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chvoswxtch · 2 years

Text

tell me i'm wrong

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: you've been dancing around your feelings for matt murdock for over a year. what happens when he confronts you about it?

warnings: cursing, drinking, some fluff, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 7.5k

a/n: no one asked for this. this is purely me being a selfish slut for matt murdock. friendly reminder that if sexual content or smut makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip this! as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

I slipped the key into the lock and turned it quietly, quickly letting myself in and gently closing the door behind me. After twisting the lock back into place, I made my way down the entryway and turned the corner to head straight for the fridge. The light from inside was the only illumination coating the otherwise dark apartment apart from the quick flashes of light from the giant billboard outside the window of the living room. I let out a huff as I scanned my alcohol choices, standing up on my tiptoes to see if there were any better options on top of the fridge. No such luck. I was about to reach for one of the shitty beers inside when a voice cut through the silence.

“What are you doing?”

I screamed as I spun around, slamming the refrigerator door shut with my back as I braced myself against it. I squinted my eyes to see the shadowy silhouette of a figure sitting on the couch. I ran a shaky hand over my face, attempting to get my breathing back under control.

“Jesus Christ, Matt. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“I realize that, smartass. I thought you’d be out..doing your..thing.”

“It’s still early.”

“I didn’t realize criminals followed the designated hours allotted for illegal activity.”

I could hear him snicker, and I just knew he had that stupid smirk on his face. I had known Matt Murdock for a little over a year after I started working as an assistant at his firm along with Karen. After a few high profile cases, they were getting more clients than they could keep track of and needed the extra help. Thus started my complicated relationship with Matt Murdock. Well, it wasn’t really complicated. I complicated it. I immediately developed a crush on him, and he was a flirty little shit that only made it worse. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if he knew what he was doing, or if he was doing it on purpose.

I had accidentally found out about his nighttime activities two months ago when I walked in on him changing out of his costume. He hadn’t shown up to the office that day, and Foggy kept insisting he was probably fine, just sick, but I couldn’t let it go. New York was a dangerous city, and Matt was blind. Or, so I thought. I had used my key he had given me for emergencies and let myself in, calls of his name dying on my tongue when I saw him standing in the middle of the living room with his helmet in his hands. Suddenly, everything kinda clicked. He was always running off at odd times, bailing on drinks after work, constantly not answering calls or texts, and there were always bruises and cuts popping up he would make simple excuses for.

We had both stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. There were a million thoughts swirling around in my head. I honestly didn’t know if I was surprised or pissed. Panic was evident on his face as he approached me slowly, like he was terrified I would bolt if he moved too fast, and had both of his hands held up in front of him.

“I..I know how this looks.”

“It looks like you’re going to be late for court. Get dressed and move your ass, Murdock. I’ll deal with you later.”

For once Matt Murdock had been rendered speechless, and I took pride in that. That charming fucker always had something to say, always had to have the last word. Even though I had promised him we would talk later, I avoided him like my life depended on it. I didn’t show up to his place later that night. I ignored every single one of his calls and texts. I called in sick for two days. I wanted him to know how it felt, to worry, and to be on the other side of a broken promise. To have absolutely no idea what was going on. A piece of me felt betrayed. I know I didn’t have a right to feel that way. Matt was my boss, and sort of my friend, but he owed me nothing. Especially not a secret like that. But still, it stung. I felt like I had been lied to the entire time I had known him.

He had showed up at my apartment that second night I didn’t come to work, letting himself in through the window. I had a feeling he would. He wasn’t known for his patience. Although I must admit I was a little disappointed he didn’t show up in costume. I was on my third glass of wine and feeling brave, swirling the burgundy contents in my glass as I stared over at him.

“Tell me, how does a blind guy climb up a fire escape? Or are you even really blind?”

“I told you about my accident.”

“You did. But how am I supposed to determine what comes out of your mouth is true and what’s bullshit?”

“I..it’s complicated.”

“Then spell it out for me.”

Matt had finally given me the truth. He came clean about everything, about his heightened senses, about how he was trained as a kid, when he decided to become what he was. I still didn’t fully understand how he was able to do what he did, but I tried not to push it too far. In an odd way, it made things better between us. He didn’t lie anymore about what he was really up to, he promised to keep us updated on where he was going in case something went wrong, and he always promised to be careful. His suit and helmet may have been damn near indestructible, but he was still human underneath. While I knew he could handle himself, I had seen the video evidence, I still worried about him. And every night for the past two months, I found myself unable to fall asleep until I got the one message I had made him promise to send me every night.

I’m home.

“Are you just here for my beer?”

“I was hoping for something a little stronger, but I guess I’ll have to settle.”

“Wow, stealing from a blind guy. Have you no morals?”

“Hey, I was gonna leave a twenty on the counter.”

“How generous of you.”

“Do me a favor next time you do a beer run, get something good. Not this German shit. I’m talking Mexican Lager, maybe a little beer salt, some limes. Be considerate of those who raid your stash while you’re out making the world a better place.”

I twisted the top off the bottle and threw it into the trash, making my way over to sit down on the couch opposite the one Matt was sitting on. I could see him better from this spot. The light from the billboard made the red of his glasses almost glow. I rarely ever saw Matt not in his lawyer gear, or his other suit. It was refreshing to see him in a black tshirt, that looked like it had been dried one too many times, and a pair of dark gray sweatpants. He looked..cozy.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I feel like even if I say no, you’re going to anyway.”

Matt pursed his lips into a pout of contempt. I had been getting fed up with his teasing, so I decided to start dishing it right back. It was kinda fun to get him all riled up for a change.

“Go ahead.”

“You’ve been..oddly calm about all of this. I mean..even from the moment you found me in the suit. I was expecting you to-”

“Freak out?”

“Well, yeah. Or at the very least, lecture me. I got an earful from Foggy when he found out.”

Matt had sat up a little straighter, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands in front of him. There was a time when I thought I could shamelessly stare at him without fear of being caught damn near drooling. In the beginning, I did. I didn’t panic when he turned his head towards me, because I didn’t think he could see me. I didn’t think I was getting caught. Of course after Matt had told me the truth about his abilities, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole realizing that he had been aware the entire fucking time.

Letting out a sigh, I ran my fingers through my hair and took another sip from the beer.

“You’re a grown man, Matt. Nothing I say or do is going to change your mind. You’re going to do what you want regardless of what any of us say.”

“Yeah but..you’re the only one that’s a little..warmer to the idea. You’ve had no apprehensions about it, not once. You don’t think it’s wrong?”

“I’m not exactly the person you should be asking that.”

“Why not?”

“Because my moral compass isn’t exactly as straight as everyone else's.”

“I want to know what you really think. You’ve been holding back.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me.”

“Aren’t you Catholic? Shouldn’t you only worry about what God thinks?”

“He’s..a little hard to get a hold of sometimes.”

“She.”

Matt perked his head up, a slight chuckle leaving his mouth as he looked over at me incredulously.

“I thought you weren’t religious?”

“I’m not. But if there is a God, she’s a woman.”

“Fair enough.”

There was no easy way to get out of a conversation with Matt Murdock. Once he had his teeth sunk into something, there was no letting go. My choices were to give in and give him what he wanted, or deal with his relentless pestering until he got it. I let out another deep sigh as I leaned back into his stupid expensive comfy couch.

“I know there’s an idealistic part of you that thinks the system works. But I also know there’s a more realistic side of you that can acknowledge that often, it fails. If you didn’t feel that way, you wouldn’t be running around rooftops in your little red number every night. I don’t believe in absolutes. I don’t think there’s just good and evil, or black and white; there’s a lot of gray area. I guess..that’s where you come in.”

“So, you don’t think it’s wrong?”

“The short answer? No.”

“But you feel for them.”

“You forget I come from a family of criminals.”

“But you didn’t end up like them.”

“Because I chose not to. That doesn’t mean I’m not sympathetic. I got lucky. I made my own choice. Some of those people out there..feel like they don’t have one. So yeah, maybe you get them put away and they’re out in a week or a month, but that’s a week or a month they have time to make a choice of their own. And if they make the wrong one, then you’ll be there. Look, I don’t like that you’re out there every night putting your life, and your career, at risk. But I also get why you do it. There are those assholes who think they’re above the law because they pay the ones that enforce it to work in their favor. So if they lie under oath, it’s only fair they get to meet the Devil.”

“You worry about me?”

There was that signature, shit-eating grin on his face. God he was insufferable sometimes. I wanted to climb across this coffee table and smack it off, but he would probably have me pinned down before I had a chance. On second thought..might not be such a bad idea. I groaned in exasperation, finishing off the bottle in my hand.

“Yes, Matthew. I worry about you, alright? Sue me.”

“I know a good lawyer.”

“Oh fuck off. Look, can we save our Hallmark moment? Or do you feel the need to milk it for all it’s worth?”

Every single one of his stupid perfect white teeth were on display as he grinned widely at me, his broad shoulders moving slightly with every snicker that came from his chest. Matthew Murdock had to be the most infuriating man I had ever met. It was like he lived to tease and test my patience.

A comfortable silence washed over us after a while. My thumb lightly brushed over the label on the bottle as I stared out the window, thinking about what might be waiting out there for Matt tonight. No matter how much I didn’t want to, my mind always drifted to him. I was constantly thinking about him. My thoughts often wandered to the night he had told me the truth, about everything.

That night, realization dawned on me like the first sun after a long winter. He knew. He knew all along that I had been watching him, staring shamelessly. He always heard the way my heartbeat quickened whenever he entered the room, or was suddenly close to me. He could feel the rise in temperature in my cheeks from his lighthearted flirting. He knew..but never said anything. Never acted on it. After his confession, I crossed off the possibility that he had no idea what he was doing to me. Maybe it was really all a game to him.

“What is it?”

“Huh?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t know why you still bother trying to lie when you know I can tell when you are. Besides, I can practically hear the words buzzing in your head.”

“Okay, your hearing isn’t that good. And I’m gonna keep practicing my lying skills until one day even I can trick the human lie detector, Matthew Murdock.”

“Lie detectors actually don’t work very well. They’re kind of bullshit.”

Normally I wouldn’t concede in our banter so easily, but it was getting late and I was exhausted. I was also completely on edge knowing at any second, Matt was going to subject himself to the violent dangers of Hell’s Kitchen leaving me a mess of anxiety waiting on that one message that would finally put me at ease.

“Come on, talk to me. I still got some time to kill. Tell me what’s going on in that little head of yours.”

I racked my brain for anything I could use along the lines of what was running through my head without completely giving myself away. I curled up into the side of his couch, resting my hand on my palm as I looked over at him.

“What..what do you see, exactly? I know you kind of explained it to me..but I’m just curious. I mean is it like..sonar? Shadows or shapes? White noise?”

“It’s more like..a world on fire.”

“Well that sounds..pleasant.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you ask?”

Shit. I tapped my nail lightly against the side of the bottle, shrugging my shoulders a bit now that I knew he could tell when I did that.

“I’m just..trying to understand. Foggy..um..he always says that you always know when girls are pretty so..I guess I was just wondering what you saw. When you look at people, I mean. You can..see them.”

“Short answer, yes. In my own way, I can tell what people look like.”

Maybe that was it. Maybe he could see me, and wasn’t impressed. Maybe he didn’t think I was as pretty as all his other girlfriends and that’s why he never said anything. Leave it to me to not even be a blind guy’s “type”. It certainly wasn’t because we worked together. That didn’t stop him and Karen, which was a painfully awkward conversation to have with her once she found out about my infatuation with him.

“I know that you’re pretty.”

My head snapped in Matt’s direction and I expected to see his usual stupid smirk coating his lips, but he was just smiling. A real, genuine smile. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Was this a trick?

“What?”

“I said I think you’re pretty.”

“Oh..Foggy tell you that? You know you can’t trust his judgment after tequila.”

The smile on his mouth only stretched further as he shook his head slowly, bracing his palms on his knees.

“No, I can tell for myself.”

I didn’t know what to say. Matt had never called me pretty before. He flirted with me like it was his own personal mission from God, but I never thought he actually found me attractive. I didn’t know he could. I promptly became self conscious of the fact that I was wearing a flimsy tank top with a cropped zip up hoodie and a pair of leggings that had small holes forming on the inner thighs where they had been worn down. I didn’t think he was going to be here, so I didn’t bother with changing. I had never had a reason to be self conscious about my appearance with Matt before. But now I knew that he could see me, and thought that I was pretty.

“Does that bother you?”

“What?”

Matt rose from his spot on the couch, taking careful steps around the coffee table until he could take his place right beside me. If he moved even a centimeter closer, his knee would brush against mine.

“Does it bother you that I think you’re pretty?”

“Oh..um..n-no. But..you knew that already..right?”

“I wanted to hear you say it.”

Matt was closer in proximity than he ever had been before, and the scent of his cologne was intoxicating. I had to stop myself from leaning in to nuzzle his neck. His large hands were braced against his thighs, as if he was waiting for something. I loved Matt’s hands. I knew what they were capable of, but I wanted to know what they could do to me.

“How does it make you feel?”

“What?”

“That I think you’re pretty. How does it make you feel?”

“Matt-”

“Don’t be shy, Y/N. Be a good girl and tell me how it makes you feel.”

Good girl. Those two words went straight to my core and caused me to press my thighs together tightly, which did not go unnoticed by Matt. He noticed fucking everything. His eyebrows rose slightly above his crimson colored glasses, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, did you like that?”

I didn’t know if my frustration was purely sexual or just due to Matt being a cocky son of a bitch but I couldn’t stand to be around him for another second. I hadn’t eaten since lunch so I was pathetically buzzed off of one beer, further intoxicated by the scent of his cologne that had weaved its way through my lungs, and internally begging to hear more filthy words fall from his graceful lips in that dangerously low voice. As much as my body was screaming for his touch, my brain reminded me just how much he pissed me off. I slammed my empty bottle on the table as I stood.

“I am so fucking over your little games, Murdock.”

Matt’s hand darted out in a flash to grip onto my wrist, not hard enough to leave a mark, but just enough to let me know I wasn’t leaving. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I looked down at him and swallowed thickly. There was a somewhat pained look on his face and his jaw clenched slightly.

“Don’t. It’s not a game.”

Without warning, he pulled me down onto his lap with an ease that caused a sharp gasp to fall from my lips at just how strong he was. His arm snaked around my back, trapping me against his firm chest so that our faces were merely an inch apart. I flattened my palms against his chest, not like I could push him away even if I really tried. I could feel his warm breath fanning over my lips.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that I read this all completely wrong, and you can walk out that door, and we can pretend that this never happened. I won’t bring it up again, I swear. But if you do want this..God, I need to know.”

My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears it was deafening. I wondered what it must sound like to him. To me, it must have resembled a hummingbird fluttering around in a cage. But for Matt, it had to be far more intense, like a marching band plowing right through my ribcage. I reached up with trembling hands, grabbing onto the sides of Matt’s glasses and gently pulled them off of his face.

I always thought Matt’s eyes were beautiful. There were swirls of deep caramel intermingled with honey golden embers and splashed with tiny flecks of jade. He brought his other hand down to rest on my waist, his thumb pressing light circles against my hip bone through the fabric of my leggings. God did I want to kiss him. I wanted to throw caution to the wind, bite the bullet and finally get what I had been craving since that first day.

But fear crept into the back of my mind and turned my blood cold. What did this mean? What would it change? Would I be just another shiny new toy that Matt would discard in a month once he got bored? I didn’t think I had the grace to carry on with business as usual like Karen had. This would change everything for me. There would be an entirely different rendition of “normal” if we crossed this line, and I had no idea what it meant to Matt.

“Let it go for tonight.”

“Let what go?”

“Everything you’re worrying about right now. I promise whatever happens, you and I will work it out together tomorrow morning. Line by line.”

“Matt..”

“Tell me you want this, Y/N.”

“You can hear my heart.”

“I want to hear you say it. I need to hear you say it. Please.”

My mind was swimming with curiosities and consequences. I could give in. I could relinquish complete control and finally get to have Matt Murdock like I had been dreaming about since we first met. And even if the flame burns out too quickly for my liking, at least I’ll always be able to remember this night. And if I don’t, I could spend the rest of my life wondering what I had missed out on. Agonizing if I had made a mistake. Which was worse? To have a little taste, or nothing at all?

“I..I want this. I want you, Matt.”

In an instant his lips were crashing onto mine, grabbing onto the back of my neck to pull me impossibly closer. Our teeth and tongues thrashed together with insatiable hunger. Matt’s kisses were rough and needy and it lit a blaze within me. I had never wanted someone so badly. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and tugged my head to the side, granting himself full access to my neck. He left a burning trail of kisses down my neck and I whined when I felt his teeth sink into the juncture above my collarbone.

“Your scent drives me fucking crazy. Ever since you first stepped into the office..it was everywhere. It still fucking is. Doesn’t matter how many times I wash my clothes, how long it’s been since you’ve been in the office, or my apartment, your fucking scent is everywhere..and it goes straight to my cock. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to excuse myself to go fuck my hand in the bathroom like a horny fucking teenager because of you?”

“M-Matt..”

His fingers swiftly tugged at the zipper of my hoodie, shoving it down my shoulders and throwing it across the floor. He gripped the top of my tank top and ripped it completely in half like a piece of paper, carelessly discarding the scraps. A gasp of surprise left me but was completely cut off by a loud moan when Matt pulled me roughly down onto his lap.

“Can you feel that? Can you feel what you fucking do to me?”

I could feel the entire outline of Matt’s hardened bulge as he grabbed my hips, pulling me down even harder against him. I let my head fall back and moaned wantonly at the feeling of his hard on rubbing against me right where I wanted him. I was surprised he had actually unclasped my bra instead of ripping it off with all of my other clothing. My nipples instantly peaked from the rush of cool air and goosebumps littered my naked skin. My mouth hung open at the contrast of Matt’s warm large hands fondling my breasts, squeezing them roughly. His mouth latched onto one of my nipples, alternating between sucking and biting down on the sensitive flesh. He splayed one of his large hands flat against my back, keeping me in place so I couldn’t escape the delicious torture.

“I can fucking smell your arousal. I can smell how fucking soaked you are right now. Fuck..I can’t wait to tear you apart.”

I whined as I gripped at the collar of his shirt, giving it a light tug hoping he would get the hint. As he pulled his shirt off his head, I took the opportunity to rush forward and drag my tongue along the sharp outline of his jaw, nipping at the skin under his ear. He grunted as he suddenly shot up with me in his arms, turning slightly to drop me onto my back on the couch as he ripped my leggings down my thighs. I gulped as I watched him shove his sweats down, climbing onto the couch on his knees in front of me. He flashed me a devilish grin before sounds of seams ripping and tearing filled the ear. My mouth hung open in shock as I stared at the remnant shreds of my panties in his hand.

“Matt-”

Before I could register what was happening, he placed one of his large hands over my mouth and shoved two of his fingers into my soaking pussy. I whined against his hand, staring up at him above me with wide eyes.

“Shh, you’re gonna be a good girl for me, aren’t you? Gonna let me take what I want? Gonna let me use you like my own little whore, yeah?”

A fresh wave of arousal flooded between my thighs. The sweet, charming Matt Murdock was long gone. The devil had come out to play.

Matt wasted no time settling between my thighs, diving face first into my pussy like a man starved. I cried out in pleasure as he bit down on my clit, soothing it with his tongue before sucking on the sensitive nub without remorse. His beard burned as it rubbed against my thighs, but it felt so fucking good at the same time. One of his hands clamped down on my thigh to keep it spread and he locked my hips down in place with his arm so I couldn’t move at all. All I could do was lie there and take it as he took what he wanted. As he worked me over with his tongue, his fingers explored deep inside of me, curling up upon exit every now and then and brushing against that special spot. I wasn’t going to last.

“Matt..M-Matt fuck..I..I’m g-”

I nearly cried when he roughly retracted his fingers and removed his mouth. I shot up instantly to reach out for him, face contorted in annoyance and ready to protest. His hand suddenly wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to get me to stay still. A warning. I grabbed onto his wrist with both of my hands. My entire body felt like it was on fire. His lips were red and swollen, and coated with my wetness that was dripping down his chin. The smirk on his lips grew more wicked by the second.

“I didn’t say you could come. You don’t get to come unless it’s on my cock, understand? You have to earn it. You have to prove to me that you’re a good girl, and beg for it. If I even think you’re going to come without permission, I will tie you up and leave you here all fucking night. Tell me you understand.”

“I..I u-understand.”

“Good.”

I sucked in a deep breath when Matt let go of my neck. His large hands gripped my hips savagely and he flipped me over without hesitation onto my stomach. He shoved his knee in between my thighs to spread them apart, pulling me up onto my knees so that my ass was straight up in the air. I whined loudly when I felt the sting of his palm slapping harshly against my ass. I didn’t have to turn around to know there would be a perfect outline of his hand. I could hear the rustling of clothing behind me as he shoved his briefs down his muscular thighs.

“Give me your hands.”

I swallowed thickly as I turned my head slightly so that my face was flush against the cushion of the couch, reaching my hands behind my back. Matt took both of my wrists into one of his hands, holding them firmly against my back. I surged forward and cried out when he abruptly shoved the head of his cock into my needy pussy. He didn’t give me time to adjust and before I knew it I could feel his hips against my ass as he fully sheathed himself inside me. I heard a guttural groan rip through his chest behind me and it went straight to my core.

“Fuck..you’re even fucking tighter than I thought you’d be. Gripping my cock so fucking good.”

Matt’s thrusts were rigorous and unrelenting as he pounded into me. My body surged forward with every powerful snap of his hips. I had never been fucked like this before. My head was spinning and it was becoming more and more difficult to stay up on my knees with the pace Matt was fucking me at. I felt him grab a large fistful of my hair, yanking me backwards so that my back was arched even more. I moaned sharply at the new angle that allowed him to drive deeper inside of me. He was so big and thick, and it burned delectably everytime he pushed in further.

“M-Matt..please..please I-I can’t..”

“Gonna come already? Don’t be a greedy slut. I’m not done yet.”

“I c-can’t..c-can’t hold it..”

“You better fucking find a way to hold it.”

I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t think I could handle it if he stopped. I needed him. I dug my nails so hard into my palms I thought they would bleed. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying my hardest not to combust. I clenched my pussy around his length which earned a luscious groan from deep within his chest.

“Fuck angel..you want it that bad, don’t you? Want me to fill this pretty little cunt up?”

“Yes, yes, yes..please..please-fuck..”

Matt let go of my hair and moved his hand between my thighs, beginning to rub his fingers over my clit at a brutal pace. I jerked back against him and nearly screamed at the contact, feeling that band within me dangerously close to snapping.

“Go ahead, angel. Come for me. Let go, and don’t you fucking hold back. I want it all.”

My thighs shook as my orgasm hit me like a tsunami, leaving my body a convulsing mess against him. I moaned his name over and over like a prayer, grinding my ass back against him as I tried to survive the aftershocks. Matt moaned loudly as he spilled inside of me with a vengeance, leaning forward over my back to clamp his teeth down on my shoulder. I whimpered softly as I felt his tongue brush over the spot to soothe the pain.

I cried out again when I felt his length slip out of me, only to be replaced by his fingers as he cupped my pussy, keeping his release inside of me. His hot breath fanned over my ear as he nipped at it, speaking lowly in a gravely tone.

“Don’t think I’m fucking done with you yet.”

I whimpered at his words and nearly fell apart all over again. It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise. Matt maneuvered me back onto his lap, spreading my thighs on the opposite sides of his. As fast as he withdrew his fingers from me, he was pulling me down onto his half hard cock until he bottomed out inside of me. My mouth hung wide open and I wanted to scream at the sensation, but I couldn’t speak. I could feel him everywhere. I had never felt so full and so whole.

“You gotta earn this one, angel. Show me how good of a girl you can be.”

Matt wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, caging me against his chest once again. My thighs burned and felt like jelly, I wasn’t even sure if I could move. I didn’t know if it was my own desire or my need to please Matt, but somehow I found my strength. I grabbed onto his broad shoulders for support, beginning to rock my hips back and forth slowly. I whined from the sensitivity, leaning in to bury my face into the crook of his neck.

“That’s it..just like that. Look so pretty when you’re taking my cock, angel.”

The embers had been reignited and the fire began to grow within my belly once more. I took the opportunity to leave open-mouthed kisses along his neck, sucking softly at the nape of it. The breathy little moans that left his lips only spurred me on further. I bit down gently on his neck and heard him hiss, roughly digging his fingertips into the flesh of my hips. I couldn’t wait to see the marks he had left on me tomorrow. I wanted to make one of my own.

I sucked aggressively at the skin just above his collarbone, testing my luck as I bit down harder than I had before. I gasped when I felt his hand wrap around my throat again, bringing our faces closer together as the corner of his lips curled up in a snarl.

“Did I say you get to fucking tease?”

“N-no..I’m sorry..”

“Then what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I..I just wanted..wanted t-to make you f-feel good too..”

“You wanna make me feel good? Ride my fucking cock.”

Matt smacked his hand against my ass sharply, earning another loud moan from me. His grip on my waist tightened as he leaned back against the cushions to stare at me. I bit down on my lip hard, starting to move my hips in slow figure eights. I was trying so hard to keep a steady pace, but I couldn’t focus. My body felt weak and my brain was erratic from how turned on I was. Matt’s patience wore thin as he held me steady and began to snap his hips up into mine repeatedly, causing me to bounce on his cock at an unforgiving pace. I squeezed my eyes shut and threw my head back, digging my nails into his shoulder as I held on.

“Oh fuck..fuck fuck fuck..fuck Matt!”

The apartment was filled with sounds of his thighs slapping against my ass, his cock pistoning inside of my gushing pussy, and the violent growls that rang from his throat. I felt like he might actually tear me apart, and God what a way to fucking go. I grabbed onto the back of his neck tightly, pressing my forehead against his as I moaned even louder. I was gonna break.

“M-Matt..I..I..”

“Come. Come all over my fucking cock, angel. Let me have it.”

I crushed my chest against his, holding onto him as tightly as I could as my second orgasm tore through my body with retribution. I was a screaming, incoherent mess as wave after wave of pleasure racked through me. I could feel Matt’s hips stutter slightly as he came with a loud grunt, coating my walls with ropes of warmth once again. My heart pounded violently in my chest and I struggled to take in oxygen. I was shaking in Matt’s arms as he held me, nearly on the verge of tears. I had never felt so good.

Matt gently ran his fingers through my hair, brushing it out of my face as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of my head. He lightly trailed his fingertips up and down my spine slowly, brushing his nose along the curve of my jaw until his lips were on mine. His kisses continued along my neck as he whispered softly in my ear.

“Can you give me one more baby?”

I started to panic. I didn’t know if I could physically or mentally take one more. I whimpered as I hid my face in Matt’s neck, tightening my grip on his back.

“Matt..I don’t-”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll help you. Just one more for me, baby. You can do it, I know you can.”

Matt slowly lifted us off the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around me and his length still settled inside of me as he carried me into his bedroom and laid me down gently on the bed. He kept himself inside of me the entire time. I panted softly as I looked up at him. He placed his hands on either side of my head, a soft smile on his lips as he leaned down to brush our noses together.

“I’m gonna go slow, okay?”

He gently pulled my legs up to wrap around his waist, taking one of my hands and intertwining our fingers together as he held it by my head. The way he was looking at me made butterflies erupt in my stomach, and I felt my heart squeeze in my chest. The devil had his fun, now my sweet, charming Matt Murdock was back. He kissed me gingerly as he began to lazily move our hips together.

My entire body felt like a live wire and every time our hips connected it sent a jolt of electricity through me that made me wanna scream. It just felt so good. I couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down my cheeks or the sobs of pleasure that sounded from my lips. Matt pressed his forehead against mine as he lightly brushed the tears away with his thumb.

“I know baby..I know. I feel it too. I’ve wanted this for so long Y/N..wanted you for so long. God, you have no idea. You belong with me, Y/N.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak. I didn’t know if I could tell you my own fucking name if you had asked right then. The only thing I could focus on was Matt and how perfectly we fit. I squeezed his hand tightly, feeling myself being brought closer and closer to the edge with every stroke. Matt leaned in to capture my lips in a passionate kiss. I reveled in the feeling of his body weight on top of me. It felt right. I felt safe.

“Matt..”

“I know, baby. You’re doing so well for me..so so well. I’m so proud of you, angel. Just a little longer baby, I’m almost there. Can you hold on for me just a little longer? Gonna make you feel so good baby, I promise.”

I could hardly hear Matt’s saccharine voice as my third orgasm of the night was steadily approaching. Matt gripped onto the sheets beside my head and sped his pace up just a bit. I didn’t have time to warn him, but he knew. He could feel it. He gently grabbed the back of my neck and pressed his forehead to mine, his voice shaking as he spoke.

“Let go baby, let it all go. I’m right here. I’m right here..I got you. I’m right here, angel.”

My vision became fuzzy, somewhat resembling the inside of a kaleidoscope, and I thought I was going to black out. It was like a bomb inside me had exploded, sending fragments flying that left me shaking uncontrollably. Euphoria rushed over me in unrelenting phases, and it felt like I was free falling throughout space. Matt Murdock had completely ruined me. It took several minutes before I came back down into coherency.

As my vision came back into focus, I could see Matt still hovering above me. He was lightly brushing his thumb across my cheekbone in a loving gesture, a small smile languidly forming on his lips.

“There you are. I missed you.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, turning my head to lean further into Matt’s touch. I was still trying to regain my bearings as I breathed heavily. Matt leaned down to press gentle kisses to my forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips. He slid his length out me as carefully as he could, but even just the brush of his pubic hair against my overstimulated clit sent another jolt through me and tears pricked at the corner of my eyes again. I whimpered as I could feel a rush of warmth between my thighs where his three rounds of release had begun to spill.

“I’m sorry, angel. I know. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna get you some water.”

I couldn’t move. It felt like there were invisible cinder blocks all over my body holding me down. No one had ever made me come like that, let alone three times in a row. Matt emerged a moment later with his briefs slung low on his hips, a glass of water and a small towel in hand. He sat down beside me, weaving his arm around my back to hold me up against his chest as he brought the glass to my lips.

“Here, baby. Drink as much as you can.”

Once he was satisfied with my water intake, he began to cautiously clean me up with the warm towel. I gripped onto his arm when he touched me where I was sensitive, to which he kissed my temple as a silent apology. He hooked his arms under my knees and back, shifting me over onto the part of the bed that wasn’t drenched with our release. As he laid down beside me, he carefully swung my leg over his waist and held me tightly against his chest.

I could finally hear his heartbeat for once with my head on his chest. It was fast, but steady and strong. I lightly traced my fingertips along the scars that covered his skin. The action quickly sobered me up as I glanced out the window, wondering how late it was.

“Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you..still going out?”

“No. I used all my fighting bad guy energy to fuck you senseless.”

I immediately blushed and hid my face into his neck, lightly slapping at his chest.

“Matthew!”

“What?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

My breath caught in my throat at his words. That was what had started all of this. Those little words had jumpstarted the best night of my entire life. But I couldn’t stop myself from letting my mind wander about how long this night would actually last. His words from earlier echoed loudly in my mind. You belong with me, Y/N.

“Did you mean it?”

“When I said you’re beautiful?”

“No..when you said..I belong with you.”

Matt turned his head slightly so that he was facing me, cupping my cheek in his large hand while his thumb lightly ghosted over my bottom lip.

“I meant it.”

There were so many questions I had, I couldn’t keep track. How was this going to work? How could it work? What if it ended badly? What if something happened to Matt? I was completely exhausted both physically and mentally, and every question that popped into my head only made me feel more lightheaded. I knew Matt could hear my heartbeat going frantic again when he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Hey, I told you. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Together. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Get some rest, angel. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

I had no idea what tomorrow morning would bring, but at least I could take comfort in knowing that I was waking up in Matt’s arms. We would figure it out, together, line by line. And oh, it was definitely fucking better to have a little taste than nothing at all.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fic #daredevil #daredevil smut #daredevil fic #foggy nelson #karen page

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leviathans-watching · 10 months

Text

Breaking the Ice

includes: diavolo x f!reader (she/her & you/your pronouns used, no physical body description)

wc: 14k | rated t | m.list | crossposted on ao3

warnings: cursing, more raunchy than my normal stuff (implied/fade-to-black sexual content), past raphael x reader

huge huge huge thanks to my three amazing betas for this @jeschalynn, @hyperfixat, & @fickleminder, you all seriously elevated this fic and i'm so grateful to you!!

a/n: i have been (slowly) working on this since NOVEMBER. you can't imagine how good this feels to finally post 😫😫. here's a guide to the boys' positions & numbers if you're interested and also where i go over some of the hockey terminology used within this fic! please remember to reblog/comment/etc., it's really appreciated! also blah blah blah creative liberties and suspension of belief. i'm also not a hockey experts so mistakes should be expected 👍

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“And have more rumors about our relationship spread? I don’t think so. Simeon hates when people think we’re dating, which happened for a bit with the CC Chols. Says it gets in his way when he’s trying to find a date.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you!

∙

Following your childhood best friend across the country after his trade to the Devildom Dogs—one of the most prolific AHL Hockey teams in the business—hadn't been the plan, but you can't say you're not liking it. Especially because the handsome and charming captain of the team, Diavolo, seems to be making it his new season goal to break the ice between you and get to know you better.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice echoes over the arena, egged on by the cheers of the crowd, “we welcome the Devildom Dogs out to the ice!”

The sounds of blades scraping on ice fill the air, and the raucous cheering only grows louder. It should be no different from your old arena, your old team, and yet it is.

Well, except for one thing. Person. As he skates out onto the rink to warm up, Simeon catches your eye, giving you a quick wink that’s barely visible through his helmet. You sigh good-naturedly, and he smiles.

You and Simeon have been friends for as long as you can remember—since birth, if your mothers are telling the truth—and when he’d been traded from the Celestial City Chols all of the way across the country to the Devildom, you hadn’t really seen a reason not to go with him. Your work was completely virtual, and there hadn’t been anything really tying you to the Celestial City after your engagement had been called off. Honestly, though it kind of sucked that Simeon got traded to the biggest rival of the CC Chols, you have high hopes about this new city and team.

A puck slams into the glass just in front of your face. You don’t jump. The boys on the CC Chols had always loved to mess with you and you were long used to things flying at you at what seemed like a million miles per hour. But it wasn’t one of the CC boys who’d sent that puck flying, and as you scan across the ice, you see it was one of the forwards, number one. Simeon had been kind enough to give you the down low on all of his new teammates, and you’d spent a fair amount of time pouring over the roster and memorizing stats, so it’s not hard to put a name to the number. Face. Whatever.

Mammon, starting forward for the season, gives you a smirk then turns away, all flashy footwork and dexterous control. You pause to admire the way his jersey stretches across his back, and then the jersey itself. Damn, he looks good. The jersey looks good—you had designed it after all.

You hadn’t always wanted to be an AHL jersey and logo designer, but through a combination of hard work and dumb luck, you are now the hand behind a myriad of teams’ looks, including the Devildom Dogs and the Celestial City Chols. Not that many people know about the person behind the designs. The average person is typically a lot more invested in the person wearing the jersey, not the one designing it, which is just fine with you. With the amount of money you’re getting, you honestly don’t need recognition.

That paycheck allowed you to purchase the highest level VIP season tickets for the season, managing to snag the seat closest to the home team benches, meaning you’re only a few feet from the team. Simeon had laughed when you’d told him this, but you hadn't cared. Now you can make sure he heard you when you yelled at him for his playing.

As you wait out the warmups, you try to compare this rink with that of your old team. The biggest difference that you could sense was the vibe. Back at the Chols’ rink, the air had been light, filled with more excitement than anything else. But here, it’s different. There’s a bloodthirsty undercurrent running through the crowd, a cutthroat competitiveness that’s completely new to you. The fans are already bothering the opposing team, hurling taunts and insults their way, with the mascot of the Devildom Dogs, an iteration of Cerberus the three-headed dog, whipping the fans into an even crazier frenzy.

And it’s not only the fans that are different; the players are, too. Even within the League, the Dogs have a reputation for playing fast and dirty, masterfully bending the rules without breaking them. You’ve always been impressed by them (not that you’d ever admitted it before, as doing so would have been treason to the Chols), but you’re kind of excited to be able to openly study and praise their skilled playing. Especially since you hope this will give Simeon the team that he needs. It had been clear to you, that he was a cut above the rest in the Chols. Not that that was a bad thing, but now you hope he can be matched, have the room that he needs to stretch his wings and fully use his talent without his team falling behind.

Before you know it, warmups come to an end. The non-starting players file back into the benches and you’re proud to see Simeon remaining on the ice. He’d been traded during the off-season, so it had completely taken you both by surprise to hear he’d be a starter, considering all of the veteran players on the team.

You stand for the national anthem, then finally, finally, the puck is dropped. The team they’re playing against today is one you’re not all that familiar with, and honestly couldn’t care less about, so you focus your attention more on watching Simeon play than you do the game as a whole.

Due to the proximity of your seat to the benches you’re able to hear the chatter of the players, the coach barking orders, and even the signal to change lines. It’s a whole new experience. When you’d go to watch the Chols’ games, you were in the VIP lounge, which, while pretty fancy and awesome, was removed from the ice and the actual grittiness of the game.

Plus, you never got a moment to yourself. All of the other wives and permanent girlfriends had always wanted to chat, and while they were pleasant enough, sometimes you just wanted to lose yourself to the game, yell and scream with the rest of the crowd.

Simeon is on a line with Solomon, who’s a forward, and Leviathan, who’s a left-winger. He’s playing hard and well, proving he deserves to be on this team. You egg him on from your seat, making an effort to have your voice heard above the crowd. The Dogs are playing fairly clean tonight, and you wonder if it’s because it’s opening night.

Or maybe it’s because they don’t need to play dirty. It’s clear they outclass the opposing team in every way, their insane training schedule paying off. The boys are blurs on the ice, and hardly ever on your side of the rink, as they’re pushing hard to keep the puck near the opposing team's goal. At least you’ll be able to see better when they switch sides in the next period.

Simeon returns to the benches and gives you a grin, chugging water. You flutter your fingers in a wave, mouth twisting with a smile. Solomon, following his gaze, locks eyes with you, and you flick a glance between them before turning back to the game, determinedly not looking over. Your eyes are drawn to Diavolo and Lucifer, the defensemen currently on the ice. The other pair you’ve seen tonight, Barbatos and Belphegor, are good, but these two… they’re something else.

They move in perfect formation, seemingly able to anticipate one another’s actions. You remember that Simeon had said they’ve been together since the Q, even were drafted together which is practically unheard of, and now you understand why. They’re menaces of black and red, and it would be a complete shame to separate them. There was even talk of Diavolo moving up to the NHL at one point, but after he became captain he chose to stay down.

You watch as Diavolo steals the puck from under the opposing team’s nose, sending it neatly toward Lucifer, who delivers it right to Asmodeus. He, like the rest of the team, is incredibly talented, but unlike the others, he relies on speed and agility rather than brute force. You’d read somewhere he’d taken a fair amount of figure skating classes to improve his balance and form, and it’s really paid off.

Asmodeus takes the puck all of the way down to the other end of the rink, passing to Mammon, who scores. You’re on your feet with the rest of the arena before you can think, cheering loudly. The boys do a quick celly then get right back to business, switching out with Simeon’s line.

The players on the bench all slap Mammon on the back as he takes his seat, casual as can be.

“You should have sent it to me,” Satan grumbles, barely audible over the din of the crowd and you unashamedly eavesdrop, not even bothering to hide your stare. Around you, the other superfans are still celebrating and their enthusiasm is infectious.

“Whatever,” Mammon shoots back. “I got it in, didn’t I?”

Asmodeus laughs, light and airy. “Barely.”

“Can it, dipshit.” Mammon leans over and smacks him on the shoulder, and you notice he’s taken off his gloves. You smother a chuckle, then return your attention to the ice. The opposing team’s fighting pretty hard, but they’re clearly fighting a futile battle. Any time they manage to get the puck near the Dogs’ goal it’s quickly sent back across the ice, and the few rare times they do manage a shot, it’s easily stopped, mostly by the d-men or the goalie. It almost seems like the Dogs are toying with them, letting them get close to scoring and then removing the chance completely, then repeating the action.

Frustrated, one of the players on the opposing team lashes out, dropping his gloves and rounding on Simeon. He dodges the clumsy blows easily, putting him in his place with a clean uppercut. The ref finally gets between them, taking longer than normal, something you’ve noticed from watching the Devildom Dog’s old games is pretty usual for their arena. They tend to let them go a little longer, which gives the Dogs a better opportunity to beat the shit out of the other players with beautiful brutality. The Chols had been all about good sportsmanship, so fights were a lot less common with them than the average team.

You wish you had been filming, but no doubt there will be videos online depicting the fight thanks to some other fan uploaded within the hour.

Simeon is unscathed, but the other player spits blood across the ice, glowering at him. You let out a long whoop, and he half turns towards you, lips curving up in a small, feral smile. You can already see it—this change is good for him.

They both get a few minutes for roughing, but Simeon looks all too happy to be in the sin bin. You can’t help but snap a few pictures, throwing them on your story. The game resumes with more energy, with both the players and the crowd whipped up into more of a frenzy. The fans want blood, or at least for crushing defeat to be delivered, and it seems like the team’s hellbent on delivering. It’s a fantastic game, wilder and more energizing than you’ve seen in a long time, and you can’t help but be excited for the upcoming rest of the season.

As the game draws nearer to the end, the opposing team pulls their goalie, but quickly puts it back after the Devildom Dogs score yet another goal, increasing the already sizable score gap. When the buzzer finally goes off signaling the end of the game, the away team looks utterly defeated while the Devildom Dogs celebrate. You catch a few curses and middle fingers shared between teams, and again, have to laugh.

You stand and cheer with the rest of the crowd, reveling in the thrill of the win along with the team. Simeon’s in the center of it all, receiving congratulatory slaps and fist-bumps, and you know without a doubt he’s been accepted as one of their own. You’re a bit relieved—he’d been worried about not getting along with the others. Not that it’s necessary at this level of playing, but at his center, Simeon likes being liked and had been worried about how he was being received.

Around you, fans start making their way out of the auditorium, and you follow, knowing Simeon’s going to go out to celebrate with the rest of the team. You feel eyes on you as you leave. You look over and make eye contact with the team captain, Diavolo, who gives you a half genuinely warm, half inquisitive smile. You tilt your head and smile back, slightly teasing, then turn away.

∙

The walk back to your and Simeon’s shared apartment isn’t far, but it is a bit chillier than it is this time of year in Celestial City, so you’re grateful when you’re able to close the door behind you. You send off a quick text to Simeon telling him you’d made it safe, then just pause for a moment, digesting the game. The boys had played great, your jerseys had looked fantastic, and you were pretty sure you’d already caught the attention of some of the players. You’ll get to know them all eventually, or at least that’s what you assume since you’d been so familiar with the CC Chols, so you’re not too worried, but the image of that smile the captain had sent you plays in your head. It’s unusual for fans to be given attention like that, so you wonder if Simeon’s already said something about you.

Shaking yourself, you start your bedtime routine and change into more comfortable clothes. You won’t actually go to sleep for a while, perks of making your own hours and being a night owl, but starting it early never hurts. You also need to stay up for Simeon, as you know he’s going to want to tell you all about the game from his perspective. You’re excited to hear it, as well as excited to hear what hanging with the guys after is like.

Time passes, and with no word from him, you begin to get a little worried. It’s not unheard of for him to come home late. If he were with the Chols, you wouldn’t be worried at all, but he’s in an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar guys, you’ve heard about the hazing horror stories. You uneasily move around the apartment, trying to convince yourself that you’re overreacting. Suddenly your phone rings, that familiar ring-tone carrying through the air, and you hurry to answer it, raising your phone to your ear.

“Simeon?” you ask breathlessly.

“Uh, not Simeon,” an unfamiliar voice says, and you jerk back, checking the caller ID. It is Simeon’s number. “My name is Diavolo, I’m captain of the Devildom Dogs hockey team, the one that Simeon recently joined. I’m not sure what all you know or who you are, but your name is favorited in his contacts, and I think Simeon needs to get picked up. I would drop him off myself,” he adds regretfully, “but I’m a little buzzed and don’t want to get behind the wheel.”

“Totally understandable,” you assure him. “Is Simeon okay? What happened?”

Diavolo sighs. “Solomon and Asmo happened. They’re two other team members and they love welcoming the new team members with open arms. And lots of booze.”

“Are you saying he’s drunk?” you ask, finally catching his drift. “Simeon doesn’t typically drink much.”

“Asmodeus can be very persuasive. And not like, black-out drunk, but definitely feeling it.”

“I see. Well, what bar are you guys at? I can swing by to pick him up now, if you’d like?”

“That would be great,” Diavolo sighs with relief, and his warm tone sends butterflies through your stomach. He gives you the location and you realize it’s only a few blocks from your apartment, easily within walking distance. You’ll walk there, and if needed, call a rideshare back.

“I’ll be there in like, fifteen minutes,” you say, already pulling on your shoes. You look like crap, but honestly, you’ve never been one to care about things like that. If Simeon’s drunk enough that you need to pick him up, you really don’t want to waste time.

“Okay, thank you. And I’m really sorry about all of this,” Diavolo says earnestly. “I’ll be having words with Solomon and Asmo both about this.”

“Don’t be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s only natural they’d get rowdy after a win, and I’m sure you have your hands full with everyone else. I totally get it. As long as it’s not a repeating occurrence. I can’t come and get him after every game.”

Diavolo laughs, deep and warm. “Yes ma’am. See you in a few.”

You hurry to the bar, hand wrapped around your pepper spray. Though Celestial City has been pretty safe, you know that the Devildom is less so, but there are enough people still out that you don’t feel too sketched out. When you arrive at the bar, you walk in, scanning the room for the team. They’re easy enough to spot, and you make your way over.

“No more autographs,” someone groans as you approach, and you realize it’s Belphegor, the d-man who plays beside Barbatos.

“I’m not here for that,” you say, and everyone looks over. You only have eyes for Simeon, who’s slumped over in a booth, tapping away on his phone. “Get up,” you demand, poking him in the side.

While he struggles to sit up properly, sluggish from the booze, you lean over to Diavolo.

“Hi,” you say, clearing your throat, “I’m MC. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“You’re the chick who was at the game,” Mammon crows, pushing himself next to you before Diavolo can reply. “It’s nice to meet ya!”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you too,” you say, taking him in. He’s tall and muscular, but nowhere as near as broad as Diavolo, who is honestly, a hunk of a man.

“Thank you for coming,” Diavolo says gratefully. “I’ve been giving him water to help him sober up but he’s still tipsy. You got here quickly.”

“Yeah, well, our apartment is only a few blocks from here,” you say with a shrug, pulling Simeon up to his feet.

“You live together?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of honey-blonde hair and Asmodeus as he speaks up. “Are you two married?”

Before you can reply, Simeon laughs, and it seems like he’s starting to sober up a little. “No. Lord, no.” He continues to laugh, shaking his head.

You roll your eyes and clarify, “No, Simeon and I are childhood friends. When he got traded to the Devildom Dogs I decided I was sick of the CC Chols and followed. And it’s a good thing I did,” you say severely, turning your scolding to Simeon, “because look at the state you’re in.”

“Please,” a smile tugs at the edge of his lips, “if you’d been here you’d be way worse off than me and we both know it.”

Well, he’s got you there.

“Hey,” Simeon says, and it’s like a lightbulb has gone off over his head. “I just had the most genius idea. MC, let’s stay here for a bit so you can meet everybody.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you say doubtfully, and the boys all begin talking at once.

“No, no, sit down!” Diavolo encourages you, and after another moment of hesitation, you sit. Simeon slides back into the booth, scooting further over so you have room, and you make sure to jam him in the side with your elbow ‘accidentally’ as you’re settling. He pinches your side in return, but since you’re in public you can’t retaliate like you would at your apartment, or even back with the CC Chols, who were familiar with your relationship. Starting the night by getting into a hissy slap fight isn’t the image you want to start off with.

“Um, congratulations on the game,” you say. “You all played very well.”

“Of course we did,” Mammon crows, “we’re the fucking Devildom Dogs!”

“Mammon, be polite,” Lucifer, Diavolo’s d-man partner says, and Mammon makes a face. “Thank you very much,” he says, turning to face you directly. “I’m Lucifer, and this is…”

Lucifer introduces everyone around the table for you, and you do yours when they’re finished.

“So, MC, what do you do?” Satan asks.

“I’m a logo designer,” you reply. Simeon rolls his eyes at your vague response but doesn’t spoil your fun. “I run a small design business out of our apartment.”

“You must be pretty good to be able to afford those seats,” Solomon points out slyly. “That is if you’re a season ticket member? I guess you could have just bought it off the actual member for the night.”

“So, you’re not successful?” Belphegor asks.

Simeon shakes his head. “No, she is, but she’s also really humble.”

“Sure, humble,” you agree wryly.

“Is there anything you want to drink?” Diavolo cuts in, leaning over the table to be heard better, but you shake your head regretfully.

“Sorry, not today. One of us has gotta be able to manage getting us home.”

“Next time, then?”

A handful of men have pursued you in the past, but he’s definitely the most charming, you think as he gives you a look both guileless and expectant. And you’re not opposed, so you laugh and agree, “Sure, next time.”

“MC, was it?” Asmodeus purrs, and you turn to him. He knows damn well what your name is. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Ah, no,” you reply, and your mind flashes back to your ex-fiance. Your relationship with Raphael had been fun, but it was clear that neither of you were really interested in marriage, but the pressure took its toll. Honestly, your decision to move to the Devildom was a really good opportunity to start fresh. You were glad you didn’t have any reason to really see him anymore. “I broke off my engagement recently and I’m still trying to get back on the dating scene.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Asmodeus says a bit awkwardly. You wish you’d given him a little less of the truth.

“Don’t be.” You give him a bright smile. “It wasn’t a bad relationship, we just realized that we weren’t compatible long-term and it was best to part ways.”

“Kudos to you for having the balls to break it off, then,” Diavolo speaks up suddenly. “That must have been difficult.”

“It was difficult at first, yeah,” you reply, “but it was the best choice and I don’t regret it.”

“Enough of that,” Simeon cuts in, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He can sense your reluctance to fully jump into talking about your failed relationship. “I think MC wants to know more about all of you.”

“That’s true,” you agree with a laugh. “A girl can’t help but be curious about the most notorious team in the AHL.”

“What do you think of us so far?” Satan asks, raising one neat eyebrow.

“You’re all a lot nicer than the rumors say, for one,” you begin, and Mammon laughs.

“Well, that’s because we like you so far. Believe me, if we didn’t, you wouldn’t be callin’ us nice.”

“I’m almost offended,” Solomon says, putting a hand on his chest. “I’ve been described as a lot of things, but nice’? I deserve more credit than that!”

“Well damn, okay,” you say jokingly, holding your hands up innocently. “I wasn’t trying to offend. I guess you’re all also a lot funnier than I thought. In my experience hockey boys usually aren’t quite as witty as you’ve been tonight.”

“Was that an insult to hockey players?” Beelzebub grumbles to Belphegor, who nods seriously.

“I think it was.”

“Well not to you,” you say exasperatedly, and the honeyed laugh that you get from Diavolo feels like a win.

The night goes on with info and chirps being swapped back and forth, and by the time it’s time to pack up and all separate, you feel like you’ve gained a lot through this experience. Your worries are mostly assuaged; you’ve gotten to know all of the boys at least somewhat, and everyone now knows you.

“Well, we’re this way,” you say to Diavolo, who walked you out. Simeon is still inside, paying his tab, so it’s just the two of you under the entrance lights. The city is dark yet still busy, and you’re glad to see the nightlife is what had been advertised, lively and entrancing. “It was really nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me hang out and meet everyone.”

“We enjoyed your company,” he says smoothly. “Thanks for giving up your evening to spend time with a bunch of nice, witty hockey players.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You guys are never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Nope.” His teeth glint in the light, standing out against his dark skin. He has a nice smile, you think to yourself before you realize you’ve been staring.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the interested expression on his face is any indication.

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you! “You can just give it to Simeon whenever it's convenient for you.”

“Oh, no,” he disagrees, “I think I’ve gotta give it to you directly, you know, to make sure it gets to you safe and sound. How about you swing by one of our practices next week? I can give it to you then.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” you say, knowing you’re definitely free. “I’m a busy woman. Popular, too.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he recipes silkily, but before either of you can add anything else, Simeon appears, his suspicious eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“MC, stop your flirting so we can get home,” he instructs, and you laugh.

“As if you’re not the reason we’re still here. See you, Diavolo.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he calls as you walk away. “Next week, okay?”

“We’ll see,” you return without looking back. You both know that means ‘yes’.

∙

Cracking your back, you push away from your desk, finally finished with work. The Devildom Dogs reached out to you and asked for a Veterans Day design, so you’ve spent the whole day brainstorming potential ideas for the jerseys.

You were glad they contacted you, especially since they were asking for a rush job which meant you were able to get them to sign a contract that would pay you a lot of money. Man, you love your job. And money.

“Done with work?” Simeon asks, poking his head into your room. Your apartment was pretty modest so your workspace was in your bedroom, and honestly, though it was kind of cramped, the setup was pretty sweet.

“Yep,” you say, and he walks fully in, sitting on the bed. “Management of the Dogs reached out, they want Veterans Day jerseys.”

“What do you have so far?” he asks, and you spend a few moments looking at the designs you’d thrown together.

“I really like that one,” he says, choosing his favorite, and you make a mental note of that. Ultimately, it comes down to the people you’re working with with the Devildom Dogs, but Simeon has pretty good taste and is usually right about which design will get chosen.

“How was your day?” you ask. They didn’t have a game or official practice, but you were pretty sure you’d seen him heading out to the gym earlier in the day.

“It was good,” he says, flopping back onto his back, “but I’m tired. And I don’t want to cook.”

“I don’t either,” you admit. “Takeout?”

“My trainer’s going to kill me,” he grumbles but opens his phone and starts scrolling through the delivery options.

“You rarely go off of your diet plan,” you dismiss. “Once in a while won’t hurt.”

Within a few moments, Simeon’s placed an order at some sandwich place nearby. “Should be delivered within the hour.”

“Sweet.”

When the food comes, the two of you ignore your table to sit on the couch, putting on the shows you’ve been watching. You take a moment to snap a picture of him, the TV, and the food, and put it on your Instagram story.

It’s only a few moments before your phone buzzes and you see someone’s swiped up.

Diavolo_14: Is that meal trainer approved?

MC: What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him lol

Diavolo_14: I guess at least it’s sandwiches. Could be worse.

MC: And I convinced Simeon anyway, so blame me not him

Diavolo_14: Oh, I have no doubts about who’s responsible. What are you watching?

MC: Some dumb sitcom. IDK, Simeon and I just make our way through shows together for something to do

Diavolo_14: Jealous.

MC: Of the food?

Diavolo_14: Of Simeon. I want to watch dumb sitcoms with you.

“What—or who—has you smiling like that?” Simeon asks, leaning over to look at your phone. You turn it away from him, sticking out your tongue.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“It’s Diavolo, isn’t it?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“You better not try to warn me or him off, okay? We’re both adults and—”

“I literally do not care.” He gives you a sideways glance. “Unless he breaks your heart, of course. But other than that, do whatever you want.”

“Thanks for the heartfelt sentiment,” you say sarcastically, and he laughs. You’re so glad Simeon’s never been the overprotective type, as you’d definitely chafe under it. Over time, the both of you have mostly been a listening ear, only giving advice when asked, and it’s a system that works really well for the both of you.

With a start, you realize you’ve left Diavolo hanging, and go back to the DM thread.

MC: Is that so?

Diavolo_14: That is so. Now, when are you going to come to practice to get that jersey?

MC: Well, I was going to surprise you tomorrow…

Diavolo_14: And now I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?

MC: Yeah lol.

Diavolo_14: Well, you should still come tomorrow.

MC: Alright, alright, see you then

Diavolo_14: Looking forward to it, MC.

His words send a flutter through your stomach, and you have a hard time focusing on the show for the rest of the night, too busy thinking about one, handsome captain of the Devildom Dogs. Simeon chirps and needles you for it, something you let him do because you probably deserve it.

“Whatever,” you finally say, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, get that beauty sleep,” he replies. “You need it.”

Grabbing a throw pillow, you chuck it in his direction, making a hasty retreat to your room.

It’s hard to fall asleep, but once you do, you have good dreams and wake up well-rested. Even though you’re really looking forward to Simeon’s practice, it’s not until the afternoon so you keep busy working on the Veterans Day jersey designs though your mind drifts more often than you’d like to admit.

You’ve only known Diavolo for a few days, but things are just so electric with him. Sparks truly do fly between the two of you and his flirting makes you feel giddy, but your last relationship wasn’t been filled with lots of laughter so you feel like you’re entitled to it. You wonder if he feels this way too. Does he feel the connection? What does he want with you? Before you can linger on the thoughts, you stand, forcing yourself to switch gears.

“Ready to go?” Simeon asks when you walk into the living room, and you nod. You have your laptop just in case you get bored (which you doubt will happen) and you put it in the backseat of Simeon’s car.

“This is so exciting,” you say, only half-kidding. “Behind the scenes with the Devildom Dogs. Do you think the others will mind me watching?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Everyone likes you and this gives them a chance to show off.” Laughing, he says, “I think they might like you more than me.”

“That is so not true,” you argue with an eye roll. “They’ve only met me once. And how could they? Everyone has always gotten along better with you than me anyway.”

“Yeah, because I’m not annoying as hell,” he says nonchalantly, and you send him a glare.

“You’re so lucky you’re driving,” you threaten. “I don’t know why everyone always thinks you’re so angelic. You’re such an ass to me.”

“It’s deserved,” he points out, and okay, you have to agree.

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the ice rink they use for practice, you waste no time gathering your shit and hopping out of the car.

“Nervous?” Simeon asks, and you scoff.

“As if.” It’s a half-lie. Maybe nervousness isn’t the right word. It’s more like… anticipation.

Simeon leads you through the back doors to the rink, and you look around, taking everything in. You’re assuming it’s open to the public when it’s not in use by the team and that theory is backed up by the presence of a skate rental sign pointing down another hall.

“You can hang out on the stands,” Simeon says, pointing like you don’t already see them. “I’ll tell everyone you’re here and they can do whatever they want with that info.”

You sit near the rink, but not directly in the front row, and mess around on your phone for a few moments. You’re expecting people to approach you from the ice so when someone taps your shoulder, you jump, looking behind you.

“Sorry, sorry,” Diavolo says, holding out his hands in a peace gesture. His grin is easy and just as attractive as you remembered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re good,” you say. “I was just waiting for you to skate over to me, not walk.”

“What I’m hearing is that you were waiting for me.” He does something with his eyebrows that comes off as insanely attractive and you wonder just how desperate you are.

“Well, yeah,” you say. “I was promised a gift.”

“That you were,” he agrees. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little longer for it. I left it in my car and since practice is starting so soon I totally don’t have time to go and get it. Darn.”

“Is this your way of asking me out after practice?”

“Well, it was my way of asking to give you a ride home, but hey, that works too,” he chuckles, eyes sparkling with some positive emotion you can’t quite pin down. “As long as Simeon won’t get mad. I know you’re close friends.”

“Him?” You laugh. “He won’t be, first of all, because neither of us really cares what either gets up to romantically, and secondly, even if he was, it would be none of his damn business. I’m a grown woman with my own agenda and I’m glad he’s always recognized that. Even when we were younger,” you say with a sigh, “he’d let me get myself into all sorts of scrapes and situations, then just smugly tell me it was my own fault. Nothing serious, of course, but out of the two of us I’ve always been rasher and he definitely uses that for his entertainment.”

“Seriously?” Diavolo questions. “He seems so kind and nice. I have a hard time believing that.”

“That’s because he wants you to think that,” you tell him darkly, and the laugh you get in return is glorious, full-bellied and rich.

Not noticing your sudden stupor, he sighs, catching his breath. “Well, I better get on the ice. Duties of being a captain and all of that.”

“What, actually having to show up to practice and set a good example? So hard.”

“You get it,” he says, and you shake your head, unable to stop your smile.

“Watch me on the ice?” he asks, beginning to walk away backward.

“Obviously,” you say, “but Diavolo…”

“Yeah?” he begins to reply, then trips over a bench, stumbling to the ground.

“...there’s a bench behind you,” you finish, and the gobsmacked look on his face is one you endeavor to remember, pressing into your memories.

The boys waste no time getting into the swing of practice, though you receive a few looks and waves. Their drills are intense and difficult looking, but they make them seem easy. Watching them makes you yearn to get back on the ice, a feeling you haven’t had in a while. Maybe you should see what days the rink offers open skate and pull yours out of your closet.

Watching them makes you feel oddly nostalgic. Both for the Chols and for the rec league with Simeon. You’d played hockey with him through school, quitting in college when he’d been scouted directly to the Chols. You’d been the forward to his right wing, and though you’d never had the same amount of sheer talent as him, you’d been no slouch.

But as time went on, you’ve been satisfied with just watching. Marveling at the feats the Chols were able to do on the ice, rather than rush to attempt them yourself as you might once have.

You’d been on the ice with the Chols a few times, but after the first year, the novelty had worn off. You’d shifted to the stands after your engagement, sticking with the other girls, and again, while that had been fun, you’re realizing now that you truly, sincerely missed the feeling of skating.

The coaches hardly pay you any attention, and while you’d thought that maybe your presence would have distracted the boys, they’re all business, showing you a much more serious side than you’d seen so far. Discounting that first game, of course.

Before you know it, the practice is halfway over. It’s going by way too fast!

“Hey,” Simeon calls from the ice, grabbing your attention. “We’ve got a five-minute break. Come down here!”

You roll your eyes but stand, crossing the short distance to the edge of the rink. He’s out of breath and sweating, clearly working hard on the drills.

“What do you think, huh?” he asks, putting a hand on the board.

“Yeah, I want to know!” Mammon cries, skating over and almost running into Simeon. “Cooler and better and more awesomer than the Chols?”

“‘Awesomer’ isn’t a word, dimwit,” Belphegor says, clearly listening in on the conversation, and you laugh.

“Way awesomer than the Chols.”

“Glad you think so,” Diavolo says from behind you, and you jump. Again. Man, he’s really got to stop doing that. Or maybe you need to be more attentive; you hadn’t even seen him get off the ice! He’s sweaty too, hair sticking down slightly on his forehead, but unlike with Simeon, you drink the sight in. God, this man gets more and more attractive every time you see him. “Did you see me out there?”

Honestly, he was pretty much all you could look at.

“Of course I did.”

“Was it impressive?”

Mindful of Simeon, Belphegor, and Mammon (whom Diavolo doesn’t even seem to care about), you choose your words with care. “Don’t fish for compliments.”

He grins, opening his mouth to speak, but before he can, the coaches call everyone to the ice.

“Stop your flirting, Captain!” Mammon cackles, and Diavolo sighs.

“I barely even got to talk to you!”

Your heart flutters. “Well, I’ll be here after practice…”

“That you will,” he says dorkily, looking all too excited. How can this man go from unbelievably sexy to cute so quickly?

The rest of practice flies by, and when it’s called to an end, anticipation bubbles in your chest. Diavolo nods towards the shower, and you give him a thumbs up. Simeon shakes his head with a laugh, and you can’t help but flip him off.

You pack your things slowly, or maybe it’s that Diavolo showers quickly, because he walks out of the locker room at the same time you approach it. And lord, if you’d thought sweaty Diavolo was attractive, then what was post-shower Diavolo? Off the fucking charts is what. His shirt, slightly damp, sticks to his chest in a way that makes you want to drool.

“Ready?” he asks, taking your laptop bag from you before you can protest.

“Of course.” You gesture for him to lead the way. “I’m excited to see this jersey after hearing so much about it.”

“And I’m excited to see you wear it,” he replies smoothly, and your cheeks heat up.

“Sweet talker.”

“Honest,” he corrects amusedly, holding the door for you as you exit the building into the parking lot.

His car is nice. Much nicer than Simeon’s well-loved and well-worn sedan, it’s sleek and expensive looking. Too bad you’re not much of a car girl, otherwise you’d definitely appreciate it more. You notice it’s also clean and smells good when you buckle in.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Diavolo says, sliding into his own seat. “Burned off a lot of calories at practice there.”

“What about your meal plan?” you question, faux-innocently, and he raises his eyebrows.

“What my trainer doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he replies, repeating your earlier words back to you. You can’t help but giggle.

“Well, I’m hungry too, so I think lunch is a great idea,” you say. “I’m obviously new around here so I’ll let you choose. Now, I want to be impressed.”

“Yes ma’am.” He starts up the car and smoothly exits the parking lot. “How about my favorite brunch place?”

“Isn’t it a little late for brunch?” you ask, and he shrugs.

“Eh, they serve brunch all day.”

“That sounds good to me,” you say, and he grins.

“Good, because it’s literally right down the road.”

∙

Once you’re seated inside, Diavolo takes the menu from your hand and sets it aside. “You won’t need this,” he says. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know I was dining with an expert,” you joke. “Fine, I’ll trust you. But if you get me something I don’t like, get ready to pay the price.”

“If it’s you—” he waggles his eyebrows devilishly “—I wouldn’t mind getting punished.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts and images that had arisen from his words, and take a long sip of water. “So, um, what do you like to do?”

“Play hockey.”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean, dipshit.”

“Fine, fine. Let’s see… I enjoy running, especially at this park near my place. The sunrise is super pretty. And I spend a lot of time with Barbatos and Lucifer too.”

“You do?” you ask, surprised. They were pretty close for a professional team but you hadn’t known it was that close.

“Yep. Been friends with them forever. Barbatos, for as long as I can remember—I’m pretty sure our parents introduced us in the hospital—and Lucifer and I met at a camp years ago. It’s honestly pretty crazy we made it to the same team.”

“Wow,” you say, remembering reading headlines of the unexpected draft pick for both of them, “that is crazy. I’m glad you guys are all so close.”

“Well, most of us have been on the team for at least a season,” he replies. “I’m glad Simeon’s growing closer with us too. He seems like a really cool dude.”

“He is,” you reply, “but don’t tell him I said so. He’d never let me live it down.”

Diavolo winks, miming locking his mouth with a key. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The waitress comes to take your orders then, and you leave it all to Diavolo. He gets the same dish for the both of you, promising it’ll be worth it.

“I hope so,” you say. “I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never heard of a dish called ‘Hotter Than Hot Toasted Sandwich’. It’s a good thing I like spicy food. What would you have done if I didn’t?”

He looks sheepish then, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I asked Simeon just to be sure.”

The thought put into it touches you, and you look down, then up at him through your lashes. “I see.”

The conversation drifts, moving from one topic to another with ease. And that’s what things are with Diavolo. Easy. He’s kind and funny, attentive to your feelings, and seems to find you just as appealing as you find him.

That is, if you’re reading the signs right, but honestly it’d be kind of hard to interpret his actions otherwise.

Your food arrives, and thankfully, it’s as delicious as he’d promised. You both finish eating at around the same time, and as if she’d been waiting, the waitress comes and drops off the check. Before you can move, Diavolo has his card out, a shiny black Amex, and sets it on the table.

“I’m not going to argue,” you say with a laugh, and he smiles.

“Good. I want to treat you.”

“Careful,” you warn playfully, “or I might get used to it.”

He leans forward, a little more serious. Those eyes burn into you, making you breathless even though he hasn’t said anything. “And what if that’s what I want?”

You blink at his sudden bluntness. It’s almost hard for you to believe what you’re hearing. That a man like him is interested in a girl like you. Not that you’re not a catch, but damn, he’s out of this world. “Well,” you finally say, “I guess you’ll just have to keep taking me out to prove it.”

“If that’s what it takes,” he says lowly, “then I’d be happy to provide. Let’s get out of here.”

The waitress had apparently grabbed his card and returned it without you noticing, so when he stands, it takes you a second to follow. He leads you back to his car.

“Do you need to get back to anything or can I steal you for longer?” he asks, and you consult your watch.

“Unfortunately, I do have a work meeting in like an hour,” you reply reluctantly. “That's not enough time for us to really do anything.”

He frowns. “That’s unfortunate. I wanted to show you around the Devildom since I figured you hadn’t had much time to explore.”

“That’ll just have to wait until next time,” you say airily, and he shakes his head.

“You really do know how to wrap me around your finger.”

You give him the address to your apartment, and all too soon he’s pulling up outside of the building.

“I had fun today,” you say earnestly. “Thanks for taking me out.”

He reaches into his back seat and pulls a piece of fabric forward. The jersey, you realize, as he presses it into your hands. A smile blooms on your face.

“I had fun today too,” he says. “And I better see you wearing that to the game tomorrow. That is, if you’re coming.”

You unbuckle, throwing his door open. “Oh, I will be. Coming, that is. And wearing your number.”

∙

The season continues. You wear Diavolo’s jersey to the games, cheering for the Dogs with wild abandon, and they continue to win. And win, and win, and win.

(“It’s all thanks to Simeon,” Solomon faux-whispers to you at one celebratory post-game hang. “He’s way better at being my right than Asmo ever was.”

“Rude!” Asmo returns, jostling into Solomon’s side. Everyone laughs, and you easily join in. These boys, they’ve become a part of you, like you’ve become a part of them.)

Off the ice, you and Diavolo grow closer. You get familiar with his life outside of hockey, staying overnight at his apartment here and there when you both have the time. You haven’t put a label on it, something Diavolo seems to sense you’re not ready for, as the ended engagement with Raphael is still a little fresh, but it’s clear to the both of you that this isn’t some passing fling.

Before you know it, months have passed, and it’s playoff season. The Dogs obviously make it, having a perfect season thus far, as do the Chols, who had a rocky start to the beginning of the season, probably due to the changed dynamics without Simeon, but quickly redeemed themselves to finish strong.

(“We bring home the Calder Cup all of the time,” Belphie says with an eye roll. “How is this season any different?”

Mammon grins slyly. “It’s different for our dear Captain. After all, he’s finally got someone he wants to win the cup for.”

Diavolo’s hand, where it’s wrapped around yours, squeezes lightly.)

Diavolo offers to fly you out to the West Coast for the championship game, as somehow, the Chols made it into the final two. They never quite managed that when Simeon was on the team. You decline, not because you’re not going, but because you can fly yourself.

The bonus from both teams’ championship jerseys is sitting nice and pretty in your account right now.

You’re a bit nervous on the plane. Not because of the flying, but at the thought of seeing the Chols. Especially since this wasn’t any old game, but the championship one. It’d be a hard loss, for whoever doesn’t make it, and though at this point, your loyalties lie entirely with the Dogs, you don’t want to make anyone on the old team feel betrayed.

It’d also be your first time seeing Raphael in a long time, and the thought makes you a little scared. But you’re also hopeful. Hopeful that you’ll get to see people who were once your world again without it being too awkward.

Although, considering the rivalry between the teams you’re not sure how feasible that one is…

When you get off the plane, carry-on in tow, you text Diavolo that you’ve landed safely, not expecting his reply to come right away.

Diavolo_14: I’m glad you made it

Diavolo_14: Still not sure why you wouldn’t fly in with us though :((

MC: I told you, I had it covered. You can spoil me some other way, on a trip that’s unrelated to your games

Diavolo_14: Is that you saying you want to travel with me in the off-season? After all of this postseason stuff is completed?

MC: Yes but you already knew that.

Diavolo_14: I suppose I may have had an idea.

Diavolo_14: Anyway, don’t get in a taxi or anything, our hotel is within walking distance.

MC: I already had reservations somewhere else!

Diavolo_14: Reservations Simeon canceled

Diavolo_14: I was hoping it’d be a nice surprise but if you’re uncomfortable with it I can get your old room back.

MC: It’s not bad, and I am surprised. I just don’t want to distract you before such an important game.

Diavolo_14: Pssshh, this game is nothing. And you’re never a distraction <3

MC: Liar.

MC: Remember when I made you late to practice last week?

Diavolo_14: Oh yeah. Anyway, if you’re really fine with it you’d be sharing with me

Diavolo_14: It’s got a jacuzzi tub………

MC: You spoil me. Yes I’m fine with it.

MC: What’s the name of the hotel so I can walk there?

Diavolo_14: You should be able to see it if you go to the east entrance and look up.

MC: Oh, good, I’m near there. Hold on

Diavolo_14: Yeah just look up and over by the sign for the shuttle, then slightly to the left.

You do as he directs, eyes widening when instead of a hotel, you see a familiar head of red hair. He waves, and you cross the street in a hurry.

“Hey!” he greets, wrapping you in a hug. “You sure it was a good surprise? I was worried it’d be too much, but I really wanted you with me. If I went too far, seriously, tell me. I know we haven’t really talked about where we are but I really like you and it seems to be the same for you so I’d hoped it would be alright. Plus, Simeon said you’d like it. And yes, I’m totally throwing him under the bus right now in case you don’t,” he adds, trying to alleviate some of the seriousness.

You laugh. “I like it. And I like the idea of a jacuzzi tub. I’m all gross from the plane. And I do like you, a lot, so you have nothing to worry about there. It’s a sweet gesture.”

Diavolo leans in to kiss you then, something you return, pleased. Though it’d only been a few days of separation, you’d found yourself really missing him. Almost too much, you worried.

Once you break apart, Diavolo takes your bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder, and you can’t help but smile up at him. You twine your fingers through his, relishing the feel of the west coast. Though it was winter, the balmy beach weather was much nicer than the frozen streets of the Devildom. And to think you once considered this weather cold.

Diavolo and you mosey out of the airport and down the street, not in any particular hurry. When you do get into the lobby, you’re instantly greeted by half of the team, who’d apparently been stalking the two of you from the expansive windows.

“You made it!” Asmo cheers, eyes sparkling. “Now we can really have some fun!”

“Sorry, sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to be keeping MC all to myself for the time being,” Diavolo says, not sounding very apologetic. “We’ve got a date with the jacuzzi tub.”

“We?” you say, giving him a look. “Who said anything about ‘we’? I said that I wanted a bath.”

Simeon laughs, shaking his head, and you share a smile with him.

“No, no, come on,” Diavolo begs theatrically. “Don’t deprive me. Of the wonderful jacuzzi jets, of course,” he adds hastily, seeing your unimpressed look.

“You’d better be nice to him,” Lucifer warns you, in a tone you’ve only recently begun to recognize as his joking one. “I already gave up rooming with him for you, and I don’t need him complaining to me. Not when I now have to deal with rooming with these nitwits.”

“Hey!” Mammon and Simeon protest.

“It’s not like I said your names,” Lucifer says drily.

“Yeah, but it was clear you were talking about us,” Mammon responds, and their squabbling fades into the background as Diavolo pulls you to the elevators, mashing the ‘Close Doors’ button before anyone else can get on.

“You didn’t really mean that, did you?” he asks, turning to you. “You’re going to let me in the tub, right? If you don’t it might cause me to not play my best and lead to the Chols winning the cup tomorrow. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Oh, we’re threatening now, are we?” you laugh, and he shakes his head.

“Not threatening, just informing.”

“I see,” you say. “Well, since I have a vested interest in seeing the Dogs take this game, I guess I’d better do anything that I can to ensure a win.”

“Anything?” Diavolo asks, eyebrows waggling, and you give him a sly smile.

“Anything.”

∙

“Are you getting hungry?” Diavolo eventually asks, and you roll over to better face him. He looks like a dream, hair spread across the pillow, dark skin beautiful against the white sheets. “Lucifer just texted; apparently some of the Chols want to meet up at a bar, do a little pre-game catching up. They really want to see Simeon.” He hesitates. “But if you don’t want to do that, we can grab food somewhere else by ourselves.”

“No, no,” you say quickly. “I’m not going to deprive the team of its captain. And, I have missed the boys. I’d love to see them. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Because of Raphael?” he asks gently. You’d filled him in on your past with the other hockey player, in bits and pieces, and Diavolo's been fully understanding, sharing his own stories of past love in return. You’d only grown closer through honesty, and you’re glad you’d been open with him, as now you don’t have to do any awkward explaining or suffer through any misunderstandings.

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Well, mostly because of him. But I think it’ll just be weird to see them all. The Chols were my life at one point, you know, so it’s just going to be bittersweet. I do want to see them, though,” you add firmly, making up your mind, “so let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Diavolo reaches over, brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, nodding.

“I’m sure. Now, stop touching me, because I need to actually get out of this bed and get ready.”

“You already look perfect,” Diavolo insists, and you bat his hand away, sitting up.

“Flatterer,” you reply cheekily. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I want to see me like this. So let me get ready, alright?”

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I guess I’ll shower. Unless you want to join?”

“No!” you huff with a laugh. “Stop tempting me. And, we just took baths.”

“Well, I need a shower if we’re going to leave this hotel room,” he says meaningfully, and though your cheeks heat a little, you remain strong. Seeing that, he sighs, then stands, heading for the bathroom, leaving the door open as he dramatically turns on the shower, sending you enticing looks over his shoulder as he does so.

Once he finally gets in, you pull yourself out of bed, moving over to your carry-on. Thankfully, you’d packed a couple of outfit choices, not knowing what to expect. Choosing the most suitable, something casual and yet attractive, you get dressed, then realize you’re going to need the bathroom to fix your hair and do your makeup.

“I’m coming in,” you call, toiletry bag in hand. It only takes a second for his head to pop out from behind the shower curtain, excitement diminishing once he sees you’re dressed.

“Oh,” he says. “I thought you meant into the shower. But I guess not.”

“Stop it, you,” you say, turning on the sink to wash your face, and he laughs.

You’re almost finished with your makeup when the shower turns off, Diavolo stepping out a moment later with the towel low on his hips. You studiously ignore him, applying mascara with more focus than necessary. He doesn’t let that slide, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“You better not get me wet,” you warn, switching to your setting powder.

“I won’t,” he says, and you turn your head slightly, giving him a look from the corner of your eye. His chin rests on your shoulder, and when you turn, your faces are mere inches apart. Diavolo hugs you tighter, kissing you, and you’re glad you haven’t applied lipstick yet.

“Alright, alright, get off of me,” you say after a moment, a small smile crossing your lips. “Unless you want to have to take another shower.”

“Cruel woman,” Diavolo bemoans, but does as you say, disappearing into the other room to get dressed. He returns a moment later, in dark jeans and a t-shirt, one that displays the Dogs’ logo.

“You can’t be serious,” you say as he combs through his hair with his fingers.

“What?”

“Team merch, really?”

He cracks an attractive smile, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Of course. I’ve gotta represent, you know.”

You can only shake your head.

As you’re putting on your shoes, there’s a knock on the door. Diavolo answers it, revealing Barbatos.

“Oh, good, you’re both decent,” Barbatos says mildly, and you give him a glare. “We’re all headed downstairs.”

“We’re ready,” Diavolo says and you stand, making sure you have your purse. You all walk down to the lobby, Diavolo’s hand in yours the whole way.

“How are you feeling?” Simeon asks at one point, voice quiet.

“Nervous,” you reply honestly. “You?”

“Nervous,” he echoes. “But I think it’ll be fine. I’m excited to see Raphael and the others again.”

“I am too,” you agree. “It’ll be nice to catch up. Especially before we kick their asses tomorrow.”

Simeon laughs. “I like the way you think.”

As you get closer to the bar where you’re all meeting up, you can’t deny that your hands get a little sweaty and your stomach starts to knot. You know the worst thing you'll find is a shit-ton of awkwardness (or at least that’s what you really hope), and that once you see it through it’ll ease, but you’re still not super keen on putting yourself in the situation.

Ten minutes, you tell yourself, then things will be fine. Plus, you’ll have Diavolo and Simeon by your side and all the other boys to make distractions and break the ice.

Diavolo squeezes your hand as you enter the bar, and immediately, your eyes find the familiar sight of Raphael’s ash-colored hair. You gulp; there’s no turning back now.

“Hey!” Mammon calls out easily, and the boys turn. You recognize some others aside from Raphael, and thankfully a few have brought their wives, making it less awkward that you’re there and also giving you a breath of relief because you were familiar with them.

Raphael’s eyes lock onto yours, then sharpen on you and Diavolo’s linked hands. There’s no animosity in them, just that same awkward cautiousness you feel, another relief.

“Hey, come join us,” Raphael says, gesturing to the rest of the table. The bar staff, or maybe the Chols, had pushed a few tables together, making a monster table to fit the mishmash of people. You pull out a seat between Simeon—who’s across from Raphael—and Diavolo, who lets go of your hand as you sit. You smile at the girl across from you, not recognizing her.

“Hi,” you greet the table at large, among various other greetings being given. “It’s nice to see you all again, and nice to meet you, those I haven’t met yet.”

The girl across from you smiles at that, introducing herself as Thirteen, the main goalie’s sister.

“So, uh, how goes the season?” Raphael asks Simeon awkwardly. “You miss us yet?”

Simeon laughs. “Miss your snoring? Nah, not really. And the season’s going great, obviously. I’m glad you guys made it this far too, it’ll be fun to put you in your place.”

“Starting the chirping already?” Diavolo asks him, throwing an arm across your shoulders. “Careful, Simeon, I think we’re outnumbered here.”

“You’ve changed, Simeon,” Raphael says. “I think the Dogs are rubbing off on you. Anyway, MC, how have you been? Business going well?”

“Oh, yeah, your designs for this season are killer,” Thirteen adds before you can answer. “I mean, the font change for the Dogs’ numbers was such a good touch.”

“Oh, thank you,” you laugh. “I’m surprised anyone picked up on that! It’s such a small detail but really impacts the overall vibe of the Jerseys.”

Awareness dawns on Diavolo. “Wait. Are you talking about the team jerseys? As in, the jersey designs?”

“Bingo,” you say slyly. “My job: designing jerseys for sports teams. Mostly hockey teams.”

“I forgot you guys didn’t know,” Simeon says. “Yeah MC’s like, totally in charge of the jerseys. Remember the Veterans Day design? I helped with that.”

“Barely,” you snort.

“You’re serious,” Diavolo mumbles. “How did I not know that?”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t mention it when we first met and it hasn’t really come up since. Anyway,” you turn back to Raphael, unable to hide your amused smile, “yeah, business is going well! Thanks for asking. How’s that knee been?”

“Oh, you know,” Raphael shrugs. “I’ve been more careful this season since I don’t have someone to nurse me back to health.” His ears steadily turn red as he realizes what he just said, and you’re sure you’re no better.

“Well,” you begin, but thankfully Simeon cuts in.

“You were always lucky with that. Lately, MC just throws an ice pack at me. No sympathy, I swear!”

“That’s because your injuries are all your fault,” you criticize. “Never stops when he should, this guy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m getting something from the bar. Raphael, you want something?”

They both head for the bar, and you sigh, slumping in your seat. Diavolo leans over to you, eyes concerned but also accusing.

“I guess we’ll talk about the jersey thing later,” he says, quirking his lips slightly. “I’m sure the team will be very interested to hear. Who knows, maybe they’ll have some design input.”

“Oh, god,” you say quickly. You hadn’t even considered that. “You’d better not tell them, I swear! I’ll kick your ass if you do.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he assures you, laughing. “But seriously, I can’t believe I’ve never known that. Now I feel like a bad person for not knowing something so basic. And also kind of like an idiot. I guess I just thought you were acquainted with the upper staff through me when it was really through your own work. Self-centered, much?”

“Really, Diavolo, it’s fine,” you assure him. “I was aware you didn’t know, even taking care to avoid bringing it up at the beginning. Now you do know, so you can stop feeling bad about it. And I’m sorry if you feel betrayed, that wasn’t my intention.”

“No, no,” he hastens. “It just reminds me how much I still have to learn about you.”

“Well, there’s lots and lots of time for that,” you reply, and he smiles, something in his eyes easing. You really hadn’t intended to hurt him with this and now just feel like an asshole. “And I have so much to learn about you, too. But I’m looking forward to it.”

Realizing how rude you’re being to Thirteen, perhaps at the same time, you and Diavolo turn back to her. So lost in your own world, you hadn’t realized Solomon had taken Raphael’s empty seat, now engaged in some fiery debate.

“Let’s stay out of that one,” Diavolo murmurs to you, as Solomon starts using four-syllable words he only pulls out when he’s trying to academically shame someone, and you nod.

Instead, you and Diavolo split up, talking to various people around the room. It’s nice for you to check in on the Chols’ players and their wives and partners, and they seem just as happy to see you. Any worries of tension (to you or to Simeon) disappear quickly, and you find yourself interacting with them just like you used to. One look at Simeon shows he’s faring well, surrounded by teammates old and new.

Warmth expands in your heart and you grab another drink from the bar, just happy to be with the people you love and care for.

(Your eyes find Diavolo as you think that, and though you don’t particularly care to dig into the sentiment, you find yourself comfortable with it all the same.)

Raphael finds you, eventually, offering another beer as a peace offering. You take it, looking at the man you used to love so dearly. You still love him, but only as a friend. Something settles in your chest at the confirmation of what you’d been suspecting: any lingering feelings for him have fully dissipated and you’re ready to move on. Fully.

He seems to realize this, and you suspect that he feels much the same way. The memories between you will hold a special place in your heart forever, sometimes even hurt, but you don’t regret the time you’ve spent with him. You only regret that you hadn’t met Diavolo sooner.

“You’ve got yourself a real catch,” he says, a little sleepily in the way you know to mean he’s slightly inebriated. Not too much, of course, but socially, as are most of the players. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m glad, you’re doing well too, Raphael. Congrats again on making it this far this season. Your playing has been incredible.”

“You’ve been watching?”

You sigh softly. “How could I not? Especially at the beginning of the season, when all I was doing was missing you. Guys. You guys. The Dogs are great, of course, but I can’t lie. They were a little intimidating at the beginning.”

He laughs. “You should see them on the ice.”

“Oh, I can imagine.”

A silence, soft and fragile like an early spring day falls between you two, and you give him one more smile. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” he promises, and you both exchange one more look, laying it all to rest, before you float off to find Diavolo, who’s conversing with Lucifer and one of the rookies from the Chols.

“Everything alright?” he asks, pulling you into his side, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into him. “Everything’s alright.”

∙

Excitement bubbles through your veins as you take your seat, one similar in position to the one you have at the Dogs’ home rink, basically on the ice and near the team box. The only difference is that you’re on the away side instead of the home, allowing you to continue to sit near the Dogs.

As a personal guest of the Captain, you’d been offered a plush VIP box but had declined, preferring to get down and dirty in the thick of things as you always had.

Diavolo’s name sits proudly across your shoulders—his real jersey, not a replica sold to fans—and you inhale the spicy scent of his cologne (yeah, you’d asked to borrow it to spray on the jersey, so what), reveling in the electric feeling filling the arena. Though many of the fans are in the white and light blue of the Celestial City Chols, quite a fair amount of black and red can be seen throughout the crowd, showing the many diehard fans who’d made the trip across the country. The only similarities between the teams’ color schemes are the gold accents, glittering and shining under the harsh overhead lighting.

Everyone is excited for this game. Not only is it the last deciding game in the finals, the one that will determine who will take the freaking Calder Cup home, but it’s also between two rival teams. Two rival teams that are both determined to work themselves to the bone, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into winning (though not all of it their own, knowing the Dogs). It’s going to be a game that’ll go down in AHL history.

The minutes tick by and finally both teams take the ice for warm-up. The boys wave and smile, Mammon taking care to be an ass and send a puck right towards your face, as has become his pre-game ritual, but you really only have eyes for Diavolo.

Diavolo, who looks hot as hell in your championship jerseys (white, with red, gold, and black accents), who blows you a kiss as best he can around his mouthguard, who looks like he’s ready to lead his team to a very satisfying and devastating victory.

You would swoon but instead settle for yelling and screaming just as loud as the rest of the arena.

After the starting lineup is announced, with much more pomp and circumstance than the other games, and the national anthem is finished, you sit on the edge of the seat, watching as the ceremonial puck is dropped. It’s very nice and all, but you’re ready for the game to begin.

After what feels like forever, it finally does, and you watch as Raphael and Simeon face one another, kitty-corner. It’s surreal, after so many seasons of watching them play the same line. Diavolo and Lucifer aren’t far behind the forwards, and every member of both teams is completely and utterly focused on the puck.

The arena is so silent you could hear a pin drop as the music fades, and in a clatter of skates and sticks on ice, the puck is dropped. The Chols gain possession, the center sending the puck back to the left d-man, who sends it to the left winger smoothly. The Dogs don’t take that lying down, and chase after the puck. Levi gets there first, and manages to take the puck, passing it to Solomon, who forges a blazing trail down the ice. Amidst the various cheering and booing, you think, perhaps delusionally, you can make out Thirteen’s unique tone, screaming out her displeasure.

The Chols d-men are frustratingly persistent, and what follows is several minutes of back and forth, with both teams failing to make a goal. Shots are attempted by both sides, but are all blocked by the goalie or intercepted by other team members, and when Beel finally gets the puck in his glove, you let out a sigh of relief that they’re all able to take a break. You watch as the players all assemble for an end zone face-off, one that the Dogs win. Both teams are playing viscous and dirty, with checks rattling the boards all around.

“Get it out of there!” you scream, as yet another attempted goal shot is made, and as if they hear you, the forward line, which is now Mammon, Asmo, and Satan, push back towards the Chols’ goal. A brief scuffle near the defending line takes place, and the ref whistles, calling offsides on the Chols.

The first period passes without any goals, despite both teams' desperate pushing. Though neither side scores, you know it’ll only be a matter of time in the second, as the Dogs have been gaining momentum as the night goes on.

You whistle at the boys as they make their way from the bench to the locker room and Diavolo grins up at you, pulling off his helmet. He’s sweaty and out of breath, but handsome as all get out, and you’ve never been prouder to be bearing his name on your back.

When the teams finally return after the break, you’re back on your feet, cheering as they take the ice. The Dogs gain possession of the puck in the first face-off, heading the opposite way than they had been previously due to the goal switch, unstoppable. Asmo, who has the puck, leaves the other team in the dust, zipping through and shooting in the blink of an eye. It goes in, as you’d hoped, prayed, suspected, and the roar of the crowd is thunderous. You can’t help but imagine what it’d be like in your home arena, in your home city.

And it's odd. Sometime, over the course of the season, the Devildom had truly become your home. It’s not a shocking thing, by any means, but serves to make you cheer that much louder and clap that much harder.

With a goal under their belts, the Dogs have a new fire lit beneath them. But the Chols aren’t giving up easily, and once Raphael checks Simeon hard across the boards in front of you. He’s a fearsome one when it comes to that, known even during his rookie days for his painfully-placed and technically legal elbow placements, and you wonder if the smile that had been shot your way was purposeful. Simeon skates it off impressively, though you know he’ll be aching later.

Diavolo does a great job staying on top of defense, and you’re aware of that same ease between him and Lucifer that you’d picked up on during their very first game together. You’d gotten to know Lucifer well during the season, and you make a mental note to yourself to take extra care when making his ‘good job on winning the Cup’ basket, to thank him for being such a great friend and partner to Diavolo.

When the two of them go back to the bench, switched out by Barbatos and Belphie, Diavolo waves at you in between great big gulps of water, and you make sure to take lots of pictures when you can tear your eyes from the game.

The CC Chols score as well during the second period, tying them up as they go into the third. Though you’d think they’d all be quite tired, neither team is flagging, both playing and pushing hard. The Chols get another goal in, unfortunately, when Beel’s just a tad too slow, and you’re once again aware you’re in the fan minority as the crowd goes wild.

They stay in the lead for several heart-pounding minutes, and apparently fed up with the tension, Mammon drops gloves, firecracker personality on full display. He gets the Chol player into a headlock, raining punches down onto him until he’s pulled off by the refs, much to the crowd’s disappointment. That gets him a few minutes in the sin bin, and you groan, knowing what a disadvantage the Dogs are at. The last thing they need is to be two down in the final period!

Diavolo rallies the team, showing his incredible skill and prowess as a captain, and thankfully, the Chols are unable to use the power play to their advantage, and Mammon skates back onto the ice like a hellcat.

Gameplay is stopped again after elbowing is called towards a Chols player, and you cheer as he gets some time in the box. Unlike the Chols, the Dogs score on their play, tying it all back up. Satan manages to scare and gets piled on by the team, and for once, he’s not pushing them back, a rare smile lighting up his face.

The end of the period draws nearer and nearer, and yet neither team pulls ahead. Anxiety and excitement are racing through you, and you continue to scream out your support, even as your voice grows hoarse.

Will this game go into overtime? That almost never happens in a finals game like this!

But as you resign yourself to the possibility, Simeon takes possession of the puck, passing it to Solomon, who goes to take a shot, and upon realizing he doesn't have a clear one, gives it right back. Simeon doesn’t hesitate, finely honed instincts taking over, and delivers it into the net with only a few minutes left of play. You scream, cheering as loud as you can, and the celly that follows is almost disrespectful, lasting a bit too long.

Though the Chols don’t give up, they're unable to get another point before the buzzer sounds, and you can hardly believe it. The Dogs won! Your team won the fucking Calder Cup!

The boys celebrate in the ice, hefting Simeon up and onto their shoulders and Diavolo takes the cup and delivers it right into his waiting gloves. Simeon hefts it, grinning and crying, and you feel yourself crying too, unable to believe how far he’s gotten, the monumental feat he’d just completed.

Diavolo’s eyes find yours, and hastily, he skates for the bench, fitting on his skate guards sloppily. As if he expected it, the door attendant pulls open the door to the dating section, still blocked by the metal gate, and you reach for him through the bars, glad they’re wide enough for you to pull him close by the pads and kiss him long and hard. Fans around you boo and scream, but you’re lost in your own world, lost in him.

“I love you,” Diavolo says as he pulls away, breathing heavily. He’s crying too, but his smile is ear-to-ear, and you pull him in again, peppering kisses all over his cheeks, nose, and forehead, overwhelmed by your joy.

“I love you too,” you say, and finally, someone opens the gate between you, and Diavolo lifts you up into a hug, kissing you again. You hear camera shutters and see flashbulbs go off and have no doubt your image will be all over articles and social media posts by tomorrow, but can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually, Simeon joins you, and you break from Diavolo to hug him tightly, both of you breaking down fully into sobs.

Diavolo lets you have your moment with your best friend, but Simeon’s soon stolen away by members of the team and you’re all shepherded out of the stands and off the ice so the boys can do their post-game photos and interviews and the like. Diavolo hesitates to pull away, but you shove him along, smiling.

“Go,” you say. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“I love you,” he says again, a little helplessly.

“I know.”

How did you get so lucky, with this man, this team, this life? You watch the boys, heart bursting, and can’t wait to support them for their next season as well.

Although, not before you and Diavolo do everything you want during the offseason, including traveling and exploring, putting some of both of your accumulated wealth to good use. You’ve heard the Maldives are pretty this time of year, and nice and relaxing for Diavolo to recover. And private, you think with relish. The hotel you pick will be private. Very, very private.

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jasdiary · 9 months

Text

Fableheart

Name Meaning :

Fable : A short, fictitious tale conveying a moral.

Heart : The core of oneself.

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“ Welcome to Fableheart, my dear! Oh- don’t be shy, step foot in, we don’t bite! “

Nabi Von Waldeck, Current housewarden

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-ˏˋ. Introduction ˊˎ-

𓇢𓆸 Fableheart is an RSA dorm twisted from the Ever After High franchise.

𓇢𓆸 Fableheart was founded on the morals of the fairytale-bound heroes.

𓇢𓆸 The current housewarden is Nabi Von Waldeck (Twisted from Apple White) and the current vice-housewarden is Armaros Raven Corvidae (Twisted from Raven Queen ) ( by @rosietrace )

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I. Students of FableHeart are encouraged to follow their heart and reach for their goals of their own volition. Be it to follow the footsteps of a higher being or to reject that notion and walk down your own path is entirely up to you. Due to this, there tends to be many conflicts between students but they always come together at the end of the day.

II. As a part of FableHeart, you learn to remember that the end is just the beginning.

III. FableHeart is sometimes regarded as a cursed dorm, many if not all members having some kind of curse or dilemma that could change their life. For better or worse is to be decided.

IV. Students of Fableheart are known for their stubbornness and morality. They all know or are figuring out what they want to do in their future, but one thing for sure is that they’ll do anything to walk down the path they chose.

V. Students in this dorm excel in Ancient Curses and Seminars. It’s nearly impossible to defeat a Fableheart student in a debate or mislead them from a seminar. As for ancient curses…The students of Fableheart know about curses all too well.

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-ˏˋ. Dorm Appearance ˊˎ-

⟡ Fableheart’s dorm looks akin to a castle.

⟡ They have grand stairs (that are honestly quite a hassle to go up and down…)

⟡ The dorms stories are being held up by tree roots and vines.

⟡ They’re known for their extravagant structure and secret areas.

⟡ In terms of colors, You can expect to see a lot of purple and red. to separate them, there’s whites and golds along with blacks and silvers.

⟡ All of the students personal rooms are quite large, enough for 2 students to still have a good amount of space.

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-ˏˋ. Dorm Uniform Information ˊˎ-

<𝟑 There is no set uniform!! However, there are requirements as to how you customize and design your uniform.

<𝟑 The uniform is required to look regal, As if you’re royalty attending a ball.

<𝟑 You can be as dramatic or as minimal as you want to be with the uniform, depending on the type of person you are. It’s all up to you.

<𝟑 To show that you are indeed a student affiliated with FableHeart, the heart shaped locket given to every student is required to be shown somewhere on yourself. Where you put the locket is up to you.

<𝟑 All in all, just have fun coming up with your very own uniform and looking like the royalty you are~

<𝟑 Fableheart students all have an object or accessory that represents themselves and is used in place of RSA’s magic brooches. They also tie in with their curses.

< Examples >

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-ˏˋ. Fableheart Regular Uniform (option if you don’t want to draw RSA’s uniform!) ˊˎ-

✎ᝰ. Very much giving Barbie Princess Charm School!

✎ᝰ. Used in place of RSA’s uniform. ( I find it hard to draw i’m sorry )

✎ᝰ. As shown in the photos, it’s customizable to an extent.

✎ᝰ. ((The skirt can be switched for a longer skirt, pants or even shorts.))

✎ᝰ. The dorm colors are apple red and royal purple.

✎ᝰ. They are also available in red ↓

< IVE ‘Love Dive’ concept outfits >

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-ˏˋ. Fableheart Dorm Playlistˊˎ-

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-ˏˋ. Notes for those who want to make a Fableheart Oc ˊˎ-

𓇢𓆸 As this dorm was revealed to only a few people a while back, some EAH characters have already been claimed; here’s the characters that have been taken! :

Apple White

Raven Queen

Madeleine Hatter

Briar Beauty

Ashlynn Ella

Kitty Cheshire

C.A. Cupid

Darling Charming

Odette Cygnet ( Duchess Swan ) { @/starry-night-rose }

Lizzie Hearts

Renè Scarlett ( Cerise Hood ) { @/terrovaniadorm }

Rosalina Bellevue (Rosabella Beauty ) { @/slumberingrose-fandom }

Castor Del Rosario ( Courtley Jester ) { @/luvneuvillette }

Blondie Lockes

Maristela Undine ( Meeshell Mermaid ) { @/terrovaniadorm }

Lucia Primrose ( Farrah Goodfairy ) { @/sakuramidnight15 }

Ginger Breadhouse

Thornby Bell Faelan ( Faybelle Thorn ) { @/princekoala }

Mira Shards

Gaia Abor ( Cedar Wood ) { @/shinysparklesapphires }

Caoimhe Dulcie ( Ginger Breadhouse ) { @/sakuramidnight15 }

𓇢𓆸 The max amount of ocs per person is 3! This is so other people have chances to join!

𓇢𓆸 Just to reiterate, Each Fableheart member has a curse that impacts them. (Ex. Nabi aging every time they eats an apple and only being freed from the curse by a declaration of true love)

𓇢𓆸 Everything else is basically said in information section/s. If there are any questions or confusion, please don’t be shy to ask!!

What story will be written today?…✎ᝰ.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fandorm #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #nabi🍎#nabi von waldeck #jas drew a thing.jpeg #twisted wonderland ocs #twst ocs #ever after high #ever after high fandorm #eah #eah fandorm #Fableheart #Fableheart oc #Fableheart ocs #rsa fandorm #royal sword academy

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varianandhugodonotgetrawed · 2 months

Text

I did a thing

Thanks to @shelobussy for giving me the idea for this little one shot! You didn't think I was serious, did you? But I was, oh, I was.

Desc: Hugo and Varian run into a problem while helping at VBS (vacation Bible school for those unfamiliar. It's literally summer camp but Christian). Warning for minor cursing, past homophobia.

___________________________________

"And... it's locked." Hugo sighed and slid down the door of the closet. "Who designed this thing? Why would a door auto-lock when you close it?"

"Why wouldn't it?" Varian had already sat down. "If you hadn't dropped the key we would be out of here."

"You're always blaming me for stuff. This isn't even the right closet! This is the damn communion supply closet, and I told you the cleaning supplies were down the hall, but no, Heaven forbid I be right."

"I got turned around! Half the hallways out of the sanctuary look the same anyway." At least they wouldn't starve, though Varian might rather starve than subsist on grape juice and crackers that looked and tasted like Styrofoam. And would it be heretical to eat and drink communion elements outside of the ceremony? Surely God would understand, like that story with David and the sacred bread.

"Uh, earth to Freckles," Hugo's annoying voice cut through Varian's thoughts. "How are we gonna get out of here? The VBS has, like, four chaperones for the middle schoolers including us, we need to get out."

"Can't you pick locks, Beanpole?" Varian had never seen Hugo lockpick, but he looked like the type to know how.

With his long undercut blond hair, piercings, alternative clothing style, and flamboyantly gay demeanor, Hugo wasn't really the sort of person Varian would expect to be a youth group leader, but West Ingvarr Methodist Church prided itself on diversity and inclusion. Varian couldn't help but think, though, that even if it wasn't a sin, Hugo didn't need to make being queer his whole personality. Varian certainly managed not to.

"I can't pick this kind of lock. I don't know the inside mechanisms of the automatic doors. And I'll thank you not to use that tone when asking. I don't why you think you're better than me-"

"I don't think I'm better than you-" Varian began.

Hugo snorted. "Could've fooled me. Anyways, I could maybe figure out how to disassemble the lock, but I don't think Pastor Robin would be very happy with me."

"So we're stuck here," Varian groaned.

"Until someone comes along and sees the key on the ground, yes. Don't look at me like that, Freckles, I'm not pleased about it either. You're stuck in a closet with someone you hate, I'm stuck with someone who hates me."

"I don't hate you. You're annoying as- as heck, and loud, and honestly I don't think you should curse around the kids-"

"They're middle and high schoolers, they've heard the word 'shit' before. Besides, I know what it is. You don't like the way I dress, the way I talk, you don't like when I talk about my homosexuality-" Hugo said the last word like he was an old man deeply offended by it.

Varian rolled his eyes. "That's not it. If it makes you feel better, I'm literally bisexual. I just don't think you need to talk about it as much as you do-"

"Freckles, what would your life be like if you had had an openly queer leader in the church when you were those kid's age? Because I'll tell you right now, mine would have been a hell of a lot better. You can keep your internalized homophobia to yourself, but I'm going to be who I am. And I'm going to be for those kids what I needed." Hugo finished and turned his head away, arms crossed.

Varian couldn't think of a thing to say. He tried not to think about it much, now that he was out of Old Corona, and two years into college, but he remembered growing up in a church very different from West Ingvarr. Forget it being unsafe to be queer, Varian had dyed a streak of his hair blue when he was fourteen and been looked at like he was the devil's child into he finally broke and dyed it black again. Eventually, fifteen-year-old Varian had decided he couldn't take it anymore, and ran away. It'd quickly gone wrong, and he'd fallen in with a very bad crowd before his father found him, and promised they would move away after Varian tearfully confessed the reason for his rebellion.

All that to say, Hugo was right. Varian cringed thinking it. But Varian had been unfair in his judgment of him, and it was the right thing to do to admit that.

"I'm... sorry." Varian finally said. Hugo didn't turn his head, but his eyes flicked over and his eyebrows rose slightly. "I think... I let my biases color how I judged you, and that was... unfair and not very 'Good Christian' of me. I... really don't hate you, Hugo."

Hugo turned his head, and Varian could see him holding back a smile. "Thanks for the self-awareness. I forgive you, I guess."

Varian scoffed. "Thanks, 'I guess'."

"Well," Hugo began, obnoxious grin on his face, before pausing. "I think I hear footsteps! HEY? IS ANYONE THERE?" He yelled, forcing Varian to cover his ears.

"Yes, ominous voice? Wait. Hugo, is that you?"

"Yep!" He replied. "Varian, we're in luck! Okay, Yong, there's a key on the ground. I need you to slide it under the door, alright?"

"I don't see a- oh! There you go!" A second later, the bronze key appeared by the door. Varian and Hugo stood up, and unlocked the door.

"Feels good to be free!" Hugo declared, stretching.

"We were only in there for twenty minutes," Varian commented, grinning.

"Yeah, but twenty minutes stuck with you? Basically twenty years."

"Shut up, Beanpole," Varian pretended to punch Hugo's arm. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

#fics that i am the sole audience for #vat7k #fanfic #varigo #fanfiction #varian #tts varian #varian tangled #hugo vat7k

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literaila · 3 months

Note

Head in hands. Just.

'megumis brows are much more expressive without his bangs to cover them'

The hold this image has of me as hes the subject of love, teasing and endless shenanigans from both reader and gojo, and now even tsumiki. He can't even say no to them. You know exactly what you're doing with these excerpts 😭😭 megumi is everyone's baby at this point.

Reading your tag and feeling that tug at my chest. I hope one day reader realises just how much good they've given to megumi. So much he'll likely carry with him despite the unavoidable reality and burden of dealing with curses. It reminds me of those 'doomed by the narrative' tropes. Somehow, the love they receive along the way makes it even more devastating. But gosh 😭😭 thank God you're writing these and not gege. Our boys can get some rest.

Also, I definitely think the blue bow would look better. And gojo is far too smug about this for megumis liking.

Credit to you as the writer. You've done such a good job

hehe you know megumi hates the fact that he’s the youngest of the family—the baby, you and satoru will coo to each other, like the terrible parents you are.

he is not a child, thank you very much. he was forged as an adult at birth and it’s actually not his fault that his body hasn’t caught up yet.

and he will push your hands away when you try to hold him, squeezing him to your chest like you’ll be able to mold him to you—but, like, if you want to keep doing it he’s not going to stop you, necessarily. just complain. a little.

(no honestly i think the most devastating part about satoru and readers relationship both with each other and with the kids is that neither of them realize that their lives were not supposed to be like that.

they weren’t supposed to suffer through death, and mourn their comrades before they could even become adults. they weren’t supposed to take care of themselves as kids, and you shouldn’t have to yearn for the type of parents that love unconditionally, and satoru shouldn’t have to measure up to all of those unobtainable expectations.

the people that you’ve become are not a result of any failings, but rather the triumph over terror and morality that no child should ever have to muster the strength to have in the first place. the guarded, scared adults are a flawed creation, not a flawed design.

but, you’re both dumb so you don’t know this.

satoru is bound to keep pushing himself until he can perfect the world that is supposed to be his, and you’re bound to follow him to the ends of the earth so…

really. just. so so so stupid)

#i love you for this!!!!#ugghsjsu i love over analyzing and telling everyone what i think!!!#a typical family #gojo satoru x reader

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utilitycaster · 7 months

Note

I think the reason some people aren't taking the 'sister' comment in the way I believe Ashton meant it is because Laudna referred to Imogen in a similar manner, so I wonder if they assume they'll follow that same direction?

I mean. Laudna did, in fact, mean that comment platonically, to the point that Laura, as Imogen, was fully expecting a rejection and the consequences thereof, and now has painted herself into the corner of making a heroic but rather painful to watch effort to make something of it while Laudna continues to be like yes I have a girlfriend! anyway let's wander off while dancing, let's fail to answer any of her questions, let's literally need to be walked through the attempts at Battle Couple maneuvers, and generally act as some kind of monkey's paw object lesson in why you better let the fuse of a slowburn actually burn slowly. Anyway, as I've said, I don't care for the very saccharine OOC Love Marriage Baby Carriage fanon that's been present for Ashton and Fearne, and am pro their casual hookup, but like...honestly? Were I capable of placing curses, which I am unfortunately not, I would curse every ship I did not care for to become canon the way Imogen and Laudna did. Which is to say, if you do ship Ashton and Fearne, go for it, but you should be on your knees begging to whatever you believe in and possibly some things you do not that this does not follow the current pattern, at least, of Imogen and Laudna.

Secondly, I have not done my time in fandom, watching people with truly the most rancid only child energy bleat "omg besties! siblings!" at every ship they not-so-subtly wanted to sink, only to watch those same dullards be like "no but when it happens in canon with my ship it's different." Or at least, I am watching this because it is happening, but I am not taking them remotely seriously. Hypocrisy is terrible for a lot of reasons but its one saving grace is it is a double-edged sword; anyone trying to dance around this has completely shredded their capacity to ever again play the "um actually I see them as siblings so it's kinda gross that you ship them" card along with, to be honest, their general credibility, and like, really. For this?

Thirdly, if people look at two characters and say well THIS happened once so it DEFINITELY will happen again with two ENTIRELY DIFFERENT PEOPLE with ENTIRELY DIFFERENT HISTORIES and ENTIRELY DIFFERENT MOTIVATIONS that's dumb as hell. We don't have to pretend like it isn't dumb as hell. This is neither how people nor causation work. I mean it could happen, but that's because coincidences happen. I certainly wouldn't use it in any sort of serious argument.

And finally, I don't know how to put this more nicely, and as you'll see in a moment I have a vested interest in not bothering to, but playing pro bono public defender for bad takes in my inbox (let alone when I'm not even the OP of the post I assumed prompted this?) is at least intended to be so utterly thankless by design that I don't know why this is the second time this week someone has voluntarily done it unless you're trying specifically to evoke this particular flavor of breathless rant from me in which case you could just give me a topic and ask nicely; I would gladly oblige.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag

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glacierruler · 1 year

Text

If I Could Just Kiss You

No it is not almost 4 am now where I live shut up /j /s

Ships: Prinxiety and Dukexiety (Roman and Remus both date Virgil and are fine with it)

Want to make it very clear, Virgil thought Remus was a boy until it introduced himself.

Angst/Fluff, mostly fluff though

CWs: transphobia, accidental misgendering, deadnaming, death mentions(no actual death, I swear), self-deprecation, tell me if I missed any!

Words: 5080

Feel free to spam my inbox with questions about this au

Taglist: @uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous @hyperfixated-homo @cutebisexualmess @starlocked01 Please tell me if you'd like to be added/removed!

Virgil didn’t know what to do. Storm didn’t know what to do because storm liked these two boys. And they were siblings. And Virgil knew that they wouldn’t like storm back, because who would? Storm was self-deprecating, small, and honestly not that attractive. At least not in storm’s eyes. Virgil had weird eyes too, and who would want a freak like storm, with storm’s weird mismatched eyes. One of them a deep purple and the other a bright green. Plus storm’s clothing choices were questionable to most. Most of the time storm wore a black with purple patches hoodie, along with an oversized Fall Out Boys T-shirt, with black jeans. The most expensive thing storm wore were storm’s Doc Martins, although storm had some more expensive shoes at home. Shoes were the one thing storm ever splurged on, because Virgil couldn’t design or make shoes. Storm could hand sew some clothing. Specializing in skirts, but storm was getting better at making dresses, shirts, and pants as well. Also storm loved hand sewing, as it was calming and took up time. Storm was also decent at painting abstract art, and somewhat good at drawing humanesque figures on storm’s computer. So maybe Virgil wasn’t actually useless, storm just thought that way because of past incidents, but let’s not wander there yet. As Virgil was circling into storm’s own thoughts of panic, storm saw movement out of the corner of storm’s eye. Virgil freaked out for a moment, before remembering storm was at the local coffee shop, and there was going to be some movement. It did not help storm’s panic, however, when storm saw who walked in. It was the two siblings. And their friends. And oh, Virgil was so screwed if they saw storm. So so very screwed. Mainly because none of them know Virgil’s actual name, just storm’s deadname, because of course storm’s job at the local college wouldn’t let storm change storm’s name! And storm is so used to not being deadnamed or misgendered here. Just wearing different wristbands to denote the gender that storm was for that day, if storm could pinpoint it down. After all being genderfluid wasn’t easy sometimes. Also now, whenever Remy’s shift ended, Virgil would have to be very careful not to mention either crush’s name because they were here. And by the looks of everyone’s bags, they were here for a while. So Virgil hid behind storm’s computer screen, and did storm’s best not to draw attention to stormself. But eventually…

“Hey, bitch! I’m off my shift!” Remy shouted for the whole cafe to hear. A few of the regular customer’s chuckled, but the table that the two siblings and their posse had sat at all looked confused for a second, and Virgil could feel the heat rush to storm’s cheeks. Storm was not ready to come out to any of those five over there yet. Thankfully Remy’s partner, Emile, walked in just at that moment. Virgil looked at their necklace, and it was pink. Meaning they were a girl today, but storm would wait until storm could see their pronoun pins before using she/her for them.

“Love, what did we say about cursing right after you got off shift?”

“Too wait five minutes before doing so… but, like, hon-”

“Nope, you almost got fired last time you called Virgil a bitch right after you got off of your shift, and we can’t afford to live off of one income in this economy.” Emile stated. And now Virgil could die, because both of them were about to sit at storm’s table, after just calling storm by storm’s preferred name. In front of storm’s crushes who did not know storm’s preferred name. Which, to be fair to Remy and Emile, Virgil was out pretty much everywhere except for storm’s job. Which didn’t allow storm to be out and storm thought that was stupid. But storm couldn’t afford to live based on just commissions and sponsorships alone just yet, so they had to deal with it. Either way, Virgil had been kind of hoping to tell the siblings on storm’s own, without being accidentally outed to them. And, oh great, all of them were paying attention to Remy and Emile now. Who had just kissed, and were walking over to Virgil right now. Oh shit oh shit oh shit! What do I do. Virgil’s heart started pounding, and it was getting harder for storm to breathe, and then storm was shocked and sucking in a huge breath of air after storm felt something cold against storm’s skin.

“Hun, you good, you haven’t freaked out like that here for a while.” Remy’s voice was full of concern. And Virgil nearly cried. Storm had had a panic attack in front of storm’s two crushes. In front of people that constantly talked to storm at the college. Storm was so very fucked if they recognized him.

“I’m fine,” Virgil croaked out, well at least storm’s voice wouldn’t be recognizable, “can we talk about it later?”

“Yeah of course, whatever you need.” Emile said, and Virgil could see their pronoun pins now. So she is using she/her today, good to know.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you two about it later,” Virgil whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear storm. Both of storm’s friends nodded, and storm breathed out a sigh of relief. However before storm could go back to drawing, storm heard a gasp from the table that storm’s crushes were sitting at.

“You’re the person who works at the college right? The one who helps with art and english papers!” Excitement seeping out of this individual’s voice. Virgil looked over, and it was Patton. The guy who storm had helped with an english paper and art assignment. Although the english paper was what storm was payed to do. Patton had chestnut brown eyes, with brown hair to match. If Virgil had remembered correctly something Patton had said, he was from Papua New Guinea. So english hadn’t been his first language, as his parents taught him some other language, Virgil couldn’t remember what it was called, but storm thought it was cool that Patton knew another language. Sometimes storm wished that storm had payed more attention in spanish class. Mainly having taken it because storm’s family was from Mexico, and neither Virgil nor storm’s mother had been taught the language. Either way, now everyone at that table was looking over at storm. And now Virgil was officially screwed. What was storm supposed to do, hide under the table and never get up again. Then Patton spoke up again, “Although I thought you went by a different name? Something like-”

“Er, that’s only my name at the college, I don’t use it anywhere else.” Virgil interrupted, not feeling like getting deadnamed today. And now Roman was looking at storm, and Virgil felt like maybe storm should prepare some lines in storm’s head just in case Roman said something. Although he shouldn’t, after all his sibling, who’s older by one year is nonbinary.

“Ah, then what is your name? And pronouns if you don’t mind me asking.” And oh, Roman’s voice was sweet as honey, and Virgil could swim in it all day. Ah, storm could feel storm’s ears starting to heat up.

“Er, the name I like to use is Virgil, and my pronouns change all the time, but storm/storms pronouns always work,” Virgil’s voice was hoarse, and still a bit scratchy from the panic attack that storm had just had. And before storm could say anything else, Remus spoke up.

“Oh you use neos too! That’s so cool, you know meeting another person who uses neopronouns is like meeting a celebrity from that famous horror movie, Monstruo de la Noche.” The way Remus’s voice sounded like an old, scratchy record, but in a good way, just made Virgil want to melt. Although Virgil didn’t really like horror movies in most aspects, storm would love to watch a horror movie with Remus.

“Er yeah, before I forget to ask what are all your names and pronouns?” And oh no, storm’s voice was no longer scratchy, and while storm liked it on some days, other days it felt way to feminine. Virgil sometimes wished storm had a voice modifier on them, but then again storm was working on speaking more masculinely, it was just a lot of practice. Sometimes Virgil got sick of practicing, just wishing storm could flip a switch and storm’s voice would be deep. And honestly-

“Well you already know who I am kiddo, but I’ll introduce myself again in case you forgot, you do help a lot of people throughout the college. I’m Patton, 23 years old, and he/him and they/them pronouns for me!” Virgil was roughly jarred from storm’s thoughts by the loud voice, although it was a welcome distraction from where storm’s mind was taking storm. Then the person who was sitting across from Patton spoke up.

“My name is Logan, and please use he/him pronouns when it comes to addressing me.” Logan seemed analytical and smart, based on his body language and tone of voice. He had slightly tanned skin and was wearing glasses, a suit, and a tie. Virgil could’ve sworn he was the person who tutored students in the math lab, now that storm though of it. Before he could analyze too much, Remus spoke up.

“Well you already know my name, but my pronouns are he/him and it/its.” Remus looked like it was about to jump on the table with how excited he was.

“The name’s Janus,” a silky smooth voice said next, “although I believe you already knew that, my pronouns however have changed since we last talked. I use they/them and fae/faer pronouns now.” And Janus was right, Virgil had known faer name. Storm had known them in elementary school. They had been the best of friends, but after the incident, Virgil and Janus had grown apart. Storm still felt guilty about the scar that encompassed half of Janus’s face. However, before Virgil could say anything, Janus cut in again. “Just so you know, it wasn’t your fault,” and Virgil felt even more guilty now. Why, storm didn’t know, but now everything felt awkward. The tension in the room was really thick, and storm could tell that everyone else at that table was confused as to what was going on.

“Ah, before I forget to introduce myself to a such a lovely person, my name is Roman and my pronouns are he/him.” Roman announced flamboyantly, and oh, was Virgil head over heels for this guy. Maybe a little too much.

“Right, well it was nice meeting you all…” Virgil trailed off, not sure of what to say. Storm was really bad at socializing, having taken forever to warm up to Remy. Although storm was pretty sure it was because of the incident, but again, storm never liked to think about that. Thankfully Remus stepped in.

“Soo, what’s a school tutor doing at this coffee shop? Oooh, is this where you come to complain about the last minute papers all the students submit,” Virgil did not miss the playful look it gave its brother.

“Err, not quite, this is where I go to draw and do my online courses,” Virgil stated, not sure where to go from here. Thankfully someone else did.

“And storm def comes here to vent about what the english class kids do too, don’t you hun?” Remy snickered, nevermind, Virgil was suddenly reminded of why storm hated Remy now.

“Only a little!” Storm defended, which only got Remy and Emile to snicker as well as a few eyebrow raises from the other table. Before the conversation could go any further, Remy introduced themself.

“Sup you five, I’m Remy, and I use they/them pronouns, and this here is my partner-”

“Hi! I’m Emile, my pronouns also change all the time, like Virgil’s, currently I use she/her, but if you’re ever unsure of what to use, they/them is always okay!”

“Ah, if it wouldn’t terribly bother you three-” Roman started, before Remus interrupted, saying,

“We could totally blow your party! And cafe, into smithereens!” And Virgil couldn’t help but snicker at that, before remembering that they brought bags in, and storm caught Roman give a playful glare to his sibling.

“Uh…” Not a good idea, not a good idea, not a good idea, “sure, I don’t have a problem with it, Remy, Emile?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea!”

“You need more friends anyways hun.”

“Remy! Be nice!”

Virgil heard Janus chuckle a bit, which was either very good or very bad. Storm’s brain started screaming at storm, thinking it was an absolutely horrible idea to do this, so before anyone could get any further with conversation, Virgil went and sabatoged stormself. “But, before you decide to join us, don’t you have schoolwork to do? With your bags and all?”

“Ah, but lovely Virgil, we have been working on schoolwork for the three hours that we’ve been here! It’s only fair that we catch a break to chat with an engaging individual such as yourself!” And Roman flashed storm that smile that storm loved so much, with slightly crooked, very slightly tinted yellow teeth, which meant they were healthy, as they weren’t an obvious yellow, but subtle enough for someone to tell they weren’t pure white, (don’t ask Virgil why storm knew the proper color healthy teeth were supposed to be). Sure, Virgil knew that he probably flashed that smile at everyone he met, but he certainly didn’t call everyone he met lovely, did he? Maybe he did, how was Virgil supposed to know, anyways Roman had a point. Strictly studying is bad for people. And Virgil knew that because storm had burnt stormself out by doing that.

“Ah, alright, just didn’t want get in the way of studying, y’know?” And oh, the way all of them beamed at storm made Virgil want to never leave this moment of feeling wanted.

After about three hours of all of them sitting and talking, the cafe closed, and Virgil got all of their numbers. And maybe, when no one was looking, storm put a red heart by Roman’s number and a green one by Remus’s.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Virgil was back at the college, having just finished working with another student, when Roman, Remus, and their friends walked in. Honestly, she was exhausted, trying her best not to cry everytime one of her coworkers called her by that name.

“Yo, Vee, it’s us from the cafe, remember?” And the way Remus nearly screamed that, honestly made Virgil’s day so much better.

“Yeah, do you need help with something?” Virgil was so professional at storm’s job, she honestly deserved a gold star for not acting like storm was hopelessly in love.

“Actually [Redacted], I’ve got this.” One of Virgil’s coworkers, who had an obvious crush on Roman, said. Virgil could see the way Roman tensed up at her voice.

“Nah, Sally, you’ve got a meeting in fifteen, remember?” Storm was trying not to start a fight, not sure why Roman was so tense around her, but he was, so Virgil was going to do her best to make Roman more comfortable.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could take that appointment-”

“This will be the third time this week, Sally, I’m not doing that. I can do this, plus I believe one of them actually has me scheduled to work with them in the next five minutes.” Which, the last part of that was technically a lie, but Virgil never shared who she was working with with her coworkers. Storm never really liked them anyways. Sally huffed, but ultimately said nothing. As soon as she went back, Virgil led them over to a table that was a little further away from everything else.

“Question, do you want us to call you by the name that Sally used when you’re here, or something else?” Logan asked, which Virgil thought was sweet of him, but what really surprised Virgil was the twins talking over each other.

“Was it okay for me to call you Vee? If it wasn’t-”

“I’ll hit him over the head with my morningstar and bury him and-”

“I’ll let Remus do that to me without fighting back, I hope I didn’t almost out you-” And, oh was it sickeningly sweet how much both of them cared about different things, but Virgil should really cut in before it gets worse.

“Look, it’s fine. I’ve told them my preferred name before, they just don’t really use it. Because it’s not my legal name or whatever.” The way all five of them looked at her, seemingly baffled at what she just said, confused Virgil to no end. “Err, what’s wrong?”

“Why do you work at a job, that consistently deadnames and misgenders you?” Remus asked, concern seeping through its voice.

“Because it pays the bills, and I don’t really have a choice at the moment.” Virgil was a bit unsure as what else to say, she really didn’t have a choice if she wanted to be able to pay for all the necessities. “I am trying to find another job, but right now it’s not plausible,” storm really didn’t know why she felt so defensive.

“Vee,” Roman starts, staring at her softly, “we aren’t judging you, we’re just concerned.” And oh, Virgil hadn’t meant to make eye contact, honestly, it was mostly painful. But if she could stand eye contact, she would look in both the twins emerald green eyes all day and night.

“Ah, sorry-”

“Why are you apologizing? Did my brother said you did anything wrong? No, because you didn’t. He was just clearing up a misunderstanding. But if you want, we can pay you to be our personal tutor’s. How does $20 an hour sound?” And Virgil stilled at that, not sure what to do.

“A-are you sure? That’s a lot of money, especially since tutoring sessions can be long.”

“Look, absolutely no offense to you, but I’d pay you $100 per hour if it meant I never had to deal with Sally again,” Roman said dryly, and oh, was Virgil glad to know that there was no way Roman had even the smallest crush on Sally.

“Okay, um, then yeah, I can tutor you all, do you want to do group or individual sessions?”

“Group for now, and maybe, if any of us have extra money and need help, we can do individual sessions next,” Janus supplied, faer voice sounding uninterested, but Virgil could see the intrigue in their eyes. Virgil nodded, and the next day she sent in storm’s two day notice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few months, Virgil was turning 19 soon, and both of his crushes were 20 and 21 respectively. Still, storm’s feelings for them weren’t going away anytime soon. So he had decided, he would tell both the siblings that he liked them within a week.

“Remy, you just don’t understand! They’re so cute and sweet and kind, and honestly I think this is something amazing that’s happening. If I can just get the guts to ask them out. You don’t understand-”

“Right hun, because I don’t understand how simping for someone else feels,” Remy rolled their eyes, sounding slightly annoyed. “Now where’s the part where you tell them?”

And that’s how Virgil started telling a very long story. “Well, I was gonna tell them on Monday, but when I saw them they were kind of flirting with another guy. And I didn’t know if maybe one or both of them were dating that guy. I found out later that day, that they were just being friendly with him because he’s a cool guy, and flirting is just their dynamic. Which y’know kinda makes me feel jealous a little, and maybe hopeless, because I thought that they might be flirting with me because they like me, but it could just be because that’s our dynamic, and do I really need to ruin our dynamic with my stupid feelings.” Virgil breathed in and out heavily after that. Speaking fast, because the siblings could be at the cafe soon, and Virgil honestly couldn’t risk them finding out before storm was ready. “Then on Tuesday, they were busy studying for a few tests for their english class and overall I was really busy with commissions, and I also knew I wasn’t ready to tell them yet. On Wednesday I meant to tell them after tutoring was done, but then everyone was there, and I don’t know if I want everyone to see me embarrass myself trying to make a love confession, and then a thought occurred to me. What if they thought I was just getting closer to them to get with them? I wasn’t doing that, but what if they thought that. Surely they would hate me, and because they’re friends with everyone else,” Virgil gasped for air mid sentence, looking around the room for any sign of the twins, they weren’t due to show up yet, and were almost always late. But still Virgil couldn’t risk them finding out from storm rambling to Remy. “then everyone else would hate me. Throughout the whole day Thursday, I meant to tell them, but then my mind was all like ‘would they even like you back, and what would you do if they don’t, it would be too awkward to stay friends, wouldn’t it?’ And so I backed out. Cause I’m really scare of ruining my friendship with them becuase I have feelings and they don’t.” Virgil’s speech was slowing down a little bit, but that was only due to the lack of breath that storm was taking in. So he took a few to breathe in and out deeply, and quadruple checked the room to make sure that the twins still weren’t there to continue rambling. “Friday was weird, because I actually almost told them. Roman, Remus, and I were just hanging out at the park, and I got cold, and they both offered me one of their jackets, and honestly how could I say no. And is that a sign they were flirting with me? Anyways, they each handed me a jacket, but before I could say anything, I remembered that I never asked them about their thoughts on polyamory before, and if they would ever, like, share a boyfriend. That sounds weird, but you know what I’m trying to say,” Virgil interrupted stormself again, gasping for breath again because he kept losing all of the oxygen in his lungs due to the fact that storm was trying to get this all out in one go. He caught Remy’s eyebrow raise, and could tell that storms friend was actually invested in whatever was going on in his love life.

“Hun, maybe you should take a few to breathe before continuing.”

“No time Remy, both of them will be here in maybe a few minutes, and I’m confessing to them today, at this cafe. Where I officially got to meet them y’know? Anyways, where was I…”

Remy sighed, knowing they weren’t going to convince Virgil to slow down on his storytelling. “Alright hun, you were at the part where you said you were just thinking about their thoughts on polyamory, and whether or not they’d be fine with you dating both of them.”

“Oh yeah, so that was on Friday, and I didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding weird, so I kept trying different topics of small talk, like, isn’t the sky pretty, kind of small talk. And eventually we got on the topic of polyamory, although I don’t remember how,” Virgil started looking around again, trying to make sure that neither Roman nor Remus were here yet. Thankfully storm didn’t see either of them. It really was a good thing that Remus and its brother were always running late. “And eventually I learned that not only were they fine dating the same person as their other brother, but they both actually have a crush on the same person. And while I know that they probably don’t like me like that, I have to tell them before I can move on y’know? Like I want to be happy for them when they get into a relationship with the person they like. But I can’t do that unless I tell them I like them.”

“Alright babes, I have a few questions. One, how do you know they don’t like you? Yes, you do have to answer that question with actual facts. Two, how do you know that, if the person they like isn’t you, they would get into a relationship with them? And three. How The Fuck do you talk so fast?” Virgil stilled at that, not quite sure how to anwer the questions that storm’s best friend just posed.

“Well, for the first question, I know I’m really self-deprecating, and I’m not that attractive. Plus I’m kind of small for someone my age, and they have said before that dating someone small could be a problem because kissing them would be harder, and so I’d have to be worth the effort for them to bend down and kiss, and honestly Remy, I don’t think I am. Plus if they liked me wouldn’t I have noticed by now?” Virgil gasped and looked around the cafe again for those two. Thankfully, it seemed like they were running late. “As for your second question, who wouldn’t want to get into a relationship with them? They’re cute, sweet, handsome, stunning, smart, adorable, kind, beautiful, pretty, intelligent and despite the sometimes crude subjects that they bring up, both of them are really compassionate, like that time when-”

“I get it hun, they’re cute, kind, and smart. But, no offense, I wouldn’t date them, they aren’t my type. Also, remember not to idolize them, as that’s not healthy for anyone. Like, babes, I’m not saying that they aren’t cute, kind, and smart. I’m saying don’t put them on a pedestal. It gives them hopeless expectations to live up to, and it hurts you when they can’t live up to it. It’s not pretty, remember my relationship before Emile? That’s why it went so sour. Also, please stop putting yourself down like that hun, I get feeling that way, but saying it outloud to yourself makes it worse. I know this from experience.”

Virgil had to stop for a minute, and made a note to also acknowledge the mistakes that the siblings made, instead of only focusing on what they did right. It wasn’t good for anyone for storm not to acknowledge what they did that ticked him off, or was downright wrong. “Alright Remy, I promise not to idolize them, I definitely don’t want what happened to you to happen to me. And I’ll try not to, actually with the paycheck I’m getting from all my new friends, I’ll probably be able to get into therapy, since we’ve discussed that that would be a good thing for me to do too.”

“Now hun, you don’t get to ignore my third question either,” Remy said, before adding, “but it looks like your dates are here, so I’ll take my leave.” Virgil blushed and hissed at them, before turning around and seeing two twins grinning and standing behind where storm’s back used to be.

“So, lovely stormcloud, I heard you wanted to meet us here. Could I ask what this is about?” Roman asked, his voice smooth as silk, and his face held a playful smirk to it.

“U-uh, yeah, just give me a minute, I got sidetracked and need to remember what I was going to say.”

“Well it wasn’t to brutally murder us, but maybe poison? Nah, too many people around, you’d never get away with it, unless…” Remus joked, bouncing on the soles of its feet.

“No, I did not bring you here to murder you. Neither of you have made my hitlist, yet…” Virgil trailed off trying to sound ominous. Although it definitely helped that storm had been getting better at making his voice deeper.

“Oh? What do we have to do to make it on their?” Remus was entirely too excited for being told that it could end up being on a hitlist.

“Uh, haven’t figured that out yet?”

“Oh, that’s kind of sad, I wanted to be first on your hitlist!” Virgil couldn’t help but laugh a little at that, before remembering why storm had brought those to here.

“Err, there’s something th-that I h-have to t-tell you, a-and,” Virgil was having trouble breathing all of a sudden. And storm’s hands were really clammy now, and this was a stupid idea, there’s no way they’ll ever like you back, what are you doing!

And then he felt something cold against storm’s neck. “Stormcloud, I know you want to tell us something, but if you’re not ready we can just hang out and chill. Don’t force yourself to do something you’re not ready for.”

“Yeah, how are we supposed to fill Roman’s shampoo with sickly green hair dye, if you’re panicking.” Roman rolled his eyes, but smiled a little when Virgil snorted a little at that. If you’re gonna do it, do it now before you back out coward!

“I- just- there’s something I need to say, and if I could just kiss you…” Virgil eventually managed to get out, storm’s eyes scared of rejection from either of the two siblings, but willing to risk everything because these feelings were too much for storm. Both Roman and Remus looked at eachother, before Roman walked over to Virgil. And despite Virgil wearing two inch platforms, he was still smaller than both of them, and it showed. Because when Roman got close to storm, Virgil couldn’t help but feel a little small considering with the platforms he stood at 5’4. And Remus and Roman were both 5’8

“All you had to do was ask, stormcloud.”

“Also we kind of figured you liked us both,” Remus said as it started to walk behind Virgil, and eventually wrapping his arms around storm. “You weren’t good at hiding it. Just wanted you to tell us without feeling pressured.” After that Roman lifted Virgil’s chin up with two fingers and kissed him softly and sweetly. Then, after Roman was done kissing him, Remus turned Virgil around and kissed him roughly and passionately.

#dukexiety #prinxiety #roman #remus #virgil #patton #janus #logan #remy #emile #glacier writes #glacier's fanfics #cw transphobia #cw deadnaming #cw murder mentions #cw self deprecation #cw accidental misgendering

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imnotasuperhero · 1 year

Text

Look into my eyes (search your soul)

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Your love for Wanda could make you go the distance and more, just to see her happy.

A/N: I honestly don’t know what this is. Just a needed filler chapter for the final coming up? I should admit I’ve hit a wall that if it wasn’t for @wandabear who slapped me with out of the writers block i don’t know if I’d be able to continue this, lol. I just want to say that tooth-rotting fluff is coming. Hope you enjoy this mess (:

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII

Getting out of your car, you couldn’t help the smile growing by the second as your chest inflated with pride.

The house you’ve always wanted was about to be finished. After all the hard work and the re-designs, in just a few more days your forever home would be ready for you to fill with thousands of memories.

“Hi, James!” You greeted your contractor.

“Hi, Miss,” he bowed mockingly.

“Cut the crap, asshole.” You laughed at him.

“What? My salary after this will ricochet. It’s only fair I treat you as royalty.”

“We both know we’ve had bigger projects. Don’t you?” A raised eyebrow accompanied your smirk.

“This was the most challenging, though.” He countered as you both walked through the front door. “Which leads me to-”

“Please, no.” You whined disappointedly, feeling the happiness melting away.

“It’s big,” James informed. “Remember how we were greatly surprised the water pipelines were practically new?”

“I don’t get it. The inspection came out right.” You felt a tug at your heart as you spotted the huge hole in the floor.

“We still have to figure out exactly where the leak is. We’re waiting for the inspectors,”

“How long?” You braced yourself as the anxiety took over.

“To move into the house? Around 7 weeks.”

“The fuck? You know my lease ends in less than 6. Right?” You growled.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Might as well make sure everything is okay so you don’t have to fix it later on.” James reasoned.

Sighing, you just nodded defeatedly. The news about you being homeless even if for a bunch of days only increased the anxiety absorbing the reduced oxygen your lungs needed to function properly.

“Do you know a trusted storing company, by any chance?” You put your hands in the pockets of your jeans, trying to hide the shaking.

“I’ll send you the contact later, yes?” He looked up at you with a sympathetic smile.

“Thank you,” you smiled sadly before making your exit. You didn’t have it in you to inspect the remodeling anymore. Much less to ask about details.

Closing the car’s door harder than you should’ve, your fists collided against the steering wheel repeatedly. To say you were furious was an understatement. It was in times like these that you questioned how much of an asshole you have been in your past lives to be paying such karma.

You see, having to ask for shelter wasn’t something that worried you because you knew your friends would happily take you in. But what upset you was that it happened right when you had not one but two different clients that had requested a 3D model of their projects. And if the chaos your workplace turned into had you moody, you didn’t want to imagine how it’d affect whoever decided to host you.

But before you could dwell too much into your disgrace, your phone took you out of your reverie.

“Yes?” You tried to steady your voice.

“Uhh, troubles in paradise?” You cursed yourself for failing such easy tasks.

“Don’t remind me,” you grunted. “What’s up, Bucks?”

“Everyone is here already. Don’t tell me you forgot?” You could hear the voices of your friends talking in the background.

“Right. I didn’t forget,” you sighed. “I’m on my way, now.”

The way to Natasha’s was spent trying to calm down your anxiety. Today was a day to just enjoy your friends' company and have some good times. There’d be time to worry about your problems later.

But of course, that was better said than done for as you raised your hand to knock on the redhead’s door, your phone started to ring and the name of your most exigent client flashed on the screen.

Inhaling a long breath, you picked up the call. “Good afternoon, Mr. Coleman,”

“Hello, darling. Is there any chance you could send me the design for the guest house?”

“But there are a few details to finish,” you reasoned with the old man as you smiled exasperated to the redhead at the other side of the door.

“I understand, but I’m here with my son and he wants to check it out before you finish it just to get-” You walked inside the apartment, plopping yourself on the three-body couch in the living room, not interested in the explanation the man provided you.

“Alright, Mr. Coleman. I’ll send you the sketch right now.” You bumped your head against the padded backrest of the couch repeatedly at the lack of room to scream. It wouldn’t be very professional of you, after all.

“Thank you, darling. Have a nice weekend.” The old man greeted and you could only answer in the most cheerful voice you could fake before hanging up and leaving a loud grunt.

“I want a sugar mommy,” you whined, earning the laughs of your friends.

“Didn’t peg you for a sugar baby,” Natasha scrunched her nose at the thought.

“Ehh. If the pay is worth it,” you shrugged looking around. “Where are my babies?” you pouted at Wanda.

“They’re with Vision,” the redhead smiled tenderly and you ignored the trembling of your heart.

“Bummer.” You sighed. “Nat? Can I borrow your laptop?” You then turned to the redhead, who was looking at you with a knowing smirk.

“Sure thing,” she pursed her lips trying to keep whatever she was thinking to herself, making it impossible for you to stay glued to the couch.

“Why you looking at me like that?” You questioned the older woman as you followed her to her study.

“Sugar mommy? Really?” Natasha laughed mockingly.

“You know it was just a joke, right?”

“Does Wanda, thought?”

“What does she has to do with that?” You frowned confused.

“Dude, you can’t say those things in front of her. She has it bad for you,”

“Oh, shut up. She doesn’t.” You shook your head as you pressed the keys to access your email.

“I’m telling you, you’re so smart for a lot of things but so dumb when it comes to her.” Natasha walked away, leaving you dumbfounded with her words replaying in your mind.

But there’ll be time to try and decipher her words later. Now, you have to tend to your irritating client.

After what seemed like a few minutes too long of you fumbling with the touchpad, you clicked on the ‘send’ button and logged out of your account, turning off the laptop in the process.

The way Natasha's eyes were set on you despite having her girlfriend by her side made Wanda's blood boil with jealousy. Even more so at the way you were fidgeting as you kept stealing glances at her. The secrecy of it all had Wanda's fingers itching to pat the redhead’s smirk away.

Truth be told, it's been a few days since Natasha had taken her place in your life. Granted, you still visited each other frequently like you used to. But most times than not, Natasha was present when Wanda visited you. And even though Wanda knew the redhead’s heart belonged to Maria, she couldn’t help the greeny monster taking over her.

"So, how's the house going?" Wanda's attention picked up at those words, turning her gaze to you.

"Painfully slowly going." You whined, chewing the bite you just took.

"I thought it was almost done?" Bucky asked.

Sighing, you positioned yourself with your back against the armrest of the sofa and Wanda couldn’t help the soft caress in her heart at seeing you so relaxed if it wasn't for the frown on your face.

"James found a leak in the water pipeline and it'll take longer for me to move in, so now I'll be homeless when my leash ends next month," you sighed looking down at your hands and Wanda's words stuck in her throat as Natasha beat her to it.

"That sucks. But you know you can stay with me for whatever long it takes. Right?" The redhead offered.

"And have Maria having a meltdown?"

"Hey! I'm not that bad." The brunette complained.

"Who are you kidding? I can tell you the times you scolded me for being so careless when you saw me working," you chuckled heartily and Wanda couldn’t help giggling at the image playing in her mind.

"In my defense, it looks like a tornado passed by after you finish it." She shrugged.

Wanda didn't get to understand your retort as she was taken to the past, when she had stayed -multiple times- with you as you worked through the night building rooms and molding different miniatures of furniture out of cardboard and wood sticks as you created the mock-up of the design you were working on. Feeling the calm taking over her as she got to see you so at ease into your element even though it left you crying sometimes. The way you always patiently instructed her how to cut or glue the small objects had her heart skipping a beat when your hands would brush against each other. The calloused yet soft skin of your fingertips against hers had shivers running down her spine.

The pang against her side had her back to the present as she looked at her brother, frowning when Pietro’s eyes were moving weirdly.

Raising an eyebrow, Wanda silently asked him what his problem was, only for him to signal at you with his blue eyes.

But even though they shared a special bond thanks to being twins, sometimes it took more than a look to communicate.

And Pietro seemed to think the same as he sighed before he spoke. "Why don’t you stay with us?" Wanda's head tilted to the side as if her brother had grown a second head.

"Not sure it'd be ideal, Piet. With the twins and Wanda working from home, I don't want to impose," you nodded in the negative. Wanda's brain was trying to catch up with whatever was happening.

"Pretty sure Wanda wouldn’t mind. Right?" Wanda had to muffle a grunt as yet another finger poked at her side. Looking back at his brother, she saw him gesturing to agree with him.

"Of course not," Wanda tried to give the most convincing smile she could muster. "Lord knows I could have another adult by my side to try to understand the twins' babbling,"

"We'll see. I still have a few weeks to solve it." You shrugged it off, signaling the end of the discussion; leaving Wanda thinking about the prospect of you living in her house even if just for a few days and she’d be lying if the idea didn’t get her heart somersaulting.

The upcoming weeks we spent between you working nonstop trying to finish as much of your projects as you could just so you didn’t turn Wanda’s house into a mess with your supplies and boxing whatever you didn’t need for the time coming as your possessions along with your furniture would be sent to the storage facility James had recommended you.

“I finished with the kitchen,” Natasha spoke, walking into your room.

“Thank you,” you eyed her sitting on your bed, her green eyes looking at you expectantly. “Can I help you?”

“Maybe.” The redhead pursed her lips, obliging you to release a grunt as you busied yourself packing your clothes. “I need you to answer me something.”

You hummed in acknowledgment as you took a ripped jeans from the pile you had decided would go to the storage, folding it neatly before you put it in the box.

“I’ve been thinking,” Natasha paused and it took all the patience you had just to swallow your growl. “What if you and Wanda get together? Where would you live?”

Her words had you turning your head so fast that you felt dizzy for a few seconds. “Where do you get that idea from?” You frowned as the redhead groaned painfully.

“I swear to God, you’re so dense, Y/N!” Natasha rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

“I'm not. It’s just-” You paused trying to organize your thoughts, too afraid to misunderstand the signals both your friends and Wanda constantly gave you.

“I don’t want to hurt,” you sighed defeatedly. “If she really felt something for me, she wouldn’t have rejected me for prom night.”

“We were kids back then,” the redhead took a seat beside you on the floor, taking the crumpled shirt off your hands. “She was afraid,” Natasha took your hands in hers, squeezing them.

“Afraid of what?” You felt your heart cracking at that confession. Why would Wanda ever be scared of you?

“That’s something you have to ask her,” Natasha spoke softly, almost pitifully. “But what I can tell you is that you just have to open your heart in order to see,”

But before you could voice your feelings any further, the ringing of your doorbell had the redhead walking to greet your friends, ready to help you with the moving.

After having loaded all your furniture and boxes into the haul truck Bucky had managed to borrow from a friend, you both drove alongside Steve to the storage place while Natasha and Maria drove to Wanda’s with your baggage.

“I think we deserve a nice dinner as a welcome.” The blonde spoke, gaining your attention.

“It’d need more than a dinner to thank you, guys. You’re literal live savers,” you smiled truthfully.

“Ehh. It’s nothing, dude.” Bucky shrugged you off with his eyes glued to the road. “But you need to keep us updated.”

“With what?” You frowned at his words.

“With Wanda, you dummy,” Steve giggled.

“Not you too,” you whined, throwing your head back.

“What? We deserve the dits as your best men,” Bucky smiled toothily and you didn’t have it in you to break his heart.

“Can we not go there? It’s not like we’re moving in together,” you rolled your eyes.

“Yet. You’re not moving together, yet.” Steve corrected and your hand itched to lovely pat their faces.

To say the rest of the afternoon was full of mockery and laughs was an understatement. You barely had time to spend with the boys as adulthood had you all pretty busy, so you tried to make it the best of the day as all three of you worked together to put your belongings into safety.

Once you reached the house that would shelter you for the next ten days, you couldn’t help the sweat forming in your palms and the feeling of utter uncertainty at the prospect of breathing the same air as Wanda’s twenty-four-seven.

Natasha’s words from earlier did nothing to placate the anxiety tugging at your heart.

“Thanks for having me,” you smiled something crooked at the redhead on the other side of the door.

“It’s nothing,” she smiled toothily and you couldn't help your heart skipping a beat at the shine you saw in those green eyes. “Hope you don’t mind that I cooked pasta?” Wanda scrunched her nose in that way it had you all mushy over the floor.

“As if you didn’t know me,” you rolled your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from your host.

“Where are my sunshines?” You walked further into the house looking for the twins, wanting to escape the uncomfortable silence that had settled between you both just a second ago.

While time ago you’d be more than happy to spend unlimited time with Wanda, now it was only anxiety what you felt as you wandered into the very-well known house as your inner fears slowly manifested themselves, making it hard for you to feel at ease in what you once considered your second home. Too afraid to face the reality you dreaded to recognize laying at the back of your mind.

As always, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @wandabear @red1culous @inluvwithfictionalwomen @aliherreraaa @kiancorpse @whitewidowsbite @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @daenerys713 @swiftie1-0-1 @godamnityess @marvelwomen-simp @forthelesbians @when-wolves-howl @marvelogic @cowboyboots236 @iliketozoneout @jayceelynnn (If you wanna be added to the taglist, just let me know! :)

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxinoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda fanfiction #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #my writing #limesys

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