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targaryenluvs · 5 months

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— A WHOLE NEW WORLD

pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: in which you and percy navigate a whole other world, and encounter trials in the way.

warnings: angst, bullying mentions, teasing, physical violence courtesy of clarisse my bae, drowning, confessions, fluff, hugs, smooches, percy n you are a comedic duo i swear, basically a self insert, not proof read

wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: i’m insane, this is the longest thing ive ever written. so please reblog and interact <3

you’d grown up with the same stories percy had. the greek gods and goddesses, their lives and tales, their failures and secrets. what you didn’t expect was to be the child of one.

you, percy and grover were currently on a field trip, and you couldn’t have been happier. all around you was history, and you were fascinated by it all. breaking away from them, you viewed the tallest of statues and the intricate, taking your phone out secretly and snapping a photo to show your mother later.

you were dragged out of your fairytale by laughter, and percy’s scowl evident on his face as you made your way over. “i don’t know if you have a miserable home life or just enjoy being a bitch but this trip would be much more enjoyable without your annoying voice.” you sneered before shining a fake smile her way. percy’s laugh in your ear made you join in, but the reprimand afterwards dulled your mood.

you weren’t a big fan of bullies, especially when they targeted your friends. for some reason you obtained a boost of confidence and a need to protect your own friends from such people yet you couldn’t defend yourself on your best day.

the trio of you sat, eating your lunches, you were inhaling your favourite food much to the amusement of grover and percy. “i don’t think your food is running off y/n.” grover teased as you shoved his arm, “i know, but i’ve been waiting for so long, i didn’t eat anything this morning, i was too excited.” percy turned his head towards you, “you were excited?” you nodded, “for a museum?” you waved him off, returning to your food.

but not before nancy launched a sandwich percy’s way, you’d had enough, and so had he. the two of you got up despite grover’s protests, and somehow she ended up in the fountain, even though percy hadn’t touched her. you’d been lost in the crowd around the fountain and once you’d broken out you found percy on the ground.

“perce! percy are you okay?” you tried to shake him awake to no avail, so you did the next best thing, slapping him awake. twice should do it. his eyes opened, focusing in on you, “i’m here, i’m fine, i know you care about me.” relieved, yet annoyed you hit his shoulder before you and grover helped him up.

and when he did wake up he spoke about what he saw. on the walk to your hearing percy went into detail. and you couldn’t help but feel scared, what the hell was going on?

and the two of you stuck with the story of nancy throughout, feeling betrayed when grover went against you. your own parents were out of town and you were freshly kicked out of school, percy’s home was also your own. you prepared yourself before the two of you entered the apartment, gabe wasn’t exactly a sight for sore eyes.

and soon enough yourself, percy and his mother were headed for montauk. you’d left over twenty four messages for your parents but it seemed none of them had made their way through.

“so all the stories, they’re all true?” percy was fast asleep in the front seat, and the book in your hands wasn’t all that interesting. sally nodded, “i know it’s all a lot for the two of you to take in,” if percy was a demigod, then were you too? “what am i? who’s my parent then? are my parents my parents? am i adopted?” sally stopped at the intersection abruptly, turning towards you with a sad smile, “sweetheart, it doesn’t matter. your parents love you no matter what, i know it. you’ll learn everything with time, i’ll tell you more when we’re all inside okay?”

the water droplets on the window were plentiful, some big, some small, some new and others falling. the storm outside was looming, loud and dark, but it seemed to bring you comfort in all honesty, you loved the rain. and as you sat and drove all you could think of was your future, and what it had in store for you.

you’d been in the kitchen whilst listening into sally explain to percy about his parentage, the gods and goddesses. you were sure if you heard anymore you’d pass out. percy’s outburst led you back to them.

“well i’m not a baby! i know there’s no such thing as monsters, i know there’s no such thing as gods and i know for certain that there’s no such thing as demigods.” the hand on percy’s shoulder brought him back down, “percy, why would your mother lie to you? no one on this earth loves you more than her, i think we should listen.” his face was riddled with confusion, “you’re telling me you believe this crap?”

before the conversation could get heated, grover’s appearance interrupted. “what the hell are you doing here? how did you get here?” grover sighed, as much as he wanted to explain he needed you all to get moving, “i promise i’ll explain everything but somethings coming,” percy and yourself took a step back, “grover.”

“and i know that sounds really bad,”

“grover?” he brushed the two of you off, continuing to ramble at sally.

“but the important thing is not to panic—”

“i’m not panicking.” sally rested her hands on her hip, “great! i’m also definitely not panicking. i feel very good about how we’re doing so far—” you closed your eyes, maybe when you opened them it’d go away. “grover!” you and percy shouted out at the same time, “what?”

you pointed towards his legs as percy spoke up, “why is there half a goat in your pants?” his legs were bare, mist not around.

as if the day couldn’t have gotten any crazier or exhausting for you and percy grover all of a sudden showed up and you were all on the move. sally was punching the accelerator, whilst grover continued to explain, “what are you?” grover turned to face you, “i’m a satyr. and i’m your protector. i was assigned to you but we didn’t know that y/n was special like you, so i guess i’m sort of protecting you both.”

“you’re my protector? and what y/n doesn’t get one?” you laughed, “no offence but i think i’m alright perce. if you’re our protector than shouldnt you have protected us at school? against nancy?”

“i protect you against actual evil,” you snorted, “the only evil is nancy’s personality, that should count.” percy managed a smile at your words. “if i hadn’t gotten you kicked out of school, you’d have never survived the night. and what’s chasing us now would have found you there easily.” it was like a truckload of information all at once, you felt like you were in a movie.

“the mist. it’s the veil that hides the magical world from the human world. my legs. dodds’ wings. even dodds’ absence, but it isn’t supposed to hide things from me. that never happens. something powerful is at work here. the sooner we get you two to camp, the better off you’re… you told them about camp, right?” grover looked towards sally for an answer as you moved his hand away from your face. grover tended to move them around when talking about something he was passionate about.

“not yet, no.” sally shook her head as you smiled, “you’re early remember?”

“camp is a sanctuary for half-bloods.” great now you were going to a summer camp. the more he divulged the more you began to understand. you’d always been told you were special, percy especially. you should’ve known you were meant for more. demi gods were never safe, that was obvious by the huge monster behind the car.

“is that the minotaur?”

“once the attacks start, they never let up. okay? dodds was just the beginning.” you twisted your body to get another look at it, “okay well if we’re being chased than maybe less talking and more runnin, driving, whatever just go!” you shouted out, your heart was ramming against your chest, your hands felt warm and jittery. you needed to move, to do something, you hated just sitting and relying on a car. you zoned out in time for percy’s regular jokes.

“he is still wearing underpants.” you giggled at him, “i wonder what size.”

“the mythomagic cards were training. everything has been training for what’s still ahead of you, and i know wherever percy goes, you go.” you rolled your eyes, “i always hated those stupid cards, guess i should’ve played huh?” percy cocked his head, “what’s ahead of me? of us?”

“kids,” you all turned to sally, her knuckles were turning pale white, an unrelenting grip on the wheel, “hold on, please.” you clutched on to the seatbelt and seats as you all were jolted around, dodging a car and attempting to evade the minotaur, which wasn’t exactly all that easy as he rammed into the car, horns penetrating sallys window.

she fought for control, her foot pressing down on the accelerator before you all ended up crashing.

the ground was wet and mushy, you felt dirt gather underneath your fingertips as you crawled out of the car. you could see sally helping percy out as grover made his way out. your leg was aching, a shard of glass caused a gash in your thigh and dragging it along the floor hurt like a bitch, “ah, shit!” you rolled over onto your back.

percy’s eyes darted towards you the second you cried out, “y/n!” he dashed towards you, sally and grover in tow. “are you okay? what happened? where does it hurt?” his eyes were frantic and his hands unsure, the sight of you hurt was more than enough to worry him. “i’m fine, i just, if we take the shard out and tie something around then it’ll stop the bleeding right?”

percy shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head, hoping it would clear it out, the whole situation was already stressful but his best friend injured? an absolute nightmare. “i— i don’t know! mom! what do we do?” he shouted as sally grabbed your jumper from inside, “move aside percy, let me help.” he didn’t want to, percy wanted to stay right by your side, but he knew she could help you where he couldn’t.

the make shift tourniquet did the job thankfully, but you were in and out from the loss of blood, the last thing you recall was sally jackson in the hands of the minotaur, and suddenly, gone.

your voice was stuck, trapped in your throat. your eyes stung immensely, waterline flooded. she was family to you, one of the sweetest people, supportive. and just like that, erased, just dust. your eyes searched your surroundings for percy, to see him, to help him, but all you could view was darkness as it took you far away.

the last thing you’d heard was grover yelling out for the two of you, “stay awake! please!” his pleads were unmet, as you were whisked away to a world of sleep.

the light was harsh on your eyes having just woken up, at least your bed was comfortable. but you still had no clue where you were. your body was stiff, needing to move around. as you shuffled to sit a voice called out for you.

“y/n!” you turned to see percy peering through the window, a large smile on his face as he promptly ran inside to you. “percy.” his arms wrapped tightly around you, squeezing hardly. “you’re killing me here.” you croaked out as he let go, taking a step back.

“i’m sorry. do you need something? are you hungry?”

“that i am, where are we?”

“camp half-blood, welcome y/n l/n.” an older boy spoke up from the doorway with his arms crossed, leaning on the frame. “luke.” percy recognised the boy, which made you feel at ease, “hi luke.” he smiled, “hey, how are you feeling?” you sighed lifting the blanket up and resting your feet on the floor, attempting to rise from the bed. “like i need to walk a bunch, is there food around?”

luke nodded his head before signalling you to follow, “is your leg okay?” the pain had lessened since the initial hit but it was still sore, “i think i’ll be okay, might have a limp. i can be a zombie for halloween maybe.” percy was glad you were making jokes, seemingly back to normal.

the camp was everything you could have dreamed of. straight out of the pages of a book or out of a movie, amazing scenery, nice enough people, and insane skills amongst them. you had no clue how you’d fit in. you’d settled into hermes’ cabin, your bag and bed next to percy’s.

“so, how long have you been awake?” you were pushing down on your mattress with your hands, testing the springs. the bed wasn’t as soft as you’d have liked it to be but you couldn’t exactly buy a new one.

“let’s go outside and talk.” percy muttered, leading the way. you were sat down behind the cabin now, percy slowly sliding down the wall to be next to you.

“i only woke up a few minutes before you, i saw chiron he’s a—something. and i met the camp director mr d, dionysus by the way. they wouldn’t let me go back into the infirmary until we finished talking.”

“why’d you want to come back so quickly?”

“your bracelet was missing, i didn’t know where it was so i was freaking out. anyways i saw the camp a little, and i came back for it and you were awake. i got, i got scared before.” percy couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye, he felt nervous admitting it, his worry for you. your smile was wide as you recalled his own worry for the bracelet you’d made him.

“what? why?” he exhaled, his hands playing with his shirt, “i— i thought you wouldn’t wake up maybe.” you grabbed his hand, “i’m right here, there’s nothing to worry about perce. how are you feeling?” your voice was barely above a whisper, filled with sympathy and sorrow, you still hadn’t spoken about his mother.

“don’t.” he shook his head whilst averting his gaze, staring down at his hands. “don’t what? i’m not going to force you to talk about i promise, i just want to make sure you’re okay.” percy closed his eyes, “i can’t just,” percy breathed in, working up the courage to meet your eye, he hated the pity on your face, “just forget it, her.” you rested your hand on his neck, bringing him in, “no one’s asking you to percy, if there’s anything you need from me, or if you just want to sit and die of diabetes with every blue food in the world, i’ll be right there.”

“thank you.” his voice came out muffled against your shoulder. you tried your best to comfort him with a hand in his hair, you pulled him back to take a look at him. his eyes were glossy, a few tears had fallen free. using your sleeve you wiped them away, “now what demigod has the time for tears, percy jackson?”

you loved percy best like this, with a grin plastered on his face.

“yknow what we could use?” percy pulled you up from the ground, before you walked back to the cabin. “and what exactly is that m’lady?” you rolled your eyes, “first of all i despise your british accent and second, a nap!”

percy was sweating profusely, his nightmare having jolted him up from his bed. his jittery movements concerned you, book in your hands forgotten as you surged forwards, “perce? you okay?” his eyes were blown and chest heaving, but at the sight of you he relaxed, “yeah, yeah i’m fine.”

“you okay?” luke stood infront of the two of you, arms crossed, “super.” percy snipped back as you swatted his arm, “be nice.” your voice was firm, and you knew how percy was, you’d say sarcasm was probably his middle name if you hadn’t already known it.

“we all have them, you know.” luke clicked his tongue, taking a step closer. “intense, recurring nightmares. that’s normal here.” his words were surprising to you, knowing that yourself and percy rarely fit in.

“and the daydreams, and the ADHD, and dyslexia. demigods just process reality differently, than humans do. for the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.” you let out a sigh, whether of relief or sadness you didn’t know. did you want to fit in? be the same as everyone else? nothing special?

“so are you also… do you not know who your—“ lukes lips pressed into a thin line, knowing what percy insinuated, “am i… unclaimed?” the two of you nodded in unison, “no, hermes is my father. that doesn’t matter, we’re all on the same team here.”

percy’s agitation was obvious, as well as reasonable and it was exactly how you felt. “each kid is brought here and made to wait around until their parent decides to pick up the phone? pick up— whatever. how is that fair?“ percy nodded along, “she’s right, why is that okay? why do they get to bring us here to just ignore some of us?” you did feel bad for luke, you felt as if the two of you were bombarding him with questions and expecting him to hold all of life’s answers.

“spend too much time trying to figure out why the gods do whatever it is they do, you’ll drive yourself crazy. sooner you stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer.”

percy’s interest piqued, “and what’s that?”

“glory.”

you’d spent hours trying different things. percy almost hit a bunch of campers with an arrow, whilst you’d hit the bullseye, much to your elation. the both of you were absolutely horrendous at welding, which you figured. the only thing that had stuck with you through out the day was the idea of offerings. and you knew percy was thinking the same thing.

the smell of fire invaded your senses as percy threw in the thing that meant most, whilst you sat by him and wondered if it would actually work, would she be able to hear you? you’d zoned out for a bit, feeling as if you were intruding whilst he talked.

“i hope you’re sitting down, but… i think… i’ve made some friends here. like, real friends. y/n and i, we might actually fit in for once.” you beamed at the thought, yet not wanting to interrupt so you settled for nudging his shoulder to which he smiled at you, “i think they might really like me. imagine that. he isn’t here. my father, he just… didn’t show. i mean, ignoring me is one thing, but he doesn’t get to ignore you. i’m gonna make him come down here. i’m gonna make him see me, i’m gonna make him see us both.” and with that he blew out the fire, a small flicker of hope ignited inside.

“we’re going to get her back percy, i swear.”

and that was the end of your pleasant night, the reign of terror, clarisse and others were infront of your cabin. and that’s where your night went haywire.

you and percy were thrown to the floor roughly, landing on your bad thigh caused you to shout in pain. “aw, does someone have a scratch? where’d you get it from? the minotaur?” the girl was blonde, and you had no clue who she was but her mocking tone made you want to punch her in the face.

“do you think you’re special? better than everyone else?”

“no.”

“tell me you made it all up about the minotaur, and I’ll let you go. maybe to impress your friend here? you practically have heart eyes when you look at her.” clarisse approached you, “don’t touch her!” percy shouted as clarisse chuckled, “why not? you gonna stop me?”

“he didn’t make anything up.” you responded to her question since percy hadn’t, with her harsh glare you prayed for the earth to swallow you whole. “she’s right, i didn’t make anything up.” clarisse was hoping for truthfulness from percy, she couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or happy, she could teach him a lesson.

“some kids gotta learn the hard way.” the two other girls charged towards percy before abruptly walking around him, dragging you up by the elbows. “hey! if you’re mad at me then hurt me! don’t touch her! let her go!” clarisse held percy back as the girls forced you to your knees, “guys i appreciate the sentiment but i’m not all that thirsty.” please tell me this wasn’t used recently.

percy thrashed around in her grip, desperate to save you, “you really like her don’t you? not a single ounce of fight in you when it’s your ass on the line but for her,” his chest heaved, and his hands clenched, he wasn’t commonly violent, but a beat down on clarisse seemed amazing right about now.

“get off her! y/n!” your eyes were clenched shut in an attempt to prepare yourself, holding your breath, yet nothing happened. when you peeled your eyes open you were met with an empty toilet bowl.

“please tell me you guys didn’t drink it yourselves.” if it wasn’t already an indication of her irritation based on the scowl on her face the second-grade ‘you stole my swing’ type of pull at your hair dragged you back to younger self. but what really awakened you were the three tentacle like forms of water, “what the hell?” the harsh collision of your back on the wall saved you from the attack. the girls all staggered around, careful of the water before scurrying out.

percy rushed over to you, hands cradling your face, “are you okay? did they hurt you? you didn’t touch the water did you?” you raised your hand to cut off percy’s rambling, “i’m fine, but what the hell was that?” he shook his head, “not a single idea in my head.” percy slumped opposite of you, “there’s not much in your head either way.” percy placed his hand on his heart, feigning shock and hurt, “how dare you!” your giggles rejuvenated percy, your smile was all he needed to be happy again.

the figure of someone at the door caused you to shoot up, careful of the water, you saw annabeth come into view. crap.

“we can explain.” you both held up your hands, caught at the scene of the crime and afraid of the consequences. “no, you can’t.” percy nodded in agreement, “okay,” the girls face resonated with percy, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he tried to recall how, “wait, I know you.”

annabeth shrugged her shoulders, “no, you don’t.” percy stepped forwards infront of you, directly inline with her, “yeah, but you were there. that night in the infirmary.” you couldn’t recall seeing her there when you woke up, “i don’t think she was, i don’t remember seeing you.” anabeth peered down at her shoes before returning to the conversation.

“yes. i’m annabeth.” she introduced herself, you’d heard of her a bit from other campers, daughter of athena.

“are you stalking us, annabeth?”

“yes.” her bluntness was something you didn’t expect. “okay. why?” you inquired further, “well, i’ve been waiting to see if something like this would happen. “so i’d know if you can help me.”

“you’ve been waiting for me to get my head in a toilet and for percy to be manhandled? well, girlhandled.” percy was confused, “help you do what?”

“win capture the flag.”

the helmets weren’t exactly the most comfortable but you figured keeping your brain in your skull was more crucial.

you walked next to luke with percy on the left of him, “you’re gonna love this. campwide mock warfare, all glory to the victors. annabeth’s the head counselor of the athena cabin. she’s led our team to three straight wins. been a long time since anyone’s won a fourth.”

“she was there in the bathroom, she said she’d been waiting for it to happen.”

“annabeth sees the world differently. always six steps ahead of everyone else. you should cut her a break.” you scoffed, “cut her a break for what? her life seems perfectly fine.” luke shook his head, “not everything’s as it seems y/n.”

“whose side are you on, anyway?”

luke stopped and turned towards percy, “oh, hers, always. she’s my little sister. maybe I should back up.” you nodded, “i think we should sit down if we’re going to be getting an origin story here.”

luke’s entire story of how he and annabeth got to camp made you regret your earlier comments of an easy life. she’d been fighting since she was a child, it’s all she’s known. “she’s been watching us since we got here. why?”

“annabeth is the strongest warrior in camp, the only way left to prove herself is to go on a quest.”

“and what does this have to do with us?”

“chiron’s been promising her for years. one day, a demigod would arrive who was fated to go on a quest that even chiron couldn’t prevent. and when that happened, she could join it. every new arrival, or, arrivals in your case, annabeth watches, looking for a sign they’re the one. usually, she gives up after a day or two, but she’s still watching you two.”

“can you ask her to knock it off?” as much as you hated to admit it, she did kind of freak you out, “i agree, we’re not going on some magical quest any time soon.”

“yeah, sure. but you never know, what if she’s right?” the conch shell blowing in the distance alerted you all.

it was battle time.

as you walked behind luke you couldn’t help your nervousness, which percy always noticed. “hey,” his voice was soft and reassuring, a hand on your shoulder, “we’re gonna be fine, it’s just a friendly game. we’ve won three times and we’re going to get a fourth since they have us brilliant additions of course.” percy literally bowed in front of you as if being applauded for a performance as you chuckled, “oh please, you cant win with idiocy percy.”

“that is extremely offensive! how many times have i beaten you in monopoly?”

“ohh, you want to talk about monopoly mr bank robber? do you honestly think no one noticed when you randomly turn in broken change and grab even more bigger notes? or the fact that three houses does not make a hotel!” clarisse watched the two of you fool around from afar, she was going to make you pay.

the pebble you’d thrown clattered against percy’s armour, “hey! what was that for?” you groaned out loud, your head lolling back, meeting the log. “if you keep flossing i’m going to push you myself perce. you need to take this more serious—” the girls surrounded you from every angle, swords in hand as you rose from the floor, your own sword clutched tightly.

“flags that way, it’s not here.” clarisse smirked, “we know. yeah, glory’s fine. revenge is more fun.” her spear crackled as they all surged forwards, time to fight, it’s now or never.

clarisse’s scream was deafening. “so much for friendly huh?” percy shook his head, “not now! you can tell me how wrong i was when we’re out of here.” for some reason once they’d begun their attack, you’d never felt more alive. as if you were born for this, to fight. every sword and hit that came your way was met with double the force, hurling people backwards as you tried to make your way to percy’s side. one of the girls was sly, managing to corner you on the boardwalk near by.

her knee, she’s weak in the knees.

the voice echoed through your head, as if compelled you followed up on it as the girl went down almost immediately. thank you very much random voice! the sound of cheers floated through the air as you saw luke plant the flag in the ground.

4 — 0.

perhaps you’d been distracted by the people, or maybe it was percy being held by his armour courtesy of clarisse. either way you didn’t notice the girl lunging your way, not until the cold water engulfed your body.

you’d never learnt to properly swim.

percy’s footsteps drummed through the air, each step heavy and weighed down with purpose. he had to get to you, now. the second you’d hit the water he was on the ground running. it had only been about five seconds at most yet percy was already at your previous spot, diving in head first.

act now, think later.

your eyesight was blurry as the two of you resurfaced, the first thing you spotted the crowd on the shoreline, they waited with bated breath, your team cheering once the two of you were back up. “i’m so sorry, i said i would protect you but clarisse— i was so scared when i saw you get pushed, i think i froze up. i should’ve listened to you, i should’ve taken it more seriously. this is all my fault.” he was holding onto your face for dear life, afraid to let go.

percy had dived head first into the water for you, no hesitation. he put himself at risk for you. he always knew what to say and what to do. percy was your person. you’d been an idiot, why’d it take so long for you to realise what you knew deep down?

you love percy jackson. and not in a friend way, in a love way. in the best way.

your lips were pressed on his in seconds, you weren’t in a hurry, not desperate, not messy. just passionate and deep, as if you were trying to convey your feelings through it. you were simultaneously trying your hardest to remember this moment. percy’s cold hands on your cheeks, both of you sopping wet, nothing else mattered to you, until he kissed back. percy on the other hand was desperate, he’d been waiting for so long, settling for the title of best friend. he had you in his arms, he’d already lost his own mother, he wasn’t going to lose his other half.

his hair tousled, curls sticking to his face, yours dripping wet, hands on your neck as you clutched his. “what are we percy?” he grinned, “whatever we want to be.” the pair of you may have forgotten the fact that you were currently surrounded by campers, but the deafening cheers and shouts of support warmed your heart. surely a kiss didn’t elicit such a reaction? yes it did, but also the fact that a trident loomed over percy’s head.

percy jackson, son of poseidon.

the two of you walked with a literal army of people, friends, even. for once you both felt as if you belonged.

luke was unbearable, taking any chance he could to tease the two of you, “my little campers, all grown up.” he fake-cried, wiping false tears from his eyes as you poked him, “now if we can find someone then where’s your partner pal?” percy laughed, “please never say pal again.” you turned his way, scrunching your nose, “doesn’t work does it?” he shook his head as the three of you chuckled.

“but seriously, you two are made for each other, i’m happy for you.” as you reached the cabin you couldn’t help yourself as you hugged luke by surprise, “thank you. we’ll be in soon, we just have a bit to talk about.” luke made his way inside as the two of you turned to walk away but not before hearing him call out, “keep your hands to yourself percy!” percy rolled his eyes as you smiled.

the two of you sat at the boardwalk again, feet dangling off. you’d been discussing the quest, as well as the fact that it was only undertaken by three.

“so, you, me, anabeth and grover. percy i know school sucks but if you could count those names on your fingers for me please.” percy groaned as you laughed at your own joke, “i know, i know. but i figure four heads are better than three.” your legs swung back and forth as you shrugged your shoulders, “we could fold grover into a box and take him with us secretly.” percy suggested.

“yeah, maybe.” your voice was quieter than before, eliciting concern from percy, “hey? you okay?” you were fidgeting again, this time with the black bracelet you’d made for him. he met your eyes with a smile as he lifted your head by the chin.

“i promise, i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” and for once you could feel how serious he was, “thank you perce, you— have been apart of my life since i was little. i don’t think there’s a single person i trust more on this planet than you. i’m sorry, for everything you’ve gone through. i swear, we’re going to make it out of this. we’re going to find your mother, we’re going to find the lighting bolt, and everything can return to normal. well, besides the fact that we’re all demigods and all.” the laughter was bittersweet, a moment of peace before you embarked on the quest.

“you’re beautiful you know that?” he whispered to you, as if he was afraid for others to hear. you grinned at his words, leaning in towards him as he followed, “i know, you make it a point to tell me at least once a day. but you, percy, are as gorgeous as the calm seas.”

you wiggled your finger in his face as he swatted it away, “if i had known my girlfriend was a poet i would’ve had every word of yours written down.” you felt fuzzy, warm. with percy you felt a million ways, all of them good.

as cheesy as he was you loved him.

“look at us, exploring a whole new world.”

“did you just aladdin me?”

“yup, do you think they have a flying carpet here?”

“why so zeus can strike it down when he’s angry? i feel like the gods are all little kids throwing temper tantrums.” percy shushed you, “they might be listening.” he joked as you punched him.

“i hope they are. so they know, we’re coming for them.”

“holy shit that was a badass line.”

“perce?”

“yeah?”

“you’re ruining it.”

#pjo x reader #pjo series #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic

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nimthirielrinon · 5 months

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I need to talk about Gale’s insecurities. For all his noted overconfidence, this is a man whose entire self-worth is based on his prowess with magic.

He was a “gifted” kid whose abilities started out well advanced for his age, just to begin with. He very much thinks of himself as annoying, which you learn in the Durge playthrough after the dead bard incident, when he says that if being annoying we’re reason enough to kill someone, he’d “be dead 1000 times over!”.

If you romance him and convince him not to take the Crown after the second romance scene in Act 3, he mentions how he’s used to being seen as over-confident and even self-deluded regarding his abilities, which I think would only make him posture even harder as a defence mechanism.

I think for a long time, his relationship with Mystra was likely something he used as a flex on other wizards who had been cruel or mean to him, based on how he brings it up, when he does.

But what gets me is his utter relief whenever he isn’t rejected by Tav. When he first opens up to you, he has pretty much already prepared himself to be kicked out of the party. He’s even got a plan for when his bomb goes off, to do the least amount of harm he can, and when he says “Even I’ve grown tired of the sound of my own voice” I swear his voice cracks and he sounds like he could cry.

If you romance him, when he tells you he’s in love with you, if you say “I love you too” instead of going straight for a kiss, he’s once again relieved. Despite the fact that you’re there with him and have been romancing him, he still has a doubts that you would return his feelings.

It’s no wonder he made the mistakes he did. This is a man who’s been told his entire life that he’s annoying. Though he’s had other mortal lovers (and we don’t know how those relationship were, only that they clearly ended), he is clearly primed for rejection. And then his ex-girlfriend, the goddess of magic herself, tells him she’ll only forgive his transgression if he kills himself.

Like I said at the top, his precocious talent for the weave is the entire basis of his self-worth, unless and until Tav assured him that he has value beyond his mastery of the Weave. It’s no wonder he felt like he had to “prove” to Mystra that he loved her enough. As long as his self-esteem was based on his magical abilities, he was never going to feel like he was good enough, especially for the goddess who is all magic. He was never going to be able to feel as though he was loving her well enough.

I guess what I’m saying is that his “ambition” and his hubris make so much sense when you consider the hinted-at reasons for his insecurities, his clear desire for friendship and affection (he summoned a Tressym who became a lifelong companion and a lava mephit or something with whom he is still in touch; he even says he didn’t have friends growing up), and his main talent/special interest.

I think he’s a superbly-written character, and I definitely feel like he deserves neither death nor godhood, but a good and comfortable life surrounded by a loving family who encourage him to be his best self.

#bg3 spoilers #long post #gale dekarios #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios of waterdeep #bg3 gale #blorbo from my games #been rotating him around in my head #like a rotisserie chicken #character analysis #the wizard of waterdeep

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denileisariver · 2 months

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imagine bruce catching you humping a batman plushie <3

dick comes home one day with a massive box filled with superhero merch, the rest of the family emptying it out quickly, sporting their favorite heroes memorabilia.

at first, bruce doesn't think much of it. he thinks it's cute that they want to show their support, showing love to the people they grew up to be inspired by. that is up until he realizes none of them at all have anything that is remotely dedicated to batman whatsoever.

dick and his stupid superman hoodie, jason with wonderwoman joggers, duke with flash shoes, barbara with dinah's band on a t-shirt, stephanie with a damn green arrow cup. seriously? green arrow?

it makes him grumpier than usual, highkey lowkey insecure because while he is gothams beloved hero, he isn't their hero. he doesn't acknowledge his family besides a grunt here or a shrug there, going nonverbal and isolating himself because he's jealous of the other members of the justice league and is too much of a hard ass to admit it.

so he decides to go to the only person he feels that he can confide in without judgment. you. bruce had been away from you for way too long, even avoiding you because he felt that his reaction was childish, and it really wasn't the big deal he was making it out to be.

so after a couple of days of him wallowing in his self-pity, he goes up to your room after patrol, knowing you usually stood up until late hours of the night waiting for the families return, even though he specifically told you not to.

he isn't aware of what you're doing on the other side of the door, wearing one of bruce's old sweatshirts that his scent still lingered on, and a pair of batman panties that you bought discreetly, before dick had even brought all the other superhero merch to the manor.

you're grinding your precious cunt on the face of a batman plushie that you did take from the box, whimpering mindless babbles of how much you missed bruce, how much you needed him.

you don't notice him opening your bedroom door, completely oblivious that he's staring at you slack-jawed, his cock twitching in excitement in his suit. bruce's eyes follow the curve of your ass that looked so perfect, covered in batman logos all over it. then catching the pointy bat-ears that stuck out from underneath you, moving in cadence with the rock of your hips.

oh. so this is what you do when he's not there.

he guesses that you must've been doing this for a while now, because your back is arching and your movements become increasingly sloppy, toes curling and making a mess of the plush beneath you. he curses to himself a bit in a small whisper, palming the buldge in his pants that was begging to be released.

"that's it, princess. make yourself cum,"

the sound of his voice makes you jump, whining in surprise. you get all flustered, embarrassment replacing how horny you were, almost. batting your lashes at him, you're unsure if you should continue, but bruce tuts in disapproval, urging you to keep going.

"did i tell you to stop?"

you waste no more time, not wanting to annoy him in case he decided to make you get off without his help. it doesn't take long at all, your clit swollen and sensitive from repeatedly rubbing it on the poor stufie, the friction quickly sending you over the edge. you bend over, both because your legs are weak and tired out and to give bruce a better view of your desperation.

your panties stick to your pussy because they're so soaked, outlining the pretty folds of it, your cunt fluttering around nothing. bruce pulls at your underwear, the fabric lifting and going between your tiny seam, your labia wet and exposed for him. the action emits a small moan from you, gently swaying your ass in front of him, hoping to entice him enough to fuck you. which it does.

he squeezes one of your asscheeks with a large hand, grabbing the batman plushie from underneath you and inspecting it. it's damp, the smell of your arousal filling his nostrils. he has to resist licking your slick off of it, but he doesn't see the point in doing so when he has the real thing right in front of him.

so he tosses it to the side, grabbing and flipping you over so you're straddling his chest. his calloused hands grope at your thighs, pulling you a little closer to his mouth.

"if you wanted to ride my face, all you had to do was ask, sweetheart."

you never been more grateful in your life for being a greedy little slut than you are now.

a/n: yes this was inspired by that one webtoon :p

#batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman #bruce wayne #smut #batfam #bruce wayne x reader smut #batman smut #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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dhampling · 4 months

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both free gn!reader, 2.1k

The first thing Astarion notes is that the blood scent weeping from every pore of your broken body is no longer familiar. It rots.

A burning stench, charred and sour as it licks the back of his nose.

A few moments of petrified silence before his feet carry him to you.

you reject bhaal's greatest gift and pay with your life. to this, your horrified love bears witness.

word count: 2,105

a massive THANK YOU to @scarstothepast for sending this request my way - i hope it does your idea justice <3

as always, read the tags and decide your fate!

Mutilation.

Reduced to nothing but a flaccid gasp of your former self; a marionette in your father’s horrid hand.

Mangled beyond recognition. Bhaal’s rotten plaything. His prodigal children, both dead.

Far past any conceivable beg for reconciliation.

Naught but a smack as your carcass plummets to stone.

The Bhaalist temple is ripe, unsurprisingly.

The smell of a weeping wound seeps from every porous surface. Infection in the mortar, decay in the miry ridges lining the floor; burning flesh amidst flame torches and wails in the middle distance akin to an abattoir.

Yet, Astarion finds comfort there solely in your confidence. Your conviction. Your will to want for better, to reject your savage bloodline. The power you command over that innate desire to harm.

You’ve prepared well for this encounter. You’re aware of the risks, you’ve scoped out the entrance to Orin’s rancid shrine; and you’ve gathered appropriate accomplices from your rooms in the Elfsong to assist you in rescuing the one of you held in her clutches.

He should be a little wary. A little skittish. Observant, always; but there should be a little rattle in his brain telling him to hold back from the rest of you.

The self-preservation instinct developed over two centuries in captivity simply isn’t there.

He’s free, because of you.

He wants to rip the windpipe from the changeling’s throat with his bare teeth.

Stalk her chanting cultists from the shadowy ledges surrounding their sacrificial altar and shoot off innumerable Arrows of Many Targets at their vile heads. He - personally - wants to eviscerate any Bhaalist visage presented to you with brutal slash upon brutal slash until he is positively covered in putrid god-guts and wailing in victory.

A twirl of his dagger. The easy click of his disarm tools. A wink in your direction.

Astarion will save you the way you saved him.

He remembers the way you looked at him with the most hells-bent fury during the Ritual of Profane Ascension, ripped from your side and thrown aloft by Cazador’s wicked pact magic. The resolute wrath with which you slashed your way through the monstrosities between you. Pulling him from Cazador’s circle, his daggers returned; a rage so formidable in your eyes he almost wanted to sink to his knees and propose to you there and then.

You wanted better for him. Better than perpetuating the vicious cycle of abuse starting all those centuries ago with Eravask the Forebear to his very own master.

Master.

He is better.

He is capable of so much more than the brief wavering moment in that foulest of Dungeons, in which he wanted the most grossly depraved of powers for himself. Every single moment of agony, terror; torment, hunger - the way with which you so effusively confronted his paralysing fears and talked him from the brink; from becoming that very same monster in his moment of sheer dread.

You hop with a determined gait down the towering stairs to the walkway. Entrance in sight. Astarion stalks ahead and moves to disarm the trapped plates in your path.

The two of you have spoken about this moment many times, sequestered away in a corner in the Elfsong by candlelight. A bottle of Firewine and tears threatening to brim in your eyes.

You once were a master. Your freak of a demon butler cast in role seemingly as your very own Godey. You have no recollection of it, those you killed in your father’s name, nor how you did it; but the weight of those souls indeterminate in number is abject torture. There is no forgiveness for you. No hope, no conclusion. Just a wide and wavering path to redemption you can never be sure you’ll justly earn.

That awful, plagued creature you were. The night you softly awoke with Scleritas above you and that primal urge to kill the one closest to you through your whole adventure so far. Holding back. Warning him.

The way he sat and spoke with you, smoothed your hair as you bit furiously at his wrists and spat his name with such evil spite. Unafraid of you, no matter the threat.

Two beasts in tandem.

Orin is horrifying in appearance. Pale, skin writhing with blue vein-like whips across her white flesh; armour of crimson jerky and eyes empty.

Lips smacking in wily delight. Bloodkin. Bloodkin.

Astarion watches your confrontation prior to the conflict he knows is to come. He’ll get his moment to brutalise every single one of these sadists, but this is yours.

The ritual sacrifice is spared through your recollection of Bhaal’s terms - you were the one challenged, not your accomplice.

These terms also mean your fight will be one on one. You versus her.

Astarion’s face falls.

Fuck.

However, he takes solace in the fact that he’s come to know your expressions well through your adventures together. Your innate ability to stay one step ahead is what has carried you so far in the first place.

She taunts you, yapping, pointing, aggrandizing; at one point even shifting into you. If the circumstances weren’t so dire he’d probably make a joke about what a fun evening could be had with such a skill.

You remain stoic, mapping out the environment and taking stock of what you can use as leverage. He simply watches you with a mixture of trepidation and admiration resting uneasy in his gut.

"Come to me, Father. Set my flesh to your unholy purpose."

The most grotesque monstrosity replaces Orin. The Slayer.

Astarion watches on as the duel begins.

In light of having prior defeated the undead Visage of Myrkul, Orin alone isn’t a formidable enemy. Your battle-strengthened dexterity is unmatched and with each attempt the current favoured of Bhaal makes to injure you, you simply strengthen your position and hit her harder.

It’s almost enjoyable to watch the two of you dance.

While not easy, it certainly isn’t difficult to gain the upper hand with each attack you make.

The Slayer is almost… clumsy?

Too large to aim her lunges with precision, you dodge her at most turns. Your party watches with baited breath, but small smiles begin to edge onto their weary faces.

The rabid dog and the acrobat.

Each hit you strike weakens her substantially. While she does get some vantage on you and causes a little damage by the sacrificial altar, her limbs in this form are too spindly and make for stupidly easy targets to focus your attacks.

Within minutes, the imposing figure is reduced to little but a pile of gore on the floor.

Among the foetid viscera that once was the changeling you immediately drop to search for her Netherstone-jewelled dagger. Bloodthirst. Hands heavy with still-warm organs as you retrieve your winnings, blood soaking every inch of exposed flesh on your arms. You throw your spoils to the side and hold the altar key to your chest.

A pair of arms wraps around you from behind, startling you for the briefest moment.

Astarion.

“Gods. You idiot! You are positively deranged! You knew that would happen, didn’t you? Did you bring us along just to watch?!” He grins.

Your own smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You turn to embrace him fully.

The rest of your party traipse across the tides of blood toward you.

“I had a feeling it might.”

You rest your head on his shoulder in the newborn silence of the temple, tossing the altar key in the vague direction of your party as your hands bloody his armour in a reverent grasp.

“I love you. I just - I love you! You insane thing. You did it!” He laughs loudly, ecstatic.

You see your friends behind him, your eyes meeting theirs in a downcast stare. A nod of understanding.

“I love you.’

You sigh into his chest, splaying your fingers as if to hold more of him.

‘It’s not over yet.”

He pulls away and looks at you, lifting your head softly so your eyes meet his. His neck juts a little.

“Hm?”

His brow quirks inquisitively. The wail of victory depletes into a quivering hum.

The first thing Astarion notes is that the blood scent weeping from every pore of your broken body is no longer familiar. It rots.

A burning stench, charred and sour as it licks the back of his nose.

A few moments of petrified silence before his feet carry him to you.

The Visage of Bhaal is gone.

Your flesh operates as little more than a bag of broken bones, skull cracked and limbs fractured almost beyond recognition. Eyes wide open but unmistakably dead.

He hears your two accomplices bicker in the background as the multiple Scrolls of Revivify retrieved from your pack fail to glow near your remains. They don’t make sense. This doesn’t make sense. Their shouts are crisp in the silence of the temple. Brash. Disturbing.

There should be more noise. There should be shouting, screaming, crying. Crowds of those you’ve saved should be here petitioning whatever God sickens of their stream of bitter tears to bring you back to them.

To him.

He can’t take his eyes off your own. Empty.

If he’d gone through with the ritual, maybe he could have saved you. Turned you. Revived you as his and kept you safe from a fate like this for the rest of eternity.

You’d have despised him for it, but it’d be ok. You’d be awake. You’d be capable of feeling with which to despise him.

No, he mutters. Not that. Not ever.

He is better than that.

He shifts to sit cross legged next to your corpse as your accomplices’ shouting turns to unbridled wailing. Toys with your hair gently so as not to disturb the broken skull below the flesh and whispers to you softly.

“You silly thing. I know you’re still in there, aren’t you? I hope you know how much I love you.’

A quiet, heavy wracked sob.

‘You are so magnificent, little dove. So smart. You did so, so well. I am so very proud of you.”

He doesn’t notice Withers, not until he speaks.

You’re fuzzy as you stand.

He’s frozen on the floor, cross legged and round-eyed. Sharp ears pinned back.

“No.” Astarion chokes.

Your eyes are heavy. They search for him in the blur and you stumble trying to feel for him.

“Astarion?’

Your companions are paralysed.

The stages of grief begin to unravel.

“Astar- Astarion, I can’t see. Where are you?” You sob, reaching out blindly in front of you to search for him in the fog.

“Oh. Oh, my love -’

He looks up at you and blinks away a flood of tears as they threaten to spill.

‘My love. I’m here. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

His feet carry his fraught body to you once again, mindless in their pursuit of you. You’re here. You’re warm, speaking; sobbing, and here.

Name stricken from the archives. Pulled gently into his arms the second he stepped within reach and wrapped the tightest within them you ever have been.

Your party swaddles you in the biggest hug you’ve had in your life.

Astarion doesn’t let go when they do. He buries one hand in your hair, keeps one tightly around your waist. Shakes with sobs.

“You scared me.” He mumbles, letting out a small laugh into the crook of your neck.

You neglect to mention the patch of snot and fresh wet tears now adorning his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He whispers, playing with a lock of your hair.

“No. I am. I am so, so sorry.”

“Seeing you like that ruined me, you know.’ He smiles shakily.

You sob once more.

‘I wondered why the whole of Toril wasn’t screaming for you at the moment of your death.’

He moves his head to look at you. Brings his forehead to yours. Kisses you so gently that you wonder if his lips have always felt this soft and his forlorn eyes glisten. Alive and in the arms of your lover.

‘They gave me nothing. Two hundred years of nothing. Useless wretches.’ He laughs and rolls his teary eyes. Sniffs. You smile at him with the dopiest eyes - you think - that have ever existed across the Sword Coast.

‘But the Gods listened to me this time because they knew.’

Astarion coughs.

He smells like home - warm, spiced; familiar. Your eyes meet his now, his grasp on you still firm.

‘You defied your father. You resisted your cruel destiny.’

Another kiss.

‘And now we’re both free.” He whispers.

Time stops for a few precious moments, a silent promise.

No more.

#astarion x reader #angst with a happy ending #my writing #one shot #request #requests open #gn reader #astarion x dark urge #durge

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attic-club-sandwich · 1 year

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How they are Handling your Disappearance. Hello all, get ready for some more Nightbringer Angst! This is a little drabble (bullet point style) of how I think the "Present Day Demon Brothers" are handling your sudden disappearance. Honestly I hate thinking too deeply about NB, it brings me to tears. I can't even imagine the pain and anxiety the brothers are feeling without knowing where their beloved human went and why. Anyways, grab your tissues and I hope you enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are super appreciated!

Taglist: @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @sassykattery @amberrskiies @obey-me-posts @a-hidden-gem @otomefoxystar @siofrantic

Part 2 : Side Characters

Part 3: MC Returns

Rose divider by @/firefly-graphics

Fill out my form if you'd like to be tagged in my work!

They’ll always remember the exact day and time you disappeared. It was their day off from RAD, and you had been in the Devildom since Solomon had brought you by for some training sessions. You practically begged the sorcerer to allow you to visit the House of Lamentation, and Solomon happily obliged. You really didn't have to convince him too much, though. The brothers were so happy and surprised to see you again so soon, and they had planned on taking you out for dinner that evening. Except you never showed. They spent hours searching for you. Those hours easily turned into days. Then the days turned into weeks. There was no trace of you left behind. Where did you go?

💙Lucifer💙

He’s terrified. He doesn’t know why or how you disappeared, but he feels responsible.

He spends every waking moment looking for signs of you. Trying to piece together what or who took you from him.

Knows he has to be strong for the rest of their brothers.

But when he can no longer feel your bond with you through the pact, he feels the unbearable weight of despair crack through his usual stoic demeanor.

He cries. He hasn’t cried like this since their fall.

Lucifer hardly sleeps. His brothers notice the bags under his eyes. How he no longer cares what he looks like in front of them.

He becomes distant again, shutting himself in his room or study.

If you thought his hatred for Solomon was strong before, it’s infinitely worse now.

He doesn’t know who else to blame, so the silver haired sorcerer becomes his reasoning for your disappearance.

The eldest demon has his hands around Solomon’s throat, Mammon and Beel having to pull him off.

“Lucifer are ya nuts?! We gotta have him alive if we have any hope in finding MC!” Mammon had scolded him as he became limp in Beel’s strong grip.

Solomon promised he’d bring you back.

He better not dare to show his face back here until you are with him, safe and sound.

💛Mammon💛

The normally confident and self assured demon becomes silent. Angry. Afraid.

Aside from their initial searching for you, he doesn’t leave your room.

He can’t feel your pact with him anymore, and it sends him spiraling.

He buries himself into your pillows, inhaling your lingering scent.

It’s faint, but he takes what he can get

His eyes are puffy and red from crying, and he can’t stand sitting around doing nothing.

He goes out every night, flying over the Devildom, searching.

When he can’t, Mammon sends his familiars out searching for you too, exploring the areas that he can’t reach.

The ravens are good at finding things, and if they can’t find you, then he’s screwed.

Each time they come back with nothing.

Occasionally, they bring him Grimm they’ve found or a valuable piece of treasure.

But you’re the only treasure he gives a shit about right now.

When he goes to retreat back to his room, he runs into Lucifer.

He looks terrible.

But Mammon can’t blame him. He probably noticed his swollen face and unwashed hair, too.

He sends you texts every day. Even if you don’t get them.

Normally he’d be grossed out by his own sappiness, but he doesn’t care.

He needs you.

MC, wherever you are, just know I love you. So goddamn much. Please come back.

I miss you.

I hope you’re thinking of me, too.

🧡Leviathan🧡

Leviathan always told you he wouldn’t know what he’d do without you.

But he really didn’t want to really experience what life would be without you!

Is this some cruel joke?!

It’s got to be! One of his alternate universe video games went wrong again right?

Except it isn’t. You’re actually gone, and he actually has no idea what to do with himself.

He cries. Alot.

To mask his tears from his brothers, he spends a lot of time in his fish tank with Henry 2.0.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Henry, but he longs for you. His soulmate.

He sends Lotan to search the Devildom seas, far and wide. He had asked him to listen for any information of sightings of you.

But so far, there’s been nothing. No word. No trace of you.

He lays curled up in his bathtub, a laptop balanced on his lap as he watches anime to try and distract himself from you.

But oh no, is this your favorite episode?! He turns it off, shoving the laptop away and fresh tears falling down his cheeks.

I’m so useless, he thinks. The Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, and I can’t even find a human!

Levi’s self depreciative behavior gets worse.

He blames himself for not being with you when you disappeared.

He begins picking at his skin and nails, an old, nervous habit resurfacing from back when he first fell into the Devildom.

His brothers do what they can to reassure him, but it’s no use.

He needs you. Please come back home soon, MC.

💚Satan💚

Satan’s temper tantrums are back.

He didn’t ever think he’d revert back to this, but now that you’re gone….

Accidentally lost his temper and in a wrath filled frenzy blew through the wall in the living room. Lucifer threatened to tie him up.

Normally the prideful demon would have just done it, but something about his older brother was different nowadays.

He feels it too, he thought. The pacts are gone.

Spends sleepless nights in the library reading any book he can find about curses.

Did you become invisible? He had no other explanation.

Was it the work of some demon on the street who decided they didn’t like you that day?

He’s frustrated because he feels like he doesn’t know anything.

He knows nothing of your sudden disappearance

Like Mammon, he sends his cats out looking for you. Any sign of you.

But they also bring back nothing but a dead mouse here and there.

Normally he’d be delighted by their gift to him, but it’s lost its appeal.

When he’s worried about you, nothing else matters.

Lucifer did allow him to keep a cat in the house though.

Also uses his personal connections from all three realms to look for you.

But it’s no use.

When he’s not in the library, he’s shut away in his room.

His brothers think for a moment that he’s disappeared as well, but they find him asleep on his bed, his cheeks tear stained and a book on his chest.

Please come home, MC. I need you.

💖Asmodeus💖

Asmo’s love for you rivals the love he feels for himself.

Now that you are gone, he feels he has no love left to give for anyone.

He feels empty.

The Avatar of Lust takes pride in his appearance, always making sure he’s presentable and looking his best.

But not knowing where you are and if you are safe or not is driving him mad.

His brothers haven’t seen him this way in a long time.

Asmo’s eyes are puffy and red, his cheeks and nose raw and swollen from the endless tears.

He spends hours in the bath, thinking of anything he may have said or done to cause you to leave him like this.

He takes up the habit of sleeping a lot. He wasn’t sure how Belphie could do it all the time. But now he understands.

Asmo can also throw a good temper tantrum.

The day he realized he could no longer feel your pact with him sent him over the edge.

But afterwards he felt embarrassed, even though his brothers will never blame him for expressing his feelings for you.

When Solomon leaves to go find you, he feels hopeful, putting all the trust he has in your master to find you.

But it also hurts. He hasn’t left Solomon’s side since your disappearance, taking comfort in the bond he still has with him.

He’ll never take it for granted again.

MC, I can’t take this! If you can hear me, please come home, my lost little lamb… I love you…

❤️Beelzebub❤️

Beel is quiet.

He’s another one that feels responsible for your disappearance.

His heart is aching, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Thankfully, he has his twin by his side to reassure him. But it’s not enough.

He needs to know where you’ve gone.

He needs to save you.

Beel’s appetite is all over the place. One minute, he can’t stop eating and the next, he’s not hungry at all.

His brothers got really concerned when he didn’t eat for 2 whole days.

The only hunger he feels is the need to figure out where you went.

Not only is he worried about you, he’s worried for his brothers.

He knows they are suffering too, especially with the noticeable absence of your pact.

Beel has always been protective of them, after all.

He stops going to the gym. He doesn’t feel like it.

Instead, he cuddles up in bed with Belphie, holding him close with tears silently rolling down his cheeks.

Beel you’re squeezing too hard, he hears his twin mumble. But he doesn’t care.

He’s almost lost his brother before, and now your disappearance has him terrified.

Please, don’t take anyone else away from me.

I love you, MC, please wherever you are, stay safe…

💜Belphegor💜

Belphie’s temper is a short fuse. More than usual, anyways.

He doesn’t want to talk to anyone but Beel.

He tries to retreat to the attic to get some peace and quiet from his brothers losing their collective shit.

But he ends up drowning in a wave of memories as soon as he walks through the door.

He collapses on the bed and hugs his cow pillow to his body as he sobs, his body curling in on itself.

Dammit MC, look at what you do to me…you need to come home…

When he isn’t sleeping, he helps soothe the rest of his brothers to sleep. He sees their dreams, knows the thoughts that are keeping them awake.

He wants to help, but figures this could be the only way he knows how.

He doesn’t feel your presence at all, though.

That must mean you aren’t anywhere nearby, or even in the same Realm. He knows your pact with him is gone.

He felt it break the day you disappeared.

But sometimes he feels a flutter of something in the place where the mark used to be.

He can’t explain why.

Belphie often finds himself slipping into bed with his twin at night.

They were inseparable before, but even more so now that you aren’t around.

I can’t lose him too, I have to stay by his side, he thinks. He snuggles into Beel’s chest as his brother holds him close, afraid he might disappear too at any second.

He misses the days when you were nestled comfortably right between the two of them.

You need to come back MC, you’re our missing piece.

#hope you guys like it!#i just randomly got this idea and needed to write it down #i love NB angst #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me brothers #obey me mc #cass writes #my writing

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gyuwoncheol · 6 months

Note

Cheol’s been prepping you to take his cock for weeks but you’re about to body slam him into the mattress if he doesn’t fuck you right now (which might have been what he wanted all along, corruption kink go brrrr) 😈 “you want it so bad? Then sit on it. Aww don’t be scared I know you’re ready” -⚡️

TW: afab! reader, dirty talk, use of pet names, piv sex, unprotected sex, mentions of creampie and oral sex, bratty & whiny reader, reader is described to be much smaller than Cheol. Not proofread. 18+ only (MDNI).

Note: changed it up a little bit, ⚡️ anon. Hope you enjoy!

Because this is blonde cheol with a bratty reader, I am compelled to tag Zeta my love @multi-kpop-fanfics . It’s simply how the world works 💞

“Nooo. Stop!” You whined and yanked on Seungcheol’s blonde locks, pulling him back up to face you.

Seungcheol was confused to say the least. His eyebrows quirking as he studies your facial expressions. “You okay?”

“Just fuck me, Cheol,” you blurt out, frustration clear in your voice and Seungcheol swears he heard the angels sing.

“What–“

“I said, fuck me. No more teasing, no more prepping. I’m done!” You glare at him. Not that you were ungrateful for your boyfriend’s expert oral skills, but when all you’ve gotten the past few days ever since his return from a 3-month tour is everything but his cock, you think it’s okay to sound ungrateful.

“Aw, impatient baby,” he mocks as he grinds his crotch on yours.

“Excuse me?! I’ve been patient! Way too patient! Three months and 18 days patient!!!!” Cheol laughs at your attention to detail, clearly amused at how needy you’ve been. Not that he wasn’t— he was, he’s been dreaming to have his way with you the moment he got home four days ago. But apparently, he could take a few more days of waiting, making sure you were well prepped and ready to take his huge cock again after so long. And maybe he just loved to tease you a little bit more, waiting to awaken the brat in you. “Cmon, Cheollie..” you switch up to a sweet tone, blinking with doe eyes and drawing his face to yours for a kiss, “it’s been too long, don’t you wanna feel my tight pussy around you?”

Seungcheol’s dick twitches in the confines of his briefs at your words but he tries to play it cool with a roll of his eyes.

“Better yet baby, don’t you miss cumming inside—“

Your sentence is cut off with a yelp as the large man who was once above you rolls you both around on the bed, effectively having him pinned between your legs, straddling him right where he wants you. Seungcheol grabs you harshly to connect your mouths in a hungry kiss, the clashing of your tongues and teeth rendering you to a moaning mess while you hurriedly remove his shorts and undergarments.

When Cheol’s hard member springs free and rests on his stomach, the blonde man leans back to examine your next move. He’s not disappointed when the first thing you do is run your wet folds along his shaft. The guttural groan he lets out makes you even more wet than you already are. But that’s a good thing because now you’re looking at Cheol’s thick and long cock, and perhaps he did make the right decision to prep you for it for days.

“Nervous, baby?” He asks with that stupid brow raise of his.

“No,” you answer without hesitation but even then, you didn’t sound so confident.

“Well be my guest, princess. What’re you waiting for? You wanted it so bad didn’t you? Ride me.”

You nodded at Seungcheol, swallowing thickly before wrapping your small hand around his heavy shaft. You aligned him at your entrance, carefully letting his bulbuous head breach your sopping hole. Cheol takes notice when you suck in a sharp breath and close your eyes. It happens the same time he feels the constricting push of your walls which has his hands flying to eitherside of your hips.

“Doing s’good for me, princess,” he encourages, mustering all self control not to just thrust up into you.

“S-so biiig,” you stammer, sinking down to ease another inch of him.

“Not so mad about my prep anymore, eh?”

You roll your eyes at the smug remark, “fuck you.”

“You already are, prin— shit!” Seungcheol curses when you suddenly seat yourself fully to shut him up.

Moans reverberate around the room from both of you after your little stunt. The stretch is painful at first but it slowly morphs into fiery pleasure with every soothing rub of Cheol’s thumb on your hip. You take a deep breath and plant your palms on his chest, circling your hips once.

“Fuuuuck,” you both drawl out, lust fully flowing through your veins.

“Missed this,” you pick up your pace, repeating the motions of lifting your hips then grinding down to stimulate your clit.

“Missed you,” your boyfriend replies. He reaches out one hand to squeeze on your breast before his fingers roll your nipple expertly, causing you to clench harshly on his cock.

“Fuck, princess. If you do that again, I might just cum now.”

You scoff at his remark, ready to tease him back, “aw, who’s the impatient one now?”

#svthub #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol drabble #scoups drabble #svt smut #svt drabble #paula writes ✨#paula writes smut #paula thots #answered asks #⚡️ anon

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jungkook97 · 6 months

Text

and if you let me;; jjk

pairing: non idol!coworker jungkook x reader

word count: 1.9k

rating: teens & up!

genre: romance & fluff, cheesy confession, jungkook is a nervous guy in luv, also is silly, dorky, sweet, etc. (all the adjectives!)

summary: it was your last day at work and jungkook, who has a big fat crush on you, throws a going away party before you go.

notes: there's hardly any plot lmao it's just a hit of dopamine/feels i guess HAHAHAH :) i love him so much and my feelings are at an all-time high with the new gcf that came out!!

this is for nei (@melancholy-of-nadia)!!! luv u!!

Jungkook was annoyed. Very annoyed.

As you howled in laughter at Hoseok’s antics, Jeon Jungkook was in his little corner, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

It wasn’t that he was jealous. In fact, Jungkook was pretty confident and had somewhat normal self-esteem levels, but he felt like he was running out of time.

Running out of time for what, you ask? Confessing his love to you.

It was an open secret on the office floor that Jungkook had the biggest and loudest crush on you, making it real clear to all the guys in the office that you were the love of his life (on the clock, anyway). He liked people who were great at their jobs, and you were, to say the least, great at it. As your new boss and your guys’ boss fought for dominance to get you as an employee, it was clear that you were irreplaceable in the workplace, and that somehow made you even sexier to Jungkook.

At first, it was all a physical thing. You were a looker with brains and a dry humor that Jungkook appreciated in a workplace filled with kiss-assers. It was easy to flirt with you, and it seemed like you were 110% flirting back, which, a few months down the road, got Jungkook to freak out.

Surely, it was one thing to flirt with coworkers nonchalantly and another to deliberately be a boy loser about it. He was down bad at the 3-month mark and found himself counting the days when you would return to your cubicle, which conveniently was next to his.

Every day, he swung by your desk trying to be smooth, only to trip up somehow. Whether it be the intonation of his voice or him tripping over his own feet, he would kick himself silly mentally before lamenting to his best friend and work confidant, Kim Namjoon at the water cooler hours later.

“I swear I cannot walk around her!” Jungkook would sigh loudly, swirling his coffee stirrer as Namjoon chuckled, leaning against the counter before patting his coworker on the shoulder.

“It’s okay, dude. I’m sure she doesn’t even notice it like you do,” Namjoon would reassure him even though he knew you would eventually find out (you would of course, but unaware how deep Jungkook’s love for you was).

A year would swing by until you finally broke the news to the office that you would be leaving for another job with higher pay, and it felt like Jungkook’s world came crashing down. How could he continue working at this job if you weren’t next to him, giggling at his stupid jokes and his stupid short haircut that he specifically cut to make himself look even hotter for you? How could he possibly get through several rounds of meetings if you two weren’t playing tic-tac-toe on the memo pad the two of you would share? Or the times when Jungkook would go out of his way to the coffee shop to get your usual honey oatmilk latte from Urth Caffé? Or the time Jungkook would time his lunches so he could sit with you for the whole hour?

And so, Jungkook devised a plan to break the “news” that he was in love with you, hoping that you would feel the same way. He orchestrated the going away party first, going to a KBBQ spot with your closest coworkers before doing karaoke with drinks. Because how else was Jungkook going to relax around you?

Jungkook could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest as you giggled at his innocent joke about Hoseok’s dance moves as your delicate head leaned against his wide shoulders. His stomach lurched forward as he coughed to cover his nervousness up, pouring yet another glass of soju for the two of you. You gladly took it, clinking the glass against his before taking a swig, and swallowing the alcoholic contents as you clung into Jungkook for the next hour.

Jungkook was elated of course, but he didn’t wanna give much away, closing his lips together as he thumped his fingers against the table, encouraging your former coworkers to drink more.

An hour passed and you were blasted, still hollering and hooting for the dancers, Hoseok and Jimin, to continue as karaoke night came at a fever pitch. At this point, you and Jungkook were inseparable, and he has made major moves to the level of your comfort: 1) putting his arm behind you and 2) crossing his legs so he could tap his feet against yours.

As you hummed quietly to yourself, you shivered at the cold air coming through the AC. Jungkook saw and immediately grabbed his leather jacket, putting it around you.

You thanked him, leaning against his chest as the two of you cuddled. Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat as he flushed red, again covering his flustered self with a cough.

“Are you getting sick?” you inquired, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. His eyes twinkled at this point as you cutely and drunkenly put your hand up to his forehead, trying to feel his temperature. It was going up all right, and Jungkook turned even redder than the tomatoes in the ramyeon in front of you two.

“Uh,” was all Jungkook could say, stuttering his way into a lame excuse. “The ramyeon is a bit too spicy that’s all, haha.”

He did his best to chuckle sexily as you sighed, frowning.

“Should I have asked for it to be mild?” you inquired, grabbing the menu from the table. “If I had known you didn’t like spice, I would’ve ordered it.”

“Oh no, i-it’s okay!” Jungkook hastily replied, putting the menu down. He was freaking out, and a few of the boys were starting to notice the two of you being rather cozy.

“Man, I have never seen Jungkook look so happy in my entire life,” Taehyung teased, snorting into his beer and pointing at the both of you.

Jungkook frowned, still beet red.

“W-what are you talking about?!” he fired back at Taehyung. All the second youngest in the office did was shrugged, smirking.

“Oh, now you’re playing stupid,” Taehyung drunkenly laughed, leaning against you as he whispered something in your ear.

Jungkook’s stomach bubbled in nervousness while Taehyung chuckled after saying his piece which made you giggle a bit.

“Yeah, he can be obtuse sometimes,” you replied, glancing back at Jungkook. He flushed again, his stomach in knots. Did you know? Were you playing with him?

As the night progressed, you began acting more and more wild, making Jungkook laugh uproariously at your behavior. Seeing you loose made him happy and glad that he planned the goodbye party in the first place. He clapped and cheered for you as you attempted badly to sing Whitney Houston’s “I’ll Always Love You”. Even if you were off-key, he still found it endearing that you even attempted.

Your unabashed confidence was shining through, and something ignited within Jungkook. It was then when he realized how much he liked you and seeing this side of you made him want you even more. The desire to be even closer than you two already were, and the desire to be intimate was growing inside Jungkook’s already big and kind heart, and he wanted to do something more.

It wasn’t too late when everyone began to go home, leaving the two of you alone. You had Uber’d your way to the noraebang so Jungkook offered naturally to take you home after sobering up.

As the two of you walked to the car, you instinctively but a bit impulsively wrapped your arm around his. His stomach lurched forward as his heart beat unbelievably fast, making him cough out of nervousness.

“You okay?” you asked worryingly, slurring a bit of your words. Jungkook was a bit concerned for you as he gripped your arm tighter around his bicep, leaning against you.

“I am,” he hummed lightly, opening his Mercedes GT door for you before guiding you in. “Are you okay though? You had a lot to drink.”

He strapped you in with the seatbelt as you smiled warmly. At this point, you two were really close to each other, feeling each other’s warm breaths as Jungkook’s big eyes stared into yours. He lamented quietly that you weren’t entirely there, wishing you were entirely sober so he could just kiss you right then and there. Your red warm lips were calling to him, and he wanted to kiss you so fucking bad, but only if you let him.

God, you’re so beautiful right now, he thought.

“What?” you laughed softly as he snapped out of it.

“N-nothing.”

Clearing his throat for the 1529458th time, he pulled away from your warmth and back into the winter air. Sliding his hands together to keep warm, he sprinted to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in before turning the engine on. The hot air swirled through the cabin as he turned the lights on and navigation took you home.

Not much was said during the ride to your house. Surely, he didn’t want to interrupt you slowly dozing off, mumbling to yourself as your hand laid on the center console. Jungkook’s hand was firmly on the shift gear but it achingly wanted to be there as well, holding your hand. He wanted to warm you up so badly, just like how he did it all night with you.

There must have been real chemistry between you two up until this point, Jungkook thought. There was no way all of this was platonic or you had been leading him on. All the flirty exchanges you two had for the past year started replaying in Jungkook’s mind like a broken video tape, replaying over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He had to tell you. He had to confess.

As the car came to a stop and turned off, he went over to your side to open the door again. You woke up to the brisk cold air hitting your face as you were startled awake. Jungkook’s dark silhouette encapsulated you as you pulled out of the car, only to slip from the ice below and into Jungkook’s arms.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed as he caught you immediately into his embrace. His firm, yet warm body was pressed up against your own as you giggled drunkenly, trying to maintain your balance. “God, I’m just all over you tonight huh, Jeon?”

You could feel his heavy breaths on you as you looked up. He was already staring down at you with a soft smile, his cheeks pink.

You wondered if he was going to keep hiding it from you. You knew for quite some time that Jungkook liked you a bit too much, and even in your drunken state, you wanted to tell him it was okay to lean in for a kiss. You liked him too, and you wanted him to be yours.

Under the dim streetlight, he ever so slowly leaned in, closing the gap between you two. His eyes were pensive, thinking a bit too hard on this, but you had already made up your mind.

Kiss me, Jungkook.

“If you let me,” he whispered right before your lips touched his.

You pulled him in, kissing him. His eyes closed immediately as he took control, squeezing you tightly as you two softly kissed each other, keeping warm.

Snow was falling lightly on the both of you as your lips slowly made a grin when the two of you parted.

“Always, Jungkook.”

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fic #writing #mine #I WAS INSPIRED BY THE GCF LEAVE ME ALONE #short and sweet like jungkook's haircut in the gcf <3 #oh i'm in love with the man so bad it's not even funny :/#i barely edited this so hfdklshg;hg #kissing jungkook in the snow o my god i'm so romantic

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purrrtasticsnake · 20 days

Text

Imagine: Heeseung as your sub:

Pairing: Sub!Heeseung x Femdom!Reader

Warning: Smut, BDSM themes, MDLB/ageplay/mommy kink

• Soft Sub: He's the type of sub who wants to be handled gently, like a fragile, precious little object.

But he also likes to change it up once in a while. So when he notices you've had a hard day, he will let you go rough on him. It's still very enjoyable for him, but making it a routine would overwhelm him too much.

• Self pleasure: Throughout the whole day, he'll always daydream about submission. During dance practice, he would go to the bathroom, just to look at your photos/text messages and fantasize about what could happen when he sees you again. After cumming, he always feels a little embarrassed, so he tries to keep his masturbation habits a secret.

Even at home, this happens. When he comes back from a room and returns with an inconsistent breathing pattern and flushed cheeks, you'll confront him about it. Which makes Heeseung really flustered. You ask him to explain what he was doing, how he was doing it, and what he was thinking about.

• 24/7 dynamic: There never comes an end to his subbyness. This 24/7 dynamic grew naturally and very quickly because it just feels normal for him to behave this way with you. One of the reasons he's so mature and professional with the other members is because it gives him confidence to know that he's owned by you.

At home, he'll act giddy around you and is literally always ready for a session.

When he's sad or stressed, he likes to sit in your lap while you're busy reading or watching something. For some reason, physical touch helps a lot when he's feeling down.

• MDLB (MommyDomme/LittleBoy): Being the oldest in the group doesn't stop him from feeling little. During his workday, he's seen as the big brother who takes care of the members. So when he's with you, he feels free to be as childish as he wants (in a cute way, not an immature way). He especially loves to make drawings for you, so you can hang them up on the fridge. Then he expects you to give him attention as a reward.

This boy does not shy away from calling you mommy whenever he has the chance. He's actually very communicative about what he wants. The clothes he wears and the food he eats is always chosen by you, because he opened up about his struggles with decision fatigue.

☆ Choosing Game: ☆

(● = his choice/preference)

● rewards

○ punishments/funishments

● getting spoiled by Domme

○ servicing his Domme

○ petplay

● ageplay

● obedient

○ brat

● praise

○ degradation

○ bondage

● impact play

(he loves his spanking punishments)

○ exhibitionist

● voyeur

● low protocol

○ high protocol

Here you can find other imagines that I've written, but it's not finished yet:

#sub heeseung #sub!heeseung #heeseung smut #sub enha #sub enhypen #sub!enhypen #enhypen hard hours #heeseung hard hours #sub idol #sub!idol #sub kpop #dom reader #dom!reader #enhypen smut #enha smut #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader

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tmntxthings · 8 months

Note

Hey, I hope this request motivates you a bit! I was wondering if you could do little scenarios with the Rise boys reacting to accidentally hitting their S/O while they stretched?

You know that thing that happens when you're standing too close to someone and they move or do something and end up hitting you in the face, it happened to me at college sobs 😭

Have a lovely day! <3

一∑ Accidents Happen・゜・。

author’s note: sksksks sure sure, I wanna say this has happened to me too but I can’t recall a specific scenario which makes me think it has happened just I’ve obliterated it from my memory out of embarrassment?!?

note 2.0: so I did Raph’s first, forever ago and a bit of Leo’s then just now I did Donnie’s and Mikey’s, everyone’s is a bit different and it’s like 3am idk how to feel! BUT WE POST ANYWAYS

warnings: cursing, injuries caused by accident, attempts at humor, crack, fluff, unedited

—————————————————————————

Raph was super excited to help you learn self-defense! It was a great skill to have. Just in case ya know! Plus it would make you feel more confident too.

“First things first! We gotta loosen up, I usually start with arm stretches.” Raph said with a toothy grin. He couldn’t stop smiling. He loved being able to hang out with you, but you had asked him personally to train you for self defense. Not any of his brothers! He was honored and didn’t want to mess up!

Raph then grabbed his left elbow and started to pull it, making the muscles there taunt. You immediately started to copy him. Asking if your form was right which had Raph moving closer and correcting you just slightly. “Just like that! Now other side!” And when Raph went through with the motion of doing his other arm, it was too late.

The smack resounded throughout the weight room and if things couldn’t be anymore horrible, because of his stature, he had quite literally smacked your face.

Stunned you held your cheek. It stung. And Raph was a ball of tears instantly. “Oh— Y/n!!!! Are you okay??? I’m so sorry!!! I didn’t mean to, I should’ve backed up!! I got too close and— Raph’s so so sorry.” He was on his knees in front of you. Telling you to smack his face in return. And you just laughed, saying that it was okay.

“Once I learn these self defense moves you won’t be able to land a hit like that again!” You joked.

Raph could only whimper. He felt horrible. He was a horrible teacher! And it took some convincing from you to get the ball rolling again. He sniffled here and there because he just couldn’t get it out of his mind. He was hard on himself for sure. Even though it was an accident he wouldn’t forgive himself!!

Leo was prone to doing weird shit randomly. Like striking a pose anywhere, anytime he saw fit. So while sure I could totally come up with a prompt for stretching like I did with Raph…but in my head…more realistically… it would be because Leo was up to his regular shenanigans again!

He had texted you not that long ago that he was planning on portal-ing over! It was a common occurrence, it made for traveling back and forth to the lair fast. If only the side effects wouldn’t hit you like that one ride at the fair, the Spaceship 9000?? The one that spins, and spins, and spins so fast that the piece of metal your buckled into moves up and down??? Right?? I’ve only went on it once so this is like a very bad descriptor but hopefully someone knows what the heck I’m talking about.

Going through a Leo portal was like that. The feeling of getting spun around so much that your stomach didn’t feel like it was in your body anymore. More like it was splattered all over the ground. Or three miles back in the direction from which you came. You wondered absentmindedly if all portals were like that. Or if that was just because of Leo?

Anyhow, it had been a while since he had sent you that message. You were used to him coming instantly after sending the message. Really not even giving you enough time to read the damn text! You sighed and got up from your bed and headed to the living room where he would be portal-ing in. But instead of going to the couch, you wanted to try and guess where the fool would land. Maybe closer to the actual door, as if he had used it to begin with?

It was while you were thinking, that a blue portal opened above head not but mere inches to the left of you. There had been no whirring or whizzing noises. No “Geronimo!!” Or “Heads up!” call outs. It was ninja silent stealth mode at which Leo came in. Eyes closed, and once he was through, only then did he holler, “And he sticks the landi—“

A loud thwack could be heard as one of his hands collided into you as he did a ridiculous windmill motion with his arms to steady himself. And it hurt like hell where he had slapped your arm. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiittttt!” The force had knocked you a little ways away too! As you held your arm where it stung and closed your eyes to not start crying, and then your mouth to not start yelling.

“Y/n???” Leo opened his eyes and shook the hand that had hit your arm. “My bad! You’re usually in your room when I come, and I just— I don’t know!” He rambled, a nervous smile on his face as he watched you close up.

Silence. Breathing. That was all that could be heard. Leo started feeling really guilty. He hadn’t been holding back his strength because he was an idiot and didn’t know you were there. “I’m really sorry..” he murmured. Not coming in close because he didn’t want to anger you further.

“It’s..cool!” You shook your arm, eyes opening and god damn it they were watery. “Oh no it’s not. Let me get you some ice. Fuck. I’m really really sorry.” Leo springs into action at the sight of your unshed tears. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” You tried to console him but didn’t deny the need for ice. Relief was felt when the ice pack met your skin. “Still wanna come over?” He asked timidly, wondering if he had ruined today in general too. “Duh, I’m going to be fine Leo! How about we stop for ice cream, on you and then it’s all even mkay?”

Because you knew if you didn’t say this then he would just continue to hold onto the guilt despite all your words and reassurances. “One waffle cone coming up!!” Leo cheered, his dramatics back on as he twirled a sword to make another flashy portal, you could only hope you would survive the journey.

Donnie has a stick. “Technically Y/n, it’s a bo. Bo staff. Not a stick.” Your eyes narrowed in on his weapon of choice. “Looks like a metal stick to me.” You told him plainly. He huffed. He knew that his weapon wasn’t always the one to wow people away. It wasn’t flashy like some people *cough* *cough* leo *cough*. “Okay I lied, it’s not just a bo, it’s a tech bo!” Donnie emphasized, spinning the said weapon around between his fingers before making it land on the ground vertically. Before you could question further he clicked a very inconspicuous spot on the bo, which was basically a finger-print reader that took half a millisecond to expand out and show off a variety of other weapons attached to his bo.

A saw, a drill, and the list could go on but those were the main two you recognized before it contracted back into stick form as you liked to call it. “Nice,” you nodded, giving Donnie his props where they were due, because it was pretty cool. It was like a multi-tool. You said that aloud too.

“Yeah but way better cause I made it.” Donnie amended because he couldn’t allow himself to be compared to such everyday items. He was better. Much better.

You opened your palm out, “can I try?” Insinuating you wanted a go at holding his stick. Well, his tech bo. But he made you spell it out for him. “Try what exactly?” He asked, right eyebrow raising. “Holding the stick” “It’s not a stick.” “Okay okay, can I try to hold the tech stick?” “Maybe, if you say it properly and also realize that you are most definitely going to hurt yourself with my tech bo.”

You made a face at that. “I most certainly am not!” You retorted and made a grab for the tEcH bO. It was out of your reach before you could even get close. And this game of keep away continued until you, asked with a “pretty please can I hold your almighty tech bo!?” Donnie was satisfied, clearly, with a smug look on his face as he allowed you to snatch it away from his hold. Finally.

You turned it around in your hands. Making slow circles. Donnie immediately trying to coach you on a better method, “Your feet aren’t in the right position~!” He chirped happily, as if correcting you was an absolute pleasure. He continued to badger you, despite your genuine efforts to improve. And at one point it all became too much, like he was being haughty. Holding it over your head that you weren’t catching on quickly.

“I get it Donnie! I suck!” You yelled and brought the metal bo down sharply. Right on your toes. You did have socks on. But the thin material did nothing to prevent the instant pain that had you crumpling down, bo falling out of your hand to instead cradle your injured foot.

It was embarrassing. The loud clatter of the bo hitting the ground, the rush of Donnie coming in close, kneeling to try and analyze the damage. You were so angry and so embarrassed that despite the pain, you pushed him away. Sniffling and whimpering, “Leave me alone!” You cried. And yep you were crying. Rocking back and forth now on your butt in an attempt to somehow ease the pain that was flowing from your toes, through your foot, all the way up to your ankle. Had you broken something?!?

Of course you hadn’t pushed him far, nor hard enough to knock him down. But he felt horrible. He felt like he was the reason this had all happened in the first place. Egging you on and messing with your head, truly being a bit of a jerk. “Just let me look please? It may be broken Y/n, it’s..high grade titanium…” he muttered the last bit because he was in no way trying to show that off in this moment. And the look in your eyes when you finally met his concerned stare was heartbreaking. He saw how red and puffy they were from the agitated tears, your cheeks ruddy as well. “Please?” He tried again. Coming in close hands up and out as a show of meaning no harm.

Slowly, your hand came away from your own toes, and Donnie peeled off your sock and assessed the injury. Light touches here and there and profusely apologized when you hissed in pain. “It’s not broken! Just bruised, pretty badly, I’ll go get some ice and then some wraps, just stay right there, don’t move!” And he was off moving swiftly as went in search for the items he required.

He gave you the ice, letting you decide how much pressure to put on the wound, and he stayed silent as he got out a few different wraps. As your tears dried and the sniffling ceased, you noticed how serious Donnie looked. When he came back down to kneel by your foot, he decided to checkup the entire area. “What about this, does this hurt?” He asked pressing lightly on a different part on the top of your foot. “Not really, it’s all getting kind of numb now,” the ice was doing its magic. He nodded, chewing on his lower lip. “I think I should wrap it now,” he said but made no move to start until you gave him the go ahead.

He was very careful. Taking all the time in the world to make sure the wrapping was perfect. When he finished he sighed, and looked up at you sincerely, “I’m sorry for being such an ass… you were doing really well but I just kept..” he sighed again shaking his head as it dropped. Looking back down at your wrapped foot. “Dee.. we like to get in each other’s nerves, you just did a really great job this time around,” you admitted with a slight laugh. But he only smiled weakly, still feeling so guilty. You huffed and shoved at his shoulder lightly, “hey, honestly I think it was your bo getting back at me for calling it a stick so many times!”

He couldn’t help but smile at that one. If only a little. “How about this? You grovel for the rest of the day, andddd order my favorite pizza?” He was quiet, thinking. “How about I just get the pizza?” Finally looking up and looking a bit better, “I don’t knowwww…” and the two of you were going back and forth once more, laughing it off.

Mikey, bless his heart, was having a fabulous time when it came to your yoga sessions. You had gotten into it and dragged the brothers into your new hobby. But the only brother who truly stuck with it was Mikey. Of course this should’ve been a no brainer, what with his acrobatic skills when it came to soaring into the air, from building to building.

So it wasn’t odd that the two of you were together in the gym alone at the lair. Sometimes he’d come over to your flat and the two of you would yoga in the only big room you had (the living room). But most times it was more convenient to do it in a space that was created with exercise in mind. After getting nice and warmed up, talking about each others day and updating one another on any tea it was time to get down to business.

“What’s on the roster today??” Mikey asked already bouncing lightly back and forth. Pumped to do anything when it came to hanging out with you. “Ahhh let’s see!” All the gossip had left your brain clueless to the new yoga you had learned recently so you needed to open up your phone and check your notes really quickly.

Mikey (ever the busybody) came in close, going up on his tippy toes to peer at your screen. Your elbow went out playfully, hitting him in the side plastron. He feigned injury, staggering back clutching where you had touched. “Betrayal!” He fake coughed. “And I thought Leo was the dramatic one!” You teased further.

At this both hands moved to cover his heart. “Take that back!!” He gasped though he could hardly hide his pleased smile. “And if I don’t??” You countered, forgetting about the phone as the screen turned black under inactivity. “Then I’ll make you!” Mikey’s face turned downright villainous (as much as a cutie patootie can), hands up and fingers at the ready to tickle you into submission.

Immediately you were fleeing. You were no stranger to Mikey’s tickling in fact the last time you had been caught in his clutches you were begging for mercy. You almost gave in right then and there at the memory but you couldn’t help but think that maybe this time you could get away.

Fool. What a foolish thought.

You were a yoga hobbyist. Mikey was a fucking ninja! The odds would never be in your favor, but he did let you think you had a chance. Letting you run around in their home gym, getting by with barely a fingertips distance away. You were breathless by the time he caught you which only worsened when he started tickling at your sides and neck.

He had you trapped, he was on top of you, between your legs, hands moving fast and causing you to laugh out of control. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, your leg jumped out and tried to slam into Mikey’s side to free yourself from further torture. But he had actually bent down lower making the trajectory straight for his head. It must’ve been ninja instincts because he caught your leg easily in a tight grasp.

“Mercy!” You called out breathlessly. To which he clicked his tongue, letting go of your leg to go back to tickling. That obviously hadn’t been what he wanted to hear. “Okay okay! I take it back!” You pleaded, batting away his hands quickly. To which he continued to try and get past until he moved way too fast for you, smacking your chin accidentally when he had been aiming to just tickle your neck.

Time force. As the sound resounded, with your punctuating “Ow!” Mikey froze. Hands still, pupils shaking as it replayed in his mind. He had hit you. Accidentally of course. But. He had hit you. You were still in pain, recovering from the shock and rubbing your sore chin. While he was receding into his shell, his hands moving back into himself as he apologized. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what, it was just so fast, I’m sorry!!” He was blubbering, by the time you opened your eyes to see how much this had hurt him too.

“Angie! I know! Hey, we were just roughhousing! It got out of hand, it’s okay! I know you didn’t mean it. It was an accident!” And he clung to that word. “It really was an accident. An accident. I’m so sorry. What should I do? Lemme see!” His hands moved suddenly to touch your chin but it was like the sight of his own hands getting close to you made him fearful. He retracted once more, squeezing them into fists and putting them to his chest as he moved to get off of you. To give you space.

“Mikey!” You chastised, getting up and following after him. You grabbed his hands, holding them. “Hey hey, it’s okay! Look I’m not afraid of them and neither should you. It was an accident Mikey, plus I’m already feeling better.” Slowly his fists unfurled and you brought his hands up to your face, positioning them to cup your face. He looked up, with a watery smile. “I’m really sorry,” he said one more time. “I know,” you smiled down at him. “It’s okay!” You made sure to say. And he nodded, relaxing a bit as a shaky breath went through his body before his hands held onto you more securely. Rubbing his fingers back and forth soothingly.

Then he moved back, only to jump and tackle you into a crushing hug. “Yoga?” He asked while digging his head into your neck. “Yoga!” You agreed, and he held onto you like a monkey for a bit before clambering off to return to his mat. “Alright alright, position number one!”

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pastafossa · 21 days

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Haunted (Matt Murdock x TRT!Reader, Fic, SFW)🌧️

Right, so close to 3 years ago, I had an ask in my box: 'what would happen if TRT!Reader/Jane Hind lost her memory just before returning to Matt after her three months away', aka: just before point where they both confessed their love and got together in mainline TRT. So I wrote up a fairly angsty, no happy ending sort of fic about it, which you can find here. But there just felt like there was more to the story, and the idea of a sequel wouldn't leave me alone, so I've worked on it in little bits and pieces over the past few years and I'm finally ready to unleash that into the world now that it's been edited to my satisfaction.

This will have a happy ending and hurt/comfort, once we swim through a lot of Matt Suffering. <3 Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

Leaving him like that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You didn’t know him. This man should have been nothing more than a stranger on the street, one you wouldn’t glance twice at, much less feel some ridiculous sense of attachment or obligation to. Yet the memory of walking out of his apartment still left you shaken whenever you allowed yourself to think too long on it. He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow. There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting. Matt was alone. You’d left him alone. It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back. So… why did you feel so very sick?

Wordcount: 11, 805 words so, hilariously, about 3 times the length of Part 1

Warnings for this chapter: angst, alcohol, matt spiraling fairly badly, he throws some things, LOTS of TRT references and spoilers so I wouldn't do this one unless you've finished the Miami arc in TRT.

Sad Matt gif as a reminder that the angst is pretty heavy here because I'm really going to emotionally beat on this poor man for a bit.

At Ciro’s insistence, you gave yourself one month in Hell’s Kitchen.

A month wasn’t much time, granted, but it would hopefully be enough to see if there was a chance of bringing back the memories you’d lost: memories of friends, of your life here, and of… of whatever it was that you’d had with Matt Murdock. Based on his grief over the loss of Jane Hind—not you, but her surely, the role, the mask you’d worn while here—his attachment to her had been deep and fervent, and those feelings appeared to have been at least partly reciprocated. The dangerously intimate photo you’d found in your memory box was all the proof you needed of that.

Your past self had already been accustomed to his touch when the photo was taken, based on the way she’d allowed him to press his head tenderly to her temple, his dark eyes warm and fond as he'd smiled in her direction even if he couldn't see her, his arm draped over her shoulders. She should have been put off by the proximity, by such a blatant show of physical intimacy, but instead of looking distressed, she’d been relaxed and comfortable where she’d confidently tucked herself up against his side. Try as you might, you hadn’t been able to find any hint of discomfort, any clue that signaled the obvious affection she’d felt was an act, her shoulder angled in a way that made you think she’d wrapped her arm comfortably around his waist, her grin bright and so very real.

This couldn’t be you.

When was the last time you'd looked that happy?

When was the last time you’d let someone hold you close?

And when was the last time someone had looked at you like… like they might…

“Did I… love him, Ciro?”

“I believe that… you might have, yes. Him, and this city. That is why I encourage you to stay, for a time at least. See if the memories return to you. Even should you leave, it would be wise to know of the life you led here.”

Ciro had sent a check to your office, booking you for the month and clearing your schedule. Just like that, you were free to focus on looking for something that might trigger the return of your memories. Though what that something might be, you weren’t really sure. A more thorough examination of the apartment had been your first step. Unfortunately, there’d been nothing there that seemed familiar beyond the same cheap decor and calculated set pieces you’d always used. You’d quickly ruled those out. They were meaningless distractions meant to reinforce the lie of whatever pre-planned identity you’d taken on. In this case, that identity was Jane Hind—practical, professional, detached, likes sailboat paintings and the color grey. Based on the fine layer of dust you'd found coating everything but the kitchen counter and a neat stack of mail, no one else had spent much time here during your months away. That, at least, fit your pattern. You weren’t in the habit of making friends or putting down roots. There was no point in doing so when you’d just wind up cutting them loose and running again.

What had unsettled you far more were the hints of connection you’d found quietly tucked away:

A fleecy stuffed bear holding a plush crystal ball, the threads connecting the two uneven as if hand-stitched. That kind of time and effort wouldn’t have been spent on anyone but a friend, and the bear’s prominent position on the counter lent it far more importance than any of the other decorations.

A tacky ‘Handsome Devil’ coffee mug, the curling red script and clichéd devil horns design bizarrely out of place amongst the rest of the plain white mugs in the cupboard. An identity like Jane Hind wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking from it, which meant someone else was here with enough regularity to have a mug of their own. Further digging revealed a second decorated mug, this one adorned with the name of the law firm co-run by Matt. You could have written off one mug, but two? Two was a pattern.

An entire drawer in the dresser devoted solely to a pile of dangerously soft shirts that clearly didn’t belong to Jane Hind, the fabric threadbare and worn. They looked about the right size to be Matt’s, though, the faint traces of scent a match for him. The fact that they took up an entire drawer indicated he’d visited often enough to need a space for his clothes.

You’d… made space for him in your false life. That wasn’t something you did.

Or had you been the one wearing them?

Maybe…?

You’d spent a long moment holding one of the shirts in your hand, rubbing at the fabric in hopes of stirring something. When that hadn’t worked, you’d even brought it up to your nose to inhale slowly, just in case the traces of scent brought some memory back.

Clean soap. Salt. Copper. Faint cinnamon.

All it had done was remind you of holding a grieving Matt in his kitchen after he’d realized your memories weren’t coming back. It was a gloomy enough memory, but ultimately unhelpful.

You'd tossed the old shirt on top of the dresser and moved on.

While you didn’t know who exactly you’d been here in New York, the longer you searched, the more it became clear what had happened. You’d started to slip, your years of isolation forming a crack in your layers of armor. That fracture had allowed an attachment to form, an insidious connection worming its way in through the open gap like poisonous roots through crumbling pavement. You’d grown weak, and careless. There was no other explanation for why you’d broken so many of your rules, dominoes tipping one by one until it cascaded into a waterfall of mistakes. You’d slipped before, of course—loneliness was natural and expected, which was why you had so many contingencies—but you’d never let yourself get in this deep. Not until now.

What you didn’t know was…

Why?

Why here?

Why these people?

And why the fuck hadn’t you followed your rules and run?

If there was an answer to be found in Jane Hind’s apartment, you couldn’t seem to find it, no matter how hard you look, no matter how many of her belongings you dug through. Even your memory box had failed you, the photo of you and Matt at the back of your stack of pictures an outlier you couldn’t explain, this fruit of an as-yet unidentified poisonous tree. You had no real leads, no faint ringing of memory to guide you beyond a vague sense that, somehow, this started with Matt. You didn’t even know where to begin.

At least, not until some shaggy-haired guy named Foggy—what the fuck kind of nickname was that?—showed up entirely and rudely unannounced at your front door, dressed in a cheap suit and wearing a bizarrely determined look. Despite your doubts, you reluctantly allowed him in. He made it pretty clear he knew you, and if you were lucky he could tell you more about your life here.

“So I know you usually skedaddle when things get uncomfortable, which I imagine they are at the moment. How long are you trying to stay?”

“One month.” You shrugged casually, a cover for just how warily you were watching him as he paced in your—in Jane Hind’s living area. He knew far more about you than you knew about him, a reversal you were uncomfortably aware of. That vulnerability was almost enough to trigger a retreat beneath that cold, brittle shell you’d used long ago, though you quickly caught hold of that instinct and buried it back down deep where it belonged. Still, you couldn’t quite hide the cool clip to your voice, your walls firmly in place. “Leaving after that. Don’t see the point in staying if the memories are gone. Truthfully I’m not sure why I stayed in the first place, especially once it was clear I was getting attached. No offense.”

“None taken, my hopefully-still-friend-when-your-memories-come-back.” He abruptly swiveled on his feet to face you, squinting at you thoughtfully. “How badly do you want your memories back?”

You thought of out-of-place mugs and hand-stitched psychic teddy bears; of faint cinnamon and a worn photo frame; of the way you’d held a broken Matt in his kitchen until he’d carefully pushed you away and asked you to leave, his face closed off and distant despite the tears on his cheeks and yours.

You’d… been someone here. Someone cared for. Someone whose loss was mourned.

Even if you left, you needed to know just who that someone had been, if only so you could make sure this never happened again. Not until you reached your island in the sun.

“Badly enough to stay for the month,” you said quietly.

“Then put some shoes on. We’re going on a memory hunt.”

Over the next few weeks, Foggy took you all over Hell’s Kitchen.

You visited Jane Hind’s office, abandoned warehouses, and empty rooftops covered in thick blankets of snow. He reintroduced you to Karen, to your upstairs neighbors, and to a bartender who didn’t seem all that inclined to be introduced to anyone. You drank crappy beer and slightly less crappy vodka, played pool, and went to the zoo to stare for far too long at penguins, which Foggy refused to explain no matter how much you pressed. He had you focus on sights, on smells, on sounds that might trigger a memory. He joked with you in between, and he was just funny enough, friendly and clever enough, that for the first week or so, you were consistently cracking a smile. Hell, you even laughed now and then, much to your surprise. He really did know you, enough so that you gradually began to relax around him, just a little. He was likely hoping the addition of a friend’s voice would bring back what you’d lost, especially when paired with all the other sensations.

But no matter how much you both tried, your memories remained lost.

God, you hadn’t thought this would… would hurt as much as it did. Yet with every day that you failed to find your way back to who you’d been, the more that fierce ache, that old longing inside you grew. Your smiles became brittle, your laughter fading, until both finally dried up like withered, crumbling leaves beneath a bitter frost. You couldn't help pulling away really, not when your soul curling up in the dark might protect you from the agony of knowing that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found what you'd always wanted. How fitting that it had been ripped away from your bloodied, desperate hands like so many times before, one more square for the filthy patchwork quilt of shredded lives and possibilities you’d been forced to leave behind. What was worse: even your memories of that seeming joy had been stolen, too, leaving you with nothing left to carry but the tattered scraps of a ghost and the photograph of a stranger wearing your skin.

It shouldn’t have been possible to miss what you couldn’t remember. Yet here you were missing it all the same.

It didn’t help that Matt was avoiding you in every way that mattered. You’d thought about calling him if only to ask him questions about your life here, but you could never quite work up the courage to do it. He must have felt the same since he hadn’t reached out to you, either. And why would he? He knew as well as you did that your memories likely weren’t coming back. It made sense to cut that connection, tear it away like a weed before the roots could do more damage—something you should have done sooner, for both your sakes. What you hadn’t expected was just how good he was at dodging you, somehow absent no matter how many places Foggy took you to, places he swore Matt frequented with you when you’d lived here, as if Matt’s mere presence might be enough to trigger some memory in you. Had he been that important? Either way, it didn’t matter. You hadn’t seen Matt once since you’d walked out, doing your best to ignore his hitched breath as you’d opened the door. You’d forced yourself to ignore, too, the broken, agonized sound of grief that he’d let out as you quietly shut the door behind you, leaving him alone.

He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow.

There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting.

Matt was alone.

You’d left him alone.

It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back.

So… why did you feel so very sick?

Sympathy.

That was all you were feeling. Matt was grieving a woman he’d cared about, one who’d died and left a cold stranger in her place. It was normal to feel for someone in that much pain, and no one should be alone while grieving. Maybe this was for the best. The sooner you were fully out of his life, the sooner all his friends and family could step in, and the sooner he could move on. He wouldn’t be alone, then. And even if he was, his loneliness wasn’t your goddamn problem. You had more than enough troubles of your own.

Protect yourself.

Protect what you might one day have.

All else was irrelevant.

You just… hoped he was doing alright.

He did his best to avoid you, but that only grew more difficult once your ghost began to haunt his every step.

Even Josie’s quickly became off-limits—something he discovered one night when he stepped through the front door where he was promptly met with the familiar, comforting scent of you floating like a haze beneath the smell of cheap beer and sour sweat. His body went rigid the moment he recognized it, your presence across the room a sharpened knife that only widened the wound carved into him by your death. And if the scent of you was a knife, then your bark of laughter was a cruel twist of the blade, one that left him gutted and shaking there in the doorway. He drank in his apartment after that, waiting for that blessed moment when he would feel nothing, waiting for the very second the glorious shroud of night fell. Only then could he finally escape to the streets and drown himself in a far better kind of pain, taking his rage and his grief out on whatever piece of shit had the misfortune of falling into the Devil’s path.

But Foggy seemed determined to shove the specter of you directly into his face.

“You need to talk to her!” Foggy snapped, his voice only just shy of a shout. Matt ignored him as he headed for his office, desperate to retreat from your scent lingering on Foggy’s clothes. Foggy had taken you to a coffee shop that morning, one you’d frequented when you’d lived here, and now each inhalation was a vicious torment. It felt like breathing in shards of glass, the sharp pain of it throbbing with every stuttered, choked breath he drew in. If Foggy noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “Christ, Matt! You love her and we both know it. If you talk to her, it might trigger something—”

“Stop,” Matt grit out, reaching up to scrub his hand angrily over his face. He stalked his way over to his desk, still desperate to escape somehow, even if it was into his work. “Just stop, Foggy. I did talk to her, and you know what happened? Nothing. She didn’t remember anything at all. She’s gone, and you dragging this out is just making everything worse for all of us.”

“So what, you’re just gonna roll over?” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms as he planted his feet in Matt’s doorway. “Are you sure you actually loved her? Because I’m pretty sure she loved y—”

Matt slammed his fist down on his desk, the furious crack of it echoing through the office like a gunshot as he shouted, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Tension hung thick in the air as Matt’s chest heaved, his teeth bared, blood and adrenaline running hot in his veins as if Foggy were some sort of-of threat. Everything in him shook with rage, or maybe unshed grief, the burden of them both impossibly twisted and tangled beneath the sea of his guilt and his self-loathing until he couldn’t tell which was which. He just couldn’t—how was he supposed to force it all down when Foggy had just come so close, so dangerously close to shattering what few pieces remained of Matt’s crumbling armor?

It was bad enough loving you the way he did only for you to slip through his bloodied, desperate grasp like whispering grains of sand. What was worse, this entire disaster was one of his own making, a series of mistakes whose snarled, winding paths led inevitably back to him just like they had so many times before in his life. This loss of someone who’d truly understood him, accepted him, cared for him had already broken something inside him he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repair. But that fracturing inside him would surely rise up to consume him if Foggy were right, if you’d truly cared for him that deeply before your memories were taken, so deeply that you might even have…

I miss you, sweetheart.

…loved him the way he loved you.

Abruptly Matt’s surge of rage drained away and his head fell, leaving him feeling all the more empty and broken. He braced his arms weakly against his desk, drawing in a shaky breath as he forced himself to confess, his voice gone hoarse and ragged with grief. “I loved her, Foggy.” He lifted one shaking hand to his face. “God, I loved her so, so much. I can’t… I don’t know what to do without her now that she’s gone.” “I know, Matt,” Foggy said gently. “I know.” “I loved how she always smelled a little like coffee, and the way she always managed to wind up climbing into the oddest places for a case. She had one of the foulest mouths I’ve ever heard, but I swear she could use it to talk her way out of almost anything or to bring someone up out of whatever dark hole they were trapped in. She was… far kinder than she’d ever admit.” His lips quirked, but there was no humor in it, the expression miserable and gutted. You’d have likely argued with him about how kind you were if you’d been here. But there was no chance of that now, no matter how much the scent of you on the air told him otherwise. “Some days it felt like she was the only thing holding me together, like the only time I could breathe was when she held me in her arms. She was always there when I fell apart, or when it all… when it all started to hurt too much. And I tried to give her whatever pieces of me the Kitchen hadn’t already taken, to be there for her like she was for me, to keep her safe. We were finally going to make our relationship official when she came back, her and me, even if there’d… already been something there for a while now if I’m honest.”

And it had, it had been there, this soft, tender thing that had developed slowly but surely between the two of you, a tangling that came by degrees rather than all at once. It had sprouted, grown, and blossomed so gradually that even now he struggled to point to any one moment where it had truly begun—the night he found you in the warehouse, maybe, or that first game of Devil Hunt, or when you’d both almost taken the leap before he’d realized you were drunk. But the question of where it began didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was there, something nameless yet still so good and warm and perfect, a connection nurtured in the low light and the blood-soaked soil of the Kitchen. You’d felt it just like he had, and you’d been willing to take that chance with him despite the baggage he carried behind him like an anchor destined to drag him down. You never would have agreed to kiss him when you came back otherwise. Now that chance was gone.

“How much did she know before she left?” Foggy asked quietly, leaning against the doorframe.

”She knew that I-that I wanted to be with her, but I never told her that I loved her.” Matt blew out a slow, heavy breath. “I was too scared of chasing her away, I guess. I thought maybe when she came back, if she still wanted me, I would… I decided that I would tell her. But I waited too long. Now she’s gone and I’ll never be able to tell her. All because of me.”

He finally lifted his head, tipping it at Foggy. Neither of them dared mention the wetness on Matt’s cheeks. Even speaking about this—about how much he’d loved you only for him to ruin it—was almost more than he could bear, the edges of the wound still fresh and raw. Then again, maybe he deserved that pain after how miserably he’d failed you, just like everyone else in his life. “I miss her. And what’s worse is even when she’s right there in front of me, she’s not. She’s not, Foggy. Because I-I fucked up. I’m the reason the woman I knew, the woman I loved, died. I’m the reason she’ll never remember what we had, why I’ll never hold her again, and why she’ll leave New York at the end of the month like she does whenever she’s afraid of forming a connection.” He let out a bitter laugh, waving towards the windows, towards the place you’d once held dear. “I couldn’t even keep her here before. She almost ran last summer and the only thing that stopped her was being kidnapped. That was what slowed her down long enough for our thread to turn red, not me. She won’t let that happen a second time, not now that she’s seen what happens to people I care about. Do you understand?”

The door to Nelson and Murdock creaked open, Karen’s voice making its way in first. Her voice was followed only a moment later by another’s, one still so familiar.

“—I mean, winding up in a pool while chasing a kid sounds about right for me, so even if I don’t remember, I won’t argue—”

“I had to keep you here somehow.” Foggy’s voice remained quiet, but there was no disguising the ferocity in it now, the fervent belief. “Get out of your own head and talk to her, Matt. Fight for her. She would want you to.”

No.

No, no, no.

Your body may have been here, whole and real, but the woman who’d known him wasn’t. The song of your voice, your sweet scent, the flames of heat and stirred air currents around you flaring into a familiar shape: all of it was nothing but a lie, a snare for his senses, a ghost of his own making, and he wasn’t about to be caught by it again.

He darted back around his desk, shoving his way past Foggy on the way toward the front door, his heart racing. If he was quick, if he just put up enough of a front, he could get out before they trapped you here with him like they’d planned. He wouldn’t relive this grief again, he couldn’t, not without falling apart. The moment he’d had with you in his apartment had been enough agony for one lifetime.

“Hey, Matt.” You cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly on your feet where you’d stopped by the front door. Your stance was cautious and guarded, almost wary of him. It was just one more reminder of how uncomfortable he made you now. “Are you—”

“Heading out,” he said stiffly, only belatedly remembering to trace one hand along the wall as if his heightened senses hadn’t given him a clear map of the room the moment his adrenaline spiked. That spike was a curse all its own. It made the scent of you so much stronger, the lie of it fresh and present as it twined around him. His chest hitched just once before he forced himself to breathe his mouth. But that route of escape had been cut off, too. All it did was shift his focus to the taste of you on the air, and the taste of familiar fabric once so tenderly given.

You were wearing one of his shirts.

He fumbled for his cane, his hands starting to shake before he finally found it where he’d left it against the wall. He couldn’t let you see him like this. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t remember him, nor was it your fault that he’d lost you. He’d done enough damage without adding a layer of guilt to what you were dealing with, too. But despite his attempts to hide what he was feeling, his face a hard mask, your fingers still brushed gently against his arm a moment later. It was an offer of help, or maybe an attempt to reach out, to slow him down, to connect. It was a kindness, a sympathy he didn’t deserve. Even now, you read him far too well, this touch the same as it had been that first night he’d met you when you’d gently brushed your hand against his arm. “Hey, do you need… I could walk you home.”

He shied away from your touch, finally managing to roughly unsnap his cane before going for the door. “I’m fine. I just—I have things to take care of. Excuse me.”

He went straight home and showered, but no matter how many times he scrubbed, he couldn’t seem to wash the ghost of your scent away.

You slowly wandered around Matt’s office, taking it in. This was another place you’d supposedly frequented, a place that should have been familiar, and one you'd avoided until now.

Even though Foggy had assured you it was alright, it felt… almost wrong to explore a stranger’s space like this without them present. But you couldn’t help but brush your fingers across the battered desk and the small labels in braille you couldn’t read, run your hands along the chair for clients that you might have sat in once, and trace curiously the small seashell next to Matt’s laptop. The base scents of Matt were stronger here where he spent so much time, only partly erased by the smell of coffee and paper. The room was clean, cared for, and well-organized despite how rundown the office was. Important to him. You could tell that much, even if the scents and sights had failed to spark any memories.

Maybe… knowing his space wasn’t enough.

This was about more than just figuring out who you were, now. For some reason, you needed to know who Matt was, too: this man Jane Hind had cared so much about and who’d cared so much about her. You told yourself it was practical. Matt was your best bet when it came to remembering who you’d been. But some part of you deep down recognized the lie. No, there was something in you inescapably drawn to him, a pull you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe that strange, unnatural gravity was what had started this whole mess in the first place. What was it about him that was so different, that had driven you to break every last rule you’d lived your life by for over a decade?

And why… did you spend so long wondering if he’d ever climbed out his office window?

It had been twenty-nine days, and not a single memory had returned.

Oh, there were beats now and then when you thought that maybe, just maybe something was coming back, but those moments were painfully few and far between. Even in those moments, you couldn’t say remembered anything, exactly. It was more a frustrating sense of deja vu, a fleeting little itch at the back of your mind like you’d forgotten something important, flashing road markers to warn you of the dark, empty gaps in your memory. That sense was probably driven at least in part by Foggy’s growing desperation as he frantically hunted for something that might trigger a return of your memories.

But the rest of that feeling… the rest was all you.

There was no denying a traitorous part of you wanted to remember no matter how ill-advised it might be. You wanted to remember this bizarre little family you’d stumbled into and then lost, just like in Los Angeles. You wanted to remember the love you’d had for this place, this city, this taste of mutual affection that had grown up around you after going so long without. After endless ages and ages of drought, of starvation, you hungered for even these bare crumbs of connection, something to tide you over until you found safe haven on the distant horizon. What a tempting thought it was to slither back into the life of this woman who’d been so cruelly murdered and replaced by a stranger wearing her skin.

Was this what a demon felt like when it took over a body? To walk around with someone else’s face, to speak with the unnatural voice of the dead, tormenting the loved ones that remained?

That, ultimately, was why it didn’t matter what you wanted. Your presence in this city only spread rot and suffering. It would be better for everyone involved if you left like you should have long before now. Then they could all grieve without you tainting the very soil around them.

Especially Matt.

You’d seen him once or twice in passing as your time in New York wound down. Even at a distance, you’d marked the growing circles under his eyes, dark enough to be visible despite the glasses he always wore. The rest of him wasn’t doing much better. It seemed like every time he crossed your path, there was another bruise, another cut across his face or knuckles, a shifting canvas of pain painted across skin grown pale and drawn. He didn’t just look tired—that wasn’t what this was. This was something far worse, a haggard exhaustion, a weariness that couldn’t be solved with sleep, if he slept at all. This was someone being haunted.

Probably because the ghost of Jane Hind kept crossing his path. But that would be solved soon enough.

You’d already packed up your things, not that you had much to take. Just your bag and your memory box. You’d be leaving the next day. Foggy was still convinced he had a few more days, but you had other plans. You couldn’t give Matt back the woman he’d lost, nor could you give him a body to bury, a grave to lay flowers across, but you could give him what Jane Hind had carried with her until her dying breath.

“I thought you might… want these before I left tomorrow,” you said quietly. “I… sorry, it’s… it’s a bag with my—with her things.”

Matt took it carefully from you, the motion mechanical and stiff. He hadn’t really invited you the rest of the way into his apartment, the two of you now stalled out in the hallway just beyond the closed front door. He hadn’t taken his glasses off, either. It made it harder to read him, his face closed off and impassive, a wall of red glass placed firmly between you. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen his eyes even once since that day you’d first come back, and you didn’t blame him. You didn’t like feeling vulnerable, either, though that was just a guess when it came to what he might be feeling.

“It’s the shirts from her apartment, which I think are yours. And the stuffed bear.” You bit your lip and released it slowly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “And the… the mug, which Nelson said was yours, too. The one you used at her place. I also put the hoodie in there, the one she had with her while she was traveling. And…” You reached into your pocket, fumbling for a moment. God, you were bad at this, unsure of just how to do this without hurting him any more than was absolutely necessary. It wasn’t a concern you usually dealt with since your goal was almost always the exact opposite, a precaution meant to destroy any threads of connection they held with you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t giving you much to work with, though you didn’t miss his subtle flinch when you drew the key from your pocket. “I thought you might want this, too.”

You cautiously edged forward, daring to breach the ring of radiant heat that surrounded him, the closest you’d come to him in almost a month. He went stiff as you approached, his jaw growing tight as the gap between you both closed. Another step, and his head cocked as if he were listening to your footsteps, or maybe… maybe he was just waiting to find out what you had to give him. But he wasn’t telling you to fuck off or just set your gift aside, which was a good sign. So you hesitantly reached out and brushed your fingers lightly against his bicep, a signal so he knew you were about to pass him something.

A breath.

He remained absolutely still amidst the sudden, crackling tension in the air as your fingertips skated gently down and around his forearm, stirring all the little hairs, his skin shockingly warm. All you’d intended to do to take his arm and guide it up so you could place the key in his hand, but you quickly found yourself distracted by a ragged scar along the back of his forearm, one your fingers seemingly made their way to on instinct. It was a deep scar, the original cut likely made by some sort of blade, the edges of it rough and uneven from messy stitching. Your curiosity got the better of you, so much so that you missed the way Matt had begun to hold his breath.

“Who fucked up the sutures on that?” You furrowed your brow, your thumb smoothly marking out the jagged line of it. “They did a terrible job. No offense.”

Matt’s face fell and you only realized too late just who it was that must have patched him up.

Before you could blink, he’d yanked his arm out of your grip as if your touch had burned him. “Don’t,” he grit out, his chest heaving as he put a few steps distance between you both. “You can—just put your key on the bench.”

“How did you know—” “Because there’s only one thing left it could be.”

You nodded weakly, taking a few steps back towards the little bench beside the door. That unfamiliar ache, that sense of wrongness was back, the weight of it settling uneasily in your chest like a stone until you almost wanted to retch. It didn’t help that Matt was just barely holding himself together while you were here.

Best to say what you’d come to say and leave him be.

You gently set the key down, and the quiet click of the brass against the wood seemed to echo in the hallway, a graveyard bell tolling with a looming sense of finality. What you were about to tell him would hurt, you knew it would, but maybe one day he’d find comfort in it. This—a sign of what she’d felt—was the real gift you’d truly come to give, the only true token of her you could offer. Your words, when you spoke, were almost as hoarse as his. “I thought you should know I… she wore it. The key. I asked them. She wore your key and she never took it off. Not once. Whatever you both had, she treasured it, and all she wanted was to get back to you. She didn’t leave you by choice, Matt. I hope that… that helps.”

Of all the things you’d said and done, it was this that finally seemed to break him. His face twisted in a sudden wave of grief, and regret hit you all at once. You quickly took a step towards him, one hand out, though you weren’t sure what you’d do if he reached back—it wasn’t like you knew how to comfort him, and you sure as hell didn’t know if he’d tolerate you holding him again, nor whether he was someone that needed some sort of touch when he was hurting. But before you could take another step he’d flinched away from you, retreating quickly back into the darkness of his apartment, his voice ragged. “Just go. Get out.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, backing away towards the door. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

It shouldn’t have hurt as you closed that door one last time. But you cried all the same.

Somewhere within the apartment came the sound of splintering furniture and a hoarse scream wracked with grief.

“Look, Nelson.” You tiredly adjusted the strap of your duffle bag over your shoulder, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of your nose as if it would stem your growing headache. “I know it’s a day early. But another twenty-four hours isn’t going to make a fucking difference.”

“I don’t need another day!” he pleaded, his arms spread wide where he’d blocked your front door, ensuring you couldn’t leave your apartment until you’d heard him out. You’d had no idea he even had a key until today and, not for the first time, you cursed Jane Hind’s apparent lack of common sense. You did not give out keys, or at least, you hadn’t before coming here to this ridiculous fucking city. “Just five minutes. That’s all. I’ve got one last thing to try.”

“Maybe I don’t want to try one more thing!” you snapped bitterly, dropping your hand. That anger was a good cover for the way something sharp and prickly had begun to catch in your throat, the incident with Matt still fresh in your mind. “I’ve tried for a month, and it’s gotten me nothing. Fucking-fucking bars and random rooftops and a shitty little duck, goddamn penguins and keys, and none of it did shit! Jane’s gone, ok? She’s dead. And I’m sorry, I know you all cared about her, but I’m done—”

“Have you climbed inside a thread?”

“...What?” you asked in sudden bewilderment, your rage abruptly faltering in the face of pure confusion. “What the fuck does that even me—”

He let out a whoop, practically dancing on his feet. “Yes! I knew it! I can’t believe no one told you!”

“Told me what?!” You chucked your bag back onto your couch in sudden exasperation. If this was thread-related, at the very least you could stay long enough to listen. “There’s nothing to climb!”

“Ok, so stick with me.” He rubbed his palms together eagerly, a bright light in his eyes. “Because I’m about to get really metaphysical.”

It took you what felt like hours to climb inside the shimmering honey-colored thread that lay between you and Matt—a thread that sang with his sorrow and your reluctant sympathy.

It wasn’t right having your soul constricted like this, all of who you were narrowing down into something so small as you squirmed through a barrier that tasted and felt like dirt and earth, chasing after the sound of trickling water. There wasn’t supposed to be anything on the other side. It was an emotional connection, nothing more.

And yet here you were, standing in a place that had no reason to exist.

“Holy shit,” you whispered in amazement, spinning on your heels to examine your surroundings. “Holy shit, he was right.”

Despite the late hour, the air was full of a muted light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, tinting the world a hazy, eerie green. High up above you roiled thick, sullen black storm clouds, silent flashes of red lightning carving their way between swirls of charred smoke. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to see by.

And what you saw was heartbreaking.

You stood in a dry, stony riverbed. The ground beneath you was cracked and brittle where the water had receded, leaving behind nothing but dust and broken branches. The river itself remained though just barely, the thin trickle of flowing water down the center of the riverbed a far cry from whatever immense force had carved its way through the landscape until the banks were a good ten paces from one side to the other. The terrain beyond the river didn’t look much better, wilted, drooping cattails dotted up the bank before giving way to endless forest that stretched farther than your eye could see. Like the cattails and scrub, the pine and fir trees stood withered and brown, casting their empty branches up toward the sky.

If it had been beautiful here once, whatever had happened to you had destroyed that beauty.

“Jesus,” you whispered.

“Can you hear me?” Foggy’s voice sounded distant and far away, tinny like he was talking through a long tunnel.

“Yeah. Can you hear me?”

“...Ok, if you’re trying to respond, I can’t hear you. But according to Matt, whenever you were here, it felt like memories. So poke around, see what you can find.”

You sighed and started down the riverbed. “Not super helpful, but ok. Let’s give it a shot.”

The water was the most obvious place to start, and you made your way over to the thin stream that ran raggedly across the parched soil. Much to your fascination, you quickly discovered that what you’d thought was one current was actually two, one layered over the top of the other, each flowing in the opposite direction. The first of those currents hiding on the bottom was fairly calm, steady if a little restless, swirls of pale color that almost felt like curiosity, though how you understood that translation was a mystery. The second current seemed far rougher where it roiled atop the first, its section of the stream cloudy and thick with swirls of black and the red of an open wound. You hovered over the second current for a long moment, working up your courage, before you finally knelt and hesitantly brushed against it with one finger. It was just water. How bad could it be?

The moment your skin made contact, your chest seized on a sudden swell of agony. Your mouth filled with the taste of grief, with the sound of an empty home, the lack of some familiar scent that meant affection and warmth and softness and safety, the ache of an old wound reopened just when it had started to heal. Alone, always alone, I deserve it, so many gone, he was right, when will I learn? There was no hope for comfort from that pain, no escape from the darkness into tender arms that could hold you just right when it all hurt. All you had to look forward to was more—

You threw yourself backward, scrambling away from that terrible current as if what you’d felt might rise up and chase after you, snapping its teeth the whole way. You didn’t stop retreating until your back slammed against the dry soil of the riverbank. Only then did you stop, panting, your eyes wide in shock as you cradled your hand against your heaving chest.

Emotion. It’s emotion.

That was what the water was. Matt’s emotion. Which meant the other current—one now shifting back to yellow despite a momentary surge of twisting, roiling black—was… yours.

Right. So you could rule the water out. But if that was emotion, where was memory?

Examining the rest of the river was the most obvious next step now that you’d ruled out the water. Based on what you could see, the original riverbed had been a mix of silt and stones of varying sizes, a firm foundation beneath a once-powerful river. Now, though, the grey, dried-out silt was covered in a strange sea of divots and dips, as if something—a lot of somethings—had been plucked up and removed. You traced one of the indents in the soil curiously, lifting your hand back up to consider the grit as you rubbed it between your fingers. Another glance around revealed the answer.

The stones.

There were still plenty of stones remaining in the riverbed, but the divots in the dry silt told you there’d once been far more. If that was what you’d lost, then maybe…

You rocked up eagerly to your feet, pacing around breathlessly as you searched for a promising stone to start with. Eventually you made your pick, plucking up a stone just small enough to fit in your palm, flat and smooth save for a little groove in it as if someone had run their fingers over it endlessly. Strangely, it smelled like honey and herbs, the surface oddly warm against your hand like the brush of a thumb against your mouth. You waited for a long, impatient moment, and when nothing else happened, you tapped it a few times.

Still nothing.

And something inside you… cracked.

“Fuck!” you screamed, hurling the stone back down the river in a sudden rage. The pain and the loneliness you’d been suppressing for the last month, the last year, the horrible, endless eternity since leaving your family in Los Angeles began to claw its way up your throat, the clouds churning wildly above you in response. A wild rain came next, each droplet sharp and cold and edged like the blade of a knife, bitter and biting as it beat against your skin. You grabbed another stone, one that tasted like shitty beer—Josie’s beer. You threw that rock, too, then another and another, throwing stones that smelled and tasted and felt like your shriek of laughter as he grinned and caught you against his chest, like torn flesh and a needle held by tender hands, like your face nuzzling fearlessly against Matt’s throat as he whispered comfort into your hair and held you close, like synced breathing and hearts and dances between binary stars as you both fell into sleep, fell into safety, fell into one another, phantom sensations that only made the fierce ache in you grow stronger because with every stone you snatched up it became clear that…

You’d been loved.

Not your identity.

Not the image you showed to the world.

Not the walls you’d put up in front of him before he’d found some way past them.

You.

And he’d loved you with every part of him.

You weren’t sure when you started crying, a violent, vicious stream of tears that was just as much a product of rage as grief. Here was someone who’d loved you fully, loved you despite every asterisk and bit of baggage and sharpened edge that came with being a broken hound, with being a former experiment still on the run. But you barely noticed your tears, spitting up at the unforgiving clouds and the howling wind, because you could howl, too, just as violent, just as much a threat as any storm in this place. “I want my fucking life back! I want him back!”

You hadn’t wanted it before, or maybe you had and you’d just been too afraid to ask for it. But now? Oh, oh, now you were furious, furious and hurting and screaming, because you’d denied yourself connection all these years only to find it in the last place you’d expected. That was what this had been—home, family, love. That had to be why you’d stayed in New York, why you’d risked everything for these people, for Matt. You weren’t an idiot. You’d have run the numbers and the math, made your calculations.

You couldn’t bear to lose this. Not… not again.

You threw stone after stone, hunting frantically as your fingers bled dry, desperate fury into the air, reddened drops disappearing before they ever hit the ground. The trickle of water in the center of the riverbed had churned itself into a frenzy, but you ignored it. There had to be something here that would trigger a memory, something that would let you remember being loved again, something big enough, important enough, so you grabbed and you grabbed and grabbed and grabbed and grabbed until at last, you found a stone the size of your fist. You snatched it up with a ragged sob, cradling it greedily against your chest as if doing so might let you carry it out of here, because you wanted it, you wanted him, wanted to remember more than anything in the world.

“Let me have it!” you snarled, snapping your teeth at the howling winds of the storm as if you might catch this place between your jaws and tear it open until you at last found what belonged to you. “Give it back!”

And with a blink—

He tore one of his bloodied gloves off, his hand shaking as he reached out to you.

You stilled the moment his fingertips brushed tenderly against your cheek, so very gentle, affection layered over blood and earth and hurt. And god, your skin was so terribly dry and cold, the beat of your heart uneven as it struggled to pump blood through your body, but he could feel you react to him, the barest parting of your lips as you dragged in a startled breath. He didn’t want to startle you further or risk you fighting him, so he let his voice drop into a whisper, soft as the brush of a feather.

“It’s me. I’m here.”

‘I heard you,’ he tried to say. ‘I heard you. I’m here.’

And your weakened heart… skipped.

He wasn’t sure if he reached for you or if you reached for him. All he knew was it was the sign he’d been looking for. In a heartbeat, he scooped you up off the floor, stealing you back from that dry, filthy cement and crusted blood that had tried to take you from him. He cradled your cold body against his chest, then, held you there where it was warm and where you were safe. You made the softest little noise, the sound choked and dry, but there was no disguising the heartbreaking relief in it. He pulled you in further, pulled you up until you were curled up in his lap, not an ounce of air left between your bodies, your head laying against his shoulder.

He would never let you touch the floor of this place again.

“D…” you mumbled, not one hint of fear in you despite what he’d just done, the blood on his hands and the burning heat of violence that still lingered in his bones. You wearily slid your head over, inch by inch, until you’d buried your face against the sweat-slick line of his throat, nuzzling in against him with a hoarse sigh that only made him hold you tighter. You inhaled slowly then, heedless of the blood and dirt and sweat that coated his skin, your fingers coming up to hook weakly in the collar of his shirt. “You came.”

And you… smiled.

He buried his face against your hair and let out a shaky breath. As he did, he dug down past blood and dust and dirt, dug and dug until he found the sweet, familiar scent of you, a scent he never wanted to leave him again.

The stone fell from your limp hands, a ringing in your ears you could barely hear beneath the sound of the water nearby, frothing and wild.

The increased sensory feedback had been bizarre, and there was… there was no reason he should have been covered in so much blood, his body burning as if he’d been fighting before coming to you. But…

“Hey, you in there?” Foggy called.

“D.” The letter felt strange, and yet… natural, as you cradled it on your tongue. “D?”

And you knew what came after that letter, shaping the word again in your mind.

You knew.

You… remembered.

“Always,” he’d said.

“Always,” you whispered, casting your eyes up the riverbed towards another large stone. “Always, D.”

He didn’t know what you were doing or why you’d climbed inside the thread.

“Always, D.”

All he knew was that it hurt.

“You’re stuck with me, unfortunately for you.”

He’d thought catching your scent, hearing your laugh, being forced to take back the key he’d given to you had been the worst of it. But no. It was far, far worse having to relive these memories of your time with him over and over and over without pause, his senses filled with you: with your touch, with your scent, with the taste of you on the air. He heard you whisper, laugh, and sigh; felt the brush of your fingers in his hair and your body shaking with laughter when he snatched you up during a game of Devil Hunt and the safety of you as you’d held him so tenderly after his fight with Foggy. All of it was a reminder of what he’d lost, what he’d never get back.

“Don’t you give up on me, Matt. Ok?”

He was in agony. There was no blocking you out like this, no escaping your memory no matter how much he tried to push back or retreat, until he wound up trapped and spiraling in his kitchen.

“Kiss me when you come back.”

On and on it went, memories snapping at his heels until all he had left to hide behind was rage. He swept his arm across the counter, glass shattering as he screamed himself hoarse. Eventually he found himself backed up against the wall, sinking down as he hitched out something like an agonized groan, his hands over his ears, his eyes shut tight. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, please—”

“Adoringly yours, because I do adore you, you ridiculous man...”

“Leave me alone,” he whispered. “Just leave me alone.”

“...Remember that. if nothing else.”

In hindsight, it was a really bad idea to give back your key.

“Matt!” you shouted, pounding frantically on his front door. “Matt, let me in! It’s me, I swear, I can-I can—”

Silence.

And you weren’t willing to wait any longer. This wasn’t something you could explain through the door, out here in the hall where the neighbors could hear. You needed to get inside. You knew he was in there somewhere.

Red threads never lied.

You wiped the blood away from your nose and took off for the stairs. It was only one flight up to the roof, and sometimes he left the rooftop door unlocked. Even if it wasn’t unlocked, you’d use the key under the mat. You didn’t remember everything. But you remembered that. And if the key wasn’t there? You’d break that fucking door down.

He sat unmoving in his meditation pose on the floor, the sound of your attempts to get into the apartment distant and far away. Meditation had been the only thing left he could think of that would allow him to escape the pain and the memories of you that had flooded his thoughts. Like this, with his mind and his focus withdrawn until it lay deep within himself, he’d hoped he’d be far enough away from the world that the ghost of you couldn’t reach.

Yet even deep in meditation, his instincts were set off by the crack! of his rooftop door slamming open.

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, his heart racing as he bared his teeth, his body prepared to face whatever threat had just broken in. The sensations of you, at the very least, had quieted during his meditation, which should have left him enough space for some small margin of peace as he threw himself into a fight. But that peace was nowhere to be found, because you were here again.

He recoiled from that thought the second it crossed his mind. This wasn’t you, that much had become painfully clear. You’d passed away somewhere far beyond his reach, away from the home, the life you’d lived here. The woman that stood on his landing now was nothing but a ghost, a fading memory and a terrible reminder of what he’d had and lost, what he’d earned by daring to reach for something good. There was no undoing it, no washing away the blood on his hands. If anything, how he felt for you had doomed any hopes of you staying long enough for him to reform that connection with you. He knew how you operated—hell, you’d tried to run on that hot summer night so many months ago after seeing just how much he’d cared, even if you’d ultimately changed your mind. At the time, he’d thought it was Destiny, the hand of God ensuring you remained in the Kitchen where Matt could keep you safe from the Man in the White Coat, here in this place where you both might… might shape something good out of all the broken pieces you’d both been left with. He knew better, now. Even the hand of God couldn’t break the curse Matt placed on those he loved. You would leave, leave like all the others, and he deserved it.

The only question that remained was why you seemed so, so fucking determined to make him suffer.

“Matt.” Your voice cracked as you stumbled down the stairs. “Matt, I—”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, sweetheart?” he grit out, reaching up to fist his hands tightly in his hair. He’d never known you to be unnecessarily cruel, but there was no other explanation. “God, I-I can’t—you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Matt, just let me—”

“Do you even care how much you’re hurting me?” He hitched out a broken laugh, something bitter and tormented, the sound absent all humor as you made it down the stairs. “All those months, all I wanted was for you to come back. I begged. I prayed to God, over and over again, that he would bring you back to me. And now that you’re gone, you just won’t leave. I can’t get away from you no matter what I do. Do you know what that’s like? To lose someone you love only for their ghost to haunt you every time you turn around?”

A soft intake of breath.

There it was. Now that he’d said it, you’d leave. There would be nothing more frightening to the You he’d first known than a word like love.

“I just…” His breath hitched again, something thick building in his throat. It was just another sign of his weakness, the same weakness that had gotten you killed.

‘I warned you, kid,’ came Stick’s voice, so smug that Matt bared his teeth. ‘I fuckin’ warned you the night I opened up her eye. But you didn’t listen.’

He started to pace wildly, ignoring your voice as he hunted for some opening through which he could escape, flee from Stick’s voice hiding in the corners of his thoughts, from your ghost. With every step his movements grew more frantic, more furious as his rage built like a rising wave: rage at himself, at God, at the monster who’d taken your memories and the possibility of a life for you here with Matt, and at you, too, because you just didn’t get it. “I just want to grieve, and God can’t even give me that much, can he? Is that what this is? Punishment? Revenge? Congratulations. Job well done. You can go.”

You tilted your head as you watched him pace, the same cock of your head you got when considering your potential routes forward. As far as he was concerned, the only route he’d give was a route out the door.

“I don’t know why you came back, and at this point, I don’t fucking care,” he told you hotly, nothing but burning smoke and thick venom in each word. “We don’t have a red thread anymore. There’s nothing to keep you here. Leave. Now. I’m not asking.”

Your soft response was a single letter, one that struck directly at the open wound inside his chest.

“...D.”

He snatched up an empty beer bottle from the kitchen counter in a sudden rage, turned, and hurled it past you.

You didn’t so much as flinch as the bottle came within inches of your head. Nor did you react to the distant shattering of glass, the sound of it barely audible over his anguished roar.

“Leave me alone!”

And then he froze in sudden horror at what he’d done, his heartbeat almost drowning out the soft sound of your steps. All he’d wanted to do was scare you away, frighten you away so he could break where you couldn’t see, because it had hurt, it had hurt to hear you call him—

Wait.

You’d… you’d called him…

“My Devil Man, my Saint Matthew,” you whispered, the touch of your hands cool and endlessly gentle as you cupped his face. His skin was wet, damp beneath your thumbs as you swiped them across his cheeks, when had he started crying? You brought his head down until you could lay your forehead against his, the taste of salt hanging in the air. Your voice grew achingly tender, so longed for that he swayed helplessly on his feet, wanting nothing more than to be held like you’d held him so often before when he was hurting. “I’m so sorry, D. I’m so sorry I left you alone, sweetheart.”

He closed his eyes tight, his breath growing shaky. You couldn’t know that he was two steps away from crumbling in your arms, fractures widening with every breath. He had no energy left to fight your touch, your misplaced mercy, but giving into the lie was another thing entirely. He couldn’t bear to hope again, not when it would crush him if he were wrong. “Foggy told you to… he told you to call me that, didn’t he? To see if you’d remember. But I can’t—you’re going to leave me, you’ll—” “Do you remember what I said before I left? Because I do.” You swiped your thumb gently against his cheek, your uneven breathing skipping and falling into rhythm with his as his hands shakily rose. They hovered hesitantly a few inches away from your face, terrified that you might vanish beneath his hands like a ghost. “I don’t leave my box behind, and I won’t leave you behind, either. I told you that you were stuck with me after Nobu. I meant it. It’s really me. I know you’re tired and hurting, sweetheart, but listen to my heart. What does it say? Truth or lie?”

…Steady.

Truth.

Could it really be you?

He held his breath as he dared at last to touch your cheek, stirring the fine hairs as he stroked his way along the familiar shape of your face, one he’d traced so often in his dreams. Your skin was damp with tears just like his, another sliding down to bump against his thumb as your lips quirked up into a brilliant smile. And the moment his trembling fingers passed your lips, you kissed the tip of each with a warm fondness, a mirror of that night you’d held his broken, torn body and he’d kissed your fingers and palm.

“How much do you… do you remember?” There was a ringing in his ears as the world beneath him seemed to roll beneath him. “Everything?” “Not everything. Some pieces are still missing, with Foggy and Karen and my job, but I-I remember enough. I remember you, and what I had with you.” Your voice grew fierce and fervent then as you drew in a sharp breath, preparing yourself. “I remember you, D. And I remember that I love you. I love you, Matt Murdock, all of you, so, so much. And I will never leave you alone again.” You loved him.

You loved him.

The weight of it—being forced to let you leave the city, the ensuing months alone, the agony of the past few weeks thinking he’d lost you entirely, and now this, this, knowing you loved him like he loved you—hit him all at once, and with a sudden groan he started to drop. You caught him in your arms, the two of you sinking to your knees as you held him tight and he wound desperately around you in return. Only then did he start to fall apart in your arms, shaking in your hold, his grief, his hurt, his relief spilling out in choked gasps where you’d tucked his head down against your neck. He fisted his hands in your shirt as you both rocked, and a ragged moan tore free from him, spilling against your skin when you lifted your hands to trail your fingers lovingly through his hair. You knew, you remembered just how to hold him when he was hurting, a balm across every last wound. His shivering, touch-starved body remembered your touch, too, drowning beneath the sudden surge of good, warm, safe, soft after months of nothing but pain, so much so he couldn’t help but gasp out your name.

“I’ve got you now, D,” you whispered, burying your face against his shoulder until he could feel the heat of your tears against his shirt, too. “I’m here, now. You’re not alone. I’ve got you, Matt.”

“I thought you were gone.” There was no way for him to truly sync his breathing with yours, not with the way you were both crying, but still his body tried on instinct, tried and failed over and over again. He closed his eyes tighter, burying his face deeper against your throat as he pulled you in even closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between your body and his, where he could feel every beat of your heart against his skin, as if to make up for the way he’d almost… almost chased you away. “I thought you’d left me and I was alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, and that I didn’t-I didn’t go with you, but I couldn’t—I’m so, so—”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” You kissed shakily at his hair, his shoulder, and whatever other parts of him you could reach, your breath, your tears, your absolution washing over him like rain. “It’s not your fault, D. It’s not your fault sweetheart. None of this was your fault.”

“But—” “Hey. Listen to me, before you get any further down in that hole.” You lifted his head from your shoulder, cupping his tear-stained face in your hands again. For a moment you both simply breathed with one another, your forehead to his, soaking in the contact, the affection that you’d both dearly missed and needed. “What happened to me outside New York, my memory loss… all of that is not your fault. It never was, D. There are-there are a lot of things we’ll have to deal with in the future, things I need to tell you. Consequences of what we’ve done, and—but this isn’t one of them. Never this. You’re what helped bring me back.” “How? I didn’t…” He let out a breathless, watery little laugh. “I didn’t do anything but try to chase you away.” “Some part of me couldn’t help but be drawn to you. I remembered, deep down, I think.” You gave an amused little huff. “And once Foggy showed me how to get into our thread, all your memories are what brought me back, helped me remember, because I could feel it, how you loved me. That was the key. Speaking of which…” You leaned in to nuzzle up against his cheek, your voice lowering to a whisper. “I think I made you a promise, you ridiculous man. And it’s one I intend to keep.”

And with one small tip of your head, and a single slow breath…

“Kiss me when you come back.”

…your lips brushed against his for the very first time, tender and achingly soft, and so full of love that it would have stolen his breath away if he’d had any left at all.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d envisioned months ago just before you left, something triumphant and wild. Nor was it anything like the first kisses he’d imagined before that, the first kiss he’d thought this journey with you might lead to. And God only knew he’d considered kissing you for the first time more than was healthy.

Your first kiss with him was, instead, shaky and gentle, tasting of salt and tears and the fading shades of grief retreating like streamers of night before a welcome sunrise. Slowly, and then more surely, his lips began to move against yours, finally allowing himself to truly taste you for the first time, his eyes slowly falling closed as your fingers ran fondly through his hair, you, it was really you, you remembered. With a quiet moan, he breathed you in deep, calling your grace, your love deep into him until it settled there against his heart, knowing that, no matter what else might come, he would never lose it again, one of his hands rising to tenderly wind around your throat, his other hand finding yours so he could lace his battered fingers tightly with yours.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d expected, but it felt perfect all the same.

Because all that was left was him…

And you.

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sprite-writes-fanfic · 3 months

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The ‘03 Turtles First Kiss!

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word Count: 1068

CW: Gender-neutral reader, just some pure fluff <3 I’ve been working on this for a bit, glad I could finally get it out. I struggled so much with Donnie trying to make it perfect gah. 😭💔

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 With Leo, a first kiss comes naturally, just like the slow burn romance you guys have. It’s a moment where Leo needed comfort most, a moment where he was trapped in negative thoughts, thoughts of failure and self-deprivation. A failed mission. A mission where Mikey got really hurt, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. This moment made him spiral, making him feel like an awful leader and older brother, that he failed his duties he was given since day one.

💙 You take it upon yourself to sit with him, comforting him, reminding him he can’t do everything. That he’s only human, (though he’s a mutant, it still counts), he can’t balance everything, and he can’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders constantly. You hold him in your arms and remind him that he still did good, despite the failed mission, that he did everything right. In that moment, Leo had melted against you, your loving and kind words had brought him peace, made him feel warm and loved.

💙 He cupped your cheek and stared into your eyes, full of gratitude and love, he kissed you. Sweet and gentle, his lips smooth against yours, and you felt yourself melting like he did when you both kissed. He was in desperate need of your affections, and you were happy to hold him that night, whispering words of affirmation and exchanging kisses that night.

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ Your first kiss with Raph was full of longing and passion. He waited so long for this opportunity, for the years he had known you, the tension you guys sometimes had that he had simply shrugged off, but secretly hoped that there was something between you two, he finally got what he wanted. You.

❤️ The night where you two sat together during one of his patrols on a random building top, the night he finally grew a pair and told you exactly how he felt, and the night you accepted and returned the feelings, he knew he had won. He was hit with a rush of emotions that he just sat there and stared at you, mouth agape with shock, before he closed it and gave you a confident smile. He did it. His gut feeling that he had pushed down for so long… He was right.

❤️ He cupped your cheek and didn’t even bother holding back, saying something along the lines of, “Sorry, but I seriously need to kiss you right now.” And when he got a laugh and a nod of approval, he was quick to press his lips against yours. The kiss, it was warm and passionate, he basically engulfed your lips. His hands set on the small of your back and waist, he kissed you deeply, and only pulled away when he realized you needed air. But once you had your fill of air, he was coming back for more.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 It was definitely something he thought about the later you went into your relationship, and soon, it was the only thought that filled Donnie’s head! He was working on an invention? His fast-paced mind hit him with the image of your lips, and now he was covering his face, red at the thought of it. So badly did he want to kiss you, but how would he bring it up? How do you even initiate a kiss?? Poor guy. He’s a man of science, not romance.

💜 Confiding in Splinter, his sensei simply told him, “The time will come soon my son, just go with the flow, and you will know when your time is.” Yeah, that just left Donnie a little more impatient, but due to the times he didn’t listen to Splinter and it backfired on him, he was definitely listening this time. He didn’t want to ruin his first kiss with you.

💜 But he finally found the chance to finally feel your lips against his like he craved for quite some time. He would find the opportunity when it was just the two of you in the lair. He put on a movie and relaxed with you during, an arm around your shoulders as the two of you cuddled under the blankets. Though during the movie, Donnie ends up talking to you when he noticed you were also bored with it and made some jokes. The later it got, the more Donnie urged himself to finally do it, and so, he asked. You excitedly complied to his surprise, and he took the initiative and gently cupped your cheeks, and leaned in… And god did he enjoy every second of that kiss, your lips were like a slice of heaven, and he couldn’t get enough. His fast paced mind slowed down and melted, you had to pull away first because he didn’t.

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 Mikey was sly with how he got his first kiss. He tried to copy the Lady and The Tramp trope, but with pizza… Yeah, that was a mess. So, it was a pizza date, going good, going great. Uh oh! There’s one slice of pizza left, but wait, why not share it? Well, that did not go according to plan, started off good, you’re both eating the pizza… Lady and The Tramp style. It fell. Grease splattered everywhere.

🧡 The giant mutated turtle was sulking now as you were cleaning your clothes, glancing over at his sulking, you asked him what was wrong, and he ended up admitting to his plan of getting a sweet kiss out of you. Laughing to yourself, you just ask, “Why didn’t you just ask for a kiss?” And he paused and thought to himself, ‘Why didn’t he?’ Well yeah it did take the fun out of it, he still wanted those sweet lips of yours despite the fact it didn’t have any creative fun to it. He just cheekily asks for a kiss and puckers up immediately after asking.

🧡 You laugh and shake your head at his antics, before leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss he so eagerly awaited. He hugged you tightly and kissed you so passionately that he nearly knocked the wind out of you. After he pulls away, he smiles widely at you and cheers loudly, running around the lair telling EVERYONE his achievement. It was safe to say his brothers were slightly annoyed but happy for him, and Splinter was definitely proud of him, he was thankful that one of his sons found love.

#sprite writes #fanfic #tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt 2003 x reader #tmnt 2003 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #2003 leo #2003 raph #2003 donnie #2003 mikey

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enchantedbarnes · 1 year

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Uncle Buck Returns

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: Our little menace of a nephew has secured a date for you. Here is part 2 to Uncle Buck.

Word Count: 1401

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five

A/N: what in the actual f👀 is going on 😅 I was expecting maybe 10 or so people to read Uncle Buck. My notifications haven't stopped going off since I posted. Thank you so much everyone that read it and enjoyed it. I hope you also enjoy this little continuation. P.S. GIF replies are my love language so if you enjoy send me your best (or worst 😈) 🫶

As soon as the pair returned home and walked through the front door, Benji skipped his way in shouting, "MAWWAGE! MAWWAGE IS WHAT BWINGS US TOGEVAH TODAYYYY!" Arms high above him as he rushes through the living room in search of his parents.

"Benji, please don't make me regret letting you watch my favorite movie," you sigh, flopping onto the couch, hands covering your face.

He stopped short and looked back at you, "Have you the wing?" He bowed and giggled then turned back around to continue on with his search.

"You're back!" Your sister shouted while she snatched Benji up into her arms, covering the small boy in kisses. "Did you have so much fun with Auntie today? Why are we shouting Princess Bride quotes?" She gasps, "Did you get to meet the dread pirate Roberts??"

Benji looks up at her in confusion, "What? No Mom, we saw Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson! And guess WHAT!"

"Ohhh, what?!"

He whispers into her ear and throws his head back laughing like a tiny evil madman.

"You did what???!" She laughs.

You groan from the couch.

She walks both of them over to you.

"Did I understand him correctly, is there something we should know? Are you betrothed to a super soldier?"

"I'm gonna go throw up," you groaned again.

Sweating doesn't even begin to cover it.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire.

You agreed to meet Bucky for a late lunch the following day. You've been sitting on the floor by your closet for what you thought was 30 minutes now, staring into the clothing abyss, spiraling into an internal panic.

You don't go on dates. You keep to yourself. It's comfortable. Living in a combined household with your sister and her small family you're certainly never alone.

What are you even supposed to talk about?

Your current job is nothing super exciting to talk about. You do like to go to concerts and musicals... However you can't really imagine the 106-year-old super soldier going to a pop punk or metal show, nor do you imagine him attending Wicked 3 times. Note to self: do not bring up Rogers the musical. Yikes.

Your sister has already talked you off a ledge 3 times since last night when you got home.

While still wallowing in self pity and loathing, two outfits are scattered by you and you have three more in your arms.

Your sister walks by your open door and backtracks peering in.

"Y/n," she sighs, "just wear the first outfit. You'll look great, I promise." She walks over and grabs the armful of clothes from you, dumping them on the bed and grabbing the first outfit. Your favorite pair of black jeans and a sweater you bought specifically because it was so damn soft.

The doorbell rings and your eyes widen. "He's early?!"

"He's on time, you would have noticed if you weren't staring into space for the last hour."

"WHAT?!"

"Don't worry we'll keep him distracted while you finish getting ready."

"Oh sure, don't worry. That fills me with all the confidence..."

"Benji has already asked him to marry you, what's the worst that could happen now?"

"I don't even want to think about the answer to that. So many possibilities come to mind."

You grab your outfit and start rushing around.

"Can I get you something to drink, Bucky?" Your sister asks while she moves about the room.

Bucky and Benji are seated at the kitchen table, just off from the living room. Benji is across from him with his tiny arms crossed on the table, and a very serious look on his face.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Ok, I'm sure she'll be down in just a moment. Make yourself at home. Hopefully we will see you around again soon," she smiles, "I'm just gonna go switch the laundry over quickly. Benji," she looks down at him while pointing two fingers at her eyes and then over to him, "behave yourself," she warns while leaving the room.

The table stare down continues.

"Where do you live?" Benji asks.

"In the city," Bucky answers.

"You have a house?" Benji fires back.

"Apartment."

"Own or rent?"

"Rent."

"Where’s your office?"

"I don’t have one."

"How come?"

"I don’t need one."

"Where’s your wife?"

"Don’t have one.."

"Yet," Benji squints with a tiny smirk, "but how come?"

"It's a long story."

"You have kids?"

"No I don’t."

"How come?"

"It's an even longer story."

"Do you prefer dogs or cats?"

"Both are fine."

"Do you have one?"

"I have a cat. Names Alpine."

"Is Steve Rogers really on the moon?"

"What's your record for consecutive questions asked?"

"38."

"He's up there all right." Bucky answers with a nod.

"Your metal arm and regular arm match well with how ginormous your muscles are."

"How nice of you to notice."

"I’m a kid, that’s my job."

Bucky raises a brow, "Why am I getting the 3rd degree here?"

"Just checking in on my investments. If this didn't work I was going to ask our neighbor Frank, but he kind of sucks," Benji shrugs his shoulders.

Before Bucky can question the language and what the 8-year-old said, you walk into the kitchen and quickly look back and forth between the two of them.

"Oh no, how long have you two been alone in here?? What did he say?" You ask Bucky, looking over at Benji quickly after, "What did you say??" Your eyes narrow.

Benji grins and holds your purse up for you. "Have fun storming the castle," he cheekily smiles with that glint in his eyes.

"Benji," you glare down at him.

Bucky clears his throat while standing up from the table. Walking over to you he points to a small bouquet of flowers that were already in a vase waiting on the kitchen table, "Um, these are for you…" he smiles.

"Thank you so much, they're beautiful," your reply is breathless while you look at the arrangement filled with a small mix of your favorites.

"He also gave me this," Benji holds up an RC truck with a Captain America shield painted on the side.

"That was very nice of him, did you say thank you?"

"Duh," he rolled his eyes while grabbing the remote to the car and rolling it out to the living room, "Thanks Future-Uncle Bucky," he grins and chases after it.

"Anyone ever tell you guys he's kind of a strange kid?" Bucky whispers conspiratorially while offering his arm to you.

You throw your head back with a quick laugh. "Oh, you have no idea."

Your date is going better than you expected.

You have managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself so far and both of you seemed to be enjoying your time together.

You have apologized multiple times for Benji's antics.

Bucky laughed, "He reminds me a bit of a young Steve and my sister Rebecca combined. Didn't realize that combo was possible, it's a little terrifying. I hope they have great medical insurance," he jokes.

"His father's a nurse, so we have in-house medical on demand. My sister tried to convince me to go to law school so someone can represent him when he undoubtedly tries to take over the world. Guess I can save some money and time on law school now that we have a super soldier plus a Captain America connection that can potentially stop him before lawyers need to be involved."

"Your sister already welcomed me to the family when she opened the door to let me in," he smirks.

You put your face in your hands, elbows leaning against the table in support.

"Well now you know where her small menace gets it from."

Bucky helps pull your chair out for you as you're both about to leave. As you stand up your purse falls off the back of your chair, spilling some of its contents on the floor when it lands.

Bucky ducked down to help collect your things when something shiny appeared next to your chapstick. His eyebrows furrow as he picks both up and holds them up to you.

You let out a slightly strangled cough as you realized what he was holding up to you.

Bucky Barnes was kneeling holding up your peppermint chapstick and your Grandmother's opal ring that was supposed to be safely in your jewelry box at home.

...Benjamin!

@pono-pura-vida @bitchy-bi-trash @random-writer-23 @jvanilly @clintsupremacy @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

Next: Part 3 Lord of the Pins

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #uncle buck #uncle buck fic

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mosaickiwi · 3 months

Text

14DWY As a Drama AU

Hey remember when I said I’d post this in February oopsies!! (don’t ask me about demon!ren i will cry)

Open at your own risk this thing is LONG. Tried to give everyone at least a little something! upon putting this in my drafts i realized olivia exists i'll add her at some point uhhh. Also you can tell how much I love Elanor... hehe

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

The cult classic romantic thriller, 14 Days With You, is now a drama! Coming to all your favorite streaming platforms this summer. A whirlwind romance gone right and wrong that you DON’T want to miss.

Cast List

[REDACTED]

🖤 Quiet kid that used the after school theater program to delay returning home. Never wanted to perform, but loved doing costumes, make up, and correcting others (in his mind) on how to portray their roles.

🖤 Spent a little extra time perfecting the costumes of a certain someone who didn't even know they existed. He always traded house chores with his sister so she'd sit in the audience to solely film Tree #2's performance.

🖤 Was an apprentice special effects makeup artist after graduation at first, particularly for horror films, but it didn't exactly pay the bills when they left home.

🖤 Easily rose to the top in their acting career due to his dedication for crafting characters to perfection.

🖤 Dolly Parton/Lady Gaga-esque in their separation of work and life—completely unrecognizable in their regular civilian attire. Paparazzi have never gotten a picture of them in all their years trying.

🖤 Has zero issues getting into character, but does "method acting" on occasion to make sure people leave them alone on set. And also to fuck with directors and producers they don't like. Notoriously difficult to work with because of it + their overall attitude towards others, still gets hired somehow.

🖤 Got offered the role as the main love interest in 14DWY without an audition, thanks to a previous manipulative pink haired character he played in a film that ended up never being released. (2017 Ren because it's funny)

Angel (you!)

💜 Participated in the same after school theater program as [REDACTED] and Leon for a few semesters before you got bored of it. Curiosity for acting resurfaced later in life.

💜 Newbie actor at the recently formed talent agency of your friend. Only starred as non-speaking roles or background characters in small productions until the drama. You moved back to Corland Bay after uni for the better industry prospects.

💜 You initially auditioned for a very small role in the drama as an employee in a seaside shop at first, but somehow you wound up as the lead? (un)lucky you.

💜 Feel free to fill in the blank for any whys and hows you think of to fit your OC/self/sona as you so please <3

Elanor

💖 Normally an actress and casting director, first time as an executive producer for the drama. Dreams of bringing her own romantic screenplays to life. Hasn't quite proven herself the way she wants in the industry to feel confident enough in them.

💖 Catalyst for the drama being made. A "friend" mistakenly recommended the 14DWY book to her. She absolutely loathes all the psychological horror of it but sees the potential it has.

💖 Also the reason [REDACTED] was immediately cast, and you as well once she saw your chemistry with him while reading for a minor role. He hadn't shown a fraction of as much interest when reading lines with other potential candidates, so she decided to take the risk of an untested talent as the headliner.

💖 Refuses to use her family's name to get her stuff made. She wants her works to speak for themselves. Very picky about who she works with due to her family having hands in most of Corland's entertainment industry so she hardly gets a genuine interaction beyond ass-kissing.

💖 Always partial to working with Conan's small studio since he was the only director to give her any sort of criticism in spite of her family, as gentle and polite as it was. She still cried a little in the dressing room though.

💖 Genuine confusion when Conan wants her to act as both a producer and assist with direction. She only intended to bring it to his interest. But how could she say no to someone whose judgment and opinion she respects so much?

Conan

💖 Runs and owns a small scale studio in the Bay that seems to pick and choose its productions at random. It is in fact Alice sneaking into her dad's home office and putting scented stickers on the ones she likes. (She only reads the titles)

💖 Extremely proud of Elanor for getting so far on her own, and would take on one of her dozens of scripts no questions asked if she'd only work up the courage to show him one. So imagine his surprise when she comes to him with a romantic horror instead of one of the fairy tale romances he sees her scribbling notes on during breaks.

💖 While he’s the one with the final say, he does try to let Elanor have as much free reign as possible on the project in the hopes to boost her confidence.

Kiara

💖 A super-star actress and model that got her start in Corland’s local industry, but quickly hit it big.

💖 When she isn’t drowning in work, she’ll swing through town to check in on her sister.

💖 Desperately wants to star in one of Elanor’s productions, but respects her sister’s desire for independence. Though she does like to tease about certain casting decisions on the drama when made aware of them.

the rest of the cast are unfortunately very silly i couldn't resist

Moth

💖 Started a talent agency out of spite for the terrible castings in their favorite media. Got further invested upon realizing they could read the scripts before the movies or show adaptations were even announced.

💖 The one who pushed you to audition for a minor role in the production once the rumor about who was cast as the main love interest reaches them. They've heard all the horror stories about [REDACTED] so wanted the inside scoop. Horrified and fascinated to find out you get the lead role. It’s like watching a train wreck.

Leon

💖 Joined the theater program initially because of you, but got really into it. Moved away to attend a performing arts school until his mother got sick.

💖 Took every wacky infomercial or street performance gig he could find to pay the hospital bills until Teo found out and swooped in.

💖 Eternally grateful for the burden of financial ruin being relieved, so he always accepts the jobs Teo gets for him. He definitely won’t complain since he’s not dressed in an animal costume and shouting nonsensical slogans for cleaning products.

Teo

💖 Met Leon through a shared production and quickly bonded. Attended a different performing arts school and met Jae as a child.

💖 Almost the exact opposite of his game character purely for the funnies. Shy, introverted, can’t flirt to save his life. Still a nepo baby but he can hold his own in acting. Doesn’t like his character much, but is extremely jealous of the confidence he oozes.

💖 Leon and Jae are his only friends in the industry so he uses his sway to get them parts if they haven't already gotten a call back. Gets REALLY nervous on set for certain roles so he needs their support.

Jae

💖 Attended the same school as Teo when they were kids, and is constantly pitching intentionally bad ideas and joking on set to reassure his friend.

💖 A little bit of a thrill seeker, so does all his own small stunts if he thinks he’s capable. Stands there and gawks watching the more extreme stunts, loudest to clap when they go well.

💖 Kept bringing Maple to the shoots cause how could he even think about leaving her at home? She would occasionally break her leash and wander into a scene for head scratches and kisses. The film crew always booed when a PA came to take her off set.

Violet

💖 Completely terrible at caring for plants. Inspired by her role, she starts vlogging about her plant mom journey before shooting even begins. All her advice is completely wrong and terrible. Her personal assistant keeps her in the dark by tending to the plants themselves to fix her mistakes.

💖 Finds out she has a talent for flower arrangement, though. Does thank you vases for the cast and crew on all her future productions that last a lifetime because her PA made sure all the flowers were fake.

Exposition

(silly on set shenanigans)

🎬 Scenes get retaken quite a bit, since you’re still extremely new to it all. Most of the cast and crew expect anger out of [REDACTED] after the 4th call for a re-shoot on the first day’s library scene, but he’s surprisingly cracking jokes about his dye job and reassuring you that you’re doing great. The infamously ill-tempered actor is smiling somehow… even being patient? Not glaring down his co-star for minor slip ups? They cannot recognize this person.

🎬 Violet and [REDACTED] naturally butt heads on set. She respects their acting, not the actor. Zero hesitation to snap back if he’s getting snarky with a PA. You’re the one people have to beg to separate them, and you’re completely baffled that [REDACTED] doesn’t treat others as nicely as he treats you.

🎬 Even though Elanor is a nervous wreck about the first real thing to ultimately make or break her career, she’s scarily efficient on set—as long as no one distracts her. She does get sidetracked once in a while, only because she loves chatting and answering any questions the cast or crew might have. She even brings one of her own cats to set during a slower day to see if they can get along with Maple. Leaves Conan in charge when the horror scenes are being shot. They’re both put off by how vivid they feel, but Conan at least can grin and bear it.

🎬 You and Leon manage to catch up on set while [REDACTED] is otherwise occupied shooting said horror scenes. You tease him about a few infomercials you saw when looking up his actor reel, and Leon teases you back about your unlucky streak of being a tree or a rock in every play the theater program put on when y’all were younger. Laughs even harder once he finds out your most prominent roles until then were “unnamed zombie #5 at the bottom of the pile” and “sleeping train passenger.”

🎬 Try as he might, [REDACTED] doesn’t convince Elanor to change up a few crucial parts of the script for his benefit. His offhand threats of leaving the production fall on deaf ears, as she is all too happy to do re-shoots to make Teo the lead. His innocent hints to you about the shoddy script fly over your head for some reason! You love how it's turning out, what does he mean?

🎬 Super shy Teo prefaces and warns his co-stars before acting in every scene of his character being excessively flirty. Most of the actors have worked with him at some point or another beforehand, so they let him go through his routine without issue. Some crew members love the whiplash of him switching between overly courteous and smarmy, others vastly prefer the flirty character and mourn the loss as production comes to a close.

The Build Up

📺 The higher ups pressure Violet to start a short-lived streaming career to boost interest, since she’s hopeless with plants. She amasses a cult following for her MMO reviews, blind raids on new patches, and her wild ride of a Minecraft playthrough. In the end she winds up preferring to play games off stream, but once in a blue moon she’ll do a first time raid stream so her more dedicated fans can join and watch her alliance get wiped. Creative trolling is highly encouraged.

📺 Teo, Jae, and Leon appear on a late night TV show for promotion. It was meant to be for Teo and [REDACTED] at first. (Where’s the leading lover? [REDACTED] refused all promo appearances or sit downs without you being involved in them.) The host plays a clip that Teo’s particularly embarrassed about, and he hides his face in shame when the crowd hoots and hollers praise about his portrayal.

📺 [REDACTED] comes across as doting and overprotective of you once you’re pushed into the spotlight of celebrity, and shows increasingly concerning behaviors as the premiere looms closer. Depending on your response, they’ll back off to a point or dial it up. Interviewers and consumers mistake it as the eccentric actor’s “method acting” so the red flags just slide right past.

📺 Elanor and Conan guest star in a podcast for off-the-cuff romance enthusiasts. Their strangely cagey and joking comments like “there were so many retakes we couldn’t keep track of what was meant to be the actors messing around or part of the final cuts,” and “we’ve actually sent all the reviewers 1 of 14 versions with completely different endings,” leave listeners all the more curious to see the film.

The Climax

🎉 Reception is huge, in good ways for most. The majority of the cast see a surge in popularity if they didn’t already from the hype.

🎉 Teo bemoans his endless offerings for sarcastic pretty boy jobs, Leon makes enough to get picky about his roles (and pay Teo back), Jae somehow cons a studio into an action film starring Maple—and subsequently adopts every single one of her stunt doubles.

🎉 Moth throws the agency away to start adapting anime and manga themselves. Elanor finally feels validated enough to bring one of her romantic screenplays to the big screen, starring her sister Kiara and a very enthusiastic Violet as the leading couple.

🎉 Conan’s studio is overloaded with scripts, and Alice runs out of scented stickers that much quicker. They are severely backlogged send help.

🎉 One determined conspiracy theorist sets out to prove those missing 13 versions of the ending are real, based on minor cuts and inconsistencies purposefully left in the public release.

The End, Roll Credits

choose your own ending

Bad End 💔 - A Falling Star

💔 If you respond negatively to [REDACTED]’s demeanor during shoots and promo: he plays the waiting game, uses his connections and blackmail to make sure all your roles without his name attached don’t garner nearly as much attention as the ones where you’re co-stars.

💔 Your negotiating power quickly plummets as you fall out of demand and end up begging just for the non-speaking roles you once loathed.

💔 The careers of anyone you got close to on set fall apart much faster than yours, before they’re outright blacklisted in the industry.

💔 You begrudgingly call up your last option. He can’t do much for your friends, but their offer to help you make a comeback is always open.

Neutral End 💌 - Just One More Try

💌 If you respond indifferently to [REDACTED]’s demeanor: the drama leads to you getting more offers, though a handful are for playing opposite of [REDACTED], as the on-screen chemistry was too much for studios to ignore for cash grabs.

💌 Elanor has rid herself of the drama’s subsequent rights, despite positive reception, so a sequel sprouts up in the works at a different studio. One that doesn’t mind catering to the whims of their actors when it comes to script integrity.

💌 You arrive on the set to find that not just one, but all of your cast mates except for them were written to have much smaller parts in the sequel. In fact, you rarely find a scene in the revised script where [REDACTED] isn’t alongside you.

💌 Sadly the contract is air tight, just put up with it until it’s over… What’s this clause about further sequels?

Good End 💍 - Off Into the Sunset

💍 If you respond positively to [REDACTED]’s demeanor: you’ll sadly announce at the post premiere press conference that acting was a one-and-done adventure for you. Retired effective immediately, no farewell interviews.

💍 You’re spotted around town for a few weeks in a mask with a tall, darkly dressed companion at your side before you disappear from the public eye and Corland Bay all together.

💍 A few of your friends at least have an idea of where you are, and they meet up with you whenever you're in a nearby city. None of them can recognize the man glued to your side, though. Not that he'd say anything to clue them in.

💍 After months of near inactivity, [REDACTED] mysteriously deletes their socials without a word, sparking confusion and outrage among hardcore fans still desperately hoping for a sequel.

#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy au #momo writing #wow look i posted not requested stuff #and it's NOT only emo boy??? wild #<- i am capable of this sometimes #wrote it in like 2 days back in november from brainrot ngl #and now it's here so it can stop haunting me!!!#i do wanna write little drabbles (mostly about angel's audition) but who knows if that'll happen #if u see issues bc of having to remove discord formatting no u didn't #AND if u saw this on discord b4 no u didn't #i wanna add river once he's in da game cause i have many ideas

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