What do you even know?”

About anything going on in my head— yeah, that’s not familiar at all.

Bucky doesn’t flinch when she hisses the words at him— partly because, despite the clear ice in her words, he doubts they came out as hard as she was hoping they would. Her voice isn’t made to sound wretched. He knows she could tell him the filthiest things— tear him down to the last peg, spit his name out like a curse— and she would still sound like an angel. That makes her dangerous— or at least it would if she didn’t already have tears welling up in those big eyes of hers again.

He flicks a brow, letting one corner of his mouth tick up, telling himself that it’s only for her peace of mind— to let her know that he isn’t angry at her. That he gets it. That sometimes he feels so fucking confused and hurt and scared that he, too, wants to hiss at people because at least then they leave him alone. Yeah, it’s only for her peace of mind.

“Try slamming the ‘you’ harder next time—” he draws the word out, exaggerating the motion while keeping his features a mixture of schooled and relaxed— “usually works out better.”

Her hands— which have been tangling over the collar of her hoodie— drop into her lap with a thunk, her eyes rolling. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome— but you never answered.”

She shoots him a deadpan stare— well, sort of. She never actually stopped looking at him so her face just morphes from vexed to blank. So far it’s his least favourite expression— he would rather she just got angry. He’d rather see fire— or ice— than nothing.

“I thought it was my turn?” Doesn’t she know that the more she avoids the question, the more he wants to know the answer?

Bucky doesn’t let up— he will if she actually tells him to drop it but she hasn’t and he doubts she will— she’s too determined to win. “Consider it payment for your extra questions.”

He holds her gaze still, waiting for the moment she folds. It takes longer than he expects it would, sitting in silence with her eyes on him for almost three minutes. He almost breaks around two and a half minutes. The girl has a way of looking at him like she can see right into his head. Still, he holds, waiting, waiting, waiting until finally— there it is!

Light a light shining in the darkness, her mouth pulls into a merciful smile— well, if mercy means the coy glint in her eye, that is. “I was the best.”

The super soldier nods, finally letting his gaze drop. He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t have to. His point has already been made. He never wanted to be right. He just wanted her to say it. Not for him but for herself. He doesn’t let himself mull over what that says about him. Nothing good. That’s the only answer. It says nothing good about him, the lengths he’s already willing to go to keep this soft, icy girl safe. Him, a monster. It only tells him that he’s selfish— but he already knew that. Those are thoughts for another time.

“Your turn.” He reminds her, leaning back against the arm of the couch, all but aware of the foot of space between his head and her hand which is scratching over the leather behind him.

There is no pause this time— no beat, moment, or minute. Just like that she’s back, moving on to the next topic, almost as though she has had the question queued for ages now, dying to know the answer. He supposes it’s only fair— she let him ask his questions.

“What was her name?”

Her voice lacks the airy note it had held the last time she asked, clearly over waiting, and he has to turn to the window to hide the way he finally cracks, his lips sloping up in a grin that’s both too alien and too familiar. It tastes too much like the old days— like peach schnapps and movie theatre popcorn. She’s not ready for that. He knows because he isn’t.

“Delores.”

_______________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky (if i missed anyone I am so sorry please shoot me a message and I’ll fix it)

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #mcu #mcu fic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe fic #Persephone's Symphony

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