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whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 6 months

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Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part III

Welcome to part 3!! It makes me so happy to see all of you enjoying this, I'm so excited to keep writing and sharing with you guys!!! However, I'm going to be putting a content warning on this chapter, everything will be clearly laid out in the warning! Other than that we get some sweet II and III, so enjoy! Again, thank you so much for reading, if you'd like to be added to the tag list don't hesitate to let me know!

WARNINGS: Content warning for a scene with an aggressive man. Some guy is trying to pick up reader, he's gross, he gets mad when reader turns him down, attempted grabbing but nothing actually happens, aggressive language. Brief description of a hand wound and care of said wound. I think that's everything, if I missed any please let me know!

Part II - Part IV

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Thank you as always to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading, ily ❤️❤️❤️

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Your fingers drummed nervously across the countertop, your face starting to hurt from forcing your rehearsed smile. You felt beads of sweat starting to gather at your temples, your skin growing itchy as one of the droplets slowly trailed its way down your skin. The man at the counter leaned in a little too close to you, his breath smelled of cheap cigarette smoke and stale beer, making it difficult for you not to gag. “Come on, just one date.” His gaze pierced into you, hungry and unwelcoming. You shifted your weight in between your feet, eyes darting away from him as you attempted to plan your escape.

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested.” You crack a nervous, apologetic look. His eyebrows narrowed, his whole expression changing in a way that lets you know you hadn't given him an answer he would accept. You nearly jumped out of your skin as the bell chimed above the door. Your gaze snapped over to the entrance to find Vessel, II, and a third man you didn’t recognize slipping inside. II started in your direction, only for Vessel to grab him by the arm and tug him towards the back.

“I promise I’m a nice guy.” He smiles at you with yellowing teeth, despite how friendly he tried to seem, his gaze still locked into you maliciously.

“Ves, I have the case of drinks you asked for!” You call to the back of the store, hoping to catch his attention to signal your state of distress. Before you had a chance to see him react the man snapped his fingers in your face.

“Excuse me, I believe we were having a conversation babe.” Out of the corner of your eye you see the mystery man Vessel brought with him stiffen, his head turning slightly in your direction as he straightens up. “I see you’re exactly like all the other stupid whores in this town, always distracted by guys with muscles.” He sneers, leaning in even closer. "Well I deserve a chance too. I don't deserve to be tossed aside like trash." His voice cracked as he spoke, you noticed his body started to shake as he grew more unpredictable and upset with every passing second. "Now, I've been patient… I'm going to ask you one last time before you and I have a fucking problem, do I make myself clear?"

"I've already answered you. I suggest you see yourself out before I call the cops." The man suddenly screams in frustration, making you jump. You attempted to back away from him, trying to put some distance between the two of you, only for him to try and grab you. As he swiped at you a hand grabbed the man’s wrist, pinning him in place. You watched as he expertly put the man's wrist in some sort of hold causing the man to cry out in pain, almost falling flat on his face as he tried to scramble away.

“Just walk forward and it won’t hurt.” Your savior barks out a command, ushering the man out of the store. II approaches the counter, grabbing the man’s bags and throwing them out the door after him. You watch as the unknown man grabs the attacker by his jacket and throws him to the ground, rolling him off the curb, his cans rattling to the ground behind him. The second the situation was handled II’s eye’s immediately found yours, long strides bringing him next to you impossibly fast.

“Are you okay?” He asks you softly, his large hands engulfing your much smaller trembling ones as he allows you a moment to process that you were once again safe. You nod as you let out a shaky breath. II pushes some stray hair out of your face, giving you a quick once over to inspect for any injuries. He lets out a soft hum of approval as he sees nothing physically wrong.

“I’m just a little shaken up, that’s all.” You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, trying your best to resist the urge to crumble into a mess of panicked tears under his gentle gaze.

“III, is he gone?” Vessel calls over to the other man.

“Yeah he tore out of here pretty quick.”

"I'm sorry I didn't step in sooner." Vessel offers you an apologetic smile.

"It's alright, I'm sorry you had to get involved. But thank you, all of you, for doing something. I didn't expect him to fly off the handle like that." Vessel places a comforting hand on your shoulder, II did one final check to make sure you were alright before stepping away.

The third man slowly approaches the counter, being cautious . He takes your hand firmly in his. "(Y/N)?" You nod in response. "III, nice to meet you, sorry it couldn't be under better circumstances." He smiles in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Thank you for that." His thumb trails over your knuckles as he studies your face for a moment.

"Of course, I can't stand seeing disgusting pigs like that trying to force themselves on women." You feel II's warm hand come to rest in your shoulder.

"Are you going to be okay here by yourself?" He asks.

"Yeah I should be alright, I probably won't get that much sleep, but I'll be fine." You try to reassure him. You found yourself looking around the empty lot nervously as they drove away, expecting the man from earlier to be standing somewhere outside. You sprinted upstairs, slamming your door shut behind you, triple checking that you had locked up tight. You collapsed on your couch with a sigh, turning on your TV to distract yourself. You found yourself sucked into mindless television, your nerves slowly withering away as you let yourself forget about the day's events. You quickly muted the TV at the sound of something tapping against your window. Your pulse immediately began to race as you realized that there was someone outside. You grabbed your phone, dialing emergency services so you were ready. Cautiously you approach the window, keeping yourself out of sight as you look outside. Your body immediately relaxed at the sight of a familiar figure. You were met with the sight of II throwing small rocks at your window to get your attention. You tug at the stuck frame, pushing it up with a groan as it scrapes into place. "What are you doing here?" He drops the small pile of pebbles he was holding, dusting off his hands.

"I didn't feel right leaving you alone after today." He calls back. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his overall demeanor somewhat nervous as you wait for him to continue. "If it's alright with you, I figured some company might help." He shrugs slightly. You blush at his offer, slowly nodding in response

"I'd like that." He straightens up with confidence at your response. "Stairs are around back, I'll let you in." You hurried over to the door, stopping to look in a mirror to fuss over anything that was out of place. You took a deep, steadying breath as you opened up the door. II was just jogging up the stairs as you stepped out into the cool night air. He paused on the landing, the two of you trying to figure out what to say as you awkwardly rocked back and forth on your heels. You didn't know why you felt so nervous. Granted, you had only known II for a couple weeks at this point, but he had always been so kind towards you, if anything you looked forward to seeing him come into the shop day in and day out. "Come on, it's cold." You pull your sweater tightly around you to try and block out the wind, a shiver running through your whole body at the sudden drop in temperature. "Let's go inside, I'll make you some tea." II stands awkwardly in the entryway, almost as if he was waiting for instructions on what to do next. "Make yourself at home." You prompt. He clumsily pulls off his boots, tucking them neatly into the corner. You hummed softly as you worked on starting the kettle, watching as II acquainted himself with your living space. He walked around with his hands behind his back, carefully leaning in to look at pictures or other various items that seemed to pique his interest. You lean over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, your soft chuckle caused him to jump slightly as he suddenly realized how close you had gotten. He motions to the picture, silently asking if he could pick it up. You nodded enthusiastically.

"Which one's you?" He asks, settling close to your side so you could look at the photo together. Your eyes scanned over the group until they landed on the image of you letting out a boisterous laugh just as the photo was taken. You pointed, II studied the picture for a moment before glancing up at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. "You look so pretty." You can't help but blush at the direct compliment. "Where was this?"

"It was taken at the Fall Festival in town, actually." He sets the picture neatly back in place. You found yourself getting lost in his eyes before you jumped slightly at the sound of the kettle singing. "I'll be right back." You grab two mugs, handing one to II as you both nestle into the couch.

"I like your apartment, it's nice." He remarks cheerfully.

"It's not much, but it's home." You respond with a smile. He turns away from you, lifting up his mask just enough to sip at his tea. "Thank you for coming to see me…" you trail off, running your finger around the edge of your mug. "I feel a lot safer with you around."

"I'm glad," he replies softly, fidgeting with his sleeve. "I want to become someone you trust," you both look up simultaneously, your eyes meeting his. "I won't let anything hurt you if I can help it." You smile, your eyes scanning over the contours of his face beneath his mask. You wanted to reach out and take his hand, feeling an overwhelming need to be close to him.

"I really appreciate you coming to check up on me, II." He shifts slightly, bringing himself slightly closer to you.

"Anytime." He breathes out a laugh. "I just… I had to make sure you were alright. When we walked into the store earlier, and I saw that guy harassing you, I don't know what came over me but I just saw red. If Vessel hadn't grabbed me I honestly don't know what I would have done to him." He tentatively reached out, you met him halfway, allowing your hand to rest in his. "Then, when we left, you still looked so scared. I don't know, maybe I'm just being overprotective." He chuckles. You found yourself absentmindedly fidgeting with his fingers as he held your hand, slowly circling your thumb around his own.

"I honestly was still really anxious when you showed up." You admit, a bit embarrassed. "Having you here with me is really nice."

He leans in a bit closer to you in order to whisper, "I'll stay as long as you need." He shoots you a playful wink, making you giggle. The two of you sat talking late into the night. Any worries from the day's previous events are the furthest thing from your mind as II helped to lull you into a state of comfort you weren't sure if you had ever experienced before. You looked over at the clock, you groaned as you realized you'd have to be up for work in a few hours. "I'll take that as my cue to leave." He chuckles. He stands, stretching his arms high above his head with a pleased sigh.

He haphazardly shoves on his boots as you trail behind him to the door. "I guess I'll see you at the store." Despite how hard you tried it was impossible to mask the disappointment in your voice. The truth was you didn't want him to leave. In the fleeting hours you had spent with him this evening you felt like you had finally started to meet the real II. Despite how friendly he always was towards you, there was still something about him that was so guarded. You were hoping that given enough time you would become someone he could trust as well.

"Maybe we could do this again sometime?" He shoves his hands in his pockets, his eyes trailing to the floor as he asked.

"I would love to… I had a great time." You smile at him. You found yourself subconsciously shuffling closer to him.

"I did too." You reach out for the door handle, catching the smell of II's sweet cologne. You look up at him, intense blue eyes already studying you. You swallowed thickly as you froze, you really didn't want him to leave. His gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second before he clears his throat, snapping both of you from your trance-like state. You pull the door open, stepping out with him into the cold fall night. "Be safe, yeah?"

You nod, "you too." You stood on the landing as he headed down the stairs. "Goodnight II." He pauses at the bottom.

"Goodnight (Y/N)." He bows his head slightly before heading around the building. You didn't get much sleep the remainder of that night. No matter how much you tossed and turned you couldn't get the thought of II out of your head. His bright blue eyes, soft voice, your whole night with him kept replaying in your mind like a dream. Luckily, your next day at work was uneventful, the most exciting part of your shift was cleaning bright red food dye off the floor from a kid who dropped their slushy. You clicked off your open sign, propping the door open to start bringing in your stock for the evening. You got to work lugging the crates of produce inside as you waited for your helpers to show up.

"Fuck's sake Charlie, could you have loaded this thing up anymore?" You grumble to no one as you struggled with a particularly heavy crate. You yelped as your foot got caught on a pallet, the handle of the crate splintering apart in your palm as you slammed it and your full body weight to the ground. You winced as you opened your hands. One of them was relatively unscathed, a few minor scrapes from the skin dragging across the pavement. Your other hand, however, wasn't so lucky. A long gash spread across your entire palm, small chips of the bright blue plastic barely visible against the deep red pool. You jumped as someone rushed around the side of the building.

"Are you alright?" It was III, his eyes wide with worry as he rushed to your side. "Can I look?" You gingerly hold your hand out to him, your fingers shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off. He clicks his tongue, "you gotta be careful doll, can't have our best girl getting hurt now, can we?" He smiles as his eyes meet yours. He helps you up, careful not to bump your injured hand, before leading you inside. "You sit here," his hands land on your waist as he lifts you to sit on the counter. "Where's your first aid kit?"

"Just outside of the bathroom in the back. III, I promise I'm alright-" he waves you off before you have a chance to finish your statement.

"I know you can handle yourself, but you're hurt." He calls back to you as he retrieves what he needs. He makes his way back up to the counter, waiting with an outstretched hand for you to present the wound for him. "I was always taught," he continues in a tone barely above a whisper, "that if you're hurt you should probably let someone else help."

"I guess you're right," he looks up at you through his lashes. Striking blue eyes cause you to blush under their intense gaze. "But, regardless, thank you." He gently takes the wrist of your good hand, bringing it over to his arm.

"This isn't going to feel good," he states bluntly, "squeeze as hard as you want. You nod, your fingers instantly digging into his arm as he cleans off the cut with disinfectant. He was quick but meticulous with his work, making sure the bandage was securely fastened before cleaning up after himself. "There you go doll, good as new." His eyes crinkle as he smiles. "But, I will be taking care of the lifting today." He says in a playful tone. He helps you down off the counter, allowing you to stick by his side in order to help him figure out where everything went. You sat next to him on the floor, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. There was a knock on the door, both of you instinctually turning in the sound's direction. III peers above the shelf before fully standing up. "I'll get it." You hear Vessel and II's familiar voices as he opens the door.

"Where is she?" II asks.

"She's over there, she had a bit of an accident earlier so-" before III had a chance to finish explaining II hurried around the shelf to assess the damage himself.

"What happened?" His eyes wide as he knelt down next to you. "It wasn't that asshole again, was it?" You can't help but laugh slightly at his concerned tone.

"I fell and cut my hand on a crate." You explain holding up your bandaged palm. He sighs in relief, his shoulders noticeably relaxing.

"You gotta be careful, dove." He gently pats the top of your head. He stands, offering his hand to help you up. "Come on, IV really wants to meet you."

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Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @thepoisonedchalice @saturnhas82moons @wingsofeternitysstuff @creamwhxre @itsyagirl-snowflake @themultiverseofmars @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @jumpcauseimfroggy (I think that's everyone if I missed you or you'd like to be added please let me know!)

#sleep token iii #sleep token ii #vessel sleep token #sleep token vessel #sleep token #iii sleep token #sleep token x reader #ii sleep token #iv sleep token #vessel x reader #ii x reader #iii x reader #iv x reader #my writing #my fanfiction

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flowerandblood · 3 months

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The Fall from the Heavens (12)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, fingering, smut, angst, violence, swearing, mention of a rather bloody nuptials ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She couldn't kill him. It crossed her mind then, when he put his own dagger in her hand, when he said she had to choose what would happen, when she lifted his blade and stopped at the line of his neck.

She felt her love and regret weave into one in her mind.

She felt pain at the thought that trying to take her own life had come easily to her, and now that she could free herself from him, her heart screamed with despair.

When she finally decided what to do, she simply cut his lip, holding his cheeks in her hand, watching him as he closed his eyes with a loud sigh; it seemed to her that this painful act gave him pleasure, that he felt relieved, his fingertips digging into the soft skin of her face.

Their nuptials were bloody, her wounds stinging and burning, as if someone had actually touched her with fire.

The pain, however, could not drown out the pleasure that spread through her body as he lifted her, pressing her body against the cold stone wall, and spread her wide open on his cock throbbing with longing, rooting into her with greedy, desperate thrusts of his hips.

All she could do was clench her hands on his body, moaning loudly along with him, and take what he was giving her, again and again struggling to fit him inside her, feeling him stretch her walls to the limit, the fat head of his cock rubbing her with each of his movements against a spot that made her feel like everything around her was spinning, the tension and tickling in her lower abdomen unbearable, her nipples hard and sticking out with desire.

It seemed to her that she had mumbled his name before they both made almost animalistic, pathetic sounds of relief and pleasure when they came at last – she squealed loudly when he fell to his knees, as if, like her, he had lost control of his body.

She sighed quietly and leaned her head back, resting it against the wall, feeling her muscles clench against him, his manhood twitching inside her, spilling the remnants of his warm seed.

They lasted for a moment in a tight embrace, listening to each other's loud, shuddering breaths – it seemed to her that many minutes passed before she felt him slowly slide out of her. She hissed quietly, feeling how sore her insides were because of him, their mingled liquids running down her buttocks.

"− I know − forgive me −" He muttered, as if trying to explain to her that his brutality did not come from his anger or wish to punish her, but from his desire and the tension that had been growing inside him for so many days. She swallowed quietly as his slit hand gently touched her cheek and lifted her face to look at him.

She wasn't sure what she saw in his gaze, calm, sorrowful, tired.

He said no more, just tied his breeches, fastened the buckles of his tunic and cloak, and then took her in his arms, moving with her with a slow step on the way back. She looked at him uncertainly when she saw that instead of going to her chamber he had taken her to his, the one she had always sneaked into when they were children.

The guards standing at his door were horrified to see their slit mouths and hands, to see that they were both filthy with blood, but before they could say anything, her uncle spoke to them first.

"No one is to disturb me and my wife. Open." He said coolly in an unobjectionable tone and nodded, one of the men swallowed loudly, terrified, and followed his command without a word.

The door closed behind them as he carried her to his bed, gently laying her down on his sheets; she looked up at him feeling that her whole body was quivering with terror and disbelief, her plump lips parted in an erratic breath. He stared at her without a word, undressing slowly, dropping the wet material of his coat and tunic to the ground, remaining in only his chemise and breeches.

She watched him carefully when he hummed under his breath, as if he had remembered something and moved to one of the drawers, opening it with a key, taking out a small vessel and a linen cloth. She stared at him as he tore it piece by piece into long strips, then moved back towards her, sitting down next to her on his bed.

"Let me see." He said softly, taking her cut hand in his. She hissed quietly, feeling discomfort and pain, thinking of the fact that she would now have another scar, symbolising something completely different.

Their marriage.

Her uncle opened the lid of a vessel and took a little amount of something that looked like a thick ointment onto his fingers, applying it to her wound; she sighed quietly feeling that whatever it was, it brought her immediate relief.

When he had finished with her hand, he scooped another layer of ointment onto his fingers, this time spreading it over her lower lip, applying it with his thumb.

"I use this for injuries after my trainings." He said calmly, spreading the medicine carefully with his fingertips.

She thought with pain that he spoke to her as he had when they were still children, when he liked to explain to her what he was doing and why.

"Has the pain eased?" He asked, and she nodded; she heard him hum under his breath, satisfied apparently with her answer, reaching for the strips of cloth that lay on his thighs.

She pondered in the back of her mind who the man she was looking at was.

"Will you marry her?" She asked quietly in a trembling voice, and he looked at her surprised; he stared at her intensely for a moment, his nostrils twitching in an anxious breath.

"A deer will never understand the ways of the dragon." He muttered, taking her hand in his, wrapping the material around her palm at the site of the injury, thus creating a makeshift bandage. She furrowed her brow at his words, thinking with regret that this was not the answer.

"Will you marry her?" She repeated the question with impatience and pain, her jaw trembling, a quiet, ragged breath escaping her lips. She saw him clench his eyes shut, as if what she was doing frustrated him, lean in and press his fingers against the base of his nose.

"Borros Baratheon is a proud man. He will not accept his daughter being a second wife. He will consider what I have done a personal insult. Enough." He said warningly, rising his hand, as if to make her understand, seeing that her mouth had opened again, that he was about to lose his temper.

"I am tired, and tomorrow we must show strength. Together. Do you understand?" He asked lowly, looking at her again; she stared at him with a fast pounding heart and thought in disbelief that he took what he did seriously.

That he had no intention of stepping back.

She nodded, lowering her gaze and swallowed loudly.

"Let me treat your wounds." She muttered quietly, playing between her fingers with the material of her nightgown, and heard him sigh heavily.

"Come, wife." He said tiredly, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, a shiver run down her spine as he called her this way, thus sealing what had happened.

Although she didn't believe it, she was his wife.

Their wounds were visible proof of it.

She rose on his bed and moved towards him, taking the vessel of ointment from his hand, scooping it onto her fingers – it was sticky, oily and colourless, pleasant to the touch. She leaned over the inside of his palm and applied it to his cut skin – she heard him hiss quietly in discomfort as her fingertips spread it with gentle, delicate movements.

As he had done earlier, she bandaged his wound with a thin linen cloth, then rose and nestled against him, taking his cheek in her palm, applying the ointment with her thumb to his lower lip. They looked at each other for a moment, for the first time in many years so intimately, without secrets, without pretense.

"I recognise you." She whispered, stroking his soft skin with her fingertips, his sharply defined cheekbone and jaw; she felt him twitch, his pupil narrowed, heard him swallow loudly.

She knew he felt something at her words.

She sighed quietly as his trembling hand lifted slowly, his fingertips running over her cheek, his gaze becoming dreamy, hazy, his lips puffy with emotion, parted slightly.

"Rhaenys."

She felt what he said in her heart and deep between her thighs, a wonderful wave of heat surged through her, spreading through her lower abdomen. She leaned towards him, wanting to kiss him in some natural, subconscious reflex – he reached out to meet her, but they both froze, looking at each other intently, the tips of their noses touching.

"Never when we were children did you kiss me first. When we spoke to each other, you always approached me close, touched my face with your fingers, pressed your forehead against mine, looked at my lips until I brought you relief, and when I did, you didn't want to let me go."

She said softly, running her fingers over his forehead, his temple, his cheek, his jaw, his lips, as if she wanted to remember this moment. She felt him tremble all over at the memories that apparently filled his mind; he closed his eyes for a moment, as if his feelings overwhelmed him, a ragged breath escaped from his throat.

"You never spoke openly about what you wanted. You never called things by name when it came to the needs of your heart. You were a perpetual mystery to me. I was fascinated by how little could be drawn out of you." She whispered into his mouth, a quiet, helpless gasp of surprise escaping his throat as her other hand touched his knee and rose slowly up to his thigh.

His hand gripped the back of her neck and clamped down on it in a gesture of impatience, his breathing quickened and ragged as her fingers slid down between his legs, meeting the throbbing, hard bulge in his breeches; he sighed as if relieved when her lips brushed his, but without giving him a full kiss, merely teasing him.

She thought with a heavy pounding heart that if she could tame him, if she could drive him mad, she could slowly influence his aggression and impulsiveness, be his sweet promise of pleasure and fulfilment that he would never want to lose again.

It seemed to her that the fact that she wasn't giving him what he needed, that her fingertips were merely trailing over his swollen length hidden beneath the material of his breeches aroused him even more, his breathing grew faster, shaky, hitched, they both began to pant into each other's mouths. He froze as if in anticipation, as if wordlessly showing her that this was what he desired.

He would never say it out loud, but he wanted to hear that she still yearned for him.

"− yes −" He mumbled out like a helpless, vulnerable child and that was enough for her; she had no idea where she got her confidence to just climb into his lap, to press her moist lips, swollen with longing against his. They both moaned in pain, their wounds sore and burning.

"− do you wish your wife to take care of you? −" She whispered tenderly, increasing the pressure of her fingers on his cock throbbing under her hand – she felt his hips rock towards her, wanting to find a greater source of friction, his fingers tightened on her hair.

She thought with surprise, hearing and seeing his reaction, that she was wet.

They kissed each other for a moment with lazy, sticky flicks, stroking their faces and hair with their fingers, his treated hand sliding uncertainly down to her buttocks, pulling up the material of her nightdress, his fingertips clamped down on her firm, soft skin with his low murmur of satisfaction.

She felt her core begin to clench around nothing as his hips with impatient motions began to rub his swollen, throbbing manhood against her wet folds, there was something liberating in the idea that although he would never admit it, he had somehow given her the initiative.

She could feel his uncertainty and tension, as if he was expecting a blow from her, that there was something more beneath it, that she wanted to take advantage of him, to lull his vigilance.

She thought she needed to regain his trust.

Make him want to confide only in her.

He stared at her wide-eyed, breathing loudly as her hands reached up to untie her nightgown, watching intently as she slid it slowly off her shoulders, exposing her bare body to him; she felt his manhood react intensely to the sight and twitch heavily between her thighs.

She grasped his hand in hers, guiding it unhurriedly down her neck, to her breast – she heard him swallow loudly, trying to calm his breathing as she tightened her fingers on his, showing him how she wanted him to touch her.

There was something intimate and arousing in the way he looked at her, as if he was surrendering, resigned to the fact that neither of them could escape each other.

She shuddered and drew in a loud breath as he leaned in, feeling her own wetness run down her thighs as his lips tentatively brushed her nipple – a quiet moan escaped her throat as he slid it between his lips and began to suck on it.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled out surprised at how intensely her body was responding to this gentle caress, her muscles throbbed impatiently, his murmur of pleasure vibrated through her entire body.

Her hand involuntarily tightened on his hair, pressing him closer to her naked flesh, his fingers sinking into the warm skin of her buttock, rubbing against her more and more aggressively.

She drove his hand lower, between her thighs and heard his breath catch in his throat as she slid his fingers down to her warm, moist womanhood, rubbing against it with the movement of her hips.

"− here − yes, uncle, right here −" She mewled, throwing her head back with a moan of pleasure as she guided his fingertips to press sensitive, wet skin around her bud with slow, sure movements.

She heard his low groan of pleasure, muffled by her breast, which he caressed with his lips, teasing her nipple with his tongue, her fingers clenched in his hair, keeping him close.

"− this is how you brought yourself to fulfilment? − hm? −" He gasped, running the tip of his nose over her nipple only to close his lips on it again, his fingers digging harder into her sensitive, sticky flesh, teasing her with the increasingly loud click of her moisture.

"− y-yes −" She muttered in embarrassment as she felt the tension in her lower abdomen become unbearable – she felt like her whole body was on fire, her lips, her fingertips, her breasts seemed to tickle and pulsate, hypersensitive from his gentle treatments.

"− what were you thinking about then? −" He purred, enveloping her naked skin with his hot, excited breath. She swallowed loudly, felt shivers on his skin as her fingers ran over his neck, her hips moving back and forth, responding to his slow strokes, his palm wet with her moisture.

"− about you − only about you −" She whispered with some kind of relief, closing her eyes as if she needed to tell him, to explain that she had never forgotten him, that she had never seen another man at her side.

She whimpered loudly, startled, as his two fingers made their way inside her, with deep, sure movements teasing the spot because of which she had no longer controlled what was happening to her body, stretching her fleshy, hot muscles again and again with a lewd click.

"− what a fucking mess you are − already soaking wet for your husband −" He exhaled, grabbing her by her hair, tilting her head back to look at her with satisfaction, digging his fingertips into her fleshy muscles, his lips parted in contentment, clearly something in her expression pleased him.

The awareness that she was reciprocating his desire.

She could only nod at his words, feeling that her cheeks were all red with emotion, her lips swollen with desire – she felt his hand slide from her hair to her mouth, parting it with his thumb.

"− open −" He commanded; she felt his words and the way he said them deep between her thighs, her walls squeezed his fingers tightly. She obeyed his order and moaned helplessly as his thumb slid deep inside her mouth, in some involuntary, subconscious reflex she began to suck on it with a soft hum.

"− fuck − fuck, ride me −" He gasped, letting go of her, with a quick, desperate movement untying his breeches. She was breathless at his words, simultaneously terrified and aroused, looking down at him with her lips parted wide.

"− fuck −" He muttered, sliding it in and out between her lips with a quiet, lewd click of her saliva, digging his fingertips into the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

She felt her body was in some kind of euphoria, she had the impression her heart was going to jump out of her chest.

He will let her be on top.

He wanted to trust her, wanted to believe that she wouldn't humiliate him.

She raised herself up on her knees, resting her hands on his shoulders, panting along with him, seeing that he licked his lower lip as her warm, moist slit rubbed against his pink, glistening tip.

She thought with a rapidly beating heart that he held his manhood in his palm perpendicular to her body.

"− slide it inside you −" He ordered in a trembling, deep voice that sent a shiver through her and she slowly sank down onto him, feeling the fat head of his cock open her tight, fleshy muscles, stretching her; they both moaned low, delighted by the sensation.

"− fuck − keep going −" He breathed out, not moving, however, at the same time trying by the tone of his voice and his posture to pretend he was in control of the situation, while on the other hand apparently wanting her to give him pleasure and decide for herself at what pace she would do it.

She decided that she would take it slow.

It was for this reason that she lifted herself unhurriedly on top of him, only to fall back on him again with a soft sigh, his hand stroking her buttock in a tender gesture, pressing his fingertips into her hot skin – he closed his eye as if he wanted to focus only on what he was feeling.

She leaned towards him, running her fingers through his hair, pressing her forehead against his, focusing on how much he was filling her, feeling every twitch of him, every vein on his hard, swollen cock.

Their bodies, in some natural, simple reflex, began to slam against each other with a loud slap of her juices, quiet, pathetic, surprised moans of pleasure escaping from their mouths, her lips teasing his, brushing against him as she sped up, feeling his manhood begin to throb hard.

"− mghm − f-fuck, m close −" He muttered, clearly embarrassed that it felt so good, imagining apparently that as a man he should be able to persevere for as long as he himself desired – one of his hands slid down between her thighs, his thumb begging to tease her bud hidden between her folds. She tilted her head back, her insides starting to clench against his cock, the tickling in her lower abdomen unbearable.

"− me too − oh, gods, uncle, me too −" She mewled, spreading her lips wide, clenching her eyelids, her eyebrows arching in pain as her body shook with such a powerful fulfillment.

She heard his whimper of relief, his hips rooting his cock into her with a few more sloppy, deep thrusts before he came inside her, pressing his face against the hollow between her breasts.

"− fuck − fuck −" He gasped out, no more than a mumble coming from his mouth. She hugged him tightly with her arms, stroking his hair, kissing his temple again and again, his half-soft manhood twitching inside her for a moment longer.

There was something so innocent about what they did, so tender, so sincere, that she felt tears under her eyelids.

"I love you." She whispered with pain and regret, combing her fingers through his snow-white, soft, long hair. "I've always loved you."

She felt him freeze whole at her words, as if he didn't believe she'd said it; his fingertips clenched painfully tight against her naked flesh, his breath raspy and shallow – he enveloped her naked skin with the heat escaping from his parted lips.

She heard him swallow loudly, knew he wanted to get something out, but couldn't.

She didn't resent him for that.

It was just the way he was.

"For years, lords slipped their daughters under my nose, and all I could think about was that they weren't similar enough to you." He whispered, and she felt a tightening in her throat, clenching her eyelids, knowing that was his answer.

He pulled away from her after a moment and leaned back to look at her face; his gaze surprisingly calm, dreamy, tired, fulfilled, his fingertips ran gently over her hot, soft cheek in a gesture full of affection.

"I will never marry her."

_____

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btsmosphere · 14 days

Text

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 2: Reign of Mercy

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: There’s a whole world here, where your curse can start to bloom…

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.1k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, past attempted murder

a/n: if anyone is wondering, 190811 jungkook is exactly who I have in my head for this fic. so, go google that and thank me later😍😂 also if you saw me change the summary, don't mind me😙 one more thing, I just wanted to clarify that while I say female reader, in this fic it's just the use of she/her pronouns. reader is shorter than Jungkook, but I don't think there's any actual anatomy description going on, in case that's a worry for you!

supercharged playlist

“You’re kidding, right?”

Namjoon made no reply to Jungkook at first, simply sighing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moved past the younger man and sank into the sofa. Anyone would have thought he hadn’t heard the irate question.

Eventually he deigned to give a weary reply.

“Jungkook, we can’t pick and choose what happens. And nor could she. So drop it.”

Silent, wide eyes flickered between the two from the kitchen. Jimin’s breath stilled at his lips watching his two brothers while he clutched V’s hand tightly.

Chewing over Namjoon’s response, Jungkook was like a ticking bomb. His gaze never faltered, blazing eyes fixed on his leader.

“Jungkook.”

Only now did his tense form turn, finding Yoongi sat on the sofa behind him, relaxed with one leg slung over the other. No one had seen him come in, but that was normal. He still had his hood up; probably just got back.

Aiming a level look at the youngest, Yoongi said no more.

Exhaling, Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed a little. Simultaneously, a hint of poison leaked away from the air in the room.

Jungkook turned around.

“It was Bolt, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Namjoon didn’t try to deny it.

Swallowing, Jungkook stepped back to take a seat by Yoongi. He did not relax into the sofa's comfort, however, staying perched on the edge, alert.

“It’ll be fine,” Namjoon spoke firmly, “I understand you’re not feeling great about it, but you’ll get used to it. A good night’s sleep, and you’ll forget you were ever this mad.”

Jungkook scoffed derisively. Like that was ever going to happen.

“It’s not fair on the kid,” Yoongi weighed in, “she was pretty beat up.”

“See?” Namjoon agreed, as if that was a positive thing. “Never mind how she might look, she was a victim of Bolt too.”

Eyes slipping to the floor, Jungkook stuck his tongue in his cheek.

“You know how we work.”

Namjoon’s words were final. And Jungkook could easily read within them the challenge, daring him to question their methods. Their trust. And he could never do that. Angry as he was, he knew Namjoon was right.

“How you’re feeling is valid,” a softer voice tentatively entered.

As Jimin slid into the spot beside him, shuffling as close as possible with comforting arms enfolding his form, Jungkook gave in. Slouching at last, he leaned into his brother as V found a spot opposite.

“But try to be fair,” Jimin’s gentle reminder sounded in his ear.

Jungkook stayed silent.

Cracking open, the door left a gap just big enough for Jin to talk through. The sound proofing on your safe room made it necessary.

“Good morning! Are you decent?”

He had to resist the panicked urge to enter when nothing answered him for a moment. But he needn’t have worried; you were still asleep. His greeting brought the first ray of light with it to illuminate your room, and soon had you stirring.

Eyelids inching open, you managed a groggy humming sound.

“Can I come in?”

“Huh? Yeah,” you croaked, coming to your senses.

Sitting up among a crumpled pile of blankets, you were in time to receive a glass of water from Jin as he entered. On moving, your head announced its displeasure with a nauseating wave of pain, so you were grateful for the pills he then pushed into your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

Swallowing them down with the cold water, you finally became alert enough to feel embarrassed. In front of you, Jin was professionally dressed in a shirt, smart as he had been the night before. You however, probably looked like the worst hangover in history.

“Not bad…” you muttered.

Examining your hands, there was mercifully no sign of that cursed blue so far. The burn you had sustained was also remarkably faded.

“Up to some breakfast? It would certainly help.”

Not sure how hungry you were, you agreed anyway. He probably knew best.

Stepping outside, he waited while you slipped on some clothes he had brought. They were fairly shapeless, large black things, but you couldn’t exactly complain.

Just as the sweater fell over your head, a prickling sensation burst into your wrists.

Gasping, you dropped the jumper over your eyes to look. To your surprise the blue shocks of light jumped from your fingertips and up the fibres of the garment like static. You braced for the burning feeling like last time, but it never came.

Still not free from the knot of fear which tightened every time the powers leapt out, you stared, dumbstruck at your palms.

“Y/N? Are you nearly ready?”

Blinking rapidly, you looked, startled to the door.

“Sorry! One moment!” you called.

There you stood, fully dressed, yet frozen to the spot. As much as this room felt like a cell, you were safe in the knowledge that your powers would do no damage in here. If you left its walls, you had no way of controlling it.

Fists clenching of their own accord, you didn't notice the gasping sniffles that took over you as you watched the door fearfully.

Clearly, Jin did.

“Y/N?” his voice was markedly more concerned, “I’m coming in.”

A moment’s pause, and he was coming towards you.

A firm grip on your wrists pulled you back to reality. Horrified, you stared wide-eyed at Jin’s hands, expecting at any moment for them to be fried when your powers made themselves known. But he was unafraid, keeping them there without hesitation.

“Y/N.” His steady tone had you raising your eyes to him. “I know this is strange for you. But you won’t hurt any of us, it’s perfectly fine. And besides, food makes everything better.”

Holding his smiling gaze with scepticism, you let your hands fall weakly to your sides as he released them. Wiggling your fingers, you tried to detect any sign of the electricity that now resided there.

With a sigh, you only lagged a few steps when you followed Jin's lead out of the room.

A little way down the corridor, a glorious smell of cooking wafted past. Perhaps Jin had a point.

Emerging into the kitchen, you eagerly headed towards the mouth watering scent. But on rounding the corner, your steps slowed a little. Although the space was mostly empty, providing some relief from the overwhelm of last night, the figures that occupied the place were not ones that built your confidence.

By the stove, flipping bacon in a pan, was a man you hadn’t seen before. But you only caught a glimpse of his profile under white hair, before your eyes fell on the other, seated at the island.

Slowing, you instantly recognised the face of Jungkook, who had looked so angry last time he had seen you. Tentative to get too close, you stopped entirely some steps away from the seats.

Nearer to you, the tv was on, volume low as it displayed the news to two empty sofas. But, eager for the distraction, you let your eyes linger on it to delay approaching the intimidating man in the kitchen.

Shame it didn’t provide the respite you were bargaining for. A shot of a city tower cut directly to a startling blue image, the beaming face of a man otherwise hidden by his mask. Bolt.

Your eyes widened, breath freezing in your body as the blue eyes on screen seemed to pierce through to meet your own. The same blue which had confronted you in the mirror last night.

Gulping, you forced your eyes down to the rolling red text below the images.

BOLT SPARES ATTACKER, REIGN OF MERCY PREVAILS

Something churned, low and dangerous in your gut. The letters leered, imprinting themselves on your retinas as you struggled to believe them.

“…you know, my job is to keep people safe, not to sentence them…” Bolt’s voice carried faintly from the screen, twisting harshly in your ears, “…the authorities are the real heroes, I just lend a hand where I can…”

So Bolt had done the noble thing, and left Kuyang unharmed? Except he had sentenced you. Judge, jury and executioner, all in the blink of an eye. In one throwaway flicker of light.

Taeyeon hadn’t even been so lucky.

You hadn’t even noticed the tension in your frame until the image in front of you suddenly shrunk, dropping to black.

“That’s enough of that.”

Jin threw the remote onto the sofa, giving you a meaningful glance. You avoided it, spinning back onto your original path, having totally forgotten your reason for abandoning it in the first place.

Jungkook had been shovelling food into his mouth, but looked up as Jin rounded the island.

And then he saw you.

Straightening instantly in his chair, his chopsticks hovered in mid-air as his every action halted.

Your brain failed you, leaving you staring right back. It was only after a second that you jerkily prompted yourself to smile. Might as well try to make a good impression.

His brow quirked a little, the only acknowledgment you got. Because not a second later, you were gasping as a shock ran down your arms.

Hurriedly fisting your hands in your jumper, you gritted your teeth. Already subsiding, the familiar feeling was seeping away as a chair screeched against the floor and Jungkook’s tall figure brushed roughly past you.

Turning after him with shock, you could only watch the rigid line of his shoulders as he marched away down the hall.

“Breakfast is served!”

Jin’s chipper call pulled you reluctantly back to the table. Seating yourself, you caught him looking regretfully after Jungkook.

Though the food on your plate was steaming hot and looked delicious, you frowned around at the kitchen. Hadn’t someone else just been here? And what had just happened with Jungkook?

As you began to eat, you eyed Jin’s back. Could you have done something to upset Jungkook? The way Jin had looked ready to run after him reminded you again of the fact you had suddenly intruded, albeit not of your own accord, on what seemed to be an established group.

Fixing your eyes on your plate, you focussed on getting through breakfast. It was admittedly very tasty, and you felt energy return to your body once more.

“Any better?”

Jin’s stubbornly upbeat mood was back, and now you were finally able to offer him a smile and a nod. Feeling full and a little more alive, you turned your attention to Jin who leant towards you from across the table.

“You’re still recovering from yesterday, but we need to do a little bit of work” – you frowned slightly – “it’s not like we want to put you in full training, but Joon reckons you would appreciate being able to control your powers a little.”

Though you nodded, your frown deepened.

“Training?”

“Ah.”

That was all Jin said before standing, leaving you no option but to follow him. Abandoning the kitchen, you hurried to his heels and walked, confused as ever, back down the corridor away from the main space.

However, this time, you passed by the door to your small room. There was little variation in scenery as you went further down the corridor. You found yourself near enough tripping over Jin’s heels when he stopped in front of the final door that ended the hallway. Plain and dark like the others, it was like a black hole, pulling you towards it.

Looking up at Jin, you tore your eyes away from his hand where it rested, hovering on the handle. His mouth had drawn itself into a flatter line, smile erased in favour of a serious stare.

“The others are probably in there already, so… just stay near.”

And then he flashed a smile, as if he had been inviting you in for tea.

With no more time to worry about what on earth he meant by that, you were greeted with the door opening and an instant cacophony of sound from beyond it.

Eyes widening, you forced newly tense muscles forwards. Jin’s reminder to ‘stay near’ pressed close on your mind as he disappeared into the dim space beyond.

A thin staircase curved and led you downwards. When the door shut, it cut off no light. In here, flashes bounced off dark walls, air cracking as it was tossed around.

Coming to the base of the stairs, you looked over a long room. It resembled a gym, a couple of benches and punching bags pushed against the outside walls and large square mats on the floor. Sure enough, as Jin had said, some of the boys you had met the previous day were dotted along it.

As you stopped beside Jin, who waited by the steps, another spark, like lightning, burst across the far end of the space. Gold sliced through the air in a thick, powerful beam, veins darting into the air.

Just as quickly, it was gone.

“Jungkook has the most similar powers to you,” Jin’s voice, low in your ear, “which is why we would have him teach you, but… I don’t think that’s best, right now.”

He moved into the space without elaborating. Though your feet carried you with him, you were occupied by squinting across at Jungkook. He hadn’t noticed you yet. He was facing away, and now he rolled his shoulders out, shaking hair from his face, and raised his arms again.

In the blink of an eye, vibrant gold shot from his palms, towards a sort of metal disk on the wall opposite him.

“Look out!”

Your gaze at Jungkook was severed as a tug came on your arm.

In your distraction, your feet had stilled, and now you stumbled towards Jin and out of the path of a medicine ball which slammed into the wall with a dull thud. Gulping, you watched it fall heavily to the ground, not even bouncing.

“Sorry!”

Snapping your jaw shut, you found the source of the apology.

Chest heaving and pink hair plastered to his forehead, was the man that had smiled at you last night. He shot another dazzling grin now, as if he hadn’t just sent a weighted ball shooting at where your head had been.

But as your eyebrows raised, he lifted a hand and suddenly the ball floated up from its resting place on the ground. The next moment it was flying back towards him.

Flattening his hand, the ball stopped and stayed hovering a few inches above his palm.

You must have failed to hide the shock on your face. The moment he looked over to you, he burst out laughing, eyes creasing. And you couldn’t be sure – his eyes were obscured after all – but they might have glowed pink for a moment as you watched. The ball never moved, seemingly fixed in place in mid-air.

“That’s Jimin,” Jin muttered, then raised his voice, “get back to it!”

Laughter subsiding into a bold grin, Jimin snatched the medicine ball from the air and turned away.

Close behind Jin, you made more effort to stay with him this time, eager not to find yourself in the path of any more flying things.

Further along, the wall gave way to an opening. A similar room lay beyond, square this time. Peering around the corner, a familiar blond zoomed across your vision. But watching the person, you could barely believe it was the same cheery Hope who had welcomed you yesterday.

This room had more equipment, ropes descending from the middle of the ceiling, as well as bars and hoops filling the floor. And currently Hobi was way above your heads, making easy work of a rope. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he leapt from it with zero hesitation.

A second later, he landed securely on the wall, grasping small climbing holds you hadn’t noticed. They were black just like the walls, only noticeable because he was now clutching onto them.

Pulling himself up, he launched once again into the air, kicking off the neighbouring wall into a somersault. You had barely scooped your jaw off the floor when he landed on a lower platform and dropped out of sight behind it.

“You know Hob-ah already,” Jin said conversationally. His light tone sounded more like he was showing you around an art gallery, not that you had just seen his friend performing death-defying stunts.

Rushing once more to keep up with your guide, your eyes never settled. They darted from him to the surroundings, not having time to look more at the flash of purple from across the room or the white-haired man slumping onto a bench near Jungkook.

“So this-“ you panted, “this is training?”

“Yep!”

“You… you all train with your powers?”

A nod.

You had reached the end of the gym now. A couple more doors led on; where, you could not guess. This place seemed like a maze. You didn’t even know whether you were underground or not at this point.

Sticking close to Jin, you couldn’t help but shrink back as you passed Jungkook. He was a few strides away, but as you expected, that venomous glare fixed itself back on his face the moment he saw you.

Sparks crackled by his fingertips, drawing your eyes. Was he trying to intimidate you?

Brow sinking and nostrils flaring, you fixed a stare right back at him. You hadn’t spoken to him once! What could his problem be? As you glared, a flicker of gold darted across his irises.

But then you had apparently reached your destination, as Jin opened one of the doors and you were led away, gaze warring with Jungkook until the last moment.

Once you turned back to Jin, you found him a way down the new hallway. Quickening to catch up, you frowned at the back of Jin’s head.

“What… what power do you have?” you asked tentatively.

In front of the next door, Jin stopped, making you do the same. A soft chuckle left him, his face good-humoured as he turned to you as if you had just told a joke. Shaking his head, his eyes turned back to the door you waited at.

“Me? No, I don’t have any powers.”

And then he was rapping at the door.

“One moment!” came a call from inside.

“Except maybe keeping Namjoon-ssi organised,” Jin winked at you then.

Too startled to form any kind of response, you hadn’t so much as laughed before the door was pulled open. Jin swiftly left as Namjoon smiled in greeting and stood back to let you into the room.

Swallowing, you stepped into the space. It was fairly unremarkable, grey walls with a plain desk and a couple of chairs in the middle.

You paused a few steps in, but now Namjoon strode to the desk. Following, you sat opposite him. A tension had seeped into your frame and now you eyed him warily as he made himself comfortable, a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m sure Jin told you,” he began, “we don’t expect you to do anything with your powers just yet. But it will make things easier for you if you can control them a little. Is that okay?”

You nodded.

Taking you in for a moment, Namjoon was silent. Then he sat back and spread his arms.

“I want you to summon them.”

“What?”

Your protest was instant, but you got no further.

“If you can summon them, that level of control will help you to suppress them as well,” Namjoon explained calmly, finger raised to quell your complaints, “not to mention that by using your powers, it prevents the need for them to burst out uncontrolled as well.”

“But… I don’t know how to summon them,” you spoke quieter, hanging your head.

The scrape of his chair brought your eyes up again. An encouraging nod your way had you standing as well.

“Hold your hands out.”

Still hesitant, you did it anyway. He seemed to have no issue with the fact he would be directly in your line of fire if you actually succeeded.

“Okay. I would have liked to ask Jungkook to do this with you, since his powers are most like yours. I don’t know exactly what your powers feel like, so you’ll have to think about that yourself. Can you imagine how it felt when you used them?”

You chewed your lip as you tried to recall. It hadn’t been pleasant, you knew that. A sort of itching, tingling sensation – though at first it had been worse, like a burning.

You didn’t want to feel that again.

“Got it?” he asked.

Nodding weakly, you listened to the next instructions.

“As a starting point, try to picture the feeling. Hopefully they should respond. Really focus, and when they do, try to sustain it for a couple of seconds. You should be able to feel the core, where the power is flowing from.”

You blinked. You hadn’t really understood any of that, but you took a deep breath anyway.

Letting your eyes slide closed, you tried to remember precisely the feeling of your powers. Not that you wanted to feel the electricity claw its way down your veins, or burst from your fingertips.

Nonetheless, you willed the fire to unleash itself.

It must have sensed your reluctance, though. Nothing came.

Dropping your arms after a few more moments, you sent an apologetic glance to Namjoon. But he didn’t look disappointed in the least like you had imagined he would.

“It almost never works the first time,” he said. “Keep trying.”

Biting down on your lip, you resigned yourself and raised your hands again.

“If it helps, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he kept talking, “you won’t hurt me, or damage anything. In fact, you can actively try to hit me if you want. Imagine I’m someone you hate!”

His dimpled grin made it hard to imagine him as an enemy you would enjoy frying with lightning. Focussing again on the non-existent feeling in your arms and hands, you tried to come up with some sort of motivation.

Your first thought was Bolt.

You had only seen him for a few minutes, but it had been enough for him to rule your life out as insignificant. The single thoughtless shock of blue could well have ended your life – nearly did.

A sharp flicker of heat made your eyes fly open. At the same moment, an exclamation from Namjoon.

For a split second, blue had bloomed in your palms, but it had slipped away before you could grasp it.

“That was good,” he encouraged, “a bit longer next time.”

Breathing heavily, you shut your eyes again, the sensation more present in your mind now. Your anger at Bolt had helped, but the memory was so fleeting it couldn’t sustain the feeling.

Taking a steadying breath, you straightened your arms in front of you. You wanted to do this. Strangely, the next face that cropped up was that of Jungkook. Glaring whenever he saw you, he seemed to resent your presence.

Maybe he didn’t want you there? Didn’t think you belonged?

You would show him. You wanted to do this. If you could control your powers, he would have no reason to look down on you.

Gritting your teeth, you looked the inevitable pain right in the face, challenging it to come out.

Like a floodgate opening, you felt a heat expand in your chest, energy flowing down your arms. When your eyes opened, they were met with a beam of light as it exploded out from your hands.

Without noticing it, your jaw had dropped. The bright blue light you had so quickly come to despise spilled confidently from open palms. Very quickly, the discomfort of electricity in your veins faded, nothing a but a slight warmth to indicate your power.

Around you, you vaguely noticed a deep red glow hanging in the air. Made of light, the cage-like structure stretched from the floor and was containing the lightning you were creating.

On the other side of it, Namjoon stood unharmed, your power dissipating, melting in mid-air before it could harm him.

“Stop,” he now told you, voice slightly raised.

Blinking as spots bleached themselves into your vision, you tore your eyes from the light that had hypnotised you. How did you make it stop?

“Make the feeling go away,” Namjoon said, “the opposite of what you just did. You control these powers.”

You didn’t exactly feel that was true. Arms beginning to tremble, you desperately scrambled to shut it off. It felt warm, so you tried to think of cold, creeping up your arms…

The beams of light sputtered.

Breathing in, you clenched your fists around the power. You could tell it was stemming from your chest, and tried to focus on shutting it off. It felt much like swimming upstream, counter-intuitive as you had to forcefully reign in the feeling that suddenly felt natural.

Holding your breath, you screwed your eyes shut.

Your powers pushed back, wanting to be free. But you dug your heels in, getting the odd sensation that you were backed up against a door that didn’t want to shut.

But the warmth was receding, the stream of energy down your arms thinning.

Namjoon was repeating your name. You had to stop.

All at once, like a candle blown out, the light was gone. All the heat snuffed out, the barrier in your chest blockaded.

Gasping, you fell forwards, stumbling until your arms braced against the desk. Before now you hadn’t noticed the sweat breaking out on your forehead, nor the exertion making you heave for breath.

The red cage dissolved around you, a flash of crimson dying in Namjoon’s eyes.

“Good, well done,” he was saying, a chair being thrust under you. Sinking gladly into it, you still leaned heavily on the table.

“That was good,” he repeated, a glass of water making its way into your hand, “I won’t make you do more now. But it was a start.”

Panting, you raised your eyes as you lifted the glass to your lips. The water was welcome since you felt like you had just run the length of the city. Wrangling your powers to your will was difficult, but you didn’t know what you had expected.

A sharp chime rang out.

Starting, you saw Namjoon’s gaze snap to the tabletop, where a screen had lit up. A small circle and a name popped up, but he swiped it quickly away, the screen’s light dying the next second.

But you frowned. You could have sworn that said-

“Apologies,” he spoke, standing up, “business calls. Is it alright if you rest outside? You can find your way back when you’re ready. We have no more demands to make of you for a while.”

And so you followed him to the door, being left alone soon after.

You looked each way down the plain corridor outside. Letting a breath out, you resolved to at least find a seat before collapsing with exhaustion, so you set off, feeling a little lost. So far you hadn’t really been left alone here, always being shown the way.

But it was simple enough, only a straight path to the large training room you had already seen.

It was emptier now. Someone was evidently still training as you could hear noise, but it came from out of sight in one of the adjoining spaces. Otherwise, the place was now deserted, leaving you free to sink onto the nearest bench.

Limbs feeling a little shaky, you gladly took the weight off them and slumped back against the wall.

You were unsure how long you spent staring into space, catching your breath. That had been tiring, so much effort expended for relatively little result. You supposed you should be proud that you had achieved some level of control over the powers, but you still felt no safer. If they were to surge again, you were no closer to being able to hold them off with any ease, nor to summon them.

The only thing you were sure of was that the energy from breakfast had quickly been chased away, and the prospect of ever getting up again was distinctly unappealing.

“Hey!”

The cheery call pulled you from your thoughts. At some point the sounds from the next room had ceased, outside your notice, and now Hope was walking from the training room.

Having seen you, he changed course and was heading your way. The sight of his sweat-soaked hair and reddened face reassured you for a moment – you weren’t the only one tired. But this only comforted you for a split second before you remembered the sorts of stunts he had been doing, while you had only half succeeded in your beginner attempt.

“First training session?” he asked, thousand-watt grin never fading.

“If you could call it training,” you half-heartedly chuckled.

“Ah, you’ll be great in no time!” As he drew up to you, you finally mustered the strength to stand up, joining him to a clap on the shoulder. Taking in your dejected state, he offered a sympathetic smile. “Tiring tho, hmm?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I know what you need! Some good food will pick you right up.”

You couldn’t say you disagreed, and put all your remaining energy into getting up the stairs and to the kitchen while Hobi talked on happily.

“I’ll get us something,” he told you once you were there.

Infinitely grateful for his offer, you slid into the closest seat and resisted the urge to face-plant the table. Instead you leaned on your elbows, watching idly as he grabbed plates from the cupboards.

“Ah! Y/N! How was it?”

A new addition rushed to the kitchen, familiar pink hair approaching as Jimin took a seat beside you. You looked back into a bright smile as he sat expectant.

Laughing drily, you looked at the countertop.

“I don’t think I’m a natural.”

Tilting his head, he pouted a little at your response and lifted a hand to rub your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s always tough to start with,” he nodded, “but the beginning is the hardest. Don’t push yourself.”

“Yeah, we can’t all be Jungkook,” Hobi laughed. He returned to the table with two plates of sandwiches, pushing one under your nose. Jimin quickly turned his attention to pout at Hope, who rolled his eyes and shoved the other plate towards the pink-haired boy before returning to prepare another for himself.

As desperate as you had been a moment ago for some food, your curiosity was piqued.

““Be Jungkook”? What do you mean?”

“Our golden youngest,” Jimin explained, taking a large bite of his meal before adding, “for more than one reason.”

“It’s seriously unfair,” Hobi spoke over his shoulder, “the kid can do anything he sets his mind to. Best pupil Joon’s ever had.”

Shutting your mouth, you sank a little in your chair. Jimin was buried in his sandwich, and Hobi in the kitchen, leaving you to pick at your own plate. But you only bit your lip. So Jungkook was some kind of prodigy?

You sighed, neglecting your food entirely. It made you feel even worse about your terrible performance and lack of skill. And here you were, thinking that you would be able to prove yourself to the man who seemed to hate you.

Only when a flickering light distracted you did you look up from your hopelessness.

The kitchen light blinked off entirely for a brief moment, returning to reveal Hobi whirling around with a shout.

“That’s my lunch! Make your own, this is already my second try!”

Frowning, you looked around trying to spot who Hope was berating. Nothing.

While you sat perplexed, the blond suddenly leapt across your vision, jumping high enough to hop from the kitchen table and towards the sofa. As he landed, another figure became abruptly visible, falling as if emerging from a patch of shadow.

Beside you, Jimin guffawed loudly as you gaped. Hobi had knocked the mysterious figure from seemingly thin air, and now deftly swept a plate of sandwiches from their hands, the whole while straddling them to keep them pinned on the sofa cushions.

“Nice try!”

A muffled ‘get off’ accompanied flailing arms, vague attempts at whacking their attacker.

Heaving himself from the couch, Hobi walked victorious to the counter and began, at last, to eat. Behind him, a white-haired young man sat up, ruffling his dishevelled hair as a hood fell from his head.

He turned around with a sheepish smile, shuffling back to the kitchen.

“Be gentle, Hob-ah,” he grumbled on his way past, though there was no malice behind it.

Hobi only laughed loudly in return, turning as the white-haired man came past and playfully hit at his shoulder.

“You’re all brats!” Hope claimed loudly, waving half a sandwich in the air. He was laughing so hard you were concerned for a moment he would fall clean off the chair.

As yet, the new man hadn’t noticed your blatant staring. Luckily, your attention was diverted before he could see your saucer-like eyes. Unluckily, it was diverted by the entrance of a certain Jungkook.

Jimin had been the first to stop laughing. Looking around, you became aware of the tall figure hanging back in the shadows on the other side of the living room.

The raucous joy that had filled the kitchen froze over very quickly as the other occupants noticed him. Cold, piercing eyes scanned over the space, but undeniably landed on you. Struck dumb, you merely stared back as his calculating gaze bored into you.

Setting his jaw, his gaze snapped away, fleeting over the rest of the room for a moment before he turned and left.

Sliding from his chair, Jimin dropped his remaining lunch back onto his plate.

“Jungkook-” he called, shoulders drooping when there was no response. With a sigh he followed after the younger man.

You watched him go, and then watched the empty doorway he had left through. When at last you turned slowly back to the kitchen, Hoseok sent you a grimace.

“Sorry it’s taking him a while to warm up,” he said, as if that was consolation. It didn’t seem as if Jungkook was trying to ‘warm up’ to you at all.

You produced no reply, but were saved the trouble as the white-haired man joined you. For the first time, he looked at you, eyes roaming over your face, still surely littered with scrapes from the previous night.

“You look better than yesterday,” he commented.

You blinked.

“I’m sorry… have we met?”

“Yoongi,” he nodded, sinking onto a chair. Then, “you should eat that.”

That had hardly explained anything, but you complied anyway, picking up your food. Once you had finally finished your sandwich, the quiet was disrupted by Namjoon entering. Nodding once at you, he headed across to the kitchen.

Seeing him again, you were reminded of the ‘business’ call that had taken him from you earlier on. Eyes lingering on his back as he busied himself grabbing a mug and plate from the cupboards, your curiosity swelled within you. You were sure you had seen who was calling him. Though your life before Bolt – and all that happened since – seemed so distant, you couldn’t help your keen interest.

On the edge of your seat, you chewed on your lip until you couldn’t hold it any more.

“How’s Kuyang?” you blurted.

The others’ eyes snapped to you. Namjoon froze.

Slowly, he turned around, faint frown lining his face. You never dropped his questioning stare.

“He’s… fine,” he spoke.

“Sorry,” Hope looked lost, “you know Kuyang?”

Before you could do more than nod, Yoongi spoke up too.

“He’s fine? How did he get away from Bolt?”

“That’s not important.” Namjoon strode across the kitchen, “but how do you know Kuyang?”

“I was his secretary.”

You had hoped your honesty might prompt Namjoon to reciprocate, but no such luck. His reason for involvement with Kuyang was promptly forgotten. Hobi gasped at your news; Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly as if something was dawning on him.

But Namjoon beat him to it.

“That explains why you were hit by Bolt,” he said.

“We thought you were just a bystander that got unlucky,” Hobi chipped in.

Just as you opened your mouth to return to your original question, Namjoon turned away from the table. Swiping his food from the counter, he marched away.

Halfway across the room, he paused with a look over his shoulder. Maybe he would give in and tell you at last?

“I suggest you rest,” he told you instead, “Jungkook is going to help you practise some more tomorrow.”

Thank you for reading!! I'm so looking forward to hearing what you thought🥰

Updates are every Sunday! Let me know if you would like to join the taglist💜💜

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities @dvalities @parapiop7 @taiwan0618 @11thenightwemet11 @junniesoleilkth @doctorquack @oddinary4bts @svnbangtansworld @ktownshizzle @minisugakoobies @jksusawife @kokoandkookie @veemegatron @kookxin

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts series #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook x you #jungkook mafia #bts mafia au #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #superhero bts #supervillain bts #bts comic au #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk fic #bts found family

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teriri-sayes · 4 months

Text

Reactions to Cale Snow's Chapter 235

TL;DR - Gashan gets everyone to leave because of Archie's presence. Gashan is amazed at Clopeh's genius. Archie interferes in the fight between the dragons. Archie and Rasheel bicker. Rasheel wins in close combat against Kendall.

Crazy Genius Clopeh You know, I feel like Clopeh is one of the author's fave characters. Because she gets very descriptive whenever Clopeh makes an appearance. Take today's chapter. We have entire paragraphs of Gashan analyzing how much of a genius Clopeh is when it comes to combat. 😂

Lock, Gashan, and the Aipotu wolf beastmen had heard the explosion in the mountain and came to investigate, but Clopeh suddenly appeared and explained the situation. What surprised Gashan was that he did not feel Clopeh's presence at all.

Gashan suspected that this change happened because of HD's teachings. Before that, Clopeh's presence could easily be felt. However, Clopeh said that this was something he learned from CH.

What followed afterwards was Gashan's very long analysis of Clopeh's skills, and his conclusion that Clopeh was a dangerous genius. And I'm laughing because this entire analysis took up a quarter of the chapter. 🤣🤣🤣

Rasheel and Archie Oh dear, I was so excited when Archie made an appearance today. And it did not disappoint when I read how the two bickered at each other. 😂

Archie: *heads to the scene of the fight* Narrator: The ground broke and a huge chunk of stone flew towards Archie. Archie: Damn it! *breaks stone* Why are you throwing this at me! Is this dragon crazy! Rasheel: Hey, whale bastard! Why are you trying to get involved in a fight I've already won! Archie: What already won! I tried to help because you look like you're being beaten up! Rasheel: Stop lying! I can tell you're just a battle-crazed bastard! Archie: I'M NOT! Narrator: The moment Archie saw the rock that Rasheel threw at him, he got angry and unconsciously spoke informally to the dragon. This was because there was no Paseton, Witira, or Cale to stop him. Archie: Argh, this is frustrating! Rasheel: I'm frustrated too! Kendall: ... *shocked*

And it was amusing to see Archie's provocations again. 😂

Kendall: How dare two similar- Archie: *crosses arms and tilts head* Similar? Archie: *looks up and down Kendall* Looking at you, aren't you similar to him (Rasheel)? Kendall: You-!!!! *gets angry*

Indomitable Rasheel Fortunately, Rasheel won in the end. He figured out that Kendall was actually weak in close combat, and with his indomitable will, he managed to push through and grab Kendall's collar before landing a punch on the face! YES! I believed in you, Rasheel! 🥰

Ending Remarks Today was a fun chapter with Gashan's thoughts on Clopeh, and Archie's appearance. I guess Archie interfering in the fight foiled Clopeh's sneak attack plan. Now, I'm looking forward to Cale's reaction when he sees the Rasheel-Archie team.

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family

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kazumist · 11 months

Text

EPISODE 7 ★ FUZZY FEELING

FAKE IT TILL WE MAKE IT — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU

masterpost / prev ep / next ep / timestamps don't matter

scaramouche must have been crazy.

seriously? a date? it was the last thing you expected! however, if you were going to pretend to be a couple, going on dates is actually a given. and like you said in your message to him:

we both have to suck it up.

even if that means having your first date with the guy you hate.

luckily enough, the awkward ride to the aquarium ended faster than you expected. but now that you’re here, how does one enjoy an aquarium date anyway? or what does one even talk about on their first date in general?

these were the questions running through both of your heads as you mindlessly wandered around.

“hey,” scaramouche starts.

“hmm?”

“this fish looks a lot like childe for some reason.”

when you turned to look at what he was looking at, you seriously had to hold back a loud laugh. because why does the fish actually look like childe? “that’s a clownfish, right?” you ask him.

“you know about these things?”

“not really; i just watched finding nemo back then as a kid.”

“oh wait, here’s the description. yeah, it’s a clownfish, and it seems like even their description fits childe even more,” scaramouche says, pointing his head at a podium nearby with his hands inside his pockets.

“clownfish are active and territorial fish with an erratic swimming pattern who sometimes appear to be doing acrobatics while defending the area around their anemone," you read aloud. “see? it fits him perfectly.”

“are you saying childe seems to do acrobatics sometimes?”

“no, i’m saying that he’s way too hyper for his own good.”

“isn’t that supposed to be venti, though?”

“they’re practically the same kind; does it really matter who is who?”

you laugh at his response.

maybe this isn’t so bad. just maybe.

with the sun almost setting, your little trip to the aquarium ends, and you both decide to stop by a cafe on the way home.

but unfortunately, the awkward tension comes back.

what now? are you supposed to say, “hey, i had fun today,” and just move along? are you supposed to ask, “so how did the date go for you? did you have fun like i did?” you couldn’t find the right words to say, but you couldn’t stand this awkward atmosphere either.

“i… kinda had fun today.”

can this guy read minds or something?

"likewise."

time flew by faster than you expected, and now you were walking out of the cafe with scaramouche. “thanks for today, even though i was kinda against it at first,” you said.

“i hope you realize that we have to do this often if we really want to be convincing.”

“yeah, yeah, i get it. give me a break. who would’ve thought that i would be going on a date with you, of all people?”

“why do you sound so icked by the thought of going out with me?” he rolled his eyes.

“because i am icked by it, smart ass.”

“says the one who equally enjoyed the day like i did?”

“sorry, my pride is too high to make me admit that i actually enjoyed your company.”

he shakes his head at your response. how very… likely of you to say such a thing.

“i guess this is goodbye, then?” scaramouche asks.

“yeah. why? do you not want the day to end?”

“don’t put words into my mouth.”

“you didn’t really deny it, you know.”

“why are you like this?”

“why shouldn’t i be like this?”

from your peripheral vision, you could see a familiar sight of blue-ish white hair as well as a blonde walking nearby. since they didn’t really know that this wasn’t real, you acted out of impulse. but what did you do exactly?

you kissed scaramouche on the cheek and waved him goodbye, just like that.

extra notes.

i didn't expect this chapter to be so long uhm idk im 50/50 on the narrations bc deadass it was hard 2 write for me ... OTL

theyre kinda getting close! emphasize on kinda though

more silly little romance in the next chapter haha pls stay tuned

synopsis.

what happens when scaramouche, your rival since the first year of highschool, had some annoying admirers on his back? easy—he (fake) dates you to shoo them off. nothing can possibly go wrong with faking a relationship with the guy you hate, right?

spoiler: apparently, a lot can go wrong.

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#( smau — fake it till we make it ! )#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smau #wanderer smau #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin smau #x reader

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softspaceboibrian · 2 years

Text

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy || Eddie Munson || Chapter 3

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Y/N Henderson || I used she/her pronouns, but there is no actual physical description, so the pronouns can be switched with whatever anyone wants or prefers!

Summary: is this a date?

Warnings: swear words; mutual pining, like a lot; Steve being a douche, again (I'm sorry, but he's overprotective of his BFFs). just a lot of fluff and bad writing, as always!

WC: 4829 (I was finally able to write something shorter!! yey me!)

A/N: Thank you again to everyone for the support! i love you all so much <3 just remember to comment or write me a message if you want to be added to the taglist!! Also, look at those puppy eyes in the gif!!

Taglist: @263adder @criminalyetminimal @christina-gg22 @beautyandthenovels @eddiesrealgfsara @yournan69 @lovesleepybearwriter @phantomxoxo @mushywutty @authorlovers @sxwyxr @jessyballet

It was five minutes before the last bell of the day when Eddie walked out of the school. He hated being stuck in the corridors with all those people, so he always found an excuse to leave class early, so he had enough time to go and collect his stuff from his locker and then go outside, maybe even get going if he had a deal to make. But that day, when he walked out of the main entrance, he was surprised to see a familiar figure sitting on the stairs outside, with a book in her hands. She almost looked angelic right then, with the sunlight washing over her, the gentle breeze of early spring slightly moving her hair. Think of a scene out of a movie, the one where the main character sees the love interest, and time seems to slow down. It felt exactly like that. So much that he wasn’t even sure he wanted to disturb her.

“Y/N?” He called out her name. When she turned around and realised who it was, she smiled, and Eddie was taken aback for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

She waited for him to come and take a seat next to her. “I refused to vivisect a frog during science.” She replied, putting a bookmark in between the pages she was just reading.

“You were kicked out of class?!” He looked sincerely shocked.

She chuckled and shook her head. “No, I was excused!”

“How is that possible? If I refused to do something in class, I would probably be sent to the principle straight away.” He leaned backwards, propping his elbows on the step right above and kicking his head back.

She turned slightly towards him, crossing her legs. “Well, for starters, I have one of the highest GPAs of the entire school.”

“Are you saying they would treat me differently if I had higher grades?”

“Well, I don’t know, but it’s possible.” She sighed. “But I think that the biggest thing was that I explained my reasoning behind my decision. Meaning, I explained why I didn’t feel comfortable putting a knife in a frog, despite the animal being already dead.”

“I never really cared about frogs; you know? That’s probably why I liked that activity.”

“Well, I care about frogs. Frogs and all other animals.” She explained. And Eddie found comfort in her love for all creatures.

There were a few moments of silence, Y/N toying with the laces of her forest green Chuck Taylors, and Eddie simply trying not the stare at her hands, her hair, or at her in general. He thought about taking out a cigarette and lighting it, but imagined she didn’t like the smell, maybe she was even bothered by it, so he thought it better to just resist the urge. You know, for her.

“We should probably move from here.” She broke the silence after a few moments. “The bell is going to ring any moment now and I wouldn’t want us to get walked over by everyone.” She stood up from her spot, putting her backpack on her shoulders, and then putting out a hand as a way of helping him get up.

He stared at her for a second, before taking her hand and pulling himself up. However, neither of them had taken into consideration how close together their feet were, so when Eddie stood up, he literally crashed into her, making her stumble backwards. “I got you.” He said almost under his breath, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her back closer to himself. Useless to say that Eddie didn’t want to let her go ever again. Being so close to her made his heart thump, and he didn’t feel comfortable with that sensation, but still, from this close he could smell the perfume she put on every morning. Creep, he told himself, trying to force his own hands to let go of her, but unable to do so.

On her part, Y/N didn’t mind the closeness at all. Actually, she enjoyed the warmth that radiated from his body, from his hands on her hips, and almost wished the bell wouldn’t ring, so that they could stay like that forever. But that moment, which felt like minutes long, was abruptly interrupted by the odious bell, echoing from inside the building. Without thinking, Eddie grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her away from the stairs, already hearing the buzz of teenagers ready to go home.

“So,” Eddie said, as he stopped somewhere far from the river of students pushing and yelling to get away from that place. “Why did you want me to meet you here?”

Y/N looked at him, a soft, almost embarrassed smile forming on her lips, as her cheeks slowly turned pink. “I just… wanted to spend a bit more time with you.” Eddie couldn’t help but stare into her eyes, unable to look away. She wanted to spend time with him. “I mean, I was going to use the English assignment as an excuse, but we could also work on the D&D story, if you prefer. Or we could just… talk. Maybe eat something, watch a movie…” Was she asking him out on a date? Was that a date? Or just an afternoon between friends? “I mean if you want… I didn’t even ask you if you were free.”

“I was supposed to meet with my friends.” He really did have band practice that afternoon.

“Fuck, sorry.” She immediately said, taking a step back a looking away. “Ehm… we, we could do this another time, if you want. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry.” He chuckled, taking a step towards her. “But don’t worry. I had already cancelled.” No, he didn’t. But his mates would understand, right? “I’m free.” She looked at him, waiting for him to say more, as if she needed him to say it out loud to be 100% sure. “We could go to my place.” The smile that formed on her lips was the best reward. Fuck, he thought, I need to stay calm or else I’m going to fuck it up.

Eddie was ready to grab her hand and take her to his car, to get going, but they both heard a familiar voice. “Dude!” They turned around and noticed Robin jogging towards them, followed by someone else. “You did the right thing by leaving the class. I almost threw up at one point!” She laughed. “Hey, Munson!” She smiled at Eddie.

“Buckley” He replied with a quick smile. A smile that faded just as quickly as it had appeared when he realised who was following Robin.

“Y/N, are you ready to go?” Steve Harrington took off his sunglasses and Eddie immediately felt the same urge he had felt until the previous year: the urge to punch him in the face.

“Actually,” Y/N looked at Eddie, then Robin, and finally Steve. “I’m not coming with you today.”

“Is your mom picking you up? I thought I saw your brother leaving on his bike.” Steve hang his glasses on the collar of his t-shirt.

Y/N took a deep breath, as she already knew how he was going to react. “No, Steve.” She shook her head. “I’m leaving with Eddie.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going… out.” She said, not really sure what to say.

“But you always go out with me and Robin when we have a free afternoon.” He almost whined. Why was he acting like this?

Y/N looked at him for a few seconds, confused. “And? That doesn’t mean it’s mandatory or anything. I like going out with you. But today I want to go out with Eddie.” Eddie’s heart leaped at that sentence. Did you hear that? She wants to spend time with me.

After a few moments of silence, Steve walked up to her and took her by the wrist, pulling her away. Eddie was so ready to throw himself at him, to stop him, but thought it better to just let them talk. “What kind of game are you playing here, Y/N? Huh? You can’t go out with him.”

“Why? Is there some kind of law that prohibits me from doing it? I don’t think so.” Even though she tried to keep her voice as quiet and as low as possible, Eddie could still hear everything they said.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, do you? He’s not a good person.”

“Fuck you, Steve! You’re not my mom. Actually, my mom likes Eddie, so I think that means it’s not a problem to her if I go on a date with him.” A date? Eddie was shocked, just like all the others present. So, that was a date!

“A date? Really?” Steve was now raising his voice, no longer caring whether Eddie Munson could hear them.

“Yes, a date.” And as she said that she could feel warmth raising to her cheeks, knowing full well Eddie was looking at her. They hadn’t said anything about a date, and she hope, she truly hoped he was okay with it. “So, now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re making me late to my date.” With that being said, she freed herself from Steve’s hold and walked back towards Eddie and Robin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” She said to her best friend. And as she nodded back to her with a smile, she grabbed the raven-haired boy’s hand and walked away.

Eddie simply followed her. A part of him wanted to stop her right there, in the middle of the car park, and kiss her, but he didn’t. He just walked beside her, squeezing her hand just to let her know he was with her. When they reached his car, neither of them said anything. They just got in and sat there for a moment.

She was the one to break the silence, eventually. “I’m sorry about that.” Her voice came out almost as a whisper, and when Eddie turned to look at her, he realised her eyes were now glossy. “I truly am sorry. I hate him when he acts like this.”

Eddie reached out his hand, placing it gently on hers. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. At least once a day I hear people calling me a freak, or making fun of me and stuff. So, I’m used to it.”

“But it’s not right.” She whispered, closing her eyes. “You shouldn’t be used to it.”

“Don’t worry, okay? It doesn’t hurt me anymore.” He smiled softly, trying to get her attention by briefly squeezing her hand. “Hey, I’m okay.”

“But I’m not.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “I’m not okay with it. I know I can’t do much about other people, but Steve is supposed to be my best friend, for fuck’s sake. He should support me! So, if I like you, he should at least try to like you as well, right?”

“He obviously doesn’t like me. And I can’t blame him, because I don’t like him either.” It was only then that she finally turned her head to him. “I mean, look at me and look at him. We’re polar opposites. He was on the basketball team, while I played D&D in a room in the basement. He had girls all over him, while I barely have friends. He probably listens to Duran Duran and Bon Jovi, while I love Dio and Metallica.” He chuckled. “You know, I’m surprised you would even want to go out with me instead of going out with someone like him.”

“Why is it so hard to believe I may like you?” Her voice was still soft, a whisper. “Why can’t I just go out with whomever I want?”

“Oh, princess, you can go out with anyone you like, really. And if that someone ends up being me, then I’ll be the luckiest motherfucker in Hawkins.” He smiled, one hand still holding hers, while the other found its way to her cheek, stroking it ever so gently. His eyes stared into hers as she melted into his touch. And right there he swore he could drown in those eyes, he could live like that, if she only gave him the chance. “Should we go to my place?”

Eddie’s voice was so calm and soft, his smile gentle. Y/N felt the urge to throw her arms around him, to pulling him close and just lay her head on his chest. But she didn’t. She simply nodded, laying her back against the leather seat. However, she did not let go of his hand, holding it tight, and hoping Eddie would not let go as well. And so it was: Eddie drove for most of the time with only one hand on the wheel, and if he needed to also used his other hand, he would then put it immediately back on hers.

Neither of them said much on the drive to his place, finding comfort in the silence, in the sounds of the car’s engine and the nature around them. Eddie would never admit it, but he had always hated silence. He hated being left alone with his thoughts for too long. Which is weird, since he geneally spent most of his time outside of school by himself. Not by choice, obviously, but he was alone most of the time. That’s why he spent so much time listening to music and trying to learn how to play new songs on his beloved guitar. Like Master of Puppets by Metallica. It had just come out a couple of weeks before and he had already listened to that tape for who knows how many times. But with Y/N it was different, it was a different kind of silence. He enjoyed that kind of silence. That was probably why he was disappointed to see the trailer park appear in the distance. He entered the park and pulled up in front of his own trailer. Well, his uncle’s. And in that exact moment he started regretting inviting her over. What was she going to think? She lived in a beautiful home and he lived in a trailer with his uncle. As soon as they got out of the car, Eddie sprinted towards the door, trying to see if it was okay to let her in. It wasn’t a tidy place. He wasn’t a tidy person. But it could have been worse.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” He said, opening the door and moving to the side to let her in. “I know it’s not the best, but… it’s home.”

Y/N looked around briefly, a smile on her lips. “It’s nice. Cosy.” She said, turning to look at him.

“You don’t have to say that. I know it’s terrible-”

“I’m not just saying it.” She interrupted him. “I truly think it’s nice!” She walked past him, still looking around the space. "When I was young, I remember I wanted to live in an RV.” Eddie chuckled at the idea of a small Y/N telling her parents she wanted to live in an RV. “I thought it was so cool, you had everything you need, no stairs, no great distances between your bedroom and the kitchen. And the coolest part was obviously the fact that it wasn’t permanent.” She laughed. “I was so excited at the idea of moving around the country, and not only during summer vacations. If one day I woke up and decided I wanted to wake up the next morning in front of the sea, I could have just moved to the seaside and parked my house on the beach.” She eventually turned back to face him and blushed when she realised that he was looking at her like that. “Sadly, we never even spent a week in an RV. My parents hated the idea. Then, when it was just my mom, she even stopped wanting to go away from Hawkins for a couple of days.”

“Well, now you can come over here whenever you want and pretend you are in and RV.” Eddie laughed, as he walked closer to her. Fuck. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so bad. He wanted to put his hands on either side of her face and pull her in. He wanted to press his lips on hers. He didn’t need an aggressive kiss, like one from those scenes in movies where the lovers finally realise that they are meant for each other, so they run to one another, their bodies crashing together, as they engage in a passionate kiss, biting lips and tongues dancing. No, that’s not what he needed nor wanted. He wanted a gentle kiss, one that transpires every single emotion, every single feeling, every single word. All the I need you’s and the I love you’s that had been hanging there, in the air, flowing in that kiss. But he could not kiss her like that. So, he just stood there.

“Show me you room” She said. And Eddie panicked. Why would she want to see his room? His room was messy. He barely liked his room himself. “Come on! I need to know more about you! You saw my room and found out I have a major crush on Brian May. You show me your room and maybe I’ll find out whom you have a crush on.” She chuckled, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “Please!”

She somehow made her eyes bigger than they usually were, and Eddie lost his words for a moment. Fuck, don’t look at me like that. “Fine.” He sighed. “Just, don’t judge me, okay? It’s… it’s messy.” Still holding her hand, he walked her to his room. When he put his hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath before opening the door. “This is it.”

Y/N walked pass Eddie and into the room. She looked around, like she did when she first entered the trailer, but this time he could tell she wasn’t simply “looking”. She was studying. He kept his eyes on her, scared to death she might just turned to him and laugh. Her room was much bigger than his. She had a whole collection of vinyls and an entire wall stacked to the top with books of every size. He had a chest full of tapes, most of them sneakily recorded as he “borrowed” them from the music store. He had a few books scattered all around the room. His bedroom was a mess. He was a mess. And he was scared she would notice it. But instead, she took a seat on his bed.

“You still play?” She pointed to the guitar hanging on the wall.

Eddie's eyes followed her finger, looking briefly at the instrument, then back at her. “What?” How did she knew about him playing? He had never talked about it with her. Did Dustin say something?

“Corroded Coffin, right?”

He looked at her obviously confused, but mostly surprised that she knew that name. “How do you know about that?”

“We went to the same middle school.”

“Impossible! I would have remembered you!”

“I was very different back then than I am now.” She sighed. “And I was good at blending in the background.” She looked down, almost embarrassed. “But I remember you...”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes…” Her cheeks turned slightly red. And at that point Y/N couldn’t help but think back to her middle school years, those terrible years. It had been hell for her. She looked very different, but she liked the same things she did now. And people made fun of her because of that. People made fun of her for dressing up as Bowie for Halloween. People made fun of her for wanting to read during lunch break instead of talking about boys. Not that she didn’t like boys. She liked boys. And girls too. And maybe that was the reason she tried to avoid talking about crushes and stuff. She was afraid people might start bullying her for that too. But she did have a crush on someone. There was this kid, he was two years older than her, he had a buzzcut. She remembered going to the school’s talent show and watching him play with his band. Many thought they were lame because they weren’t very good. But she thought they were awesome. She thought he was cool. But when, after the show, she had finally gathered enough courage to go and talk to him, maybe even just to become friends with him, she heard him talk with his bandmates about that blonde girl in her year that was doing that cheerleading number. He heard someone say that she was pretty, and she took it for granted it was him. So, she just ran away. Then he moved to high school the next year and she no longer saw him for some time. Until she moved to Hawkins High. And he was there. He no longer had a buzzed head, and tattoos had started appearing on his arms. He obviously didn’t know who she was or even if she existed, but still, she couldn’t help but look at him in the cafeteria, or smile when he walked down the hallway and their eyes met for a split second. She was head over hills for him. She had been for a long time. But he had never even talked to her until two days before. And now she was sitting on his bed. On a date with him? If she had told Steve when he was still in school that she had a crush on him, he would have made fun of her. He would have reacted similarly to how he had reacted the day before during their car ride, calling her crazy because he was not a good person, because he smoked and was a freak. But she knew him better than he did, better than anyone did. She had watched him for so long, hoping that he would just look at her, smile at her even. And in the meantime, she had learned things about him. She had learned that he played an invisible guitar whenever he was bored in class, moving his hand under the desk and moving his fingers like he would on the strings. She knew that he bounced his leg when he was stressed because she saw him do that during tests. He would always put his tongue out a bit whenever he was concentrating. He enjoyed spending time with his D&D friends, but he really had a soft spot for her brother: she had noticed the change in his demeanour when Dustin had joined Hellfire, and how he acted differently whenever Dustin was around or not. That was something that drew her even more to him. She loved her brother with all her heart, and the guy she had feelings for – feelings she would never admit to have – treated her brother like that. She had won. Well, not yet at least, since he had started talking to her only the day before. But they were on a date now. And that must have meant something.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” Eddie took a seat next to her, close enough so that if either of them where to slightly move their leg, then they would be pressed against one another’s.

“Play something for me, would you?”

Her request took him by surprise, especially after that long moment of silence. “You don’t like the music I know how to play.”

She turned to look at him and smiled. “Try me.”

He looked at her for a moment before he got up from his seat to go and take his guitar off the wall. “Any request?” He asked as he leaned against the chest of drawers, putting the guitar strap around him.

“Play a song you like. Any song.” She moved a bit back on the bed, crossing her legs and propping her head on her hand. “Maybe I’ll surprise you with my knowledge.” She winked at him.

Right then and there, he wanted to run outside and scream. He wanted to scream because the woman of his dreams was sitting on his bed, asking him to play her a song. He had dreamt about that moment a million times, and now that it was actually happening, it didn’t feel real. Please, someone, punch me in the face. Actually, no, don’t do it. If it’s a dream, don’t let me wake up. He took a stray pick from his jacket’s pocket and cracked his neck, before shifting around a bit, trying to find a comfortable position. He had to play something cool, something that she would find cool. He took a look around the room, looking for inspiration. That’s it, he thought. And so, he began playing.

He played for a little over three minutes, just standing there, and Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She had played the image of him playing his guitar at the middle school’s talent show over and over in his head, trying to imagine how he would have looked today. But no imagine that she had created in her head could have compared to what she had right now in front of her. That wasn’t just cool. He looked hot. He was there, with a concentrated look on his face, his little tongue slipping out, but then moving to biting his bottom lip. Fuck me. She thought. And she meant that in every possible way. When eventually Eddie finished the song, she didn’t know what to say, afraid that if she spoke too soon, she might actually confess whatever she was thinking in that moment. So, she waited for him to put back the guitar and come lay on the bed next to her.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, before turning his head slightly to the side, catching a glimpse of her smile. “So, did you enjoy it?”

Hell yes, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it so much that, if I didn’t have a bit of self-control, I would be all over you right now. “Very much.” She replied, moving her hair behind her ear. “I love Too Young To Fall In Love.”

Eddie propped himself up on his elbow, a surprised look on his face. “You know Mötley Crüe?”

“I must say, I may be a bit mainstream, but I really like Shout At The Devil.” She smiled. “And I also enjoy Too Fast For Love.”

A song about sex. Did she just explicitly told him she liked a song about sex? “How do you know about Mötley Crüe?” He was still confused about that first fact, about the fact that she knew that band. “I thought you listened to Bowie and Queen.”

��Yes, and they are my favourites! But they’re not the only artists I like!” She laughed. “I told you I would surprise you with my knowledge!”

He had spent so long thinking she was so different from him, that they would not have much in common, and then, in less than two days he found out not only that she like the same authors he did, but she also enjoyed some of the artists he loved. Marry me. And if that wasn’t enough, she understood him more than anyone had ever done in his entire life. He had never been a big fan of theories such as that of soulmates, linked to one another by an invisible string. He had always thought it was stupid and that soulmates didn’t exist. But in that moment, lying there on his bed next to her, he could feel his heart change. He felt like he had always known her in some way, or that they were destined to meet, maybe even to be together.

“I think you’re really good, by the way.” She said, eventually lying down as well, rolling onto her side so that she could look at him.

“Nah, I’ve played for so long, I should be better than this by now.” He rolled on his side as well, now facing her.

“Maybe you just have to learn how to play something from a different genre. It might give you a fuller experience and you might even learn something from it.” She smiled, only a few inches dividing them. “That’s what I did when I found myself writing the same things over and over. I wrote something completely different, and that helped me find a new perspective.”

He looked at her, fighting with his entire body the urge to touch her, to kiss her. “I could learn to play something you like.”

She bit the inside of her lip, trying to keep herself from smiling too much. “You would? For me?” She asked, thinking he was just making fun of her.

Anything for you, he thought. But the words didn’t come out of his mouth. So, he simply nodded.

“Well, in that case, my favourite song is Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears for Fears” She said, moving forward to place a soft kiss of his cheek.

Eddie’s heart started racing, leaping, and he felt like his stomach was all tied in knots. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t say a word. Fuck, he thought to himself. I’m fucked. He kept looking at her. Am I falling in love?

A/N: so, if nothing happens, tomorrow I will finally go to London for my vacation, and I'll be back on Monday! I'll write the fourth chapter then! In the meantime, enjoy this! Don't forget to let me know if you liked this! Love you, my lovelies <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things #st4 #softspaceboibrian #softspaceboibrian writings

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A Tarnished Copper Boy (15)

Previous | Next | Ao3 Last chapter, Eddie discovered that everyone has a functioning gaydar but himself, including Wayne. Steve and Eddie talked about, respectively, their sexual/dating experience and inexperience, and it all ended in a thrilling chase and first kiss in the woods.

Chapter 15: Fright Night

The subtle rustle of pages turning is the only sound in the trailer, a soothing rhythm echoed in the measured stroking of Steve’s fingers through Eddie’s hair. Steve lays lounged across the couch, folded magazine in one hand while Eddie sits on the brown and white carpet, head pillowed against the plush muscle of Steve’s thigh and reading one of Catherine’s medical textbooks.

The human body really can get filthy, he reflects. It’s sort of cool that people have worked out ways to see the invisible, but he also now understands why she keeps emphasising that he needs to wash his hands.

It's getting harder to keep his focus though while Steve’s fingers absently find their way through the strands of his long hair. The words in front of Eddie become unfocused as his eyes soften, lids shuttering close until a relaxed sigh escapes from the depths of his chest. He might just start purring and become the cat that Steve keeps crediting him as being.

But it’s just so nice. Eddie wants to put a more complicated label on it than that simply because he likes the feel of description in his mouth, but Steve’s gentle yet firm, persistent touches leave Eddie often feeling loose-limbed and nice.

And Steve has been persistent. Casually and never in an intrusive or unwanted way; rather, Eddie often luxuriates in the attention. But the affection Steve had shown before in nonchalantly holding onto his hand or pressing a warm palm to his back as he moved past has kicked up a notch. Like he had been restraining himself.

Now his physical affection overflows in little strokes of his fingers across Eddie’s neck when he walks past, dragging his palms over Eddie’s hips as they stand together, or drawing Eddie’s legs into his lap to play with the little curls of hair at the base of his ankle. Never with the expectation of more, but simply as a demonstration of the warmth and affection that clearly powers Steve’s heart and hands. However, more often than not, Steve’s attention leaves Eddie squirming in his seat until he’s worked his way into his lap, kissing him heatedly from above.

While they’ve certainly earned a mature rating they’ve not done much more than getting wound up as they rub up against each other. Steve’s resolution in the woods somehow developing into let’s give Eddie time to work up to the big stuff. But what actually has Eddie beating off twice a day in the bathroom and wondering how big a sign he has to give Steve that they need to take it up a level.

It doesn’t help that Wayne’s around half the time either. Their bed innocently creaking as they settle each evening in a way that haunts Eddie; the stupidly imaginative part of his brain vividly paints the image of his uncle in the next room, eyes wide and traumatised as he has no choice but to hear him and Steve going at it. The cold shudder of the thought has any hint of arousal draining away.

And the living room is just as precarious. Eddie had Steve where he’d wanted just last night, nibbling on his neck on the couch and grinding his thigh against the hardness in his jeans, Steve’s eyes just this side of glassy that Eddie’s sure he could work into a loss of control, when they’d heard the rumble of Wayne’s truck outside. Grudgingly they had pulled apart, Eddie heading into their bedroom to make himself decent, and Steve to calm down in the kitchen, turning on the stovetop that he had hastily shut off after Eddie jumped him.

He hears the magazine crinkle before Steve says, “Hey, when this is released on video, we should hire it. I think you’d like it.” Eddie reluctantly opens his eyes to spot the recommended movie section at the back of Steve’s TV Guide. A small square shows the picture of a ghostly creature looming over a house covered in shadows, Fright Night printed above it with the t’s in the shape of vampire stakes.

“I like vampires,” he agrees languidly, but spotting the opening dates an idea begins to form.

“It’s fun,” Steve says, drawing the magazine away. “Sort of campy, like it plays with a lot of the things you’d expect from old horror movies.” He snaps his finger in memory, “Like it references itself — meta.”

“Robin?” Eddie asks knowingly. Steve had mentioned her love for cinema and also his noble sacrifice in watching double VHS for her. Now, he grins sheepishly, “Yeah, but I really did like watching it; I think you would too.”

“What if,” Eddie starts cautiously, “We pick a night that is usually pretty empty of moviegoers and we hit the drive-in? It’s already out, we could do it this week.”

Steve’s face twists with regret, “Eddie, no. Even the woods are pushing it.”

Eddie moves up onto his knees, pressing himself over Steve’s torso, eyes wide and earnest, “Come on. You hide in the back of the van and once the movie starts no one’s going to be looking over at us. Especially if I pull it around to the back, the doors will shelter us from any looky-loos.”

Steve nibbles his lip, clearly torn. “It would be nice to get out, just once.” Eddie lights up, squirming in excitement. “But just once,” he warns seriously.

Eddie nods solemnly and Steve’s stern face relents, giving way to a soft expression as he draws Eddie’s head closer with a hand tenderly cupping the back of his head. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, he murmurs, “You’re always looking out for me.”

Eddie blushes, he’s only suggesting a movie not taking the guy out to Enzos or anything. He sighs wistfully as he settles back into his seat, Enzos or any romantic date night is probably out of the question for Hawkins. He’s heard that there are places in the bigger cities that are more open, but it’s not happening here any time soon.

He thinks about it that afternoon and it’s not like he can make the van match the ambience of a candlelit dinner, but on the day he clears out the usual debris and stores soft blankets and pillows inside for them to recline on. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do.

Steve sees it later and hums an approving noise as he clambers into the back, making Eddie glow with a subtle gratification. The dark veil of night has fallen and the crickets are almost deafening, but he knows that Steve is likely reassured by the shadows helping to conceal him. Nevertheless, as Eddie starts the van, Steve speaks from behind the passenger seat. “You have to drive carefully,” he warns.

Eddie rolls his eyes while pushing Steve’s 1984 tape into the stereo, “I will.”

“Cause I can’t have Hopper or Callahan see me in the back of your van. Just pretend like I have a concussion or something.” Eddie laughs gently in memory, looking over the seats to Steve’s worried expression. “You caught that, huh?

“It was very different from your usual squeal around the corner,” Steve grimaces.

Eddie rolls his eyes again, carefully pulling off the gravel and onto the path, “And you did have a concussion.”

“Po-tae-toe, po-tah-ta.” Eddie can almost hear Steve’s sulky expression; it makes him grin and he turns up Jump just for his guy. He looks back a minute later and is amused to see Steve’s pout has disappeared as he enthusiastically sings along with the lyrics.

Eddie sticks to the speed limit and resists running over any old ladies at the stop signs. Steve thanks him dryly for the latter when he points it out. The ticket server doesn’t seem interested in checking the back, which only gives Eddie ideas for filling the van with his friends at another time. But overall, he says to Steve as he reverses, the giant screen behind them still black, this has been a success.

“Just wait here,” Eddie pats down his pocket to make sure he’s got his wallet, “I’ll go get popcorn.” He hears a rustling sound before Steve’s muffled voice comes through the van windows, “Okay, but don’t get ice cream, I got Wayne to get us a treat.”

Eddie shakes his head fondly, heading to the brightly lit service area where a scattering of people are lining up or sitting at the open-air benches. It looks like a bug zapper luring in the springtime insects what with the rest of the lot mostly cast in darkness. But as he looks around at the spread-out cars, he’s satisfied that he hadn’t been lying to Steve and that it’s unlikely anyone will be close enough to look into the van.

When he nears the counter there’s only one guy waiting for the server to come back with his purchase, a Hawkins High Tiger jacket slung over his back and blonde hair shining under the fluorescent lights. Eddie likes to keep clear of all jocks but one for the most part, so he’s annoyed at his limbs when he trips on air and accidentally jostles the guy. He immediately backs up, “Sorry. Sorry, that was my bad. Grace of a drunk elephant.”

Jason Carver glares absently over his shoulder like he can smell the trash even if he hasn’t spotted it yet. Once he sees that it’s Eddie though, his nose hitches up and lips curl. “Oh, it’s you. Any tables you want to jump on?”

Christ on a stick, it was one time and he’d been reciting Hamlet. Surely this stuck-up little princeling could appreciate that, at the very least. “Excuse me, my lord,” Eddie bows sarcastically at the prick, “I didn’t realise I was in the presence of royalty, should I trail behind at the required eleven paces.”

Jason frowns like he doesn’t get it, which doesn’t surprise Eddie. What almost does is when his eyes flick over Eddie’s shoulder as he looks for something, “You have a date?”

Excuse him, golden boy Steve Harrington called Eddie hot and he channels that satisfaction into ignoring the asshole so he can buy their treats and get back to said date. “Look dude, I could tell you to eat a bag of dicks, but I’m better than that. Let’s just get our shit and depart like the natural enemies of the school ecosystem that we are.”

“That’s a no.” Jason scoffs in amusement at his apparent wit and Eddie’s had enough: he’d apologised, he hadn’t kicked him in the shins when Jason had insulted his masterly performance, and now he thinks that he’s one-upped Eddie.

He takes in the clean-shaven, neat appearance of this Sunday school boy and closes his fingers to make devil’s horns, waving them in front of his forehead and sticking out his tongue in an obscene waggle. “You’re right my liege, I’ve come here for research. How does one raise the undead? Only time and Hawkin’s Drive-Through will tell.” He cackles, widening his eyes and stepping into Jason’s space.

Jason backs up, scowling at Eddie and reaches behind him to grab the large popcorn and drink that had been placed there while they talked. “You’re such a freak, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as Jason stomps away, letting his hands fall. At the side of his vision, he sees movement: Andy McLaughlin, clad similarly to Jason with neat hair and varsity jacket, is refilling his Coke at the free top-up and squinting over at Eddie. He figures Andy’s probably here with Jason and wonders whether they brought girlfriends or if this is a Steve and Tommy situation all over again. After Steve, Eddie isn’t assuming anyone’s sexuality anymore.

Andy’s still contemplating him with a pensive expression, so Eddie says with a touch of the exasperation that ripples through him, “You didn’t actually believe that did you?” Eddie may not think much of any Hawkins jock, but Andy’s never had that same self-righteousness that seems to permeate the very air around Jason.

“You shouldn’t do that around him,” Andy says slowly, releasing the button. A hissing sound follows as the tap closes. “He gets really wound up about religious stuff; you know, god and the devil and all that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes for small-town America, “Are you telling me that he thinks I’m a devil worshipper now? You do realise how batshit insane that is, right? If I had that sort of power under my fingertips, I wouldn’t put up with half the shit I do from you guys.”

Andy grimaces, “I imagine a few of us would find our heads suddenly in a swirly for one.”

Eddie grins: oh ho, this guy might have a sense of humour after all. “You have to be more imaginative than that. I’d at least make you stand in the middle of the cafeteria and confess your worst, most dark secrets. Nice and loud for the rest of us plebs.”

Ander shudders, but a hint of a smile plays around the edges of his mouth, “You don’t know what you’d be unlocking, dude. The things that happen at Benny’s after a game.”

Eddie laughs lightly; maybe Steve isn’t the exception to the rule after all. “Okay, thanks, man. I’ll take that under advisement. The thing about Jason and also how to really stick it to the Tigers if I suddenly acquire magic superpowers.” Andy snickers and Eddie wonders whether he should be going in the opposite direction, try to cultivate the devil-worshipper persona. It might keep peens like Jason off his back, too scared to cross the line and interact with the devil’s minion. But for now, he has his boy waiting in the van, and he’s not going to jeopardise Steve’s safety.

Andy nods amiably at him as he leaves and Eddie is struck again by what an ignorant prick Jason really is, thinking Eddie’s weird and alone. Half of that is true, sure; but if he only knew that Eddie had scored the best piece of ass that Hawkins has to offer. Probably not the bit about it being another dude though, that’d get the little pecker pulling out the pitchfork and flaming torches.

Eddie briefly wonders about it, as he heads back to the van with their popcorn, drink, and M&Ms for gooey melting shenanigans. Steve had said he wasn’t out and proud in Hawkins but nor did he hide who he is. When all this time fuckery has passed, would he want to not hide who he is with Eddie?

The way that he’d talked about his found family, Eddie thinks that Steve would want them to know that they’re together. Steve’s too open with Wayne for Eddie to think he’s going to hide him like a secret and he’d really like to tell his own friends that he has someone waiting at home. It’s a far-off fantasy since Eddie’s not sure when he’ll be ready to come out as gay, but he could at least introduce them. Possibly have Steve integrate into the group even.

He thinks Jeff would like Steve’s dry humour. Gareth would finally have an outlet to discuss the value of introducing synth into metal. He’s not sure what he’d have in common with Randy, but by the subtle play of displeasure on Steve’s face whenever he’s mentioned, Eddie doesn’t think he’d be gunning for best friends anyway. He should nip it in the bud really, as a responsible adult person capable of a healthy relationship. But after wanting Steve for so long, those little signs of jealousy give him a zip of satisfaction and Steve sees him grin every time, so he knows what Eddie’s doing anyway.

He looks around the lot before pulling open the van doors. Steve sits cross-legged behind them atop the pile of blankets and pillows. “It’s safe,” Eddie reassures him. “And the area is pretty empty, except for asshole jocks.”

Steve frowns and is about to open his mouth before Eddie realises what that sounded like. He laughs, “No, not you, sweetheart. Just one of the Tigers thinking he’s hot shit at the concession stand.”

“Who was it?” Steve asks with a frown, but at Eddie’s words he pales slightly.

“Jason Carver.” Eddie sits next to him, putting the snacks to the side to take his hand. “Hey, it’s okay. There’s no way he’s coming back round; usually, he wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole, but I sort of tripped and bumped into him. It was my fault.”

Steve rallies, Eddie is relieved to see, holding out a hand for the drink, which he sips pensively. They’d come early in case the plan went sideways so the screen remains blank for the moment, the tinny sounds of Hawkin’s local radio station playing in a faraway car. There’s enough darkness to see the twinkle of stars in the distance. Eddie nudges Steve with his elbow, “Come on, I was promised ice cream.”

Steve grins even as he curses, “Shit. They were already half-melted by the time we got here too. I should have pulled them out earlier, sorry.” Steve rustles with the bag, pulling out spoons and finally turning triumphantly with two cartons of ice cream. “Ta-dah. Popcorn and ice cream are a movie must, pick one.”

Playing along, Eddie gravely considers both containers while tapping his forefinger against his chin. He takes so long acting out his deliberation that Steve calls his name laughingly, “Come on, you asshole. Pick one before my hands drop off from the cold.”

Eddie chuckles, taking the obvious choice from Steve’s hand, “Butterscotch me thinks.” He leans over and presses a quick kiss against the warmth of Steve’s cheek, the slight scratch of his freshly shaved jaw tickling Eddie’s lips.

Steve hands over the tub along with a spoon from their kitchen, popping the lid off of the remaining choice, he offers, “We can share if you like, not the first time we’ve swapped spit.” He winks in a goofy manner that has Eddie groaning.

For a moment, Eddie indulges in thoughts of Steve leaning over into his space, personally spoon-feeding him a tab of ice cream. Taking it back only to lick the remnants off with his tongue, sliding the tip around like he’s imagining that it’s Eddie’s cock. Eddie shifts in his seat, telling himself to calm the fuck down; they’ve not even started the movie yet, Christ.

Despite the temptation, he still has to decline Steve’s offer. “Thanks, but I’m allergic to chocolate.”

Steve blinks rapidly, looking down at the rich swirl of chocolate dotted with chunks of marshmallows and nuts like it’s betrayed him. “So… you can’t eat rocky road. Like at all?”

“Not unless I want to break out into hives,” Eddie confirms. “Wayne has an epi-pen at home, but it shouldn’t get to that. But no. No rocky road, no classic chocolate, no triple chocolate, or chocolate brownies — all of which I’ve been assured is nirvana and I’m totally missing out on.”

Steve eyes the sweating tub in Eddie’s hands suspiciously, “And butterscotch?”

“No allergies,” Eddie hedges, looking swiftly away.

“But do you like it, normally?” Steve insists.

Eddie digs up a large scoop to shove it in his mouth, turning a disgusting smile to Steve as a distraction. He just gives him a flat look in return and Eddie swallows, laughing. “Okay, it’s not my favourite. But it’s fine. I like it, sweetheart. Nothing if not for the surprise; I like surprises.”

Steve nods to himself with a thoughtful frown, “Just no rocky road or butterscotch.”

“No probably not,” Eddie confirms, “Not unless I’m under duress.”

This seems to crack Steve up and he bursts into laughter, giggling as he looks between Eddie and the ice cream melting in his lap. Eddie chuckles with him, can’t help but laugh along at the cheer on Steve’s face, even if he doesn’t quite get the joke.

Finally, Steve wipes a wayward tear from the corner of his eye and puts his uneaten tub on the ground outside. “What are you doing?” Eddie asks, eyeing it.

Steve takes the spoon and butterscotch out of his hand, tossing the spoon aside and placing the ice cream next to the rocky road. He comes back, drawing Eddie closer with a hand at the back of his nape, “Well, I can’t kiss you if I have chocolate, so it’s been banned from the van.” He shifts his hands to gently cup Eddie’s face, meeting his lips in a gentle graze that speaks of a sweetness to rival the now-banished snacks.

“We’re too cool for them anyways,” Eddie murmurs, pressing back more firmly.

Steve bites Eddie’s lip, drawing a gasp from him as the sensation shoots down his spine. “That’s a punishable offence, baby.”

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

Tag list:

My tag list is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :)

@bookworm0690, @child-of-cthulhu, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @finntheehumaneater, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @gutterflower77, @hallucinatedjosten, @just-a-tiny-void, @ledleaf, @littlewildflowerkitten, @manda-panda-monium, @mightbeasleep, @nburkhardt, @newtstabber, @stillfullofshit, @tartarusknight

#it's date night my friends!#steddie #time travel #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #a tarnished copper boy #paperbackribs writing

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flowers-in-bloom13 · 6 months

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Another pjo fanfic I made and posted on AO3. This one is still being continued. Here are all the 3 parts of it!!! Btw it is Valgrace. And hurt/comfort<3

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Chapter 1. lonely hearts club

''--and then I said 'he's literally just a guy. hit him with your car' but it turns out she doesn't have a car so--'' Piper said, retelling an old story from the wilderness school. ''huh?'' Jason said. ''sorry I didn't catch that..'' Piper looked at him with a concerned expression, her eyebrows furrowed. ''you okay, Jase?'' she said. ''you've been zoning out a lot recently..'' ''yeah...yeah I'm fine'' Jason said trying to reassure Piper with a smile. ''if you say so..'' Piper tried to erase the concern from her face.

~~~~~Later that evening~~~~~

Jason was laying in his bed , starting at the celling contemplating his feelings...his feelings for Piper. ''do I really love her?'' he thought.

''oh no...why......why am I questining this? of course I love her!'' but did he really?

his heart felt lonely.

Chapter 2. Jason's google search history: Am I gay, Am I gay quiz, how to know if you're gay.

Notes:

SOMTHING IMPORTANT: in this fanfic Leo made phones and tech and things that don't attract monsters. why? because plot. ALSO: this goes for the whole fanfic but I'm really sorry if/when any of the characters seem ooc.

also a note to all my friends: if I ever get isekai'd you better be coming with me.

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Jason was understandably confused about the situation. ''I don't know what to do anymore...'' he thought. ''I should- I do like Piper...right..?''

why was he so confused. It's his feelings he should know how he feels, it's what he thinks. if only it where that simple...

Jason sits up and takes out his phone and goes to google. ''am I gay'' he types.

he's far too scared to press search, so he deletes it. he lays back down. staring up at the celling again.

contemplating his feelings. ever since the bitch Hera erased his memory he's not known which of his feelings are real and which are not.

does he love Piper? he's been wondering that for awhile now. he keeps ''zoning out'' because of it. Jason decides to google it anyway. ''how to know if you're gay'' he types but he's too scared to actually look at anything that comes up.

he types ''Am I gay quiz'' he clicks on the first result, its a buzzfeed quiz. he takes the quiz. he gets his result. ''Traditional labels are meaningless!'' he reads the description. ''"Gay," "Straight," "Male," "Female"... There's a lot more to the world than those blunt terms encompass! You get to define yourself, and you're free to celebrate your sexuality — or lack of — however you choose! Hurrah!'' Jason reads it, his heart beating, ''oh.'' is all that escapes his mouth. he hears a thump -the Stolls summoning a demon again, probaly- and gets scared and closes the tab and deletes his search history.

'Maybe I should go see Leo in bunker 9'' Jason says aloud.

~~~~~At bunker 9~~~~~

'Hey, Leo...I hope you don't mind me barging in here..'' Jason says closing the door to bunker 9. ''oh hey, Jase!'' Leo says with a grin on his face while he works on fixing the argo 2.

''sooo.....'' Jason doesn't know what exactly to say. he can't just come in here and say ''oh hey, man, I'm not sure if I like my girlfriend anymore, oh also I might like men.'' well...technically he can...

''soo...erm....I need to talk to you about something'' Jason says hesitantly

''oooo got a secret?'' Leo teases. ''you could say that..'' Jason replies.

Leo realizes that this probably isn't the time for teasing. Jason and Leo sit down on the floor next to each other.

''I...I'm not sure if I liker Piper anymore...'' Jason explained. ''In fact...I'm not sure if I ever liked her at all..'' ''hm...well that's a....problem...'' Leo replies. Jason looks down toward the floor. ''yeah...it is...''

''This might sound crazy but.. maybe you should tell her?'' Leo explains. Jason looks back up at Leo. ''but...I.. she'll be sad or mad..'' he says. ''She'll be happier if you do tell her'' Leo says. ''you think so?'' Jason asks hesitantly. ''I never think, Jase'' Leo replies.

~~~The next day~~~

Piper is enjoying the picnic her and Jason are having in the strawberry field. Jason...not so much...he's dreading telling Piper that he may not love her. ''It's such a beautiful(Selina beauguard much?) day, the clouds, the blue sky, the birds chirping, Clarisse threatening to kill Percy..'' Piper exclaims. ''yeah...it is...'' Jason replies ''you okay, Jase?'' Piper asks. Jason takes a shaky breath and looks down. ''the truth is, I'm not fully sure if I....If I like you'' ''Romantically I mean! I do know that I like you but only...as a friend, maybe? I'm still not sure yet...'' Jason explains ''oh...that's...erm....'' Piper says ''I'm glad you're figuring yourself out, Jase'' ''you're not mad?'' Jason looks surprised, maybe even a little shocked, ''you're not mad?'' Jason asks in surprise. ''No. I'm not'' Piper said. Jason starts to tear up. ''I love you, Pipes, I'm not sure if it's romantic or not but I love you'' Jason says. Piper pulls him into a hug. ''I love you too, Jase, I'm glad you're starting to figure out who you are after...Hera'' Piper smiles lovingly at Jason.

Chapter 3.

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Jason was laying in his bed, wonding, how Piper was so kind and supportive of Jason maybe not loving her romantically - until he heard a knock at the door of cabin one.

Jason got up and opened the door. It's the Stoll brothers. ''Hey, Jasie!'' said Connor...or Travis. it was impossible to tell. ''erm...'' Jason exclaimed ''what are you doing here? and so late as well, It's what 10:30?''

The Stoll's looked at each other and laughed, then looked back at Jason.

''well we're having a...'event' over at the Hermes cabin!'' said one of the Stoll's. ''and we're here to invite you! trust me, there's alcohol!'' said the other butting in.

*so that's why they where laughing...* Jason thought, *wait...Alcohol...*

''uhm...I think I'll have to skip this one..''

''but...!'' the one on the left said, ''You can't skip itttt!'' the other one sarted to speak, '' yeah! you can't! come on Jasiee. stop being such a party-pooper!''

Jason sighed, ''fine. I'll come to your party...'' ''Great!!'' exclaimed one of the Stoll brothers.

Jason wasn't enjoying the party all that much so many...drunk people.. It remined him of his mother. she was always drunk

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I'm obviously not the best at writing...also for the "am I gay" quiz result,

I took an actual "am I gay" quiz and answered how I think Jason would and copy/pasted the result... Also I'm sorry it's so rushed- I just really want to get to a certain part. Also my username on AO3 iz "W_itch_With_A_B" if you want to find me on there. Also I wrote the fic in the early rif the morning...it's currently 00:23 rn actually!

#riordanverse #rick riordan #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo fanfic #hoo fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #pjo fanfiction #hoo fandom #hoo #valgrace #leo valdez #jason grace #piper mclean

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thepsychewrites · 1 year

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The Complexities of a Black Hole — Pt. One

A Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Series

Summary: We learn the story of how you first met Bucky, and the whirlwind of emotions that followed. An evening of training and a cozy night spent with you and Bucky watching the Princess Bride made for the best day. Little did you know that only hours later something would happen to Bucky that would change your lives forever.

Warnings: This series and my entire blog is 18+ ONLY. MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. Frequent use of heavy and descriptive language. Mostly angst and fluff. Mentions of blood/slight and very brief gore, TWS, self deprecating thoughts, allusions to depression? If I missed anything please let me know!!

Word Count: 5.2K

A/N: The first part of TCoaBH. I wanna give a big thank you to my mutuals that helped me and supported me through this series so far with ideas and beta reading ( and a big thank you to @fandoms-writings for beta reading this chapter!! I love you so much Remi 😚) & etc!! I love you all so much. This series is my child and I’m very excited to share it with you all. Any reblogs, comments, and feedback is highly appreciated <3 Enjoy.

Main Masterlist

At the center of nearly every large galaxy in the known universe lies a black hole.

When a star reaches the end of its life cycle, it can have a dramatic exit, compressing its matter into the smallest form it can take and eventually collapsing. In some instances, when this star runs out of fuel and says its final goodbyes, it bursts into a bright supernova, leaving behind a new entity in its place – a black hole.

Bucky Barnes was a black hole. At least – that’s what he would compare himself to. Even on a good day, Bucky couldn’t help but to see himself as a gigantic pit of despair and darkness, sucking the life from any room he enters and being a massive inconvenience to everyone in close proximity.

Similar to a black hole, light never escaped Bucky. If you were to ask anyone who spent longer than an hour around him how often he smiled, the unanimous answer would sound something along the lines of, “Oh, well – I don’t actually think I’ve ever seen him smile.” Unless, of course, you were Steve Rogers. But even Steve would tell you that a grin from Bucky came few and far between, and felt a lot less genuine than before.

Similar to a black hole, Bucky Barnes was programmed to destroy. At least, that’s what he was told time and time again. And it’s what he has come to believe, no matter how many times he was reassured that he isn’t at fault for his own sins – Bucky would carry that belief to the grave.

Black holes are only dangerous if you get too close. The same can be said for Bucky Barnes.

Despite these deeply held beliefs, he had been doing better in the last few years.

Returning to a more normal life after being captured, tortured, and used by a terrorist organization for over seventy years was nothing short of difficult. Bucky had to relearn every aspect of life. How he needed to dress, how to tend to his basic needs like showering more than once a week and eating three meals a day, how to talk to other people in a friendly manner, how to ask for things when he needed help, how to use current technology – it was a tedious process. Most days he felt lost, like he had woken up on a foreign exoplanet where the technology was wildly advanced and nobody could understand a word he said. Actually – that’s exactly what it seemed like. On this planet, he was the alien. He was the oddity, the rare specimen that nobody could comprehend. It was isolating and rather miserable most of the time.

He woke up every day grateful for how far he’s come, but fearing the worst when he thought about his future. Steve compared him to an injured bird once – that despite his clipped wings, he’ll learn to fly again. Bucky scoffed at that – saying the only bird in the building was Sam. He was making improvements, slowly but surely, and everyone noticed.

However, there was one thing Bucky would always be cautious of, especially now in his newfound life.

Change.

It was inevitable, that much he was sure of. It threw him for a loop, made his mind stir with nagging thoughts all through the day and night. Even the little things would drive him crazy, like when Tony had all of the washers and dryers replaced and now they made a different chiming sound when the cycles were done. Something as simple as that nearly sent Bucky into a full blown panic attack. But it wasn’t just the little things like unfamiliar sounds – it was the people he had met along the way. The new faces and names he had to learn – living and working and experiencing life with them, getting to know them inside and out. What motivated them, what made them tick, what sent them spiraling – Bucky learned as much as he could.

The biggest change Bucky had experienced in the last year was you.

You came crashing into his life – quite literally – seven months ago. One afternoon Bucky was walking the halls of the Compound, trying to make his way outside so he could run on the track and “enjoy the fresh air for once” as Steve had said in a poor attempt to convince him, when, after turning a corner a little too quickly, you collided right into him. Apologies fled your mouth, backing away with wide eyes and looking as mortified as the time when Bucky walked in on Sam getting out of the shower, no towel in sight. The decorations you had shoved between your arms for your bedroom ended up scattered along the floor from the impact, little knickknacks rolling around the both of you. Feeling heavily embarrassed, Bucky crouched down, picking up the trinkets and offering to bring them to your room.

It was a memorable introduction to say the least. It still made him laugh when he thought back on it.

Bucky had always found it difficult to make friends. Even growing up, the only person he ever allowed himself to really get close to was Steve. Then you came along and flipped Bucky’s world upside down and inside out. There was something about you that enraptured Bucky, something indescribable that made him feel okay around you. Like the sky opened up and he could breathe again. It was an unseeable gravitational force that kept him within arms length at all times, which made it easy to get to know one another. Sure – there was a continuous hesitation from Bucky at the start, but he overcame that feeling rather fast.

“Tony didn’t tell you? She worked with Nasa for a while as a research scientist. She’s smarter than both of us combined, Buck.” Steve had informed Bucky a week after you moved in. Bucky was confused as to why he hadn’t seen much of you during mission briefings, questioning Steve on the matter. “Fury doesn’t want her in the field… something along the lines of ‘Would you send Albert Einstein into the Invasion of Normandy?’ Apparently she’s in the labs most of the day, helping Stark and Banner with the fun stuff.”

Bucky remembers the first time he saw you in the labs, with a large pair of safety glasses on as you handled some intense vials of chemicals, your tongue peeking from the side of your mouth as you focused, not even hearing him enter the room. He remembers tucking his leather-clad fist into the pocket of his trousers, the widening pit in his stomach dissolving at the sight of the insanely cute smile you flashed at him when you finally noticed his presence, muttering an apology as you hurried to put the liquids away to speak to him.

Nobody had ever smiled at Bucky like that before when he entered a room. He was used to grimaces, horribly hidden eye-rolls, or heavy sighs from others.

But you changed the game.

Eventually, he came to see you as a good friend. A close friend. Maybe even… a best friend?

Bucky wasn’t sure what having a best friend was supposed to feel like. He knew Steve was his best friend, and nobody could really replace him, but he and Steve had known each other their whole lives. They had earned the title of best friends when they were still in grade school, so it was natural for them to be close to one another, to care for one another. Steve could even be categorized as a brother at this point. But Bucky hadn’t made a best friend since.

Is this what it felt like?

He sighed into the open air, his hands twisting around a damp, sweat-ridden towel as he watched you saunter around the sparring ring with Sam. Despite the fact that you hardly ever went out on missions with them, you still enjoyed the physical training they offered to you when you joined. Bucky’s thoughts were getting the best of him again, distracting him when he was supposed to be focused, especially right now while they were getting some sparring in. He wiped the towel over his dripping forehead one last time before tossing it on the bench and standing up, fixing his hair in a low bun and making his way back over to the ring.

Bucky leaned against a corner post, his eyes following you intently as you circled Sam, fists balled up to block your chest, chin high with unwavering confidence.

At least, it was unwavering until you noticed Bucky’s stare on you. “Hey Buck, back for seconds?” You teased, your smirky grin only lasting a moment before your mouth fully opened in a gasp, your leg being pulled forward by Sam's causing you to lose your balance and land with a thump on the padded floor. A groan slipped from you, your hand going back to cradle your head. “God, Sammy, thanks for the concussion.”

A soft snicker came from Bucky, fortunately not loud enough for you or Sam to hear.

Sam simply shrugged his shoulders, offering a hand to help you up, his other sitting disappointingly on his hip. “Mhmm. You would’ve been able to counter that if you were paying any attention.”

Begrudgingly, you took it, pulling off the floor and regaining your balance. Once on your feet, you looked at Bucky and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. This is why I leave the crime fighting to you guys.” You mumbled, poorly concealing the smile creeping to your face as your hands moved to straighten your disheveled clothes.

God that smile.

Bucky would do just about anything to keep a permanent smile pulling at your pretty lips. It was like every evil thing that has ever plagued the Earth just disappeared when you beamed like that. Like nothing bad could ever happen again. And the way it made your eyes narrow and your nose scrunch up had Bucky’s cheeks turning pink, his head ducking down before you or Sam could notice. By the time his heart fell back into a normal pace, Sam was out of the ring and gathering his things while you chugged down some water.

“Hey, don’t forget,” Sam called to Bucky, his gym bag thrown over his shoulder as he faced the exit, “we still have that briefing tonight at nine for the trip to D.C tomorrow, so be there or be square. I think we all remember the scolding Steve gave you last time for poking around and being late. Again.” He said before promptly leaving the room, the glass door softly shutting behind him.

“Yeah Buck, you heard the man. Can’t be late again or Steve’s gonna get on your ass.” You said from the other side of the ring, your back against the rubber ropes.

Bucky scoffed, knowing it was you and your stupid new bedazzling gun that made him late last time. It took Bucky a solid four hours to pry the tiny fake jewels off of his holster, and of course it was right before a meeting with Fury. “You’re annoying.” He said with utmost sincerity.

Once again, Bucky was graced with a pull of your lips. “I know.” You said equally sincere.

There was a lingering gaze you left upon Bucky, a soft tingle traveling up the length of his spine.

He watched as your hands met at your front, wringing together in a shy manner. “So – you don't have to be at the briefing until nine… right?”

Bucky hummed.

“Wanna get a start on the Princess Bride, then? It’s next on our list.”

Oh, the list. A list you had curated specifically to get Bucky caught up on the wondrous twenty first century and all of the literature and films he had missed out on. The list was practically a mile long, filled with some of your favorites along with other suggestions from your teammates. Lately you had been raving about a book and film called The Princess Bride, a title that made Bucky assume it was just another fairytale story. But he would never be one to deny you, especially when you looked up at him with an excited sparkle in your eyes. Usually if a film accompanied a novel, you’d read the book first and then watch the movie adaptation, but without a copy of The Princess Bride on hand, the film alone would have to do.

Bucky allowed his lips to form a gentle grin, his heart beating wildly yet again. “Of course, let me shower first and we’ll start it.”

Thirty minutes later, after the both of you had scrubbed the sweat away from your bodies and freshened up, Bucky had found you in your bedroom with the lights off and an array of snacks laid across the foot of the bed. You were already laying down, clad in a navy long sleeved cotton tee and a tight pair of black shorts that left your silky smooth legs on display, a t.v remote in your hands, and your thumb pressing some buttons before the movie was pulled up. Upon seeing Bucky’s large frame leaning against the doorway you ushered him in, patting the empty spot of the mattress next to you.

Your eyes scanned his body as he moved to sit down, his plain black t-shirt hugging the muscles across his chest, his metal arm free of restriction. This is the Bucky you loved to see. He grew to be comfortable around you, especially in the quietness of your room where nobody else was looking in. Nobody else was watching him or expecting anything from him. It was just the two of you, exactly the way you both liked it.

Bucky huffed as he shifted his body to match your relaxed position, his hands clasping at his stomach. Though he was positive he couldn’t match your internal calmness, not when he could smell the coconut shampoo you had used in the shower, or the vanilla conditioner you often paired with it. The scent alone made his body tense up, his lungs filling to the brim with every breath he took.

“Now you have to pay attention to this one, Buck. It’s one of my favorites.” You teased quietly so as not to startle him in the current silence that surrounded you.

“I'll pay attention, don't worry.” He quipped back with a smirk, knocking his sweatpant covered knee into yours.

With another shared smile you finally pressed play, the opening scene flooding your room with bright colors. You leaned down to grab some of the snacks you prepared, a large bowl of popcorn, a bag of pretzels, and a few boxes of candy.

Bucky was slightly caught off guard, his brows furrowed as he turned to look at you. “I thought this was about a princess, who’s this little kid?” He asked, confused as to why a sickly boy was on the screen. “And who is that? His grandpa or something?”

“Just keep watching Buck, you’ll get it soon.” You giggled, knowing he'd have plenty of other questions and concerns as the movie played on.

As the old man sat down and opened the book he would read to his grandson, Bucky seemed to connect the dots a little better. He stayed quiet for only a minute longer before he had more commentary to spew.

Bucky wasn't expecting the film to be as lovey dovey as it was, especially in the first few minutes alone.“As you wish? This Westley guy sounds a bit whipped for that Buttercup, don't you think?” Bucky mumbled in between bites of popcorn, the bowl now resting in his lap.

You hummed in slight agreement. “I dunno, I think it's kinda sweet.”

Kinda sweet? Hmm, maybe Bucky should be taking notes on this, then. The way in which Westley looked at Buttercup oddly reminded him of how he often looked at you, with nothing but sincerity and reverence in his eyes. But the narrator said Westley was in love with Buttercup, and surely what Bucky felt for you didn’t mean he was in love.

Right?

As the movie continued, a story of princesses, sword fights, bad guys, adventure and love was unfurling before his eyes, Bucky tried his hardest to stay focused. He found his attention being swept elsewhere when you suddenly shifted closer to him, your head resting gently on the edge of his shoulder. He could feel each warm breath you exhaled against his skin, his nerve endings sparking. When you curled even closer into his side you had no idea you had just started a wildfire within the man. The heat of a thousand suns burned inside of Bucky from something as simple as your body next to his. It was voluntary, your desire to close the physical gap between the two of you. It didn’t gross you out, it didn’t make you flinch or cower. He nearly had the idea to pull you in further by wrapping his arm over your shoulder, but would that be too far? The second he said fuck it and began moving his arm, you spoke, stopping him in his tracks.

“Shit, is it nearly nine already?” You suddenly called, your eyes pointed up to the clock on the wall. “You should probably head to the meeting room before Cap comes and busts my door down.” With a quick press to the pause button the movie had stopped, the wildfire dying out as you pushed to sit upright.

His brows furrowed. “You’re not coming with?”

You hummed, a look of contemplation spreading across your features. “Do you want me to come with?” You asked sweetly, your fingers wrapping over the plastic remote as you laid it on your night stand.

All Bucky gave was a nod, but that was enough for you.

Bucky was silent as he walked next to you, too many thoughts invading his head to think about a single one clearly, let alone engage in small talk while he was at it. He was spacing out, the only thing keeping him tethered to the present was your blurry figure walking ahead of him to the elevators. He didn’t register getting in the elevator, nor stepping out and moving towards the meeting room, and not even sitting down beside you at the long conference table. Bucky eventually tuned back in when your knee began knocking against his. 

“Earth to Buck. You with us, bud?” You whispered next to his ear, his eyes focusing in on your concerned face, your look mirrored by Steve’s and Sam’s across from him. 

With a shake of his head he chuckled, playing off whatever happened. “Yeah, sorry – what were you saying?” Bucky turned to meet Steve’s eyes, the fog barely clearing. 

Steve was used to that foreign look on Bucky’s face, so he knew to tread lightly and keep the teasing at bay. “I said that I was glad you could make it on time, that’s all. Anyway, now that we’re here, let’s get started, shall we?” Steve said with the authoritative Captain voice he always used during meetings. He stood, shuffling to a wide screen and began detailing tomorrow's plans. Bucky was counting on you to be paying close attention, because he could hardly hear Steve, the muddled words drowned out behind the beats of his frantic heart. He was saying something about an abandoned building Fury had mentioned, a possible threat.

Like the world would run out of those any time soon.

Bucky slowly fell out of his spaced-out state, suddenly noticing the gentle circular patterns being drawn against his silver arm. The tips of your nails pressed against the chipped plates of his prosthetic, the motions barely registering from how soft and lazily you scrapped them across.

A thought crossed his mind just then, a memory seared into his brain of the first time you touched him.

“He doesn’t like hugs.” Steve had mumbled in your ear, pulling away from your embrace only to lean down uncomfortably in his gear and tactile suit. You were mostly hidden behind Steve’s large, towering frame, peeking out from around his bicep to study the panting man behind him.

The two had just returned to the Compound from a grueling mission, one that left a few civilians in critical care from the cruel acts of another narcissistic, egotistical evil-doer. They both came back utterly defeated and in low spirits, Bucky’s glazed-over eyes casting downward and refusing to meet yours as you stood before him.

Steve eventually walked away, his slight limp horribly masked by his ‘if I’m still breathing, I’m fine’ attitude, leaving you and Bucky alone in the eerily silent living room. You could hear the low, quick draws of breath invade his nose, the slump of his shoulders falling deeper and deeper by the second. The guy looked like he was going to fall over from exhaustion.

By this point, you and Bucky had shared a handful of conversations, a few of them lingering far past his normal social encounters. He was beginning to feel less guarded around you, noticing how isolated rays of the sun began to penetrate his long-standing concrete fortress he built for protection. So, when you stepped closer to his cowering body, he didn’t feel the sudden urge to back away. He didn’t feel the need to run and hide.

And when your arms opened for him, ever so carefully wrapping around his wide torso, your hands clasping at the bottom of his back – he had no urge other than to stay. He let you hold him for minutes, the two of you never leaving your spot, your feet planted solidly to the ground using your strength to hold the both of you steady.

He didn’t tell you at the time, but being so delicately shielded in your arms was the first time he felt safe that whole day. That whole week. That whole month.

No, who was he kidding? It’s the first time he felt that safe all fucking year.

Now, he longed for a touch he didn’t deserve. He yearned for the safety you provided, whether it was your body against his or your fingers grazing down his horrid, scar-ridden arm. It slowed the taunting words that raced through his head. It steadied his wretched heart. It was more generosity than he could ever hope to ask for.

“…So as I said, it should be an easy in and out. Fury deemed it fully abandoned, and from what I saw of it, I’d have to agree. The jet is leaving from hangar three at six sharp, so don’t be late. Especially you, Buck.”

The call of his name caused his eyes to shoot up, meeting the stern face of his captain. “Yeah, six sharp, got it.” Bucky confirmed with a slight nod. His mind was still wandering with the comforting drag of your fingers, wondering how long you’d hang onto him.

Eight minutes. That’s how long. Bucky counted each ticking second.

You eventually pulled away from him when the two of you stood in front of your bedroom door, Bucky walking back with you in a somber silence. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of another mission without you, even with Steve’s promise of returning the same day. Bucky didn’t want you to worry, and he knew that worrying was what you did best.

“Just be careful, alright? I know you always are but… still. No stupid decisions.” Your touch didn’t leave for good, your chest meeting his as your arms found their favorite spot against his waist. The top of your head was so close to his mouth, he had no other choice but to plant a short kiss to it, a lingering promise of his return mumbled quickly after.

Bucky kept his eyes on you as you disappeared into your room for the night, standing outside your door until he heard you climb into bed. It seemed as though, whether he was aware of it or not, Bucky might have been just as whipped for you as Westley was for Buttercup. Overstaying his welcome, he waited until the soothing sounds of your soft snoring floated to his ears, finally allowing his legs to carry him to his own bed.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Maybe you had every right in the world to worry.

Maybe Bucky wasn’t as strong as he thought he was.

Maybe he wasn’t fit for this job anymore.

Maybe he just screwed up the life he had begun building for himself.

Maybe what everyone else told him was true.

Maybe Bucky Barnes was nothing but a monster.

Frantic voices filled the air of the Compound, deafening orders being yelled into the room, your teammates running around with wide eyes.

Standing by the jet, motionless and panicked, you felt close to vomiting everywhere. What they said couldn’t be true, right? It couldn’t be. You refused to believe it. You refused to believe Bucky did what they reported back. The Bucky you knew couldn't have. He had gotten better, he was doing so good… making incredible progress. Surely it wasn’t that easy for him to re-enter that old headspace.

Right?

The Earth stopped spinning the moment you saw him. It seemed like the man you talked to barely ten hours ago had left, replaced with a stranger you could hardly recognize.

Bucky was unconscious, his body restrained and bloodied as he was dragged along the floor with Steve on one side and Sam on the other to carry him upright. His entire tactile suit was lathered in crimson, the color consuming him entirely. Steve was seething, his face sweaty and flushed, the veins in his neck and along his forehead protruding in anger as he barked at everyone to move out of the way. Sam was no better, his frazzled state only partially concealed by the stony expression he wore. You were frozen solid, unable to process the scene unfolding in front of your face.

As the men came closer you realized that Sam wasn’t holding onto Bucky’s left arm, but instead his shaking hands gripped at the edge of his dripping red kevlar vest. Forcing your eyes to his side, you immediately understood why.

Bucky’s left arm was gone. The silver prosthetic looked as if it had been viciously ripped off, mere remnants of what it once was left in its place, frayed wires and bent gears protruding from the damaged shoulder. A horrified gasp left you. Just yesterday you were holding onto that same arm, and in the blink of an eye it was just… gone? No – no… surely you had fallen into some ultra-realistic nightmare. This couldn’t really be happening. It couldn’t possibly be Bucky that–

“Y/n? You need to breathe.” A calm voice called to your side, a small hand pressing against yours.

It was Natasha. Her breaths were labored, yet no panic showed on her face. “He’s going to be–”

“Where are they taking him?” Your voice didn’t sound familiar, quiet and trembling with an uneasiness that hardly found you. Her hand squeezed down on yours, trying her best to steer you away from the full blown panic attack that was creeping up your spine.

You watched uneasily as they took him away, Tony, Bruce, Helen, and Clint jogging after them with loud stomps. Your feet were quick to follow – only to be hindered by Natasha’s hand to your chest. “Going after them now will do you no good. I’ll wait with you until we know more.”

Grinding down on your teeth, you hesitated. Screw waiting. But you knew she was right. Steve wouldn’t allow you to come anywhere near Bucky if what they said happened truly occurred. Reluctantly, you let Natasha guide you back inside and to the main floor living room.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

By the time any updates arrived, your fingernails were halfway chewed off, your leg bouncing up and down furiously from adrenaline. It had been hours since the boys came back, the sun now far below the horizon, a deep, unsettling dusk settling over the sky. Allowing your gaze to drift to the large window panes, you noticed how the stars were hiding tonight, protected by a sea of charcoal black clouds. Maybe they too were afraid of Bucky after seeing the violent acts he committed earlier.

Steve sauntered into the room, his eyes immediately finding yours as you stood up all too quickly. A breath lingered in your throat, waiting for him to speak.

“Bucky is going to be alright. He’s shaken and a little confused, but Dr. Cho has him stable.” Steve offered, barely getting the words out before you started in on the million questions inside your head.

“What the hell happened out there, Steve?” Sitting around for hours did nothing to calm you, tearing you apart little by little instead. “Simple recons don’t look like that.” You pointed a finger to the middle of the Compound, still having no idea where they took Bucky.

Steve’s head dropped, his hand coming to rub against his temple. “Fury and I were wrong. The place wasn’t abandoned — and it wasn’t just any old facility either. It was an old Hydra base…”

Your body seemed to shrivel under his voice.

You knew what was coming next.

“Please don’t tell me they–”

A single look from the man was all the confirmation you needed.

“It happened so fast… I couldn’t get Bucky out in time before they… before they started playing it over the intercoms. After he heard the first word — he looked at me with so much fear, and the next second he looked at me like he had no fucking clue who I was.” He took a deep breath, poorly attempting to cover the quiver in his voice. “We tried to get him out. But they had traps and guards started coming for us and… after Bucky stopped swinging at Sam and I he went straight for them. I couldn’t do anything but watch…”

He shifted back and forth, clearly not wanting to relive the events of earlier. “Then his arm… he got caught in a doorway and I had no choice.”

Your body swayed from the weight of this newfound information, Natasha getting up to stabilize you and move you back to the couch before your legs gave out. Tears pricked at your tired eyes, and you felt entirely helpless. One of your closest friends just had to relive decades worth of trauma because of a stupid mission gone wrong. It seemed unfathomable. No other mission, Hydra or not, had been this catastrophic for Bucky.

“When can I see him?” You feared the answer Steve would give.

“I’m not exactly…”

Steve’s words died in his throat as a gentle knocking came from behind him. The three of you simultaneously picked your heads up, eyes darting to the source.

Stepping out from behind the doorway was a tall man, his deep brown eyes soft and his expression calm and collected. The dark burgundy of his pants matched that of his wrinkle-free jacket, intricate gray detailings sewn in across the chest. It wasn’t anyone you recognized, yet he seemed oddly familiar. His voice drifted inside the room, smooth and precise.

“Captain — I just got off the phone with Shuri. They are ready whenever you are.”

PART ONE PLAYLIST

🌟Songs that have inspired this series 🌟

— April 10, 2019: Powehi - Image of a Black Hole

By Sleeping at Last

— Where We Landed

By SYML

— Atom 1

By Sleeping at Last

— Hold me Tight

By Berlinist

— Sunshine (Adagio in D Minor)

By John Murphy

I recommend listening to the songs in order as shown above. A master playlist will be linked at the end of the series.

Spotify Link to the Chapter One Playlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #tcoabh #the complexities of a black hole #thepsychewrites

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sugurushimura · 7 months

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[VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: Please read THE ORIGINAL VERSION of this analysis. Tumblr won't show the original on dashboards or in tags because it has too many images. I've removed most of the images from this version so that it'll actually show up, but this is not the ideal reading experience. If you'd like to share, please reblog this version so that people will actually see it. Thank you!]

Death Note’s primary characters are not particularly good people — and if that sounds like a massive understatement, that’s because it is. From superdetectives who employ human rights violations to solve their cases to career criminals to outright mass murderers, all of our leads are willing to go to immoral lengths to achieve their goals, even (and especially) those who claim to be acting in the name of justice. That’s a given; if anything, that’s part of the appeal. What sort of person, then, could claim the title of Most Hated Death Note Character?

Chances are, you already know the answer: It’s Higuchi Kyosuke, Head of Technological Development for the Yotsuba Group and, more importantly, the Third Kira. (If you’re wondering, I do have the results of my own completely unscientific survey to back this up — and if you seek out your average Death Note fan, chances are they’ll be in agreement.)

Higuchi is hateable by design. Externally, he has extremely sharp features and an unnerving grin, appearing unconventional at his best and downright monstrous at his worst. Internally, he is an unpleasant man who delights in using mass murder to achieve his goals. He is very thoroughly a villain, and it’s difficult to say anything good about him.

Death Note fans often paint Higuchi as a man who is obsessed with money above all else and cares little for morals. In some ways, that’s the natural thing to think — he isn’t exactly the type of character who invites close inspection — but it isn’t actually true. Money is only a secondary desire of Higuchi’s.

What Higuchi Kyosuke really desires is status, stemming from a deep insecurity and an obsession with how others perceive him.

When Light tasks Rem with finding a new Kira, he lists certain requirements for the job, and they’re relatively simple: The new Kira must be greedy enough to use the notebook for his personal gain, he must have a decent amount of societal status, and he must be willing to continue the regular executions of criminals.

Higuchi’s role in Death Note is thus defined by those three factors; they’re what Rem uses to choose him in the first place. We don’t see exactly how long she observes Higuchi for before she chooses him, and we don’t see what he does to check off these three requirements, but we know that Rem ultimately gives Higuchi the notebook. Then, in Chapter 43, L theorizes that the Yotsuba Kira is “a stupid coward who can’t do anything on his own.”

Higuchi lives up to both of these descriptions well, and we can assume that he’s been a shady person even before Rem gave him the Death Note, considering he’s connected to people like Kaneboshi Ginzo who Higuchi himself refers to as a bad person.

The specific qualifier that the placeholder Kira is “greedy” can mean a lot of things, though. One would generally assume it refers to a desire for money above all else, and since Higuchi’s actions as Kira focus on improving the Yotsuba Group’s profits (and, thus, his own profits), it might appear at first glance that pure cash is all Higuchi is after. This, however, isn’t the case.

Namikawa’s assessment of Kira’s goals provides the first look into what Higuchi is really after.

Namikawa assumes that the Kira they’re dealing with is the original, but other than that, his observations here hold water. If Higuchi really were after money above all else, it would be simple enough for him to use the Death Note to get rich(er) quickly. He chooses not to — in fact, Light finds in Chapter 43 that no deaths to the specific benefit of any of the Yotsuba members have occurred since murders began, meaning that Higuchi hasn’t made any kills that benefit him more than his colleagues or directly give him money. (This is shown in the image before Namikawa, if you missed it.)

What Namikawa realizes is that the Yotsuba Kira is actually after social status; above all else, he wants to be respected and looked up to by those around him as a man of authority and talent. What’s more, Higuchi goes out of his way to call these goals stupid when they’re laid out in front of him and the rest of the group.

If he weren’t Kira, he’d have no reason to say this; what use would there be in insulting the motivations of a mass murderer with the power to easily kill him? All he’s done is make himself look suspicious by reacting this way. Most likely, he views Namikawa’s comments as an attack that he has to rebuke; even if he can’t directly out himself as Kira, he can at least let it be known that he personally is above such petty goals as social status. He wants his colleagues to think he’s unconcerned with these things in order to disguise that they matter to him so much; he realizes, on some level, that it’s pathetic to be so obsessed with status and wealth. According to Mido in Chapter 50, this is a regular occurrence.

Of course, Higuchi would never admit any of this in front of his colleagues. In private, however — or at least when only Rem is around — it’s a different story.

First, in Chapter 46, when talking about his plans to marry Misa, Higuchi lists money, status, and a beautiful wife as the three things he’ll have gained through the power of the Death Note. What’s particularly interesting here is the comment about others being jealous of him for those things. He’s not just after some extra money, a higher position in the company, and Misa’s hand in marriage for the sake of it; he wants other people to envy him. In his mind, social status and enviability are tied together — perhaps because he’s an intensely envious man himself.

Then, in Chapter 51, while contemplating how to kill Matsuda, Higuchi mentions “fame and fortune” as the two particular things he’s after. Again, though, that isn’t the most interesting thing here — what’s interesting is that the consequence about being revealed to be Kira that he’s so worried about is having to leave Yotsuba. If Matsuda announces that Higuchi is Kira on live TV, surely this’ll catch L’s attention and lead to Higuchi’s arrest and possible execution. But no — Higuchi spares no thought to the possible end of his life as a free man. He’s concerned about being driven from his job in disgrace. The implication here is that Higuchi’s reputation and status are more important to him than his own life.

That’s pretty extreme. Why would Higuchi’s reputation matter so much to him that even his own survival doesn’t merit mentioning? Why is Higuchi pursuing social status so obsessively in the first place when he already descends from a wealthy family and works as a high-ranking executive at a large corporation? He clearly has a decent amount of status already; that was one of Light’s requirements to Rem for the stand-in Kira in the first place, too.

Higuchi cares deeply about his social status and how others perceive him because he’s deeply insecure — about his status, yes, but also about his intelligence, motivations, and more. He habitually compares himself to those around him and comes up short. This feeling of inferiority drives him to use the Death Note in order to compensate.

The death meetings themselves are fundamentally evidence of this. Bringing a group of colleagues together to decide who to kill gives Higuchi some additional resources and ideas, but that’s all. The meetings are more of a liability than anything else; the more people who know that Kira is working for Yotsuba, the more people who might crack under pressure or otherwise slip up and alert L or the police, especially when those people’s lives are actively being threatened. On top of that, the meetings are being held at the Yotsuba office, where someone could listen in — as Matsuda does. The cons outweigh the pros by far.

The only reason Higuchi would choose to operate this way is if he was convinced that his own skills and intelligence weren’t enough to act as Kira on his own. One might argue that the other seven were there primarily to serve as scapegoats if it ever came down to it, but then, why specifically invite people like Namikawa and Mido who have a reputation for intelligence if not to hear their insights? Insecurity is the only reason Higuchi could have chosen to operate as Kira this way.

His insecurities bleed through into more than just the way he plans things and functions as Kira, though. His interactions with those around him, namely his colleagues, is constantly colored by them.

The first line in all of Death Note immediately attributed to Higuchi — the one that establishes his character — is spent insulting Takahashi, and then not-so-subtly threatening him right afterwards.

(These panels also point out that Higuchi has chosen mostly younger executives to attend these meetings. Perhaps he's disdainful towards his older, more old-fashioned colleagues.)

The insecure bully character type is not exactly uncommon; we’ve seen it all before. Some teenager who isn’t sure of himself takes it out on the kids in his class, especially those lower on the social food chain than he is, in an attempt to soothe his own internal struggles and make himself appear better than them. Higuchi is pretty much the embodiment of this representative teenager, except he’s a middle-aged businessman and doesn’t have the excuse of adolescent angst on his side.

This is the moment that tells us who Higuchi is — not as Kira, but as a person — and he follows that example for the rest of the story. It’s as much a pattern as anything can be for a relatively minor character, and it’s clearly been happening for longer than we as the audience are able to see. Takahashi is the most common victim, and he’s also the easiest target since most of the Yotsuba guys seem to think lowly of him — none as transparently as Higuchi, of course, who calls him an idiot every chance he gets.

Other common targets include Hatori, the Yotsuba president’s illegitimate son who doesn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the Kira situation until it’s too late, and Shimura, the only member (presumably) hailing from a working-class family whose colleagues treat him dismissively due to what they believe to be paranoia.

Some of the rudeness directed at Shimura in particular is in response to things that could threaten Higuchi, like calls for Kira to reveal his identity, but there’s a greater underlying thread here. Together, Takahashi, Hatori, and Shimura are the least respected of their group (except for maybe Higuchi himself). They’re acceptable targets, and next to them, Higuchi can make himself look intelligent, respectable, and level-headed. Maybe he can even convince himself that he really is if he tries hard enough. As Mido and Namikawa mention while discussing who Kira might be in Chapter 50, this behavior is nothing new. His colleagues expect this of him enough to realize that people like Takahashi are only in the meetings at all for the express purpose of making Higuchi look better.

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Every so often, Higuchi will toss out a dismissive comment about the group as a whole, often for their perceived careless handling of the killings.

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This is pretty rich coming from the guy who complains about the routine Kira murders keeping him busy and kills people who committed crimes under extenuating circumstances because he can’t be assed to do any extra research. More than that, though, it’s an attempt to posture; Higuchi wants to appear aloof and condescending in front of his colleagues so that they take him seriously. It doesn’t work, generally speaking, but the effort is there. Outside of these broad comments, though, he avoids taking shots at those with more status within their group than him.

Except, that is, for Namikawa.

Higuchi isn’t constantly rude to Namikawa like he is to Takahashi; in fact, he agrees with him on occasion (though not until after people like Ooi and Mido have already done so). Still, he does get short with him sometimes, which is interesting for a man who is generally polite to those like Ooi and Mido, whom he acknowledges as more talented and intelligent than him.

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Notice that Higuchi is criticizing Namikawa here for acting superior — the very thing that Higuchi himself is constantly doing. Not that Namikawa seems particularly bothered.

That’s what makes Higuchi’s perception of Namikawa particularly interesting: Higuchi dislikes Namikawa, but in many ways, he mimics him. Namikawa is aloof and often condescending, but he never directly insults a colleague to their face. Higuchi tries to act aloof and instead just makes himself look like an asshole. Namikawa tends to come across as very relaxed, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair and talking with his hands. Higuchi himself is fairly high-strung, as his eventual breakdown reveals, but he certainly puts on a show of acting relaxed, like a crude parody of Namikawa’s mannerisms. The best example of this is directly after Namikawa’s little speech on Kira’s true goals. I used this image a bit earlier, but I’ll include it again here for easy access.

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There are so many levels of posturing going on in this panel. It isn’t even funny (except it is).

Higuchi’s simultaneous imitation of and scorn for Namikawa cements him even further as a deeply insecure individual. It all comes down to envy.

Namikawa is everything Higuchi wants to be but isn’t. Like Higuchi, Namikawa was born to a wealthy family, following in the footsteps of his father to become a high-ranking executive within the Yotsuba Group. Unlike Higuchi, Namikawa is composed and in near-complete control of how he presents himself, which has led to his reputation as one of the Yotsuba Group’s most talented and intelligent executives — all this while being 30 years old, the youngest of any of the executives present for the meetings. Not to mention he’s very conventionally attractive.

Higuchi wants to be like Namikawa, but despite his best efforts, he just isn’t. Even with his clear envy and dislike for Namikawa, though, he invites him to the meetings because he values his insights. Although Higuchi clearly doesn’t want to admit it, he believes that Namikawa is more intelligent than him — and he does admit it, at least on some internal level, just by merit of placing Namikawa on the meeting’s roster. Surely that must sting.

Higuchi’s attempts to appear relaxed and above-it-all go beyond just his imitations of Namikawa, too. Fake laughter seems to be a favorite of his, especially during the date scene in Chapter 48.

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His insecurities show in a few other ways throughout the Yotsuba arc, too. For one thing, he has a habit of talking about how Kira works to his colleagues. He disguises this as theorizing, but it’s still suspicious for someone as notably uncreative as Higuchi to make too many spot-on jumps in logic. Using his knowledge of Kira lets him try to gain respect by acting more clever than he is, and he can’t help himself.

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Speaking of acting suspiciously, Higuchi is really enthusiastic about killing people. One might expect this from the guy acting as Kira, but he doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, either. As brought up before, one of his establishing lines is a veiled threat to Takahashi, and things don’t get better from there. Later on, Higuchi is first to suggest killing Matsuda. Then, he implies to Hatori’s face that Kira will kill him for his outburst — and he goes on to kill Hatori the next day.

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He initially wants to kill Misa when Aiber-as-Coil tells the conspirators that she might know L, although he seems to change his mind in favor of marrying her in order to control her Second Kira powers. While in private with Rem, he implies that he plans to kill the remaining members of the meetings after he uses his status as Kira to become company president, although the wording is somewhat ambiguous. During his race to find Matsuda’s real name, he considers killing pretty much everyone involved before Rem talks him down, and the fact alone that he owns a gun (which is very illegal in Japan) is pretty telling.

Before any of those, though, mere moments after taunting Hatori for what will be his death, Higuchi tries to insist that his colleagues should have Kira kill Eraldo Coil, which prompts Mido to react as such:

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Possibly the most succinct response to Higuchi as Kira anyone has ever given — and, what’s more, the wording here implies that this is a regular occurrence, possibly even more than what we’ve seen over the course of the arc so far. Like a high school bully, Higuchi berates those he perceives as weaker than him; also like a high school bully, Higuchi grasps onto the first thing that could possibly give him power and lords it over everyone else. When he has the power to easily kill other people, he becomes obsessed with killing. Again, it’s amazingly suspicious, but he’s so desperate to use the Death Note to soothe his feelings of inferiority that he can’t (or won’t) stop himself.

Higuchi is an incredibly insecure person, then; that much is clear. But it isn’t just that — his job at Yotsuba constantly exacerbates his fears that others are above him. Not only is he less talented than most of his colleagues (a fact that most people around him seem to know), but he’s technically ranked lower than most of them.

Higuchi’s official title is Head of Technological Development. Other than Shimura, Head of Personnel, the other six are all higher-ranked Vice Presidents, including Takahashi, Hatori, and Namikawa (of course). What’s more, this wasn’t always the case. Higuchi used to hold a higher position within the company — presumably that of a Vice President, as I believe the original Japanese text states — before he was demoted.

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Namikawa notes Higuchi’s habit of insulting others, which we’ve already discussed and which points directly to his insecurity. For a man like this, who secretly doubts his own abilities and obsesses over how others see him, demotion must be a staggering blow. That likely contributes to why the Higuchi we see during the Yotsuba arc is so concerned with status, on top of his already-existing insecurity; he has to prove he isn’t the incompetent fool that he believes his colleagues see him as. It’s also worth noting that Shimura, as the Head of Personnel, likely had a hand in Higuchi’s demotion; perhaps that’s part of why Higuchi seems to dislike him.

For what it’s worth, Higuchi isn’t wrong in believing his colleagues dislike him. Mido and Namikawa prove time and time again, particularly in Chapter 50, that they view Higuchi mostly as a petty, incompetent idiot. Takahashi clearly doesn’t like him much, either, as the most frequent victim of his bullying; Shimura, who is similarly mistreated and suspects Higuchi of being Kira, also obviously dislikes him. That’s already the majority of the Yotsuba executives we’re acquainted with. Although we don’t see Hatori react to Higuchi much, Higuchi’s occasional derision towards him and willingness to revel in his death indicate that they have an at least somewhat negative relationship. Ooi and Kida don’t get much of a look in at all, but Ooi generally plays a neutral leader role, so that’s par for the course on his part.

In short: Higuchi’s posturing falls completely flat, and his colleagues largely see him for what he is, or at least find him unpleasant.

So how much does all of this talk about insecurity really matter? Enough to drive him to use the Death Note, sure, but Higuchi doesn’t seem like a very morally upstanding person anyways. Actually, it’s cause for something even more drastic than murder: It’s very nearly cause for suicide.

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At first he’s only holding the gun to his head for show, but his finger clearly trembles over and squeezes the trigger as he thinks about his prospects. Watari shoots his hand at that moment for a good reason. If another few seconds had gone by, there might not have been a Kira to arrest.

When Higuchi says here that his life is over, one might read that literally; Higuchi is about to lose his freedom and potentially his life when L arrests him as Kira. Think back to Higuchi’s reaction to the Sakura TV special, though; he certainly wasn’t concerned about being arrested or executed then. He was scared that he would have to leave the company with a tarnished reputation. Here, when he says “my life,” he’s talking figuratively about his career and reputation.

It isn’t the thought of capture that nearly drives him to shoot himself. It’s the thought of having his reputation ruined — of being exposed to the world not only as a murderer, but a man who committed murder (many, many murders!) to compensate for his own personal failures. Is there anything more pathetic than being exposed like that? Could a man like Higuchi ever allow himself to live in such a reality? No. Death is a more welcoming option for him at that moment.

It’s clear that Higuchi is motivated by status more than money, and this desire for status is driven by a strong need for validation in the face of deep insecurities. Underneath the veneer, Higuchi doesn’t seem to think of himself as particularly smart or talented, or even as very likable. Why, then, does he think he deserves the success that the Death Note could bring him?

Simply put, Higuchi genuinely thinks of himself as a good person.

In Chapter 38, Higuchi provides a lot of insight into how he rationalizes the murders to himself, although we don’t know it’s him yet. It seems like he was pro-Kira even before being given the notebook and views the deaths of criminals as a good thing, particularly corrupt businessmen since they damage the economy. The irony is lost on him, apparently.

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What’s more, Higuchi seems to believe that the world now depends on Kira in order to enforce justice, citing the doubling of crime rates after Kira’s disappearance. In his mind, he’s carrying out a necessary service for the world while the original Kira slacks off.

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The work he’s doing is heroic, and he doesn’t mind doing it because he’s a good person. Since he’s such a good person, doesn’t he have the right to use this power to get himself the respect that he’s always deserved?

It’s also worth mentioning that Higuchi is the only Kira who shows any real respect for his shinigami, or shinigami more generally. Compared to Misa, Mikami, and especially Light, it’s almost shocking how polite he is with Rem. He never insults or lashes out at her the way he does with his colleagues, and while this could be because he’s afraid of her, he doesn’t really seem afraid. In fact, he talks freely to Rem about his motivations and goals with remarkably little posturing, and he actively solicits her advice, which he takes into account even when he doesn’t listen to it.

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He even goes so far as to praise her on occasion, which is extremely abnormal for him.

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It’s almost… healthy? Normal? Something adjacent to it? Although Rem still hates him, of course.

The fact is that Rem is a shinigami, and, as we’ve seen, Higuchi avoids lashing out at those he acknowledges as higher up on the social ladder than him (save Namikawa, for reasons previously discussed). It’s also worth mentioning that Higuchi’s house is remarkably empty, and he’s never referenced as having any social life outside of work. Perhaps he’s relieved to finally have a confidant; perhaps he’s simply deferring to what he realizes is a higher power. Higuchi seems to have a certain respect for social order, and maybe he mistakes this respect for decency.

Higuchi’s treatment of women in general is interesting for somewhat similar reasons. He’s clearly a sexist, desiring Misa’s hand in marriage in order to show her off as a pretty object of jealousy and generally acting lecherous during the model scene. He very much seems to view women primarily as accessories to his own desires. (Rem, of course, is exempt from this as a shinigami — assuming Higuchi knows her gender in the first place.)

Higuchi isn’t actually a straw misogynist, though. He seems to be very concerned with treating women well — or making sure the women he’s around know that he treats women well. He’s not exactly subtle about that.

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This behavior is consistent throughout his date with Misa, whenever he’s not busy thinking about Kira stuff. Practically the first thing he does when he sees her is offer to buy her a car. He’s generally deferent to her, letting her decide where they go on their date and going along with all her ideas regarding how to prove to each other that they’re Kira with a surprising amount of receptivity. While he might partially be trying to impress her because he wants the Second Kira on his side, this behavior started before he found out Misa might be the Second Kira. He really is just like this. He literally calls himself a gentleman at one point.

[IMAGE REMOVED]

It’s posturing, for sure, but it’s a different kind of posturing than when he’s around his colleagues. He’s still going after validation, but it’s not just respect that he’s after; he wants to be liked. Higuchi really wants women to like him, so he makes a show out of being chivalrous. We know he actually isn’t — he considers killing Misa multiple times, and besides, a truly chivalrous man wouldn’t need to say it over and over again — but perhaps he’s convinced himself. Higuchi respects women, so that’s just another reason he’s a good person! This is why he deserves success!

With this in mind, we can paint a fairly detailed final portrait of the Yotsuba Kira.

Born in 1972, Higuchi grew up largely during the 1980s, a time of economic prosperity for Japan. His privileged upbringing offered him a view of what life had in store for him as a successful adult, and he likely expected to glide into the business world like young men were doing in that decade.

Then the economy crashed during the 1990s, and, suddenly, Higuchi’s future wasn’t as easy as he had hoped. His father’s fortune and status within Yotsuba were enough to secure him a high-ranking job in the company, but not without effort — effort that was clearly not enough for him to measure up to his more-talented colleagues, especially the younger Namikawa. Perhaps he had noticed a similar inferiority to his peers earlier in his life, but he certainly notices it now.

It gnaws at him, of course; already feeling robbed by the economic situation, he now begins to see enemies in his colleagues, and any self-doubt that had existed inside him before begins to grow. He needs to seem talented and composed, so he tries to act like he is; he needs to feel better about himself, so he tries to show his superiority to others. He fails at both and becomes crueler and meaner in the process. He believes that he is a good person, and he can justify even the worst of his behavior to himself because he believes he deserves to act out some, when the world and the system are so set against him.

Maybe he had a rebellious streak before, but now it begins to develop into a disdain for his elders and for the powers that be — the same powers that allowed him to work at Yotsuba in the first place, but he isn’t willing to think of it that way because he’s the real victim here. It’s almost enough to tempt him to counterculture — his haircut, after all, is hardly suitable for a businessman — but he doesn’t have enough confidence to fully break away from the corporate world, especially when it’s so tied to his identity now. What else can he do anymore? He has to succeed.

But as he becomes more desperate for success, his attitude worsens. He’s demoted for the very behaviors he had been using to cope with his insecurities, as well as for his poor leadership skills. It burns.

When Rem offers him the Death Note, his answer is a no-brainer. He’s already pro-Kira, so he thinks he’ll be doing everyone a favor — a big enough favor to justify using Kira’s power for himself on the side. After all, he needs to succeed. He needs status and respect. He needs the men he envies to envy him in turn. He needs to be the man he always thought he’d be by now. For that, he would do anything. Everything else has failed so far, but now he’s unstoppable.

Perhaps if Higuchi had never gotten the Death Note, he would’ve inevitably snapped in some other way, violent or otherwise. Perhaps he would have lived a quiet, mediocre life, unfulfilled and miserable. Perhaps, by some miracle, he would have changed.

But none of that comes to pass.

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At the end of the day, Higuchi Kyosuke dies like a dog. The greatest legacy he leaves behind is his failure in the face of men much more talented than he could ever hope to be.

#Kyosuke Higuchi #death note #deathnote #yotsuba group

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violetdisasterzone · 1 year

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I just finished rereading the succubus extra, and I'm reminded of some thoughts I had after reading it the first time. The first time I read the novel (including all the extras), I hadn't really been in/around fandom spaces yet, so I was very surprised to learn that people shipped Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge. And since this extra is prime source material for that ship (apparently), I want to talk about it. First of all, I really enjoy this chapter. It contains the scene where we find out bingqiu are fated! soulmates! deeply in love! And this is immediately followed by Shen Qingqiu kicking Liu Qingge into a rose pond. It's priceless.

I've seen Madam Meiyin's fortune be interpreted by liushen shippers as describing Liu Qingge rather than Luo Binghe, so let's unpack why that doesn't make sense. The very first thing she says is that his fated one is younger than him - Liu Qingge is (at this point in the novel, prior to the 5 year nap) already around 15 years older than him. If this was connected to the age of his body (i.e., Shen Jiu), however, this one could be plausible; considering Madam Meiyin first sees the broken thread of either Yue Qi or Qiu Haitang, she could very well be referring to Shen Jiu's age. Liu Qingge also doesn't have the "noble blood" Madam Meiyin describes- or if he does, it's never mentioned in canon. Then, of course, we get Liu Qingge adamantly insisting that this mysterious fated one isn't "deeply in love" with Shen Qingqiu. I've seen people say that this is Liu Qingge being tsundere and denying his romantic feelings, but if he was that deep in denial why would he assume that he was the fated one being discussed at all? And finally, we end the scene with Madam Meiyin saying to his face, "You aren't his fated partner."

In my personal opinion, I think Liu Qingge realized who Madam Meiyin was actually referring to in her divinations. There are very few people who fit that description, and he would be one of the few people who have been around Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe enough to see first hand how close they were, pre-abyss. Of course, Binghe is supposedly "dead" right now, as far as Liu Qingge knows - maybe he would have assumed Madam Meiyin couldn't know/see that. Or maybe I'm pulling this interpretation out of my ass. One of the two.

In regards to the repressed sexual frustration that many people view Liu Qingge as having: whether or not you interpret his character as asexual is a personal choice, as when asked directly he did avoid the question, so neither opinion can be canonically incorrect. With how unaffected he was during the fight with the naked succubi, it's logical to assume that he's either ace or gay. But then when he's hit with the aphrodisiac, he becomes visibly distressed and asks Shen Qingqiu to help - by allowing him to beat him up to vent his irritation.

So aside from liushen necessitating a wild misinterpretation of Shen Qingqiu's character and an outright slap to the face of Luo Binghe's entire existence in the narrative, I also think it does Liu Qingge a disservice. Faced with a soulmate divination of the person he would hypothetically want romantically and he adamantly denies the love part? Literally drugged with sex mist, is offered assistance, and he wants to fight him? This doesn't read to me like he's out of touch with his emotions to a herculean extent - it just reads like he doesn't want that.

#liushen shippers this post is obviously not for you #ship what you want #it's none of my business #I've just had WAY too many experiences with liushen shippers that are avidly anti-bingqiu so now I have a grudge #bingqiu #svsss #svsss meta #mxtx #人渣反派自救系统 #scum villains self saving system #liu qingge #柳清歌

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flowerandblood · 4 months

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The Fall from the Heavens (6)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, arranged engagement, beheading, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism ]

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She knew what awaited her after what she had done. Her servant informed her that her mother wanted to see her before she managed to get out of bed, tired after a sleepless night.

She herself didn't know what she was feeling anymore, her anger at him and his reaction quickly passed, leaving her with an emptiness.

She thought he had acted so violently because he had been frightened, because he had allowed himself to be weak in front of her and feared that she would use it against him, that this was all her mother's plan.

It terrified her how much they didn't trust each other.

She felt a tightness in her throat at the memory of their fingers touching in the air in the firelight, his wonderful, familiar scent, her cheek snuggled against his bare chest as he stroked her hair.

In that one moment, it was as it had once been.

She stepped into her mother's old chamber as if to an execution, knowing what awaited her, and make no mistake. Her mother stood in front of her, gesturing impatiently, and she stared at her slightly rounded abdomen, Daemon sat in a chair a few steps away, looking at his fingers, bored.

"Why were you in the Prince's chamber in the middle of the night? If he harmed you, tell me." She added, as if she had suddenly realised that what had taken place there might not have happened with her consent.

She didn't know what she should say; she could feel her hands trembling with shame, everything that was pressing against her lips seemed pathetic and worthless.

She herself no longer knew why she had actually gone there.

To feel him again, she thought with pain.

Her mother snorted, impatient, slapping her hands against her thighs in a gesture of helplessness.

"Daemon. Say something." She demanded and he sighed heavily, lowering his hand to his armrest, finally looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"Leave us alone, ābrazȳrys. I need to speak with her in private." He said sternly, with a kind of disappointment and mockery from which she felt discomfort in her stomach.

It would be better to have her heart ripped out.

She humiliated herself.

Her mother protested, however, seeing that her daughter would not say anything to her she gave in, sighed in disbelief and left, closing the door behind her.

She was sure she would hear harsh words of contempt from him, however, he just looked at her vigilantly, tapping his pointing finger on the wood where his hand lay.

"What happened there. Speak." He said impatiently, and she swallowed hard, feeling shame, feeling pain, feeling boundless sadness and grief.

"I wanted to know if he had read my letters, if…"

"That's not what I was asking. I asked what happened there." He interrupted her matter-of-factly, completely uninterested in her weighty tale full of longing. She pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze, unable to bear his intense stare.

"We had an argument. Then we… reconciled. And then we argued again. Then I left." She muttered, not knowing how to describe it so as not to humiliate herself further.

Daemon snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Have you reconciled with each other intensely enough that you should drink moon tea?" He asked rubbing the fingers of his hand against each other, raising his eyebrows, clearly expecting an unequivocal answer.

"No." She replied quietly, and he sighed heavily, tilting his head back, closing his eyes.

"He didn't do anything against your will?"

"No."

He ran his hand over his face, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, as if this conversation was making him very tired.

"Do you still want to marry him?"

She looked at him in disbelief, feeling that she had run out of words – her lips opened but nothing came out of them, she shook her head as if she didn't understand his question. She could see impatience in his eyes, he held his hand out in front of him in a gesture waiting for an answer.

"Yes or no?"

"I don't know. He's aggressive and violent, I don't recognise him." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her trembling hands entwined on her stomach.

"I warned you."

"I know." She said softly and swallowed loudly. "Do you…do you think the Queen will report to Lord Arryn about what I did?"

She heard his laughter full of pity as he massaged his temple, closing his eyes as if he felt nauseous from the very thought of Alicent.

"That sanctimonious whore would admit that her son was hosting his niece in his bed? Lord Baratheon would not be pleased." He said with a sneer, and she felt a kind of relief and disappointment at the same time that her future marriage was in no danger.

"You still haven't answered my question." He said impatiently, looking away; she could see by his posture that the frustration caused by her indecision was growing in him.

She felt her heart pounding hard, a cold sweat on the back of her neck.

Did she want this or not?

She had experienced with him the pleasure she had never given herself with her own hand, his scent, his arms, his voice, his face, his hands, she wanted it all more than ever.

And then she remembered his fingers clenched on her cheeks so painfully tight she felt like crying, his cold, enraged voice, his wide-open eye in which madness lurked.

"He doesn't love me." She muttered, pressing her lips together, trying to hold back the tears of regret, humiliation and disappointment that were rising under her eyelids.

"Of course he doesn't love you. If either of you loves anything, it's your memories of each other, but not who you are now. You are wandering blindly like children in a fog, destroying everything around you." He said getting up from his chair and walked towards her, towering over her, folding his hands in front of him.

"If you tell me you still want to marry him, I will help you. I'd rather you be his wife than lead you and him into a scandal that could destroy your mother. Your betrothal has never been called off, the King will easily prove that no other plans for you can be in force against his decision. But if you decide not to, I will personally see to it that you never see him again and that no letter of yours leaves Dragonstone. Make a manly, mature decision with all its consequences, and stop wallowing over yourself."

She looked at him in disbelief, breathing loudly through her mouth, feeling that she was torn internally, that she herself had no idea what was right and what was wrong.

Daemon kept their conversation to himself, informing her mother only that there was no reason to worry about her possible premature motherhood.

This did not reassure Rhaenyra; she asked her how she could be so unreasonable, that they must stick together, that she must stand by her and her brothers' side when the time came.

Her words made her feel discomfort, fear and disappointment in herself again, she was no longer sure whether her mother would gain or lose through this marriage.

She felt guilty, she felt regret that even though she knew she should have been true to her mother, to her family, she had been unable to tear herself away from this now strange, frightening man.

She thought about this as she stood in the throne room, and although she should be thinking about what Otto Hightower was saying, that the fate of her brother's legacy was at stake, she could not focus on it.

"Fucking cunt." She heard Daemon mutter beside her and smiled involuntarily, knowing that he could never keep his frustrations to himself – he threw them out at once, keeping his inner peace that way.

"Just look at them. They're standing like they're waiting for a fucking beheading. Always so cheerful. Gods, give me patience." He sighed, and she chuckled involuntarily, thinking in her spirit that he was the only person besides Aemond when they were still children who could make her laugh.

Her smile disappeared from her face, however, when the King walked into the room – she felt a squeeze in her heart when she saw his agonised state, the way he moved step by step with great effort towards the throne, towards her mother.

His beloved child.

She glanced involuntarily at her uncle standing in the distance, and even though so many years had passed she could easily recognise the grief and disappointment painted on his stony face.

She knew that whatever he did he never felt noticed by him, appreciated by him, loved by him, so after their betrothal it was in her that he sought comfort and words of appreciation.

He cherished the time she would sneak up to his chamber at night; he would then snuggle up to her still flat chest hidden under her nightgown, listening to her heartbeat, telling her of his achievements, of the praise from the maester who had educated him or from Ser Criston.

She would then stroke his hair telling him that he was brave, courageous, wise, that nothing pleased her more than that he was reading and practising so much, that he would be a great warrior with great knowledge, that she felt proud that her husband would have so many talents.

She felt with every word she spoke how his hands clenched tighter and tighter on the material of her chemise, it even seemed to her sometimes that he was silently crying from happiness and sorrow, that he was drawing on her words as if they were the only source of cold water when his whole body was hot with disappointment and sadness.

She let him fall asleep in the embrace of her arms and her reassurances that she wanted only him, that he was a role model for her, that she wanted to be like him. She also read a lot, studied carefully and presented him with the results of her efforts in the form of a new embroidery or a short melody she had learned to play on the mandolin.

Although he did not understand her girlish world, he was able to tell if he liked or disliked something he saw or heard, always grinning proudly at her, saying that, indeed, his future wife was a woman of many talents.

Were they so happy as children because they had no idea of what was happening around them?

That they didn't know their family had long been divided into two factions, didn't notice the wall that had begun to rise between them?

She shuddered when his gaze turned to her, sharp and thirsty; she saw his lips part slightly and lowered her eyes quickly, feeling her heart pounding hard, trying not to think about how wonderful it felt to feel his tongue deep inside her, what delight he was able to give her just with his kisses between her thighs.

It seemed to her that everything that happened next, Vaemond's humiliating words and his head dropping to the floor after a sure cut from Daemon's sword was just a dream.

That in a moment her eyes would open and she would be back in her bed in Dragonstone.

During supper, Daemon had pushed back the chair next to himself for her, making it clear to her that she was not to try anything and not even go near her uncle. She sat there, staring dully into her plate, feeling discomfort and sadness at the thought that in a few hours they would be leaving the Red Keep.

That they would part again in anger.

They all raised their eyes to the Queen, who, after a short prayer, rose from her seat, holding her cup in her hand.

"I would like to raise my cup for Jace and Baela and Luke and Rhaena, hoping that their marriages will be prosperous and blessed. I would also like to raise my cup to my son, Aemond, who will soon marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters." She said softly, forcing herself to sound warm and calm.

She felt a strong sting in her heart and discomfort in her stomach at her words, as if she were about to suddenly vomit, her throat tightening all over.

I would also like to raise my cup to my son, Aemond, who will soon marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters.

Maybe it's for the best, she thought.

"I do not recall my brother's decision to marry Prince Aemond to my daughter ever being called into question." She heard clearly a familiar voice beside her and lifted her gaze to her stepfather in disbelief.

Good gods.

She looked quickly at her uncle feeling her heart pounding like crazy, his healthy eye wide open, fixed on her, his body as if frozen in shock.

She heard everyone around her twist nervously in their seats, looking at each other, her mother asked him quietly what he was doing, she heard the Queen laugh in disbelief.

"We've made a mutual decision that it's not worth stinging an old wound, haven't we, my love?" She directed her words to the King, clearly wanting him to confirm her words and end the subject once and for all, however her husband remained silent.

She watched, breathing hard through her mouth, feeling droplets of cold sweat on her bare shoulders as the King turned his gaze on his son – she was not sure what she saw in her uncle's healthy eye.

Regret, pleading, pain, agony.

"You have made it, Alicent. I never had a say in the matter. But the House of the Dragon will not remain strong unless it is finally united." He said in a hoarse, weak, determined voice, slamming his lean, blue fist on the table, several people popped up, looking at him in disbelief.

"I do not want my decisions to lead to another misfortune. I am allowing our children to decide." He muttered wearily, and she lowered her gaze, feeling her whole body tremble, heard Aegon's laughter, her mother's voice as she stood up saying that she had already promised her hand to someone else, in her mind only chaos, only despair, only emptiness.

She lifted her terrified gaze to her uncle − he was staring at her with clenched lips, as if all that he held inside was about to finally explode.

"Aemond." She heard his mother's pleading voice; he looked at her as if she had woken him from his lethargy.

She thought that, as always, he would not defy her.

He looked at her again, this time his gaze cool and distant.

She thought with pain that he had already made up his mind.

"My niece is disgusted with me, is she not? Tell us what you think of me, my Lady Strong." He said mockingly, as if he wanted to throw what was happening at her, to hear what he hoped she would say.

That she didn't want him.

She realised, however, that she had waited years to say to his face what was now pressing against her lips.

Against everything and everyone.

Against all that was right.

"My place is with you, uncle. It always has been."

She saw something change in his gaze − he froze in disbelief, his pupil dilated, his nostrils quivered in an anxious breath. She saw him swallow loudly as he grabbed the cup and lifted it to his lips, watching her intently as if to determine that she was lying.

He was silent for a long moment, like the rest of the table shocked by her confession and took another deep sip of wine from his cup before finally responding to her confession.

"So it is decided, father. We will marry."

She heard Jace's voice of defiance as he stood up from his seat saying he would never agree to this, she froze in horror as Aemond stood up too, looking at him with pity.

She was sure he wanted to say something about the night they had spent together to bring him out of balance.

"Sit down. Both of you. The only opinion that counts in this chamber is that of the King." Said Daemon, Rhaenyra rose from the table, furious, saying that they had completely lost their minds.

"I stand by my decision. We will finally end the schism that is destroying this family from within. The nuptials are to take place as soon as possible. Oh −" He sighed, clutching at his heart, his face contorted in pain, it seemed to her that he was about to fall apart before their eyes.

"My love? Guards, the King must rest!" The Queen called out, and after a moment the King was carried out to his chamber.

"How could you do this? Make a decision behind my back?" Her mother hissed to her husband, Daemon, however, did not look as if he was particularly concerned about her rage.

"I have stated the facts. The King can speak for himself. He doesn't need his Hand, wife or daughter to pronounce his will." He said impatiently; her mother pressed her lips together at his words, shaking her head, massaging her slightly rounded abdomen with a nervous gesture.

"We're returning to Dragonstone." She ordered in a low voice and moved towards her sons, wanting to let them know they were leaving.

She was the first to leave, feeling that she needed air, not giving her future husband even a single glance along the way, still unable to forgive him for his aggressive behavior the day before.

She shuddered as she heard the familiar, impatient footsteps behind her − she stopped in the corridor and turned to face him, staring at his silhouette in the torchlight.

Her uncle stood before her, all tense and flushed with wine; she saw him lick his lips and look away, himself no longer knowing what to make of what had happened.

It was all so unreal, so chaotic, so uncertain.

"Your mother will return to the Red Keep in a few days at my mother's request. To discuss our nuptials." He said dispassionately, as if he was just giving her some worthless, unimportant piece of information.

She nodded, wanting to move ahead, but his voice stopped her.

"She stole you away from me then, but I won't let it happen this time. You are to stay. You'll return to Dragonstone in a few days, with her." He growled out with a fury in his eye from which her throat tightened, a desperation in his voice that surprised her. She looked at him, pausing in her half-step, his eye wide open, his lips parted in an uneven breath.

She felt ashamed at the thought that, despite her pleas, her mother had not allowed her to speak with him then, when he lost his eye.

She lied that she would allow her to visit him later, but this did not happen until a few days afterwards, when the door to his chamber closed for her once and for all.

That's when she realised it.

On the worst, most difficult, most frightening night of his life, she had not been by his side.

Her arms didn't embrace his body, her lips didn't whisper that she still loved him, that she still wanted him, that she was proud that the rider of the largest dragon living in the world will become her husband, that his loss of an eye changed nothing.

She lowered her gaze at the memory of him and herself, of how their mothers separating them had led to a state where two people who loved each other so dearly had become complete strangers.

She lifted her eyes to him, thinking that perhaps if she behaved now as she should, she could make things right.

"I will stay, but only until my mother returns. Then I will travel back to Dragonstone with her and stay there until our nuptials." She said softly and heard him sigh, as if he was greatly relieved, as if he expected her to disappoint him again, to hurt him again.

"Yes. It will be appropriate." He muttered, swallowing loudly; she looked at him and noticed that his gaze was no longer so aggressive, his face softened slightly, as if she had given him exactly what he needed to calm down.

She informed her mother that she wished to remain still in the Red Keep under the care of her grandfather and the Queen, and to return with her to Dragonstone in a few days' time, when she would again appear in King's Landing.

"My heart belonged and will belong to him, mother. You yourself know that destiny cannot be cheated. You and Daemon are the best proof of that." She said quietly, not daring to look into her eyes after all that had happened.

She burst out crying as her mother hugged her, stroking her head like a small child, her familiar scent filling her lungs.

"My only daughter." She whispered and kissed her forehead, sighing heavily, smiling finally, as if accepting her decision, as if acknowledging that perhaps it would be better this way, still hoping in the back of her mind for some kind of reconciliation between her and the Queen.

"If anything happens, return at once, my love." She said calmly, and she nodded, sighing quietly, thinking that perhaps something good had in fact happened, that their marriage would strengthen what was falling to pieces.

Little did she know that she wouldn't see her mother for many months to come.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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swimmingwolf59 · 2 months

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Okay. I've just about finished rereading yotsuba and I HAVE to ramble about Yanda and Koiwai's relationship because it is utterly baffling to me. (And it doesn't help that Koiwai always describes his relationships with people so vaguely lol)

When I first read yotsuba, I accepted Koiwai's vague description of Yanda as "my junior" to mean he's someone who started later than Koiwai at the same company, and they haven't known each other for very long. But upon my reread, I've realized that can't possibly be the case.

Yanda is first mentioned in CHAPTER ONE - that blew me away when I saw that. Koiwai asks Jumbo where Yanda is and Jumbo tells him that something came up and he can't make it (and that he's worthless lol). So apparently Yanda is close enough to both of them that he was expected to help Koiwai move and to give Jumbo that update, not Koiwai.

AND IT'S NOT JUST THAT. In the yakiniku chapter, Jumbo brings up someone who Koiwai says "he hasn't seen in a long time." Yanda also seems to know this person. In the camping chapter, when Yanda shows up on his scooter, Koiwai says "You're still riding this thing? That takes me back!" Both of these things seem to imply that Yanda has been part of the group for a while. Also, Koiwai's mom knows Yanda by name.

So my new conclusion is that Yanda is actually a pretty close member of the friend group, and they've been friends for a long time.

So now, the truly baffling part - he has never met Yotsuba. She doesn't know him, and he doesn't know her. He can't even remember her name. When he first meets her, he's surprised to see her answer the door! How can a close friend of Koiwai's not know his daughter lol???? Jumbo has obviously known her her whole life.

My theory is that Koiwai and Yanda met in college, maybe they were in the same department or even while Koiwai was a grad student and Yanda was in undergrad (making stuff up, but Yanda has always seemed much younger than Koiwai). They became good friends, enough that Yanda joined the friend group with Jumbo and met Koiwai's parents. But after graduating, Koiwai began working abroad, presumably where he got Yotsuba, or maybe he worked in a few different places. Regardless, I don't think Yanda would've had enough money to visit him. As he is now, he eats cup ramen all the time and apparently doesn't have access to hot water (???), the guy may even be living out of his car for all we know lol, but I don't think he has a lot of money. I don't think he would've then, either. So he didn't see Koiwai while he was abroad. Even when he came back to Japan, I feel like Koiwai might have lived at home with his parents until he was able to rent this current house. His mom knows the person who's renting to them, talks about them as if they're a friend, which makes me think she helped him get that current house. And considering the fact that they don't visit each other often, Koiwai's family home might not be very close. So, again, Yanda couldn't feasibly visit that often. Now that Koiwai's a lot closer though they can hang out again, hooray! Time to finally meet that daughter he's heard about and obviously wasn't paying attention at all when Koiwai talked about her! (Though it's still baffling to me that Yanda just shows up one day to have lunch without even announcing he's coming over but anyway LMAO.)

I love them. I love thinking about them. Mainly because it makes no sense so it's fun having like a conspiracy theory board trying to figure this out LMAO.

If you want my insane theory, Koiwai and Yanda dated in college but broke up six or more years ago (hence why Koiwai's mom knows him and Jumbo complains about him like that close friend who hates their friend's partner but can't trash talk them until they break up). HOWEVER Koiwai is the only one who knows they broke up, Yanda missed the memo (it happened in the yakiniku chapter, he has a track record lol), and now he's trying to rekindle the romance by showing up for lunch all the time. I may or may not be writing a fic about this.

#yotsuba&!#yanda #yousuke koiwai #listen i love yotsuba it's hilarious it's great i think it being from the pov of a child really adds to its charm #but it kills me that we never get any backstory for these characters LMAO #meta #i guess lol

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sassykattery · 2 years

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A Lover and a Friend, Pt. 1

Welcome to the second installment of my fanfic, "Love, Eternal."

This is Part 1 of "A Lover and a Friend." If you haven't already, please read through all parts of "Diavolo's Date" here before reading this fic so you have a sense of the au/world build/headcannon.

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CW: MC is AFAB, she/her pronouns used. Graphic depictions of sexual situation, description of male and female genitalia, penetrative sex, dirty talk. This chapter is very smutty but with a plot so hold on to your hats. Profane language.

Themes: Unrequited love, romance, sex, DiavoloxMC, a little touch of humor/crack

Characters: MC="You", Diavolo, Lucifer, Barbatos

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+

Enjoy~

Masterlist

"Diavolo! Stoooop!" you screamed while laughing. You were sitting on his lap in his office at the castle, and he was mercilessly tickling you. Moments before, you were telling him that he couldn't ever hug you again if he didn't let you have your own pickle jar in the kitchen in his castle, and his solution was to distract you by tickling you.

Your laughter rang through the halls. Ever since you started dating Diavolo, the castle became livelier with your presence. You two would chase each other around the castle like newlyweds. The gala that was held two nights ago was more fun with you there, the paperwork didn't seem to take as long, and overall, Diavolo felt like he was enjoying his life again. You brought a spark to his world that he didn't know he missed.

Barbatos even seemed happier with your presence. Though he was also bewitched by you like everyone else, to see his young master as happy as he was, he couldn't ask for more. And the proximity to you in the castle was enough to make Barbatos happy.

Someone else was less than thrilled though, but his proximity to you through Diavolo was enough to satiate him as well. He could at least see you when he made his visits to the castle for work. However, at times like this when he wandered the castle halls to Diavolo's office, just to hear you two lovebirds giggling on the other side of the door, well, they weren't his favorite times.

Lucifer knocked at the office door, and the giggling quickly stopped. There was a shuffle and Diavolo finally called back out, "Come in." He tried to keep his expression neutral as he opened the door, unsure of what he was about to witness. He saw you laying on the couch, reading a book and hiding your face, and Diavolo sitting at his desk, looking up at Lucifer.

Lucifer closed the door and strode over to a chair in front of Diavolo's desk. He slowly sank into it and studied the prince.

"Well?" Lucifer asked.

"Oh! Right. So today I called you to talk about that illegal boxing ring I mentioned before. Mammon was most helpful in figuring out who's running it," Diavolo said. "Though, I may be pressed to actually get a hold of them. Allegedly, they're rather slippery."

"Does this mean we'll have to go to the ring ourselves?" Lucifer asked.

"There's a chance they may not even go to the matches, is how I understood it. But they, allegedly, like to frequent The Fall during matches for betting, which is how Mammon came to know who's running it."

"So, we need someone at The Fall and someone to go to the boxing match," Lucifer mused. They both mulled it over. "What if we had Mammon go to The Fall with someone, and two of us go to the match?"

"That could work, but we'd have to decide who should go with Mammon," Diavolo replied.

"Right, they have to be someone who won't raise too much suspicion to be seen in the club," Lucifer said.

You peaked your head over the back of the couch, looking at the two demons, not being able to help hearing the conversation.

"No," Diavolo said, not even looking at you.

"Oh, come on! I could help!" you said "You haven't even heard my idea yet!"

Lucifer turned around toward you; he and Diavolo gave you the same look: absolutely not.

"Just listen to me," you said while getting up. You sat in the chair opposing Lucifer's. "What if Asmo, Mammon, and I all go? I could ask my succubi friends to meet me there to help too, but under the guise I'm just there to party. That way, there's two greater demons, and then I help dissipate any suspicion and can help distract."

Diavolo and Lucifer exchanged a look and stayed that way for several seconds. They returned their gazes to you, and in unison said, "No."

You frowned and pulled out your D.D.D., trying to fake text.

"What are you doing now?" Lucifer asked.

"I'm going to tell Barbatos to get three jars of pickles just for me to keep in the kitchen," you replied, all serious. It took all of five seconds for Diavolo to respond:

"She's going," Diavolo said, eyes wide.

"What?" Lucifer said, his voice raised.

"I said what I said," Diavolo replied.

"Really?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Diavolo asked tensely. Lucifer looked away, gripping the arms of the chair. He looked back over at you and narrowed his eyes. You smirked, which made him "tch" you.

"So, when are we going?" you asked. They both sighed simultaneously at the whole "we" thing.

"I'll have to speak with Mammon to see when the next match will be," Lucifer replied reluctantly.

Diavolo nodded, "That's when we'll go." You then nodded.

Lucifer rubbed his temples and mumbled, "I have a very bad feeling about this." He looked at Diavolo. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you Lucifer. Let me know what Mammon says and we'll proceed from there," he replied. Lucifer quickly stood and retreated, taking one last glance at you, before exiting and shutting the door.

Slowly, Diavolo stood and walked over to the door and locked it. He walked back over to stand in front of you. He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed.

"That was not fair of you," he said, voice low.

"I know I can help, Diavolo, just let me," you pleaded. "You have a habit of underestimating me. I'll have the power of two greater demons nearby, and I can always summon Satan if something goes wrong-"

"That's just it, what if something goes wrong and you can't summon any of them?" Diavolo asked, cutting you off. You furrowed your eyebrows at him. He saw this frustration and instantly softened. "You are right, I do underestimate you a lot, but you understand the risks of being involved with me, yes? You become a target too, a high profile one at that." He sighed. "I meant what I said, you can go. I'm just warning you of the possibilities involved with the sort of work Lucifer and I do."

You gave what he said some thought. "I understand," you said quietly.

Diavolo offered you one of his hands, and you took it, standing up. He pulled you into his grasp.

"There's just one little thing I need to know," he said. He tucked his hand under your chin, holding you in place.

"What?" you asked innocently.

"Why must you like pickles so damn much?!" he asked, exasperated. You chuckled.

"I do enjoy them, but if it bothers you that much, I'll drop it," you said, smiling up at him.

He leaned down and kissed you then, and you hummed against his lips. You still found yourself unsure if all this is real. It had only been a week, but you and Diavolo made things official pretty quickly, introducing you to everyone as his girlfriend had a rather lovely ring to it. You knew in your heart of hearts this demon made you happy.

You deepened the kiss, letting your tongue snake past his lips, grazing it against his teeth. He reciprocated the enthusiasm, accepting the invasion in his mouth. You pushed your body into his, and he enveloped you in his massive embrace. When Diavolo held you, it was like nothing in the world could touch you, nor would he let anything do so.

*Feeling brave, you broke away from the kiss and trailed kisses down his face and neck, in which he tried to stifle a moan. You nipped at his earlobe and continued your barrage of kisses. Finally, you pulled back and smiled at him.

"What is it?" Diavolo whispered, searching your eyes.

"I want you," you whispered back, tracing a finger down his chest over his uniform, your eyes following where it went. "Right here, on this desk," you added. You looked up with pleading eyes.

Diavolo's eyes went wide and looked down at his desk and back at you. The idea excited him and this time he yanked you close to him again and kissed you with such intensity, you thought he would knock you down.

You began to unbutton his jacket, and he slipped it off and threw it behind you. He pulled your jeans and underwear down, you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. In a swift motion, he grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up, placing you on the desk. He helped you lay your back onto the cold wood beneath you, standing in between your legs that laid over the edge, and he started to unbuckle his belt. You watched with hungry eyes, and when you rubbed your thighs together, you could tell you were already wet and ready for him.

He quickly slid his slacks and boxers down, and to your delight he was ready for you too. He positioned his cock at your slit, slowly rubbing it up and down. You moaned and grabbed the edges of the desk and wrapped your legs around his hips. He slid his hips forward, pushing past your dripping folds and right into your entrance. You gasped at the welcomed intrusion, savoring the fullness you felt with him inside you. He hissed out as your velvet walls wrapped around his cock tightly. You let out an extended moan, desperate for him to start fucking you.

"Please, fuck me, Diavolo," you called out. He groaned back at you as he withdrew, and then he slammed his hips into you. You choked out a moan, already becoming drunk off the pleasure you felt. He rested his hands on your waist, holding you in place as he rammed his cock into you over and over in a staccato rhythm, with each thrust causing his desk to rattle. It wasn't long before you started feeling the warmth rising from your feet, that familiar twitch of your orgasm fast approaching. Each thrust caused you to let out a loud moan that bordered on a scream.

"Is this what you wanted? Hm?" Diavolo called out to you. You looked at him and nodded.

"Yes, I love y-you fucking me on your desk," you said back to him. You looked at his body leaning over you, and you saw the white tie dangling from his neck. Pulling on it, he came down with it, and you kissed him vigorously, which he of course returned in kind, still ramming into you. He could feel you tensing up, so he pulled back again.

"Are you going to cum on my desk?" he asked with a wicked grin, riddled with delight at the sight of you below him.

"Y-Yes! I'm gonna cum!" you screamed. You pulled him back down to you so you could hold on to Diavolo as you got rocked by your orgasm. You wrapped your arms around his neck, not letting him leave you, sobbing and screaming into his shoulder as the pleasure tore through every nerve and sent you spiraling. He slammed into you a couple more times before finding his own release, and he buried his face into the crook of your neck as he let a drawn-out moan escape his lips. He pushed into you once more before withdrawing to cum on your thighs, face still pushed into your neck.

Both of you laid there like that for a minute, breathing hard, trying to calm back down. Diavolo carefully stood back up to see you look absolutely fucked out. He gently unhooked your trembling legs from his waist and found tissues to clean you both up with. He dressed himself first, and then helped you to stand and put you back together, clothes in order.

"Are you okay?" he asked, since you hadn't said anything yet. You nodded, still in a daze. He took your hand and walked you over to the couch in his office, and he laid himself down first, pulling you on top of him. You settled your head on his chest and just focused on his heartbeat. He wrapped his arms around you, and you both just enjoyed the silence before he would have to go back to his work.

*You learned in your time together, Diavolo very much enjoyed aftercare with you, wanting to hold you and cuddle with you, even if it's short lived. He whispered sweet nothings to you, massaging your scalp or anywhere that needed attention. Though you tried to reciprocate, he enjoyed mostly taking care of you, that was all he needed.

Immediately after leaving Diavolo's office, Lucifer stopped by the kitchen to talk with Barbatos on his way out of the castle. He inquired as to Barbatos' knowledge of the plan, and the butler confirmed as much.

"Do you know if it will work?" Lucifer asked.

"Rest assure, I'm sure everything will turn out fine," Barbatos replied cryptically. He started to prepare tea for Diavolo and yourself. "Would you like some tea as well?"

"So, you haven't looked then?" Lucifer retorted, not answering the butler's question.

"I don't see a reason to, and my young lord has not asked me to," Barbatos replied simply.

Lucifer stepped closer to Barbatos and said in a hushed tone, "I need to know MC will be safe."

"I imagine with everyone there, she'll be fine," Barbatos said, pulling tea leaves. Lucifer huffed in frustration.

In that moment of silence, Lucifer thought he could hear someone screaming in the castle. Without a second thought, he briskly walked back to the prince's office, leaving Barbatos behind.

"He's going to regret that," Barbatos mumbled to himself, smiling wickedly as he continued to prepare the tea.

As Lucifer closed in on Diavolo's office, he suddenly realized what he had heard and stopped at the beginning of the hallway that led to where the sounds were coming from. He stood for several seconds as he heard you calling out to Diavolo in your ecstasy. There was no doubt, you weren't being hurt; it was quite the opposite, really.

Lucifer then heard you say, "Yes, I love y-you fucking me on your desk!" His cheeks burned with the brightest shade of pink as he swiftly made his way far from that door, still hearing you and imagining you being ravaged by Diavolo. He fanned the thought away and tried to imagine stringing up Mammon instead. He passed by the kitchen again and looked at Barbatos.

"Not what you were hoping to hear?" Barbatos asked vaguely, mischief layered in his tone.

Lucifer frowned deeply and made a "tch" noise as he made his swift exit from the castle.

Later that same day, you had gone back to the House to catch up on your homework that you had somewhat abandoned in favor of hanging out with the prince.

Diavolo sat at his desk, looking at pictures of you on his D.D.D. You often sent him selfies of you doing literally anything: homework, shopping, cooking. He loved seeing you whenever he could, and he would always send you texts back with the highest praises for how beautiful you are.

Barbatos happened to be coming to remind Diavolo about dinner, and he stopped to see his master just smiling at his device. The butler couldn't help but smile as he approached the desk.

"My lord," he said, getting Diavolo's attention.

"Ah, yes, apologies Barbatos, I'll come down for dinner."

"Indeed. I have a question," Barbatos replied.

"Go on."

"It's in regard to your concerns from the day of your first date with MC. Did everything go as well as you hoped?" he inquired.

"Ah, that. I suppose I was worried for nothing. She seemed happy and told me as much. I still worry about hurting her or doing anything to make her think her trust was misplaced with me," Diavolo admitted.

"May I be candid for a moment, my lord?" Barbatos requested.

"Certainly," Diavolo replied.

"I think after the torment she endured with Lucifer, it would be wise for you to make sure not to overstep your bounds, but I do believe you're doing well with her," Barbatos stated.

Diavolo thought it over. "Indeed. On that note, I will be asking you to keep an eye on him for me. I don't believe he's terribly happy with this arrangement, and if he starts taking it out on MC, I won't have it."

Barbatos bowed, "Of course, no harm shall befall her at his hand."

Thank you for reading~ <3

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Masterlist

#obey me smut #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #diavolo x mc #diavolo smut #diavolo x femreader

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