#he told me to hang onto the book later in life so i could sell it when its like 2040 and be rich 😭😭😭 SJSJJDJDJD

[rashfordian]

talked Footie irl with this like. adorable asf guy in my class 2day.

i brought my panini book 2day to show to my friends later. i pulled it out in my class to just. look at it tbh i love adoring her in public (my panini stickerbook) and this guy just GASPS next to me and i look and he's like "omg you have it!! i have one!! i have the cards!!" and i push it towards him like go look my friend, go on and he starts asking me questions about the teams i rooted for and he was "ahhh i love brazil too, when they got eliminated i almost cried" and then asked me if i was a ronaldo fan and i was like "NO. NO." bc ???? Ewwww no. he also offered me a messi sticker but i politely declined bc i already had one but thats so ... 🥹🥹🥹 thank you so much man. he also liked and rooted for morocco, which we bonded over.

another ting. this was super cute. sadly no. 21 from mentioned here. we were looking at the brazil page and i was talking about how i finished the page last week and who my favs of them were n he just stops and looks at antony and says "i think he's very handsome. maybe it's bc he has the same name as me hahaha" and that made me laugh. i told him, to indulge him a little, that they looked alike so you're really complimenting urself n he got so happy from that, he smiled like i gave him a million dollars skdjsjjddjr and he laughed at my joke about richarlison pombo dance. i forgot the joke. but he found it rlly funny.

#i should also mention he was not a native speaker so his english was slipping a little bc he was so EXCITED #n his laugh is so sweet he seems like a nice person !!!! i will enjoy sitting with him #he is mexican n speaks spanish rlly Smooth too btw. he was translating to someone else n i was in a semi trance bc WOAHHH. u sound BEAUTIFUL #n his handwriting is nice #also this sounds like i have a crush. i do not. that was just the nicest interaction ive had all day n it stuck with me #hes a big messi FC guy and me as well. what a good guy with good taste. n i think hes very sweet #he told me to hang onto the book later in life so i could sell it when its like 2040 and be rich 😭😭😭 SJSJJDJDJD #rashfordian #sorry life story. happening. he was sooo sweet i rarely have positive interactions with men that leave me feeling nice so im just. Waaah

[admin-in-residence]

The Case of Small Talks

Platonic!Eddie & Original Character

Summary: A series of small conversations and moments set shortly after The Missing Library Book including: Wayne Munson’s motivational speeches, Eddie Munson’s parents, The Mysterious Hawkins Lab and more-

Part 2 of The Case Of… series.

One Shot Warnings: Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief mention of selling Drugs. Mentions of shitty parents/parents. Original Character is stated to be female.

Wayne’s headlights illuminate her when he pulls up to the trailer.

   The sun’s just about to peak over the tree line and cast light down into Hawkin’s, the sky a mixture of colors with the sun rising. The dashboard clock reads 5:52 and Wayne’s exhausted-

   A kid sits on the steps to his trailer looking miserable- maybe not quite miserable…half-asleep but anxious at the sight of his truck. Wayne feels like he recognizes her, but he can’t tell from where.

   He’s pulled a double shift trying to pack away some extra money for the school year, so he’s not sure he’s even awake enough for whatever situation this could be.

   “Can I help you with something kid?” Wayne asks as he slides out of the drivers seat.

   “Morning Mr. Munson…is Eddie here?” The kid questions.

   They both look to Eddie’s van parked next to Wayne’s truck. Wayne knows that Eddie won’t bother getting rides with anyone, he keeps his van in as good of a condition as it can be. If his vans home- Eddie’s home. The fact of the matter is that Wayne also knows Eddie won’t be seen before the afternoon soon if he had it his way. That boy would sleep his life away, but Wayne supposes he probably was the same way around his age.

   “I-i mean…I don’t really need Eddie himself. Do you have the keys to Eddie’s van, he has my bike.” The girl explains.

   He has questions, but he doesn’t know where to even start. So Wayne grabs the keys hanging off the coat rack inside and opens the back of Eddie’s van. Sure enough, the kid’s being straight with him and an old bike sits in the back of the van. Wayne’s seen a fair share of bikes, but this one’s seen better days. The chain is loose and the bike is pretty rusty in some spots. Could use a fresh count of paint and a lot more love.

   He hauls it out for the kid sitting it down next to her and she grabs onto the handlebars quickly.

   The sun just begins to peek over and he can see the kid in a better light now, he recognizes her and now he remembers where he’s seen her…the foreman’s kid. He hardly ever sees the man when he works nights but he shares an office with the night manager, so he’s seen an old picture of her on his desk. It’s outdated and the picture depicts both the girl and her mother.

   He’s not one for town gossip- but he heard the rumors of her skipping town. He also knows that the foreman’s current job is a downgrade from his last.

   “Awfully early for a bike ride kid-“ Wayne grumbles.

   “I have a shift at the library this morning. Eddie gave me a ride home yesterday because of the storm. He told me I could pick it up whenever, but the librarian called and asked if I wanted to cover for Susie Allen.”

   Wayne’s pretty sure the Hawkins library doesn't open until 9, but he keeps his mouth shut.

   “Thanks for getting me my bike Mr. Munson, can you tell Eddie ‘thank you’ later?”

   Wayne doesn’t get a chance to respond, she’s already on her bike and peddling away. He heads inside and thinks for a moment. His nephew has always been misunderstood- and he can’t deny the rap sheet he has for selling some weed on the side. But Wayne had strict rules when it came to Eddie’s dealing…and that was to never deal to kids. He doubts it- but he just needs to reassure himself.

   There’s one person who can give him the answers to his questions- and despite the small struggle he manages to wake Eddie up.

   When Eddie gets up- awake up…not just up. He’s surprised to see Wayne sitting on the couch.

   Eddie loves his uncle, he’s raised him, given him everything he possibly could and was a much better influence then Eddie’s father ever was.

   But Wayne sitting on the couch is always a bad sign.

   “Whatever you’ve heard I didn’t do it-“ Eddie groans.

   He takes the milk jug out, taking a couple swigs out of it before putting it back on the fridge. When Wayne still doesn't say anything Eddie knows this is definitely going to be one of their more serious chats. He grabs one of the chairs from the table and sets it down in front of his Uncle. For a moment they sit staring at one another before Wayne crosses his arms in front of his chest.

   Eddie can almost feel the sweat already dripping down the back of his neck. His uncle could be intimidating at times- and couch talks were the most intimidating of all.

   “We’ve talked about this before.” Wayne starts, pausing dramatically for effect like all adults do. “And I know I can’t stop you-but that’s why I ask you to respect my decisions.”

   Ah- so this is something to do with selling weed. Eddie can breathe a bit better now, must be one of the newby’s got caught by Hawkins PD and spilled the beans. He hated when that happened, but it made this situation entirely less stressful.

   “I’ve told you multiple times that if I ever hear or find out you’ve been selling to kids-“

   Eddie cuts him off.

   “No- whoa!” He sits up. “You know I don’t do that-“

   Wayne holds a hand up to stop him.

   “I just need you to be honest with me- there was a kid here this morning to pick up her bike.”

   “Bea was here?” Eddie blurts out, “What time?”

   “Bea?”

   “Yeah- she lives down at the back in that ugly Lima bean colored trailer, what time was she here?” Eddie asks urgently. He glances at the clock on the wall. His Uncle responding with the time he got home at-

   6:49

   He curses before he’s out of his seat, grabbing the keys off the hook and tumbling down the stairs. Wayne doesn't even get a chance to ask where the hell he’s going before his van squeals out of its spot and speeds onto the main road.

…

   He catches sight of the poor bike and swings the van into the library parking lot, tires screeching in the quiet morning.

   Bea snaps her head up and looks panicked for a moment before recognizing Eddie’s van and her eyebrows crease in curiosity. The Lord of the Rings book is clutched in her hands and her backpack lays next to her.

   “What the hell are you doing?” Eddie groans.

   Bea opens her mouth once- twice- before shutting it.

   “It’s not even 7AM?” Eddie takes a seat on the sidewalk beside her.

   They sit in quiet for a little while and Eddie is briefly reminded of the experience he’d just gone through with Wayne…one that he’d have to finish more likely than not.

   “Why are you here?” Bea finally asks.

   The question is good- great even. But Eddie doesn’t have an answer quite yet. It bubbles beneath the surface- the feeling of understanding exactly what she’s going through, except Bea didn’t have an Uncle Wayne to watch out for her. She didn’t have anyone-

   But Eddie was going to change that.

   “Yesterday- you told me that you bike home every time…and that just doesn't sit right with me after that whole shit went down with the Byers kid.”

   Bea shivers at the mention of it- something she’s clearly thought of herself.

   “You don’t have to bike home everyday.” Eddie’s motivational speech loses its momentum…he hasn’t gained Uncle Waynes motivational speaking ability quite yet.

   “How-“

   “I’ll pick you up- drop you off even.”

   “It’s a waste of gas.” Bea defends. “I’m saving up- I’m not going to pay you gas money.”

   “I don’t want any money. And it’s not a waste of gas- I have to go into town all the time, I can make a schedule around it instead.” Eddie says.

   “Even early in the morning? Your Uncle said-“

   “Wayne was a bunch of stuff- I’m awake now aren’t I?” Eddie groans. “Listen you’ve got me on some sort of Good Samaritan kick right now- I’m earning my wings, so just let me help ok.”

   Bea thinks for a moment before shaking her head.

   “No.”

   Eddie’s heart sinks-

   “No?”

   “No I don’t think you’re awake now.” Bea rolls her eyes. “Your hairs a mess and your still wearing your pajama’s.”

   Eddie glances down at his attire- an old wife beater and plaid pajama bottoms. He has a sock on one foot and nothing on the other- was that why Wayne looked at him like he was some chicken running around with it’s head cut off. He chuckles and finds Bea with a small smile.

   “Your on a trial period Munson. If you make me late-“

   “You won’t be.”

   Bea eyes him warily.

   “You won’t be- I swear. And now- you don’t have to sit outside for two hours until the library opens.”

   “I just didn’t want to be late!” Bea exclaims.

   Eddie takes Bea to go get some food and the two discuss Lord of the Rings a little while longer before she she goes in for her shift. Eddie’s fan is waiting outside at exactly 2:30 to pick her up.

…

   They work out a system- Bea gives Eddie a copy of her work schedule and Eddie invests in a shit ton of alarm systems. Wayne comes home to a dozen noise complaints for an army of alarm clocks all going off at once, and the two nearly go at it after Eddie loses one and just can’t seem to find where the alarm is ringing from.

   The batteries ran out of it pretty quickly thankfully…(He finds it in his closet a week later which seems odd since it sounded like it was coming from under his bed.)

   It works- he may not be fully awake all the time, but he gets the kid to her job and comes back a few hours later to pick her up. Their rides are quiet in the mornings and stay about the same in the afternoon. Sometimes things are different, they’ll chat about something or Eddie will even stick around the library instead of heading back home.

   Wayne nearly has a heart attack when he comes home one morning to see Eddie with a cup of coffee and a hardcover book in hand- a library book nonetheless.

   Eddie had indeed received a library card.

   Tuesdays are the only day that Eddie can’t pick Bea up- which she understands. It’s the day that Eddie packs up Gareth and the crew and they head over to the Hideaway.

   The past couple of Tuesdays, Eddie’s paid more attention to the patrons- he’s looking for someone, someone that shares the same nose or same eye colors as Bea. He wants to know who her father is-

   He finds out the hard way.

   A customer gets agitated, starts throwing stuff around the Hideout late into the show. The bartender and the patron throw words at one another and The bartenders cut him off for the night…the customer is livid. He stumbles out of the bar drunker than a skunk and yelling more than any person Eddie’s ever heard before…and that’s that. Eddie doesn’t think too much of it- the man hadn’t even been on his mental list he was forming for the identity of Bea’s father.

   He overhears some of the other patrons talking about it as he packs up at the end of the night…the man apparently couldn’t afford to pay off his tab, and the Bartender warned that he wouldn’t be allowed back in until he paid off the bill, a hefty sum. The man’s friend laugh it off, talking about how times change…

   How the man wouldn’t have even stepped inside the Hideaway back when he worked at Hawkins Lab.

   When he gets home from dropping everyone off he drives by Bea’s, her bike is tilted against the house- the chain tightened by Wayne shortly after Eddie had admitted he’d started looking after the kid.

   She’s home- she’s safe he thinks…

…

   She’s quiet.

   The conversations that had started- now stop. She doesn’t say anything except a small thank you when Eddie drops her off or picks her up.

   She hands him an envelope at the end of her shift one day.

   “What’s this?” Eddie ask tearing open the seal, “What the hell? I told you-“

   “It’s not gas money-“ Bea says, the first words she’s spoken since she stopped speaking. “That’s my paycheck- I need you to hold onto it for me.”

   “Uh- why?” Eddie asks.

   Her cheeks puff- lip quivers.

   “I don’t want to lose it.” She says. “I can’t…uh. I don’t know where I put the rest of the money I’ve earned.”

   He sees red- especially on Tuesday when the asshole is back in the Hideout drinking the night away again.

   Eddie digs out one of Wayne’s old coffee cans and cleans it up. He takes the envelope and adds it into the old can. He places it above the fridge and if he sees Wayne stuff a couple extra bucks in it every now and again well, its not really his place to say is it?

   Shortly after Bea starts having him hold her paychecks- that customer from the bar can’t afford to have more than a few cold ones at the bar.

   …

   ”My dad took me fishing once-“ Eddie drives slowly, something hes started doing since driving Bea.

   It’s one of her later shifts, the sun starting to set and casting the woods in an orange hue. Bea likes the sunset, and she said that she’s going to save up to get some orange paint to repay her bike. Wayne’s started working on it a bit more- and Eddie knows that his uncle has a soft spot forming for the younger girl.

   Bea glances over at him, giving him her full attention.

   “My mom said it’d be a good bonding activity.” Eddie said.

   His heart pangs at the mere thought of his mother- a soul too good for this world. How excited she’d been for them to go- to take pictures on their old shitty camera. They forgot it thankfully otherwise…

   He’s never told anyone this story- not even Wayne. Not even his mama.

   “He pulled over about 20 miles on our way out to the big lake- My mom saved up all year to send us out for a weekend- he drank it away in 6 hours.” Eddie murmured.

   He doesn’t tell her about how afraid he was when his father stumbled out of the bar, drunker then ever…how scary it had been riding in the car with his father clearly intoxicated. How when his father had finally stopped the car- passed out…

   Eddie drove his father home. He told his mother he’d had so much fun and he’d caught at least a 5 foot fish. She laughed it off, but believed he’d actually caught a fish. She said she wished they’d remembered the camera to catch a photo. Eddie didn’t have the heart to tell her even when she got sick a few months later…

   Bea is silent.

   Eddie is too after that.

…

   The next shift is early- Eddie’s half asleep again.

   “They always fought. Even when we lived in town- in a big house…it felt so empty.” Bea’s eyes never leave the passenger window.

   Eddie is suddenly more awake.

   “He worked long hours at the Lab- and his boss…was asking something of him and my mother was worried he would cave in…something happened a couple years ago and then…she was gone. And we were at Forest Hills. I think…I think they fought about me?” Bea admits. “Kind of wish I got to see her face when the Lab closed though…”

   Eddie was silent for a while.

   “What do they even do at Hawkins Lab?” He questioned.

   “My dad- he was a doctor there.”

   “What would an energy lab need Doctor’s for?” Eddie wondered aloud.

…

   Eddie’s out for the day- some last minute thing for D&D. It’s too early for Bea to join him, having only just started on her character sheet, but Eddie’s sure that by fall she’s going to be ready to be in the big leagues with the Hellfire club.

   Wayne has hot coco though so it’s ok. He even found some marshmallows to throw into her mug.

   “Isn’t it weird to be drinking hot coco on one of the hottest days of the year?” Wayne questions the kid.

   She blinks at him and then looks down at his cup, then back at him. Eyebrow cocked she almost looks intimidating.

   “Your drinking hot coffee?”

   They both take a drink of their respective drinks and Bea cracks a smile- Wayne almost breaks his tough guy act with a quirk of his lips. The kids starting to grow on him- Just a little bit.

…

   “Hi Ms. Byers!” Bea smiles at her classmate's mother.

   Eddie looks mildly uncomfortable under the gaze of the older women as they step up to the counter. She looks between the three of them with a strange curiosity. She recognizes all of them- from various places Eddie assumes, but they must seem like an odd combination together.

   “How’s business?” Wayne questions. He’s always been nice, covered the formalities.

   They’re at Melvald’s today for Wayne and Bea’s bike project. Wayne had tightened the bike chain one too many times and had apparently gotten fed up with the thing. Thankfully, Melvald’s still had a decent supply of them in stock and they were on sale.

   “About as well as you can expect with Starcourt.” Joyce answers.

   She looks between Eddie and Bea as she rings them out- Wayne goes back to grab something he’s forgotten.

   “I’m sure you two love it as much as Will does though, he’s always running off with his friends.” Joyce says.

   Eddie wrinkles his nose, he’s not a huge fan of the shopping complex. Too many people…people who aren’t very fond of him.

   Bea just likes the Scoops ice cream shop, she’s dragged Eddie to it to many times and the Hellfire boy’s even tagged along the last time. (Eddie was just thankful that they all seemed to get along, Garath even offering to help out Bea with her character sheet.)

   “You know, maybe you could join them sometime? I’m sure Will and the others wouldn’t mind. I heard they're going to hang out at the end of the week to go see one of the new movie’s.” Joyce offers.

   It’s a nice offer- and Bea could care less about social structure…but she’s never had it easy making friends. Will and his friends seem nice- but they're friend group seems strong, and she fears rejection more than acceptance.

   She glances at Eddie- older…not necessarily wiser. But friendly and accepting. He’d even started teaching her about D&D, fully intending on admitting her into Hellfire Club as she entered her freshman year in the fall. Gareth and the other’s had been inviting as well when Eddie introduced her to the group…she thought that maybe…she had friends of her own finally.

   And was happy for once in her life.

   So she smiled at Ms. Byers and shrugged.

   “Maybe some other time…Eddie said he’s going to Starcourt to check out the music shop and get some ice cream and he’s going to take me with him.”

   It’s true- Eddie needs some more guitar picks and some extra strings and his last customer payed extra so he insisted he buy the two of them some ice cream, even if that meant having to deal with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. Bea had offered to pay- but Eddie had refused to allow her to spend any of her money on something for him.

   Joyce seems conflicted- like she wants to say something more, but not around Wayne who’s just come back to the counter.

   He eagerly shows Bea a can of paint- Sunset Orange and her smile is as bright as the sun…but she catches the look Joyce has upon her face.

   Bea hates how the adults look at Eddie like that- like he’s wrong.

   There’s nothing wrong with Eddie.

   “Will plays D&D though- right?” Bea sees the recognition cross over Joyce’s face.

   “Eddie’s teaching me how to play, so maybe Will and the others can join us?”

   Joyce look surprised by this and glances at Eddie.

   A hand settles on her hair- ruffling it all up.

   “Don’t get ahead of yourself- you’ve hardly even finished your character sheet. And don’t even know your D20 from your D12.” Eddie teases. “But uh- if Will ever wants to, I can see about adding him onto the rooster?”

   Wayne buys the bike chain- Joyce Byers wishes them a good day with the mention that she’ll ask Will about meeting some of the Hellfire kids for D&D. Bea tries to convince Wayne to stop and get ice cream, but the old man won’t even think of stepping foot into the mall.

   Eddie’s heart feels full- especially when Wayne groans and pulls into Star Court.

   They’re a bit dysfunctional, Hawkins isn’t quite sure of them…and it might be a little to early to say it.

   But it’s almost like the three of them are a family.

Tag List: @kik51199​ @hardysbitch​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @mirkwoodshewolf​ @maddwich​ @kastainteknivar

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things 4 #Eddie Munson X Original Character #Eddie Munson X Reader #Joseph Quinn #Joseph Quinn X Original Character #St 4 #strangerthings #Stranger Things X Reader #joseph quinn x reader

[jackrrabbit]

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t look like a demon.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

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

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

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

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

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

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

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simple enough. What else?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow?” You wince.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not here.”

“What—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should know this place.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The…promise?

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

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

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

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

///

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

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

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

“Look at me.”

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

“Look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then look at me.”

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

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

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

“Does it hurt?”

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

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

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

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

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t know it was like this.

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

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

///

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

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

Overhaul’s still here.

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

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

“Yes—”

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

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

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

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

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[honeyabyss]

Mc falling asleep next to them

Lucifer:

he had been working nonstop for hours now and the pile of yet to be read and signed documents wasn't getting any smaller

you had been sitting in his study silently working on your own assignments, that was until you've finished them about an hour ago

pacing his room in boredom and looking at the stuff he keeps in his closets (mostly books, records and demonus)

"Could you stop wandering around, you're irritating me!" Lucifer is stressed, annoyed, etc and your sighs, constant footsteps and opening and closing of closet doors, didn't help him to concentrate

you could have left the room and found something else to do, but you were determined to spend some time with him, as the evening work hours are quite literally the only hours where you can be alone with him

so instead you seeked permission for putting on a record to have at least some entertainment, which was both a good and a bad choice at the same time

yes you had something to enjoy and relax to, but the relaxing part worked a little bit too well

after a good ten minutes you were sleeping peacefully, stretched out all over his sofa with no care in the world

"I'm going to take a small break and get some coffee. Do you want something as well?" Lucifer asked only to be met with silence, which he didn't appreciate

he was about scold you for being rude, when his gaze fell on your sleeping form and the words seemed stuck in his throat

how could you sleep so peacefully right next to one of the strongest demons of hell, he honestly didn't know if he was pleased you found comfort in his presence or if he should be annoyed that you don't take him serious enough

nonetheless you seemed to have a good sleep and as this is often near impossible in the House of Lamentation, he decided to let you sleep

he got himself his coffee and once back in his study he moved his workplace to the small coffee table and took a seat next to you on the sofa

he adjusted your form so you weren't hanging half of the edge and put his coat over your sleeping form for some warmth

"Foolish little lamb, letting your guard down in a house of wolves, good thing I'm here to protect you..."

Mammon:

"And then I, the Great Mammon, made an action movie worthy escape and totally didn't run away in a panic, because Lucifer was chasing me..."

he had been telling you how exactly he got into the situation of hanging from the ceiling once again, as you've tried as careful as possible to cut him free, which was harder then expected with the way he kept moving around

once finally free, he dropped onto the ground, whining about the rope burns he got basically all over his body, though demons heal quicker, it still wasn't a nice feeling

with a sigh you offered him your hand and pulled him up and away to your room to give him some of the salve Satan had made you the last time you had accidentally cut yourself while cooking

you sat a flustered Mammon onto your bed while you went ahead and searched through your bathroom cabinets that were filled with products Asmo had gifted you, when you finally found it you asked Mammon to hold still while you put some salve onto his burned skin

"W-what?! N-no way! I don't need your help, I can do that on my own!" and with that Mammon stormed away with your salve and locked himself into your bathroom

you knew better then to argue at this point, Mammon would do what Mammon wants to do...until he fails and seeks protection behind your back...

be it because he is embarrassed, doesn't know how to open the salve tube, or because there were so many rope burns...but Mammon took quite long to apply the crème, leaving you to wait for him for at least half an hour now

helping out Mammon can become quite tiring, not that you mind helping him or don't like being around him, but a nap sounds nice right now

and so you lay down in your bed, it is after all your room, and just because Mammon is currently camping out in your bathroom, doesn't mean that you can't take a nap

Mammon comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he probably needed a few more minutes to build up courage to face and thank you, but he is met with the sight of you sleeping on your bed

Mammons brain is working overdrive, trying to figure out if he should leave the room quietly, wake you up or stay and watch over you...then again he doesn't want to be seen as a creep by you, but he can't deny that he would like to stay with you

he carefully climbs into bed and pushes you a bit further in so you sleep on the wall side and don't fall off in case you move, it takes five more minutes until Mammon risks putting his arm around you all while holding his breath in anticipation of your rejection, when none comes he settles a little closer to you and falls asleep as well

"Don't worry my human, the Great Mammon is gonna keep you warm and protected in your sleep!"

Bonus: even though you two fall asleep next to each other with only Mammons arm wrapped around you, expect him to wake up on top of you holding you like your his pillow

Leviathan:

it was 5am and Levi and you were currently waiting in line in front of a shop to get your hands on a new limited edition Ruri-Chan figurine

surprisingly enough even though you turned up quite early, there were a good amount of people in front of you

the shop would only open a 9am so you still had a long time to queue in the coldness of the devildom morning

"Ah that is not fair! We planned everything so carefully, it was the perfect timing, why aren't we first in line?" Levi complained while standing on his tiptoes to be able to see and count the demons in front of him, coming to the conclusion that if everyone were to buy one figurine he'd still be able to buy one for himself...and whatever you might want

you weren't the happiest when he told you about his plan a few weeks prior and getting woken up this early you might have been a little slower than usual in getting yourself ready, now that you were here you couldn't help but feel a little guilty

you tried to cheer Levi up with the argument that if you were longer in line that also meant you could spend more time together, which resulted in Levi turning into a blushing but happy mess

you put down the blanket you've brought and made yourself comfortable on it, Levi joining you but looking a bit stiff from the closeness

you ate a breakfast consisting out of sandwiches made with whatever was left after Beels midnight snack, which wasn't much but better than nothing

afterwards as there was still a lot of time to pass you started to play some games on his Switch, trying to stay awake

the emphasis lies on 'trying', because after 2 hours or so you start to fall asleep, eyelids and limbs heavy, you don't have the energy left in you to fight the sleep and so you nod off, your head falling onto Levis shoulder who had been inching closer over the period of time...to be able to better see the Switch display not to be closer to you...

Levi.exe has stopped working

there he sits red as a tomato with Mc sleeping on his shoulder, the queue in front of him starts to pack up and move as the shop gets ready to open up, his Switch display is showing the game over screen, his mind feels fogged over and he has no idea how to react now

Mc just fell asleep and Levi feels guilty to wake them...but they have to move...

"H-hey Mc? T-the line i-is moving? Wake up....please..." his attempts are way to quiet for you to hear and even as he gently shakes your shoulder you do not wake, leaving Levi quiet in a dilemma

"N-no other choice..." he says as he packs up the stuff alone, leaving only you sitting on the cold floor...he can't just leave you here..

Levi turns into his demon form, his hands shaking and eyes flitting across your from and over the crowd of other demons, before he carefully lifts you into his arm, his tail wrapping around you as well for more stabilization, so he has one hand free to carry his shopping bag later

he never bought something faster than that day, he got his figurine and even bought you some anime merch he knew you had stated to like, all while feeling like he was running the worst fever of his life and receiving stares, giggles and smug smiles from way too may people, that was enough attention for at least a century for Levi...but he did like holding you in his arms

"This is not fair! I have to deal with all the embarrassment while you sleep...but I guess it's okay if it's for you..."

Satan:

Satans last anger fit had caused way more damage than usually, it had taken place in the library when Mammon had tried to steal a very rare book about spells, to sell it after he found out how rare it actually is...now that lead to Satan throwing down and emptying almost all bookshelves and kicking Mammon through the room

While Mammon was strung upside down from the ceiling, Satan was forced to clean up the library alone, but you had pity on him as there were quite a lot to clean up, if Lucifer doesn't find out you helped there will be no consequences

Satans opinion about you helping was split, first of all he was really thankful for the help even though he was at fault for the chaos, having to clean up all alone was a bit much, but on second thought Satan was worried that you tried to go against Lucifers orders, he's proud of you for defying his eldest brother but also feels like it's a stupid idea

but you have made your mind up and so while Satan repairs and stands up the shelves, you begin to put the books in, you might not know the exact way they stood like Satan, but for now getting them off the floor is the priority

there aren't many words spoken as you silently work away, only once in a while you point out a book which got a bit more damage, the cover hanging off loosely or a few pages ripped out, you two decide depending on the damage if it can be fixed or not

every now and then Satan asks you to hold a piece of a shelf together while he fixes it, he is surprisingly fast and knows exactly how to repair it...just as if he had to do it more than once in a while...

"Oh Mc? Can you give me the screwdriver? No no that one, the one with the cross head is what I need..." you had no idea there were so many different tools, and wouldn't be the slotted one sufficient if you just angled it right? Satan just laughs and let's you try it for yourself, only for you to fail, he then shows you how to do it correctly guiding you through fixing your first shelf

"The last shelf is standing again, I'll help you with the book now." Satan pointed out, a small ray of hope now that only the books were left, you didn't reply, which honestly wasn't really necessary, but a small affirming noise would have been nice, so Satan tries to keep the 'conversation' going, while he works on the books with his back turned to you

"...you're still ignoring me? Are you angry at me for making such a mess? You know you didn't have to help...you can go, no need to act like all high and mighty!" he was getting angry again, yes he did make a mess, but he didn't do anything to you! Had he? He couldn't remember, but humans might interpret actions and words differently…he didn't want you to be mad at him, and neither did he want to get angry at you, but with you ignoring him it became quite difficult to keep his voice low

having enough and wanting to make up before it gets worse, he makes his way over to you, who was leaning against a shelf with a book in your hand

as he sits down next to you and turns your body to him through a guiding hand on your shoulder, he startles, you fell asleep in a sitting position? That sounds more like something Belphie would do...Isn't that uncomfortable?

You must have been exhausted after filling up three shelves of books and fell asleep midway on your fourth shelf, Satan chuckles amused and relieved you aren't mad at him but simply sleeping

He picks you up and brings you to your room where he lies you down in your bed, covering you with the blanket and hesitantly stroking your hair before going back to cleaning up the library

"Thank you for being so patient with me and helping me! You can rest now and I'll make it up to you later!"

Bonus: he will most definitely take you out on a date of your choice, even if he doesn't enjoy the idea as much as you

Asmodeus:

Asmo had taken you out shopping, as he claimed his wardrobe was not having the right clothes anymore so he had to get new ones fast

he had dragged you through town for the whole day and you two only returned home late in the afternoon, you completely exhausted and ready to drop in your bed, while Asmo while being slightly tired, still insisted on putting on all the clothes and showing them off to you and his followers on Devilgram

he entrusted you with his D.D.D to take some nice amazing shots of him to gain even more followers, though that seemed impossible as it already felt as if the whole population of hell was already subscribed to his account

but as long as all you had to do was hold the D.D.D up and click the screen for a picture, you were fine, you sat down on Asmos bed trying not to disturb the bags of clothes that lay there as well

Asmos screen lit up nearly every few seconds with a new message, how did this man not get crazy with all the message?! And he must check them all, because whenever you write him, he is on and writing back instantly...maybe you should steal his D.D.D from time to time to get him away from it...

While Asmo was changing into new clothes in the bathroom, you could hear him humming a happy tune, clearly in his element and enjoying his time, which made you happy as well, but the exhaustion was still plaguing you and the bed felt unbelievably comfy and on top of that the humming of Asmo was slowly lulling you into sleep

"Oooh Mc~ I especially like this top! Just look how nicely it fits, it shows of my best parts, which are all of me haha...hey Mc?~ Look at me!" Asmo pouted as you stayed put on his bed, and climbed over your form, already expecting you to start pushing him off, only to get concerned when you don't

then he sees your eyes are closed and you seem to be peacefully asleep, he instantly coos at your sweet sleeping expression, the back of his hand caresses you cheeks softly, but you don't react much besides moving a bit into am ore comfy position

Asmo backs off and begins to put down his bags, then he tucks you under his covers and climbs right in with you, pulling you close so that you lie on his chest, his arms encircling you to keep you put

the pictures for Devilgram are forgotten for now, they're not running away anyway, you two can continue another time, but for a beauty nap sounds good

"Oh Mc! You look so cute when you're sleeping...next time tell me you need a break, I'm happy to cuddle you while you're recovering!"

Beelzebub:

you had decided to stay a bit longer at RAD today, because you still had something to discuss with one of the teacher, as well as doing some research for an essay that was due next week

most of the brothers had already left for home or different work related activities, except Beel who had Fangol practice today after school, and as you were not allowed to walk around the Devildom without someone accompanying you for protection, all that was left for you was to wait for Beel to finish his practice, which usually took place for about two hours

you sat down on one of the benches at the side of the field, waving to Beel so he knew you where you were and could keep an eye on you

you worked away on your homework and checked you D.D.D from time to time replying to all the messages you got

the practice seemed to be still not finished even after two hours had passed and you were getting a bit tired from sitting around, but you also couldn't just wander off, Beel might start worry...plus the risk of running into a less friendly demon was still a thing

so you shifted from one position into another not really being able to get comfortable on the hard wooden bench

the ground seemed to be comfier with every minute passing, and so you lay down ignoring the weird looks of the team and trainers, you're body simply wasn't made to sit on this bench longer than necessary

"Here you can wrap yourself in this...it's getting cold. Training is almost over, just hold out a few more minutes!" Beel came over and gave you his jacket and you quickly put it on revelling in his warmth

but here is the problem the jacket made you feel so comfortable that you fell asleep, right on the floor next to a few dozen demons

"We're finished! I'm hungry, let's go get something to eat, any wishes what you want?" Beel was packing his stuff and rambling on about how he could eat at least one year worth of food, training having starved him quite a lot

but when you didn't respond he grew worried and kneeled down next to you, gently resting his hand on your side, he simply laughed when he saw you fell asleep, he is used to it due to Belphie, so he carefully picks you up and carries you home, deciding to order food once there

just Beel giving you a piggy back home, softly smiling to himself and being happy you've come to be so at ease around demons..still at bit worried, but he'll protect you, no worries

"I'll stay by your side until you wake up...and then we can eat lots of good food...please just don't sleep too long or I might have to eat before you wake up."

Belphegor:

so there he was, sleeping, on your bed, in your room, without an invitation...and honestly it wasn't even a surprise anymore, coming home after a work shift at Hell's Kitchen and just wanting to sleep, but no there was no space for you on the bed

I have no idea how, but he manages to occupy the whole bed, and hog blanket and pillows to himself as well

if only he was easy to wake, just to tell him to move over, but no he wouldn't wake up unless you pulled the big guns and nobody wants to face the consequences after one dumped water bottle on his head, it would be a hundred times easier and less dangerous to wake Satan

but you were really tired and just wanted to cuddle into your bed, maybe you could maneuver him with a bit strength..actually forget that...you could always call Beel for help to carry him to his own bed, but by the way he was clinging to your blanket and pillows, that would only end in a empty mattress to sleep on and then you would get cold...

honestly it was his own fault at this point you had threatened him to do it, but he had just laughed it off...

and so you climbed into bed and lay down on top of him, wrapping your arms around him so that you would get at least his body warmth if not the blanket

to your surprise he didn't wake up and he was really comfy, his rhythmic breathing was really relaxing and it didn't take you long to fall asleep

after some time Belphie wakes up with you wrapped around him, he quickly realises that you're asleep, but is stunned nonetheless that you would actually have the guts to sleep on top of him with the risk of waking him up in a bad mood

"That's quite bold of you! You didn't think I will let that slip though, right?" he chuckles amused but shifts nonetheless to make room for you, his embrace is tight, and he hopes just a little bit that you wake up, so he can tease you, but you stay asleep looking content with your new position

"I suppose I could go for another nap...now that I have my favourite pillow with me, sleeping will be even better!" he cuddles you, just like the blanket and pillows...which you don't get any of by the way, but you get Belphie so that's even better, he's gonna keep you warm, don't worry

"You're such a odd human...no idea why I like you...anyway just stay here in my arms and sleep!"

Diavolo:

yesterday was amazing, Dia had taken you to a trip in the human world and you had showed him around, visiting as many places as you two could

what you didn't know was that he had actually sneaked out of the castle to spend time with you

well you didn't know until a very angry Barbatos opened a portal right in front of you two and started lecturing Dia for at least one hour

you felt a bit guilty that you were the indirect cause of this and quickly apologised to him promising to make it up

so here you were in Dias office, overseeing him to do his work so he couldn't sneak out again and Barb didn't have to find him

after all if the reason for sneaking out was right in his room then he had no reason to go, besides the intimidating amount of work left on his desk after yesterdays excurse

Dia worked concentrated for most of the time, only now and then staring out of the window or talking to you

"Isn't it boring to watch me work? I can work alone, I promise to run away...or else Barbatos might get a heart attack from shock of seeing me gone again" he chuckled while signing another document

you reassured you didn't mind sitting next to him in silence, you had a good book borrowed from Satan, tea and cookies from Barbatos and you could stare at Diavolo all day long

your last statement made Dia flush red quite quickly and he tried to distract himself with his work, he slouched over in his chair trying to escape your gaze, but you were having none of it

your arms snaked around his waist and your head came to lean on his shoulder, Dia stiffened not sure how to react he liked the feeling of you hugging him, but now he was scared to move too much as not to disturb you or accidentally hit you with his elbow while trying to write

after a few more documents his eyes flit over to your face, cheek squished against his shoulder, eyes closed and breathing calmly

"Mc? Are.. are you sleeping?" he is whispering trying not to be too loud in case you are truly sleeping, and that you are! A soft smile graces his lips, nobody was ever this relaxed around him, he is proud and wants you to stay asleep as long as possible

he keeps working until Barbatos knocks on the door, coming in and announcing to have brought more tea, only to stop when he sees the sight in front him, Mc holding onto Dia, head resting on his shoulder and sleeping, while Dia put his finger to his lips to tell him not to be too loud

you sleep for an hour or so until Dia really has to move, apologising multiple times for having to wake you

"I'm glad you're able to relax around me, please continue to be yourself! My shoulder is always there for you to nap!"

Barbatos:

"You liked the cake that much? I'm flattered! I could teach you how to make it if you'd like?"

you had been over for tea at the castle and the chocolate cake with black-as-hell cherries was the best cake you've ever ate, it was bittersweet in taste not too much sweetness and not too much bitterness, paired with the melting chocolate, you could have eaten the whole cake on your own

you doubt you'd be able to get the same ingredients in the human realm but maybe you could find similar ones, so you were more than willing to learn with Barbatos

and so you arranged to meet the next Sunday afternoon for a baking session

Barb let you into the castle already awaiting you at the door even though you were early

you two worked on the cake, Barb explaining each step carefully, even for the easiest steps he takes his time to explain and help you, being very patient with you no matter how much you screw up

"Next we have to melt the chocolate in a pot. Wait a minute I turn on the stove for you" while you put the chocolate pieces into a pot, Barb moves behind you and turns on the stove, his arms brushing your sides, yet he stays fully focused, what can't be said for you

the cake is put together quickly with you two working together and while it bakes in the oven and the chocolate is meting, you two go ahead and start cutting and coring the rest of the cherries to decorate the cake later

"Here have a taste, they're bitter at first but the aftertaste is nicely sweet!" He holds out a cored cherry for you to taste and eats one himself, smiling gently at you while you sniff at the fruit first, which smells exactly like a normal human world cherry

the only thing left to do is wait for the cake so you two sit down for some tea at a small table in the kitchen, talking about the week, when Diavolo calls for Barb and he quickly excuses himself to help the prince out

the sweet aroma of the baking cake, the warmth of the tea and the very comfy chair you're sitting in, are a dangerous combination making you fall asleep

as Barb returns he sees you with your head lying on your folded arms on the table, clearly asleep, Barb decides to eave you there while cleans the kitchen and checks on the cake half an hour later

"Mc? The cake is ready to be decorated do you want sleep or do you want to help me?" somewhat embarrassed you stand up and help him with the decorations , Barb acts if nothing happened but he can't help but think about your gentle expression while you slept

"Next time I'll let you sleep longer... I wouldn't mind if you visited me for your naps if that meant I could see you more often."

Solomon:

learning magic was many things: exciting, frustrating, dangerous, fun...but sometimes it also was unbelievable boring

like when you think about magic, you think about casting charms, curses, making potions and all that stuff, but nobody told you that beforehand you have to learn everything about the new spell or etc in theory!

so here you were sitting with Solomon as he rambled on about how while the shrinking charm could have really bad side effects if casted wrong, sure it was important to know how to cast it correctly but did you really have to listen on to everything that might go wrong?

listening to all this just make you feel less confident, I mean technically you were practicing with a tea cup to shrink, so shrinking only a part of it wouldn't be too bad of a side effect, but what if you used too much pressure and made the cup explode and you'd hurt Solomon in the process?!

You took a deep breath, which made Solomon stop talking as he looked at you questioningly

"Anything wrong? Already giving up? Is it toom much?" his light teasing was meant to make you relax, but all you could do was give a small, stiff smile, signalling for him to continue and he did, after messing up your hair with his hand giving you a huge grin, but he talked slower now giving you more glances to make sure you were still alright

"How about a small break? I'll make us some tea..." he stood up and made some tea...in a beaker over a Bunsen burner..this weirdo..

the tea didn't taste weird though, it was just normal tea, even though the preparation would have made Barbatos get a stroke

after the break he was back to full tutor mode and your concentration slipped with each new word, until your head falls down, your chin resting on your chest comfortably, you had fallen asleep right before him

Solomon notices instantly that you're asleep and starts laughing so loud that you wake up again, he is crying and gasping for breath at your flustered state and you hit for good measurement on the arm

"Am I that boring? Fine if you're tired you can rest on my bed. I'll read you a bedtime spell book..." he doesn't stop laughing and teases you endlessly, you better be on your toes around him, you won't be hearing the end of this

"Hey sleepyhead? Do you want me to read you into boredom? I won't take pictures of your sleeping and drooling self...No promises made though..."

Simeon:

He was staring blankly at his manuscript, writers block had been plaguing him for quite some while now, but the new chapter had to be sent to the company until next week

you had offered to help him out maybe you could give him some ideas, so he invited you over and let you read the latest chapter so you'd know what had happened

you sat in his room brainstorming ideas on a small extra sheet trying your best to help Simeon out who looked quite lost

"Do you think that would work? Doesn't if feel a bit too rushed? But maybe if we combined these two ideas together..." he seemed to had found something and began to roughly write up a plan for his further writings

he continuously asked you questions about the smallest details, it was kind of cute that he relied so much on you, he probably could have done the rest himself as well, yet he kept involving you into the whole process

while his one hand scribbled like a madman, his other rested on your arm occasionally lightly squeezing it, reminding you that he didn't forget about you

you slowly fell asleep, the sounds of each others breathing, the pen scratching over paper and the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall, the inly sounds to be heard

"What about this part? How do you think it could go from here?...Mc?" he wasted no time in making sure you were lying comfortably, putting his cloak over your form and still squeezing your arm from time to time while he continued to write late into the night

only then did he notice, the brothers might worry about your absence, should he wake and bring you home? or should he let you sleep here and inform Lucifer about your safety? but the sofa you were currently sitting on, would make your back hurt if you continued to sleep here

it took him some time debating with himself, but came to the conclusion to carry you to his bed and tuck you in, giving you a forehead kiss like he was used to with Luke, only to realise what he'd done and quickly scrambling away in embarrassment to give Lucifer a quick call about the situation

"Have sweet dreams my lamb! I'll be guarding you in any realm, even the dream realm!"

Luke:

Luke, Simeon and you were having a small movie evening, watching some old Disney movies

Simeon didn't allow you to watch something else to protect Luke, but you didn't mind too much

you were having some freshly made desserts by Luke who had worked on them the whole day, as he was very excited for your meetup

you watched a few movies, talking, laughing and joking together, just having fun

"Huh? They called the mean cat Lucifer? Hahah how fitting, he kind of even looks like the real Lucifer! Ah, don't tell him that though!" Luke really liked to compare the different characters to the people he knows, but when there actually were a cat called Lucifer he was quite surprised...who would want their cute pet to be called like a demon? Why not call them angel names? Michael is a pretty cool name...

over the time you became more and more tired and Simeon seemed to notice, suggesting on stopping for today and continuing another time, but Luke convinced you two of one more movie

unfortunately you didn't last the final movie and fell asleep cuddled underneath the blanket between Simeon and Luke

Luke took some time to notice, only seeing it when he turned to you wanting to tell you his opinion about the last scene

"Oh! Simeon... Mc fell asleep..." Simeon already knew, as you had fallen onto his shoulder, not that he minded, he just told Luke to stay quiet and watch the rest of the movie

Luke cuddled up to you to keep you warm and occasionally glanced at you to make sure you were okay, and there cuddled next to you he as well fell asleep...trapping Simeon underneath your combined weight, making it impossible for Simeon to get out of the bed, so you three just slept together that night

"Don't worry Mc! I'll keep all demons away from you while you sleep!"

#obey me headcanons #obey me #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me shall we date #headcanon

[darling-i-read-it]

Peace

Karl Heisenberg x reader, Ethan Winters and the other Lords x platonic!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR RE8!!, insinuations to smut, talks about having children

Author’s Note: this is so wacky and i just now finished it. Its just for fun and an excuse to write domestic resident evil 8 characters. I had a blast doing it. Also it was loosely influenced by @/nerdymixedpan on tiktok who makes this kind of AU stuff! Highly recommend their tiktoks

Summary: An AU where Ethan didn’t kill any of the Lords and was convinced to stay, leave Mia (the crazy chick who tried to kill him and also worked for a sketchy company prior to that) and raise Rose with the Lords and the reader.

Genre: fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You were walking around Dimitrescu castle, as you often did. You hopped between places when you could. You always went to sleep at the Heisenberg factory but you did get along well with the other Lords and liked to pay them a visit when you could.

It was actually Cassandra who asked for your presence. You had heard of course that the village was being attacked but you didn’t mind too much about that at the moment. Cassandra wanted you over at the castle, to try and talk some sense into Ethan Winters.

You had heard of Ethan at that point, of course. Everyone had. The father of the infamous Rose. But you didn’t think you would get to meet him.

So you came over there and knocked on Alcinas bedroom door. She swung it open, gazing down at you. She was no longer surprised when she came over and usually was quite pleased to have someone to talk to. Rarely did she speak to people outside her daughters and Mother Miranda and she had a responsibility to those people. She didn’t have a responsibility to you.

“What brings you along here? We’re a bit busy. I assume you’ve heard Ethan WInters has escaped Heisenbergs grasp.” You let out a huff of air and nodded.

“Yes, he was not pleased when he came back home. Cassandra called, said I should try and talk to him.”

“Cassandra wants him murdered.”

“Maybe she has some sympathy because of the baby,” you suggested. You gestured to the large castle. “Any idea where I can find him?” She shook her head, exasperated.

“If I had any idea, don’t you think I would have gone to find him already?” You nodded stiffly.

“I will look for him myself then. If you find a short person not in robes, double check to make sure it’s not me before you claw them,” you told her. She gave you a small smirk before you turned around and started back down the stairs.

You had free reign of the castle and had learned its insides and outs at this point. On occasion the girls asked you to stay over and hang out for a little while longer so you had slept there as well.

You started to check a couple of the rooms, walking around haphazardly. It was when you came to a room on the main floor that you found the Duke. He sat there and raised his eyebrows at the sight of you.

“You aren’t Ethan Winters,” he said.

“Ah so you’ve seen him. Care to point me in the right direction?” Duke shrugged a bit.

“He’ll be here eventually if you care to wait.” You let out a sigh. You could go searching but it was a sure bet that he will return to this spot. You pulled up a chair from the table there.

“Alright then. You selling any good food?”

=====

Ethan came running into the room as you were enjoying a nice dish. You stood up quickly, putting your dish down on the table. He had his gun up but dropped it at the sight of you.

“Are you a villager? Do you need help getting out?” he asked, clearly out of breath. You scoffed and shook your head.

“No, no. I’m here to talk to you Ethan.” He was still clearly frazzled. You grabbed your dish and held it up to him. “Care for some food?” you asked, hopefully as a peacemaker. He looked between you and the food and saw that you at least looked human.

He put his gun in his holster and took the food from you.

“Alright. What do you want to talk to me about?” he asked, sitting down at the table. “Who are you anyway?”

“This is Karl Heisenberg's pet,” said the Duke. You scoffed.

“Shush up, you’re not helping.” You sat beside Ethan. “Ethan, I know where Rose is.”

“You know where Rose is?! Where is she?!”

“Shush, let me finish.” You cleared your throat. “This whole thing, all of it, is about Mother Miranda. She took the place of Mia to try and take Rose away. She believes Rose will be a good vessel. Ethan, Lady Dimitrescu, Karl, none of the Lords are your enemy. It’s just Mother Miranda.”

“Well it looks like everyone is trying to kill me.” You shook your head.

“If you helped them kill Mother Miranda, they will let you keep Rose. In fact, I have it on good authority that most of them would love to help take care of her.” Ethan stared at you for a minute and leaned back. He had some food on his chin. You handed him a napkin and he took it gratefully. “And Ethan...Mia told Mother Miranda that you...you’re not exactly human.”

His eyes went wide.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re mold Ethan.” He was silent for a very long time. Everything raced through his head. Why would he want to stay here? Granted the castle was nice...and these people did know how to save Rose...it would protect him from anything else Chris had planned that he didn’t know about.

And apparently, Mia had been keeping this secret for God knows how long.

It all seemed like too much for him.

“Take a second to take that in. I don’t want to rush you but I have to talk to the daughters about it.”

“You swear they’ll help me with Rose?”

“No one wants her to die, Ethan. We want Mother Miranda gone.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m human. I’m not mold, I’m not an experiment. Just human. If I could live a happy life here, why can’t you and Rose?”

That made sense. If anything made sense, that did. Ethan took a deep breath.

“Fine. What do you need me to do?”

======

Some Time After The Death of Mother Miranda

“Have you seen Rose? She’s getting bigger everyday.” Karl was speaking when he walked into your room. You were sitting on the bed, flipping through a book. You looked up at him, a teasing smile on your face.

“What, now that you’ve killed Mother Miranda you’ve moved on to caring about the village baby?” you questioned, putting your hand in your palm. He gave you a look but you ignored him.

“You act as though you don’t want a baby every time you see her,” he commented. You scoffed.

“And it always ends up being pretty pleasurable for you doesn’t it?” You grabbed his hand and pushed him down on the bed so that he was sitting on the edge. You wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“You’re damn right.” He brought your hand up to kiss it. “Ethan’s going to Moreaus today, to swim around with Rose. He invited you,” Karl said. You raised an eyebrow.

“Did he invite me or do you want a nice night again?” He kissed your hand again and then kissed your wrist.

“You won’t know until you get there.”

“Fair point my love, fair point.” You kissed his cheek and got up. “I have lunch with Donna but I’ll try and catch up with Ethan afterwards. I may make it, I may not.” You slid off the bed. “Guess you’ll just have to wait to find out.”

He wanted to get up and drag you back but you were already walking out the door.

====

Ethan was by the water, holding Rose in his lap. She was truly getting bigger every day. Moreau was standing beside them, dry now. Ethan’s hair was damp. They must have just gotten done swimming.

“Good of you to join us,” Ethan said as you walked over.

“Salvatore, Ethan…” You leaned over Ethan to look Rose in the eyes. “Little Rosey. How was swimming you guys? Sorry it took so long, I was with Donna and lunch went overtime.” You sat down beside them.

“Rose was perfect,” Moreau said. “She’s a quick learner!” You nodded, looking over at her. You brought your finger up to her and she latched onto it.

“I believe it,” you said. Ethan locked eyes with you.

“I wanted you to come because I heard that Chris was trying to get into the factory.” You raised an eyebrow. You wrapped your arms around your knees and leaned against them.

“He’s still trying to get in here? I thought once Miranda was killed he would leave us alone.” Ethan shook his head.

“Apparently he wants Rose because she’s an asset now,” he muttered but he was looking down at his daughter who was reaching up to his face. He sighed. “She’s getting hungry.”

“You should probably take her back to the castle then.” That was where Ethan usually slept with her. He figured it would be easiest to keep Rose safe with four vampires around at all time that adored her.

“Yes my sister will be wondering where you are,” Moreau said. You nodded in agreement.

“I’ll tell Karl about Chris although I don’t think he’ll get past the Lycans. Then he has to worry about the machines that Karl makes and those are a hassle too. Not the brightest, but a hassle,” you admitted, standing. “I’ll walk you back.” Ethan nodded. You turned to Moreau. “I’ll see you later as well. Try to catch up on the TV show we were watching, I don’t wanna miss anything.”

“I will, of course!” he exclaimed. You smiled and then turned back to walk with Ethan and Rose back up to the Castle. You got into the boat.

“Can you hold her while I steer?” Ethan asked. You nodded and took Rose from him, cradling her in your arms. She was looking around, ever the well behaved child. Ethan started the boat and then you were off.

There was a few minutes of silence as he started to catch his bearings and you played with Rose. You and Ethan had grown close over the weeks he had lived there. He rarely knew peace and didn’t trust it that much but you always assured him that it would be alright.

“I was thinking of maybe starting to rebuild the village,” you said, looking up at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“By yourself?” You scoffed.

“No, obviously not. I’d get the help of everyone. Donna and Angie already wanna pitch in and I figure I could guilt trip Karl into helping, with his whole telepathy thing. I think it could be a fun project. Plus if you accidentally lose a hand you can put it right back on.”

He nudged you, laughing.

“I don’t think it’s a bad plan but who will live there?”

“Us maybe. Separate housing of course but it could be a home away from the Lords. And any villagers left stragglers around.”

“I don’t think there are any left,” he told you.

“Well have you checked?” He was silent. “Exactly. Rose may want a place for herself one day, who knows.” You looked back down at her. She was reaching up to play with your ear.

“She’ll need friends her own age one day,” he said, solemnly.

“We’ll see to that when it comes.” He looked back at you.

“Have you and Heisenberg ever talked about kids?” he teased. You laughed.

“We have our hands full with Rose and the thousands of metal children he makes on the daily,” you admitted. You glanced down at Rose again. “But maybe one day. He seems to be hinting at it and I don’t know...maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”

Ethan glanced back at you and then quickly looked away. You looked happy, curious, wondering.

“If it’s any help...I’m glad I had her. Even if she got me into this whole mess,” he said laughing a bit. You smiled up at him as he pulled into the dock.

“You want a little Heisenberg running around?” Ethan scoffed.

“I wouldn’t mind a little you. Rose could have a friend.” He got out of the boat and you handed him Rose. You got out as well.

“We’ll see. Karl may be banking on it.” You both started to walk back into town. At the castle entrance you had to part.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, if your legs still work.” You gasped, shoving him.

“You have a mouth on you Ethan Winters for living in a house with four other grown women,” you said. He laughed and went into the gate without saying anything else.

The walk back to the factory was a pleasant one. The sun was setting and the breeze was nice. Not too hot, not too cold.

You made it back to Karl in record timing. He wasn’t in the room so you went looking for him. He was in one of the work rooms, leaning over one of his new inventions. You walked up behind him and leaned over the head of the machinery.

“Hey there kitten! Back up, it might come alive at any second,” he muttered, moving you back. You nodded, stepping away from the table. He turned off his recording and turned around to look at you.

“Well how was swimming with Moreau?”

“And Rose and Ethan. I caught the tail end. She had fun though. You’re right, she is growing everyday.”

“I take it by you referencing our earlier conversation you remember how it ended.”

“I’m not doing it if this machine will come alive half way through and kill us.” Karl scoffed and took your hand.

“Up to the bedroom it is kitten!” You scoffed but let him drag you along, giggling the whole way up.

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagines #resident evil 8 imagines #resident evil village imagines #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #alcina dimitrescu #ethan winters

[lumosinlove]

Cw: mentions of drugs and mentions of past abuse

Previously On Relic Keel

Remus has started to associate sailing with Sirius Black ever since Sirius told him he watches his boat every morning. He thinks about how tired he is of knowing everything there is to know and wishes to leave the island.

Remus also starts his new job at the Hogwarts History Museum where he meets up with his friend Layla, whose family runs the museum, and whose brother, Lyall, Remus races sailboats against. On his way there, he reflects on the divide between Salazars and Godrics. He remembers Sirius at school, and how he was either celebrated or shunned with seemingly no pattern.

After their first shift at the museum, Layla takes Remus to The Lion for lunch, chastising Remus’ prejudices, and introduces him to Leo. Remus sees Leo’s rainbow bracelet and thinks about how badly he wants a boyfriend. We also learn that Luke is also gay, but that he and Remus have always been just friends.

Logan arrives at The Lion, too, is introduced, and listens in on Remus finding out a new exhibit on madness at the museum—the Lupins are known for going insane, but Remus’ mother mentioned nothing to Remus about this exhibit.

Leo learns that Logan is looking for someone (Finn). Logan reflects on a sleepy feeling that seemed to go away with his escape from the orphanage. Leo offers Logan a job, if he wants, and also tells him about The Voldemort.

The Voldemort is a boat from the eighteenth century that is said to have sank in The Cradle, a U shaped arrangement of islands just off of Hogwarts Southern Coast. Leo’s dad was close to finding it. Leo feels like he should want to find it, too, for his lost father.

Saint and Sirius arrive. Saint and Logan see each other for the first time in almost ten years, since Saint escaped when he was seven. Logan tells him that Finn got him out and Saint finds out that Logan sells Crucio.

Pascal, who owns the Lion with his wife Celeste, is introduced. He’s very close with Saint and Sirius, and he apparently knew Leo’s father before he went missing at sea. Saint learns that Logan is staying with Leo.

James and Remus arrive, looking for Dorcas who Thomas said might be selling Crucio to Luke. They’d like her to stop and are willing to pay. Logan takes advantage of this and, although he doesn’t sell to Luke, cons James out of 200 bucks.

Saint learns that Logan has gotten tangled up with The Carrows, the more dangerous of the two Crucio dealers, the other, safer one being Kasey Winter, in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out. Instead, he’s in their debt for using their Crucio himself.

Logan slips and calls Saint Bash. Saint refuses to help Logan get Finn out.

A/N: I super don’t speak Latin. And neither do my trees.

part v

Dorcas watched as Saint took his book from the floor of the back seat and flipped his sunglasses down.

“How long?” he asked. “And how do I keep getting stuck with this job?”

“Because Sirius is a better surfer than you are,” Dorcas replied. “And you know what, you can take off. Her parents are out of town for the weekend so her dad won’t be coming home or anything.”

Saint paused and raised an eyebrow. “And so I just drove you because…”

“I didn’t feel like walking?”

“Clever gal.”

Dorcas smiled. “I know.”

“Whatever, I need the car anyway.”

“What are you up to? I thought you were working at the Potters.”

“Just Sirius today,” Saint threw his book back into the rear seats. “I’ve got some detective work ahead of me.”

“Does this have anything to do with that little friend of yours that Sirius told me about?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Of course he told you.”

“You know you two can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Don’t I.”

“See you later, babe,” Dorcas opened her door.

Saint gave her a salut as she headed around towards the dug-out fence.

Marlene had her paints out and her hair up in a bun when she pushed the window up and open for Dorcas.

“Luke’s here,” she said, and rolled her eyes as she turned away.

Dorcas froze in the window frame to see Luke with his feet crossed, laying on Marlene’s bed.

“Okay,” Dorcas said. “Can he leave?”

“Hey,” Luke said. “Cousin privileges.”

“Girlfriend privileges,” Dorcas said, shutting the window behind her. “Plus, can’t you go, like, toss a ball at a net with a stick or something?”

Luke rolled his eyes—not unlike his cousin. “I’m on a rest day. Plus, I’m off the team.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dorcas raised an eyebrow.

“He’s just getting out of the house for a bit,” Marlene said with a pointed look that Dorcas understood as he’s getting away from his mother. 

“Plus,” Marlene continued. “He’s a good cover story.”

“I thought your dad wasn’t here.”

Marlene shook her head. “Came home early. Guess his newest gal pal didn’t like golf. He’s over at the club now.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Luke asked. He had reached over to the bedside table and put a bowl of what looked like mango slices onto his stomach. “With you two, I mean.”

“I am his little princess,” Marlene said dryly. “Not to be dated.”

“And a Salazar girl who lives in The Hollow?” Dorcas shook her head. “No deal.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Like that’s never happened before.”

Dorcas snorted and sat on the bed, too, stealing a few pieces of fruit. “Like you’re any better than the rest of them, Deveaux.”

“I am,” Luke said. “I don’t hate Salazars.”

“But you hate Hollows.”

Luke grinned. “I don’t hate them, either. They hate me, and what am I gonna do about their jealousy? That’s their issue.”

“God, you’re an asshole,” Dorcas sighed.

“He’s really not though,” Marlene stepped back as she regarded the painting she was working on. Luke’s face looked back out at them from the canvas. “He just likes to make-believe.”

“Could have fooled me and my friends.”

“He’s a great actor,” Marlene agreed, then stuck her tongue out at Luke. “I just happen to have known him before he learned how.”

“All right, fuck you both,” Luke grumbled, and ate another piece of mango.

“Believe me,” Dorcas said. “We’re not jealous of you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you wish you didn’t have to sell Felix to make a little more money?”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. “Like you and your money live such a great life.”

Luke looked away, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” Dorcas said. “I’d take Crucio and the friends I have over that any day.” After a moment of hesitation, she looked down and mumbled. “And by the looks of your little habit, so would you.”

“Fuck you, Meadowes,” Luke snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All right, all right,” Marlene said, tilting her head as she added color to Luke’s cheeks in her painting. “Cool it, kids. Take a chill pill. Knock it down a notch. Luke, why don’t you go get us some pizza or something? Or maybe pick up from Thomas’. I crave his nachos, holy cow. Also, tell him to come hang out later tonight, if he can.”

Luke held Dorcas’ eyes for a moment, then pushed himself up from the bed. “Pepperoni, you?”

“Pineapple and ham, thanks,” Marlene said, and smiled at Dorcas as she patted his back out the door.

“Hi,” Marlene laughed once the door closed behind him. She walked into Dorcas’ arms. She took Dorcas’ face between her hands and peppered kisses to her mouth. “How are you?”

“Worried about basically all of our friends,” Dorcas laughed. “And that one, I guess, too.”

“Tell me about it,” Marlene sighed, laying down on the bed and eating a slice of mango. Dorcas mirrored her position. “No, seriously, if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. I mean, I’ve got Luke who, one, needs to get out of his house, and two, needs someone to love, like, God, I wish he had a boyfriend. I just want him to get off this island, go to college, and meet the sweetest human in the world, you know?” Marlene sighed again, eyes far away. “He doesn’t act like he deserves that, but…it’s really his family he didn’t deserve. He’s all torn up about his dad, but his dad’s…a schemer. You know? And his mom, don’t even get me started.”

“Maybe he can still meet someone here,” Dorcas replied, and reached out to brush Marlene’s hair away from her face with a smile. “You never know. We didn’t. How long did we spend on this island without knowing each other existed?”

Marlene’s smile faltered in a way that Dorcas was beginning to recognize. It worried her.

“What?” Dorcas asked softly.

Marlene tilted her head. “Hm?”

“You keep doing that,” Dorcas said, tracing a thumb over one corner of Marlene’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marlene said. “I was just thinking about Luke. I mean, my parents sucks but at least they’re…”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “Not in jail?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I was going with that,” Marlene laughed. She scooted closer, letting Dorcas hitch her thigh over her hip, Dorcas’ thumb rubbing idly over her soft skin. “Now what are you worrying about, lover?”

“Sirius,” Dorcas began. “I don’t know he just…he’s never seemed…happy? Saint. He’s trying so hard to be happy that I know he’s not. And now there’s Logan which I think stirred up a lot of Saint Clair stuff for him. I mean, Jesus, how do we not know what’s up with that place?”

“Gods are good at not paying attention,” Marlene said solemnly.

“Saint never takes that damn cross off,” Dorcas said. “I mean, wouldn’t you want to let it go?”

“Sorry, who’s Logan? He got out? As in escaped? Like Saint did?”

Dorcas nodded. “I haven’t talked to Saint about it yet. Me and Sirius are gonna tag-team later, make him let it out.”

Marlene looked suspicious. “Good luck.”

“We have our ways,” Dorcas laughed. “And Logan…He deals. I know him a little. Not really.”

Marlene nodded, going quiet at the mention of Crucio as she always did.

“I like what it gives me,” Dorcas said gently. “Freedom, Marls. More than any other job here could. At least any job that I could get. And its from Kasey, who makes it safely. Unlike the Carrows. So—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Marlene said, and pushed herself closer. “I know. Really, I know. I’m proud of you. I just wish there wasn’t as much risk.”

“Like the police do anything about it,” Dorcas sighed, running a hand through Marlene’s hair. “They probably like the revenue it brings for the island.”

“Yeah,” Marlene sighed.

“Well,” Dorcas said. “We probably have at least twenty minutes before Deveaux returns with the pizza…”

Marlene smiled and pushed Dorcas’ hat off, leaning over her on the bed. “Oh? Twenty minutes you say?”

~

Saint parked the Jeep between two trees in an overgrow section of a Salazar road.  He knew where The Carrows lived. It was difficult to miss their house. Saint could practically smell the gold and diamonds. He felt like he smell the Crucio, too, the rubber bands and the plastic bags, and the sickly sweet powder.

There was no one outside. The whole grandiosity looked strangely deserted.

Saint reached into the rear again for the latest book he had borrowed from James. Frankenstein. Not one he hadn’t read before, but a good one none the less.

“Don’t know why you want that one,” James had said when he handed it over. They had both been hot from working in the sun—Saint on the lawn, James on his backhand. “I had to write a book report on that in, like, what, ninth grade? Oof.”

“Beluis amicitiam,” Saint had replied.

“How the fuck do you know Latin?” James had said. “You aren’t even at our school.”

“You gave me a book on Latin.”

James nodded. “Right.”

“Well?” Saint had asked. “You’re at school. What’d I say?”

James squinted one eye shut. “Beast…friends?”

Saint had laughed. “Literally, sure.”

Saint opened the book now, rolling the window down in the stuffy car. The AC was broken.

“Monsters like company,” he said aloud into the small space and settled down to wait.

~

Lily didn’t expect to find herself painting an old boat with James Potter on a Saturday afternoon, but painting she was. She dipped the fat brush into the blue paint, trying to wipe her hair out of her face without getting blue in it.

“Still doing okay over there, Lils?”

Lily looked up to see James’ head pop out over the upside-down bow.

“All good,” Lily nodded. “You?”

James smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for helping me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “Just working on my tan.”

James’ head appeared again, only this time his expression was incredulous. “We both know we both burn.”

Lily laughed. “I guess so.”

The Potter’s had their own, small beach in front of their property, and Lily dug her feet down into the sand, looking at the inviting ocean.

She felt all too awkward after their talk a few nights ago. She had been brash, and almost cruel at some points. James was—good. But she didn’t want to end up like her mother. She didn’t want to stay for someone, like her mother had for her father, and regret it, like she could tell her mother did sometimes.

And if she had wanted someone to come out into the world with her, she couldn’t have picked a worse candidate. James was a Potter, and the Potters were Hogwarts Island’s beating heart. Their money was in every part of this island. Every grain of sand, every brick. Hogwarts Academy, whose headmaster was James’ father.

If Lily loved James, she’d never escape.

And the problem was, she did love James.

“So, I was thinking about doing a movie night or something,” James said from the other side of the boat. “Put a sheet up and a projector. We could lay it all out on the lawn, or by the pool. Get some candy and popcorn and shit, invite everyone.”

Lily cleared her throat. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

James was at the front now, painting the boat’s nose. “Any suggestions or requests?”

Lily smiled. “Is it too cheesy to do Pirates of The Caribbean?”

James laughed. “Hell no. There’s no better place!”

Lily shrugged. “Then definitely that. Oh, Will Turner.”

James snorted. “Yeah, can’t say no to that.”

Lily smiled at him, and shifted closer to the other side of the bow.

“So, how’s your common-app going?” James asked. “These essays are sort of killing me. I mean, you’re staring out a window. What do you see? What the fuck kind of prompt is that? That’s what’s going to get me into college?”

Lily laughed. “Not to mention asking me why I want to go somewhere. They’re basically forcing me to make something dramatic up.”

“Right. If I’m being, you know, honest, I feel simple, and if I’m embellishing, I feel fake.”

Lily looked up at him. “Exactly. No, that’s—exactly.”

They smiled at each other, paintbrushes poised.

“I don’t know,” James sighed finally. “I’m—I’m sort of worried, Lils.”

“What about Lacrosse?” Lily asked.

James nodded. “That’s what my dad says. And, yeah, I love it, but…sometimes I wonder if it’s more that I love who I’m playing with. Luke, Remus, Thomas.”

Lily nodded, eyes flitting over his face which had gone serious and tense. “Right. No, that makes sense. But J, you’re so smart. And kind.”

James’ smile was small, but his eyes, when he looked at her, were fond. “Not as smart as you. And I can’t get a degree in kindness.”

Lily hummed, thinking. College was a sensitive topic for everyone it seemed. What was supposed to be one of the best parts of their lives was all uncertainty and vagueness. She thought of Marlene, and how she hadn’t told Dorcas about her early-decision acceptance yet. This seemed to be all goodbyes and leave-behinds.

“Sorry,” James cleared his throat. “That was a downer thing to say.”

Lily shook her head. “I’m starting to think college is just a downer thing.”

James smiled, and, even though it was something that had only been gone for a moment, Lily found that she had missed it. James was so bright. “Yeah.”

Lily knew that she was going to say goodbye to James in a year. But for the first time, she wondered how she knew, and when she had decided.

“You’re going to be amazing, Lils,” James said softly. She could tell that they were both thinking of their conversation. He looked down at her with his hazel eyes. “Really, you are.”

Lily meant to say thank you.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him. James’ body tensed, and then relaxed. His mouth opened beneath hers and she cupped his cheek, her other palm splayed on his chest. He was warm from the sunlight. He made a soft sound and tilted his head to kiss her again, hand between her shoulders. Then, he pulled back, their foreheads together. There was paint on his chest from Lily’s paintbrush. Blue, right over his heart.

“Lils,” James gasped. He wrapped a gentle hand around her wrist. “Lils, mixed messages, mixed messages…”

He was out of breath. Lily had made him that way. Her own heart was beating out of her chest.

“You’re right,” Lily breathed, and stepped away, drawing a fallen strap of her tank top up her shoulder. “You’re right, God, sorry.”

“No, it’s,” James began. “I mean, that was nice. Really nice.”

Lily sent him a wavering smile over her shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry about—” the paint. Everything.

She watched James out of the corner of her eye as he passed his hand through his hair a few times. This time, he came to stand beside her as they worked quietly.

It only took Lily a few moments to not be able to stand it any more. The feeling of him so close, of wanting him the way she did. He was gentle. He kissed in a way that made her want to melt. He had made her laugh, that night that they spent together, in between those kisses and gentle touches.

“Why did you ask me to do this with you, James?” Lily said. “I mean—aren’t you mad at me?”

James didn’t respond for a moment, but finally turned.

“What, we can’t be friends?” he asked.

“I wasn’t very nice to you the other night,” Lily said, and then groaned. “And—I mean, I feel awful about it but…you understand, don’t you?"

“I’m not here to tie you down, Lily,” James said, eyes firm behind his glasses. “If that’s what you think friends do…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re not my friend,” Lily burst out, and then covered her eyes. “I mean—you are. But you’re…”

“It’s fine, Lils,” James said. When Lily looked up, he was shaking his head and stooping to dip his brush again. “Really, let’s just…let’s paint and tan. I’ll get us some sunscreen.”

“James—”

“You kissed me and then you said we weren’t friends. Forgive me if I’d rather stay where we are than go farther or backwards into those two territories that you seem to not want.”

Lily blinked.

James glanced at her, then away. “I should probably be asking you to leave. But I don’t want to lose you. Not yet. Not now, not if you really think that’s so inevitable.”

Lily stared at him. He was looking resolutely at his work, jaw tight. He looked beautiful, even when he was sad and overwhelmed. Lily was so angry at herself.

She didn’t want to lose him, either.

She timed her paint strokes to his, and they worked beside each other quietly.

~

Saint didn’t find what he expected to find.

Instead of Logan coming up the path, Luke Deveaux passed right by his car and open window.

Luke looked down in passing, probably expecting to see an empty vehicle, and then did a double take when, instead, he found Saint sitting there, Frankenstein in one hand, balanced on the steering wheel, and the other elbow resting out the window.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said.

Luke stopped walking. He had a gray t-shirt on with a large, navy Nike swoop on it, and black running shorts. Earbuds dangled around his neck, tangled in the two fine gold chains that hung there and trailing all the way into his pocket, where Saint could see the weight of his phone. He was sweaty, as though he had run here from Godric.

“What?” Luke said.

“Bad move,” Saint replied. “Taking your hit from The Shining twins.”

Luke just stared at him. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Saint smiled. He liked Deveaux when he was caught off guard. This had never happened before.

“Well—” Luke began. “You’re here, too.”

“Not like that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You said you didn’t deal.”

“I don’t.”

“So,” Luke’s eyes flit around the Jeep’s exterior. “You just sit in junk cars and read—” Luke looked forward. “Shelley?”

Saint frowned in approval and squinted back towards the house. “You say that almost as if you’ve read it.”

“I have.”

“What, in your ninth grade book report?”

“No, with my—” Luke turned his head away, mouth clamping shut.

“I see,” Saint said after a moment. “A bit of a strange parental bonding choice, but all right.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said. “And what the fuck did you call me?”

That was when Saint spotted Logan. He sat up and unlocked the Jeep doors with a click.

“Get in,” Saint said.

Luke scoffed. “Fuck off.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that in five seconds. Get in, tweedle, or I’ll tell your mother about your candy addiction.”

To Saint’s slight surprise—he was used to people being drawn to him—that seemed to work and Luke complied, but he walked slowly, distrustfully, around the bonnet before sliding into the passenger seat.

Logan was coming up a different path, one stemming from the back of the house to what looked like a side door.

“She wouldn’t care,” Luke said as he slammed the door.

“You in my passenger seat says differently,” Saint said, and glanced at Luke’s wrist. “Nice watch.”

It was gold and glittery. It looked like it had probably been his father’s, and by no means looked like it should be worn on a run.

“Your car smells like wet dog.”

“I don’t have a dog,” Saint replied, eyes on Logan. He had knocked and was waiting now.

“I was talking about Black.”

Saint glanced at him. “You’re funny, Galileo.”

Luke just shook his head, bringing his t-shirt up to wipe his forehead. “Stop calling me tweedle—you think I’m dumb?”

Saint laughed. “No.”

“All right,” Luke put a hand on the door. “I’m getting out.”

“No,” Saint said, and grabbed Luke’s arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Stay here or you’ll blow this for both of us.”

Luke shook him off and Saint pushed his door open. He began his stride up towards the house without looking back. He wondered if Luke was a snoop. The thought made him smile.

Logan saw him when he was half-way to the door, and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands out in an effort to silently say go back.

“Hello, number ten,” Saint said, leaning beside the door. “Now, who are you waiting for?”

“Saint, don’t.”

“Look, I’m hoping it was me, and if so, your ride’s here.” Saint narrowed his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“What do you care if I’m here?”

Saint looked at Logan’s backpack, the one that was always filled with Crucio. Even at the sight of it he imagined that he could feel the sweet, sleepiness that occupied his nights at the orphanage.

The door opened.

“Oh, look,” Amycus said, resting a hand on the door. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What is it you’re calling yourself these days? Saint.”

“Hello, Amy,” Saint smiled. “Nice to see you, we’re going now.”

“You can’t,” Amycus snarled. “He owes us.”

“I’m sure you haven’t lost that much,” Saint said back evenly.

“Oh yeah?” Amycus laughed. “Why don’t we take a look at green-eyes here’s subconscious. You want something bad enough, you like something enough, something feels good enough, then there comes a point where you don’t even know how far you’ve gone to get it. How much Felix have you taken, do you think, Tremblay?”

Logan just looked down.

“See?” Amycus cocked his head. “He doesn’t know. Which means I make make up whatever number I like.”

Saint nodded, thoughtful. “Interesting. What number is that?”

Amycus just grinned. “Your friend here will know when I tell him.”

“Bullshit,” Logan snapped, and Saint held up a hand.

“We’re going now, and you know what?” Saint leaned in. “You don’t know shit about what he wants.”

“Come back without your handler, Tremblay,” Amycus called after them.

Back at the car, Saint could see Luke reading Frankenstein through the windshield.

“Who’s that?”

“Who you got your two hundred bucks for,” Saint murmured.

“What about the two hundred more you just cost me?”

“You’re welcome,” Saint said, and motioned to Luke to get out.

“And what exactly was I supposed to get out of this?” Luke said, crossing his arms.

“A chit-chat with yours truly,” Saint replied. “Logan, get in the car.”

Logan glared, but took Luke’s place in the passenger seat.

Saint slid back into the driver’s side, took Logan’s backpack from him, and slung it into the back seat.

“Oh,” Saint leaned out his window. “And I’m sure you can go right up now.”

“I’m sure I can,” Luke tossed Saint the book. “Don’t forget Potter’s book. Did you steal it, or what?”

If only he knew, Saint thought. 

“Bye, Luke,” Saint called as he turned out of the grove and down the street. He looked in his review mirror and smiled at the sight of Luke standing, framed in it. Then, he put his arm lazily on the steering wheel and let Luke’s golden watch flash in the sunlight on his wrist.

“You didn’t have to fucking—fetch me,” Logan grumbled.

“Yes, I fucking did.”

Logan turned towards him in his seat, and for a moment Saint thought he was going for his backpack, but Logan just looked at him.

“Look,” Logan said.

“I’m driving.”

Logan ignored him.

“There’s a treasure,” Logan said instead. “Leo told me about it. He thinks his dad knows where it is—The Cradle? Look, I—If we can get it—”

“Oh, good,” Saint sighed. “He sells Crucio and he’s a Voldemort tourist.”

Logan blinked. “You know about it?”

Saint scoffed. “Of course I know about it. Everyone knows about it, Logan.”

“Fine, but—if we can get it, then I can pay off—”

“I’m sorry, excuse me, excuse me,” Saint held up a hand, one on the wheel. The houses went from the tall mansions of Salazar to the workshop rows of Helga, to the low houses of The Hollow. “Did you or did you not just place all of your hopes of freedom on a long lost, legendary treasure.”

“Bash—Saint.”

“Answer the question.”

“It’s not my hope, it’s just an option.”

Saint just shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Come on,” Logan urged as Saint stopped the car in front of The Lion. “Isn’t there something you want? Something that much gold could get you?”

“Come to think of it, there isn’t that much I want, no.”

Logan paused, and then said, “Then, is there something you hate?”

When Saint didn’t reply for enough time, Logan took his backpack and got out of the car.

~

Sirius had dreamed about his little brother last night. Only, he had been on Wolfsbane, and Regulus had been on shore. There had been someone else in the boat, too, someone expertly pulling the ropes and taking Sirius farther out to sea. The wind had been warm.

Sirius had woken up thinking about Remus Lupin.

His entire day was thrown off.

Sirius looked over at Saint. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Saint had his head in Dorcas’ lap and his eyes closed. “Pardon?”

Dorcas and Sirius glanced at each other. “Logan.”

“We were at Saint Clair together. What else is there to say?”

“Maybe how he got out.”

“And why,” Dorcas added, running a hand through Saint’s hair. “It might help if you talked about that place more.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sirius groaned. “Saint. Come on, that kid looked freaked talking to you and then he bolted. What’s up?”

Saint sighed, his face opening up into a rare moment of softer eyes, and he sat up, nearly facing away from the both of them.

Sirius listened to the crickets outside. Before, he had just wanted to know about the orphanage. Now, he wanted Saint to not have to keep it all inside.

“When I arrived when I was five, Logan and Finn were already there,” Saint said finally. “And its not like its this horrible place. We have beds and food and we go to school together. We have friends. But we’re also locked away. The nuns are strict. The punishments are old-fashioned. A slap. A few days in solitude. The problem is…”

Sirius got up from his perch on the window and sat beside Saint on the ratty old couch they had dragged in. Saint didn’t look at him, but let him and Dorcas lay gentle hands on him, Dorcas’ on his back, Sirius’ one of his crossed ankles.

“I watched kids turn eighteen,” Saint said, voice steely. “And they’d be packing their bags and then—unpacking them.”

“They,” Dorcas began. “You mean they decided to stay?”

Saint just shook his head slowly. “I still haven't completely figured it out. I think—maybe Crucio has something to do with it. It’s the only thing I can think of that would make them stay. I keep having this—this memory of being so tired at night. And these dreams.”

“The plant Crucio is made out of has Melatonin in it,” Dorcas said, brow creased. “It influences the dreaming. The hallucinations.”

“So, what?” Sirius asked. “They stay for Crucio, you think?”

“They work some,” Saint said. “Around the island. But, yeah. They stay.”

“You think they’re bringing money back?” Dorcas asked gently. “To the orphanage?”

Saint shrugged. “I told you. I haven’t completely figured it out. But I’d rather figure it out from the outside. Even when I was seven, I knew something was wrong. But I was older when I arrived. Finn and Logan had been there since they were too young to recognize something like that. They didn’t know anything else.”

“And…you do?” Sirius asked faintly. Saint had never brought up remembering anything about his prior life, his family.

Saint laughed faintly and got up. “Who knows. That’s the thing about memories, right? We tend to make them worse, or make them better.” Sirius watched him go to the sink and turn it on and off. He opened the refrigerator and then closed it. Finally, he stilled.

“But I hate them,” Saint said, almost to himself. “I hate them for making anything feel real.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond when Dorcas’ phone lit up with a loud ping.

She picked it up. “From Marlene. Apparently we’re invited to a movie night at Potter’s house.”

“Of course we are,” Sirius sighed, and got up and wrapped his arms around Saint from behind. “What do you feel like?”

Saint looked at him over his shoulder. “Well, how could I ever pass that up?”

~

When Logan didn’t find Leo at The Lion, he went to the Knut’s workshop instead. He’d been in there a handful of times now. It was a crowded room, walls-to-ceiling tools and cupboards that organized different found objects. Sea-glass and shards of blue china. There was large glass jars of things like compasses or pieces of weather vanes hanging by woven rope plant holders from the ceiling. There was a forge that was cool now, and there was a long work bench.

He found Leo on the work bench with the garage door open to the street, shirtless and welding something together.

“Oh,” Logan said instead of announcing himself.

Leo looked up, then back down, sparks flying around him. “Hey, what’s up?”

Logan walked a few steps inside and set his backpack—which was still empty—down.

“I want to help you,” he said.

The sparks stopped and Leo pushed his welding mask up. He was sweaty, his cheeks flushed from the heat. “What? With this?”

Logan rolled his eyes and walked in to straddle the other end of the work bench. “The treasure. We need to find the treasure. Think how rich we’d be.”

Leo stared at him for a long moment, then took his mask off and set his equipment down. For a moment, his face looked thunderous. Logan thought he was about to tell him to get out, but the storm dissipated.

“This isn’t a joke to me,” Leo said evenly after another pause. “And it’s not some greedy game, either. That’s not why my dad looked for things like this. He loved history.”

Logan blinked. “You—you don’t want the money?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. What do you think the finder gets?”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying don’t make me regret telling you. I’m saying my dad was never one to just pawn things off. He wanted things like that on display, for people to learn from.”

“How very, very noble and grand,” came another voice, and they both looked up to see Saint standing there. He had changed since the last time Logan had seen him. He was wearing a t-shirt that said New Orleans Saints.

“Saint?” Leo said.

“Hi there,” Saint gave a little salute. “I have a movie night to go to, apparently, a nice little godly sleepover, but I thought I’d stop by.”

“What are you doing…” Logan began warily.

“Well, come to think of it, there is something I hate.”

Leo tilted his head. “What is he talking about?”

“Not to mention,” Saint continued, and touched the bottom of the hanging compasses. He studied one, then looked at them and grinned.

“I do like gold,” Saint said.

#relic keel #relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #saint #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara #lelo #Luke deveaux #Marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #dorlene #James potter #lily evans #jily #Harry Potter au

[apocalypseornaw]

Love Finds You

For the square "Arranged Marriage" on @girl-next-door-writes bingo

Mafia (ish) AU. Warnings are cursing, angst, John trying to kill the reader, Dean killing John

Word Count: 5,343

You walked through the quiet halls hearing the echo of your boots reverberate to your own ears. Something big was happening for this place to be this quiet. It was like a tomb where normally there was a solid bustle of movement. You stopped just shy of the entrance to your uncle’s study. You felt an uneasiness but pushed it down before knocking on the heavy door. “Come in” you heard his voice carry out and knew he wasn’t alone.

You straightened your jacket before pushing the door open and wasn’t at all surprised to see none other than John Winchester sitting in front of your uncle Joseph’s desk. Your eyes narrowed at the presence of the other man and you unconsciously reached to touch the gun riding at your hip and saw Joseph give the barest shake of his head “Y/N I believe you know our guest” John held his hand out but you didn’t care about the pretense of politeness you’d earned your reputation and with it had come the right to act as you saw fit so you simply folded your arms “The man whose wife was killed when his kids were young so he’s done everything in his power to stay as far away from those kids and be the poorest excuse for a father even this line of work has ever seen?” 

Joseph looked taken aback but John on the other hand had the nerve to laugh “Yeah I heard she was something and she does not disappoint” you turned your eyes to your uncle “What’s all this cloak and dagger bullshit? Why is the head of the only other family in the world that comes close to your empire sitting in your office?” “As you just said dear. The Winchesters are the only other family that comes close to ours. What better way to solidify our footing than a union between the two?” you laughed harshly, the sound sharp enough to slice through the air “I know you didn’t call me here with the nerve to propose that I have anything to do with him?” “Actually my oldest son Dean has agreed to do whatever necessary to help the family succeed” John cut in so you spun around on him “So you abandon your kids bad enough to get a reputation for it, then come here to basically plot with Joseph to sell your son off like a prize stud while I’m what? The old mare you’re breeding him to? Make a whole new crop?”

“Y/N that is enough young lady!” Joseph spoke harshly, his voice filling the area as he stood to his full height. You didn’t back down catching the look of amusement John had as you stood your ground “If you expect to marry me off to solidify an empire then I am here to tell you I expect everything to be signed over to me the moment I say I do. If I’m to agree to an arranged marriage then I’m going to fucking profit from it”  Joseph nodded “I’ve been wanting to retire as is” you turned your attention from him to John “I want to meet your son before the week’s end. My future husband and I need to have a long talk. My dear uncle has my number” He nodded “Yes ma’am” you spun around on your heel and marched out the office being sure to slam the door shut behind you.

You held up the pretense until you made it down to your car and only once you were pulling away from the curb did you break tears flowing freely. You knew your life would never truly be your own but now you didn’t even get a chance to try to fall in love, you were being forced to marry someone you’d never meant just to hold onto what your father had built and what you’d bled to keep intact.

It was three days later before your phone rang with a number you didn’t recognize. When you answered it you groaned inwardly at hearing John’s voice “Y/N? Dean wants to know if you’d like to meet today” “Name a time and place” you responded coldly. He reiterated the location and time so you agreed before hanging up. You stared at the phone then clicked the number you had saved on the speed dial. A woman didn’t get as far as you had without having people she could trust. The Banes twins were your right hand man and woman. You’d take them with you to the meeting along with Abaddon who was a bit of a loose cannon but she was loyal to you.

------

A few hours later you were riding in the passenger seat of Abaddon’s range rover with Alicia and Max sitting in the backseat going over a weapon’s check. “So let me get this right, you marry Winchester and your uncle’s part of the business is yours?” Max asked and you nodded. “Do we all get promotions?” Abaddon asked, her red hair gleaming in the sunlight and a barely restrained laugh pulling at her bright red lips.   “Oh you all will be my team that stays in the main house with me” you replied with a sharp laugh.

When she pulled the car to a stop at the iron gate you glanced up to look into the security cameras while she spoke to the monitor that she was your security detail. A few seconds later the gate swung open so she pulled in.

The property was nice, sprawling out in front of you. The garage was open and the inside looked like a classic car collection. Just from a glance you spotted a 65 Shelby, a 70 Coronet and a drop down gorgeous 67 impala. “Please tell me those belong to Dean” you muttered without meaning to earning a laugh from the interior of your vehicle.

She drove around to the front entrance and parked where a guy motioned for her to. You clocked the gun at his side before ever getting out. It was fair enough, you were carrying same as Abaddon and Alicia while Max had more blades on him than you would’ve thought possible before meeting him. “You must be Y/N” the guy greeted you the moment your feet stepped outside the range rover.

You extended your hand with a business smile “That I am. Normally I like to know who I’m talking to?” an easy smile slipped onto his face and you got the sense he was getting a feel for you even before he said “Name’s Benjamin Lafitte ma’am. Feel free to call me Benny, Dean does” You nodded and motioned to everyone in your party in turn “This is Abaddon, Alicia and Max” they all greeted each other then Benny motioned to the door “He’s waiting in the back garden. From what we’ve heard about you formal meetings isn’t really your thing” Abaddon cut her eyes at you so you rolled your eyes before saying “I appreciate a good impression being attempted”

You followed Benny through the main house admiring some of the artwork adorning the walls. It was a nice place. When he stepped to the side to open the doors leading into the back garden a redheaded woman was standing on the other side. With a nod to her Benny made the introductions. Her name was Charlie and it earned Dean a point in your book to learn he had a few women on his team. She joined your little group as Benny led the way past two fountains, a large swimming pool and what looked to be a firing range.

Three men were standing looking out over the property at the edge of the garden. Two were clearly John’s sons while the other looked to maybe be an uncle to them. Benny whistled out and the three turned to face all of you. 

While both of the younger men were good looking your eyes were glued to the shorter of the two. He had bright green eyes that were watching you curiously and just the way he held himself was an underlying sense of control to him at all times. He was gorgeous and the smirk that slipped onto his face from your attention told you that he was well aware of that fact “You must be Y/N. I’m Dean” “Nice to meet you considering we’ll be married in a couple months” you replied with a sharp laugh. The smirk on Dean’s face spread into a grin “I’ve heard a few things about you” “Good or bad?” you asked and he shrugged “Depends on the point of view”

He introduced you to the two men standing with him. One was his younger brother Sam, the other was Bobby Singer the man who’d practically taken over raising him and Sam. Once everyone knew each other’s names Dean nodded to Benny “Call inside for some drinks for our guests while me and Y/N speak in private” his eyes had never left yours but you refused to break eye contact first.

He motioned towards a trail you saw cut through the wooded area around the property “Care to take a walk?” you cut your eyes back towards Alicia, Max and Abaddon. “Yeah those three aren’t letting me out of their sight that easily” he nodded then said “Pick someone to walk with us but you’re not in any danger here. That’s why we had no problem letting you keep your weapons” you raised an eyebrow then motioned to Max “Care to take a walk with us?” he nodded and fell in step a few feet behind you and Dean giving the privacy the two of you needed but not being too far that he couldn’t be to your side quickly if needed.

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments before you broke it by asking “Dean do you even want to marry me? I mean you clearly would have plenty of options” he scoffed and cut his eyes at you “Like you’d have trouble warming your bed up there sweetheart?” you didn’t blush easily and times like this you were glad. He continued by saying “This life is all I’ve known. Between our families no one would dare step out of line and we both have morals we stand by. Innocent people don’t get hurt by us. If marrying a beautiful woman with one hell of a reputation is the cross I must bear then I believe I have fared pretty well” You laughed in earnest at that “Dean Winchester are you trying to sweet talk me?” he grinned and christ it made your stomach flip “Maybe, is it working?” you shook your head with a grin.

He stopped walking and turned to face you with all humor gone from his eyes “I just want to say even after we’re married I won’t lay a finger on you unless you want me to. I know this isn’t ideal but I’d like to think of myself as a good man and I’d like to think I could be a good husband even in this circumstance” You tilted your head slightly as you studied him. After a moment of your silence he scratched at the scruff covering his jaw “Are you gonna say anything in return or just stare at me?” you smiled and replied “Just thinking that you really are not what I expected but in the best of ways” he nodded then glanced back where Max was twirling a knife between his fingers “Think our people are playing nice?” you nodded then said “They’ve got to get used to each other”

John and Joseph alike both had plans for announcing the engagement. Meaning that between them both they had practically planned a damn ball just for a bunch of suits to get together in one room so they could flaunt that their families would be becoming one to the rest of the world. You hated the idea of being trotted around like a show horse.

“Alicia is this damned thing straight?” you asked, turning in front of the mirror. The dress had been designed for you. The color and cut was flattering, it had a slit giving you access to the knife at your thigh not that you’d need it considering Abaddon and Max would both be wearing designer suits decked out with their weapons on display and Alicia like you had a few blades hidden under her dress as well. “Will you stop fidgeting? You look beautiful” she smiled, smoothing the dress under her hands. You spared a smile in the mirror “So you do! I love that red dress” she winked “Thank you”

A knock on the door drew both of your attention so you called out “Yes?” and heard Max ask if the two of you were ready to go downstairs. You took Alicia’s arm then opened the door. Max let out a low whistle “Well you two look amazing” “Thanks Max” you smiled and ran your fingers across the lapel of his suit “You clean up pretty well too” He grinned “Abaddon is already downstairs. Y/N your in-laws were arriving so she sent me up to retrieve you” you rolled your eyes but let him lead the way downstairs.

------

You stopped at the bottom of the stairs and spotted Dean speaking to Joseph but he trailed off mid sentence when he saw you and that smile slid onto his face. Joseph said something to him so he nodded then made his way through the crowd.

When he got in front of you and Alicia he stopped. She kissed your cheek then grabbed her brother’s arm “Come on Max let’s mingle. Y/N we’ll be close enough” you watched her go then turned to Dean with a smile “So how do I look?” he let his eyes trail over your body and you felt heat rush to your face before he finally said “You look like everyone here is going to be cussing me under their breath when they find out we’re engaged” you laughed and shook your head “There’s that sweet talking streak again” he held his hand out and when you took it he asked “Is it working yet?” you rolled your eyes playfully “No but I’ll be sure to let you know when it does”

------

For the next few hours you were close to Dean’s side. You danced with him and Sam, even Bobby asked you for a dance. Abaddon was chatting with Charlie and you spotted Max and Alicia talking with Benny and another of Dean’s people. He was a pretty decent guy, easy on the eyes and easy to be around. You could’ve gotten stuck with a lot worse.

When it got close to midnight you watched as John and Joseph walked onto the stage together. Joseph took the mic first “As most of you are aware John and myself are here to announce something” he handed the mic to John who pointed where you and Dean stood so a spotlight followed “My Oldest son Dean is engaged to marry Joseph’s niece Y/N. We couldn’t be happier and wish the kids the best in the world” Dean wrapped his arm around your waist as would be expected and whispered in your ear “Like they didn’t push us into this” you laughed lightly but to anyone else it would appear just lovers whispering sweet nothings.

For the next while you clung to Dean’s arm as group after group stopped to congratulate the two of you. You found an opening and pulled him after you towards the back exit of the hall. He waved off Benny and Abaddon following you step for step. 

When you finally crashed into the cool night air a nervous laugh fell from your lips “Y/N are you ok?” you nodded then said “I guess it’s just I never saw myself getting married even in this life knowing this was a possibility and honestly I don’t know what it is about you but I’m not as mad as I was” “I hope maybe one day we can love each other Y/N. Even if our life starts like this it doesn’t have to stay like this. Our marriage may have been their idea but I plan to wine and dine you even after you say I do” he replied and you raised an eyebrow “Is it a challenge or making the best of the situation?” you asked so he shrugged “Maybe I just like you”

The two of you sat down on a bench just outside watching the night sky. A shooting star went over head so you bumped Dean’s arm “Make a wish Winchester” he turned to face you and the close proximity made your heart flip again as he said “I could think of a wish or two” you smiled and leaned forward to let your lips gently brush against his. He returned the kiss fully and when you pulled away to catch your breath you whispered “Me too” before he pulled you into another kiss.

Weeks passed after the ball announcing your engagement and during that time a day didn’t go by that you and Dean didn’t speak or spend time together. The more you learned of him the more you started to realize that while you hadn’t picked him it was as if you had he was nearly a perfect match for you. The only thing was he wanted desperately to have his father’s approval but he was twice the man John was. You just wished he’d see it.

You’d also started to spend some time getting to know Sam since he would be your brother-in-law and learned he actually had been enrolled in college to be a lawyer but when his girlfriend had been killed he ended up rejoining the family. He was now seeing a woman named Eileen but didn’t want it to be public knowledge simply because he didn’t want John around her. Knowing John you didn’t blame him and offered any assistance you could in helping him spend time with her.

------

Time rolled around for your final dress fitting so you, Abaddon, Alicia and Charlie were in the private suite of the bridal shop. The dress had been made for you so it fit perfectly. You stepped up to show them and they all clapped. “You look gorgeous and that’s with just a ponytail in your hair” Charlie offered with a grin. You smiled and twirled “Think Dean will like it?” Abaddon who had wandered off to the lingerie section held up a piece and winked “I think he’d prefer you in this” . You covered your face with both hands and Alicia cracked up laughing “Twenty years! I have known you for twenty years and I have never seen you blush!” 

“Have you slept with him?” Charlie asked bluntly and you nearly choked on the wine you were drinking. “I haven’t done more than kissed him” “Oh my god!” Abaddon groaned, flopping dramatically into the nearest chair “Why?” you shrugged “We’ve been getting to know each other!” Alicia raised an eyebrow “You have real feelings for him” when you didn’t respond she gasped “You’ve actually fallen in love with him haven’t you!” your eyes flew to Charlie who sipped her wine quietly. “Charlie” Abaddon spoke more as a question than as her name.

Charlie looked up from her glass “Ok so maybe he’s fallen for you too?” the three of them piled into one chair then looked back at you expectedly “So are you going to admit it?” Alicia finally asked and you shook your head “Not to either of you three”

Two weeks before you and Dean were to be married you were at your condo in the city finishing packing up. The plan was for you and him to move into a property that was between Joseph’s  and the Winchesters. It was large enough that you could both have those you wanted close but have privacy also. God help you had gone from horrified at the idea of this marriage to excited for it.

It was around two in the morning but you couldn’t sleep so you had music playing while you went through some of your older clothes and waited for Abaddon to get there. You heard a window break in your bedroom and grabbed your gun off the coffee table. You didn’t expect the pipe bomb that blew the front door off the hinges and threw you across the room.

You were barely conscious when you heard a voice say “With Joseph out the way we need her dead. We need to make Dean believe rivals killed her. That boy is so in love he’ll rip through them all. Grab her and we’ll keep alive long enough he’ll kill anyone when he finally gets her body” you tried to push yourself up but a black boot came into view. You followed that boot up to look into John’s eyes. He shrugged “Nothing personal sweetheart” then kicked you hard across the face.

------

When news made it to Dean that Joseph was dead and you were missing he felt his blood run cold. “What do you mean she’s missing? I thought you three had her back!” he nearly growled at Abaddon who was standing with Max and Alicia outside of Joseph’s estate where Dean had ended up going with Benny, Charlie and Sam at his side.

“We did! God dammit, I went to get her chinese takeout! I came back and her place was a wreck and these two were calling about the alarm going off at the main house!” Abaddon didn’t back down. She realized that Dean had a right to rage. He was in love with you but you’d been her charge and friend for many years. She’d die for you and wasn’t about to let him act like her and the twins didn’t care. “Well what now?” Benny asked and Charlie raised her hand “Has anyone checked cameras leading from her place?” Sam pointed at her “Good idea. Start there backtrack if possible. Dean we will find her”

------

How long had it been since you’d been taken? Did Dean think you were dead? Was he mourning you? Was John using him as a blunt instrument in his grief?

You were leaned back against a concrete wall curled into a tight ball. Your left eye was swollen shut, the right side of your head was sore to the touch from a blow that had needed staples but the swelling had finally stopped the bleeding. You were certain you had a few cracked ribs and more than likely some internal damage. 

They’d showed you Joseph’s body and while he hadn’t been your favorite he’d still had taken care of you. John had stupidly expected you to die easily. You refused to stop fighting. You owed it to everyone you cared about to stay alive as long as possible. 

You heard boots coming and forced your head up. John was right outside the small cell they’d shoved you into watching you closely. “Really I hate this because you’re a perfect match for Dean but I can’t have your morals fucking up my business. Right now Dean doesn’t like innocent people getting hurt but after I kill you then track down Sam’s new girl. The two of them? Well my boys will be ready to take down anyone I put in front of them” he smiled cruelly and you laughed despite the pain it caused “What’s so funny?”

You waved your hand showing the large slices they’d cut into your arms “You still think they’re anything like you or your dead wife? Those two? They’re good they’ll never follow your lead you bastard” he smiled humorlessly “We’ll see after your body gets delivered to Dean tomorrow” “So you’re here to kill me?” you asked and he pulled his gun out in response “Sure am”

You forced yourself to your feet biting down on your tongue to squash the noises of pain wanting to creep out of your lips. You refused to die on your knees. If you were going down it would be on your feet “Then do it you son of a bitch”

You held his gaze as a shot rang out but to your surprise you didn’t feel the pain of a gunshot instead John crumpled to the ground. You collapsed to your knees rather from pain or shock you weren’t sure but when you saw Dean standing there with a gun staring at his father’s body you began to sob.

You could hear familiar voices. Abaddon,Benny, Max but blocked them out. Thanks to you, the man you loved had been forced to kill his father.

You were curled into yourself when you felt strong hands on your shoulders “Y/N come on baby” you finally looked up to see Dean kneeling next to you. “I’m sorry” you choked out and he looked confused for a second then glanced back “It’s not your fault. I love you and if I had to kill him ten times over to save you I will” he gently pressed his lips to yours, careful of your wounds, then pulled you into his lap.

When the rest of the rescue team found you Dean barely wanted anyone else to lay a hand on you. He finally let Charlie and Bobby get close enough to look over your wounds “Nothing life threatening but she needs a hospital son. Your girl’s a fighter” Bobby said with a kind smile to you. Dean’s eyes were glued to yours as he said “My soon to be wife if she’ll still have me” you nodded crying again “Of course Dean”

“It’s taken a lot to get here but I am proud to say I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride” Bobby announced and Dean pulled you into a deep kiss.

The wedding was a lot smaller than anything Joseph or John had planned. There were barely thirty people in the garden of Joseph’s or well now your estate. It suited you and Dean a lot better. When Dean pulled back he smiled down at you “I love you Y/N” “I love you too Dean”

After the reception instead of throwing your bouquet you walked over and handed it to Eileen then winked at Sam “You’re next brother in law” Dean laughed and slid an arm around your waist “You heard my wife Sammy”

@girl-next-door-writes

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #girl next doors make me feel bingo

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 11 ~Suspicious Minds~

Picture Edit by melodyheart

Previously in The Art of Non-Communication ...

A familiar bright red Fiat slowed down next to them just as Jamie was about to get into the car, and Ian, their brother-in-law, poked his head out of the window. "Hey, lads, guess who I just saw back in town?"

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged. 

When Ian stalled, Willie blew out an impatient breath. 

"Out with it!" Willie grumbled. "I've been away from work for far too long already."

Ian grinned. "Yer pal Christie."

Jamie waved a hand in the air in dismissal and turned to open the car door, not particularly interested in hearing the latest coming and going in Broch Mordha. "I'm pretty sure the lassies will be thrilled he's back."

"Aye, ye're probably right, but I dinnae think ye'd be too pleased to hear if one particular lass is enjoying his company."

Jamie whipped around. "What do ye mean?" He sounded like someone just launched a flying rugby pass onto his stomach.

"Saw Claire and Tom through the window of Slater's Arms. Probably sitting down for late lunch."

  If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

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 Claire hurriedly made her way to Slater's Arms to meet Tom Christie. They'd arranged earlier to meet at the pub after he'd dropped her off at the village centre to do her errands, so she was surprised to see him waiting outside. After exchanging a hurried cursory hello, he allowed him to guide her through the half-filled bar, his hand ever so lightly touching her elbow. They were greeted by a string of boisterous sallies from the locals, to which Tom good-humouredly responded with a couple of wisecracks of his own . It was becoming pretty clear they were in his local haunt and was well-liked by its patrons. But she also suspected there could be whispers going around, wondering what she was doing with him. Despite those thoughts, she kept her head up, and a smile plastered to her face.

After navigating through the narrow maze of tables and chairs, they opted for an empty space by the window, away from the bar where a heated football discussion was just about to begin. They simultaneously slid into their seats, sitting opposite each other, his lopsided grin and lax manner putting her immediately at ease. He was seemingly oblivious to the curious stares around them, but Claire paid no heed to the attention they were garnering and pushed her earlier encounter with Jenny away from her mind. This was a professional meeting, a welcome distraction even though it was proving an impossibility not to picture Jamie across from her. Suddenly missing Jamie, she allowed her thoughts to momentarily drift and wondered what he was up to.

"Hey."

Claire snapped out of her reverie. "Huh?"

"I asked if ye're hungry."

"Oh! Well, I'm not sure," she murmured, squinting at the specials scrawled on the blackboard hanging behind the bar. "Sort of, I guess."

"Sort of?" he laughed. "What kind of answer is that?" He passed her a menu. "Here. Ye ought to try their haggis tweeds. They have the best in this area."

She snorted, taking the menu card and skimming through it. "Really? I've never met a Scot who liked haggis, and yet every one of you lot I've met recommends it to non-locals."

"Aaahh," he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "To be honest, I dinnae like haggis myself when cooked the traditional way. But the haggis tweeds are different ...more palatable. They're rolled into balls, breaded and deep-fried. I'm quite sure ye'll like them."

"Hmmm ..." When she glanced up from the menu, she met his thoughtful gaze. Though smiling, he had an odd expression on his face. "Wot?" She smoothed her hair, thinking it must be all over the place. She dreaded what her hair looked like after being caught in the rain earlier on. She wished now she'd tied it back before leaving the cottage. "Anything wrong?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Just noticing ye dinnae look as upbeat as ye sounded on the phone the first time we talked. I was expecting ye to be more excited about selling me the idea of publishing my travel book. Ye kinda look as if something is bothering ye. Is anything the matter?"

She let out an exhale and placed the menu down. "I'm sorry. I've just had a rough day."

"Boyfriend problem?" he asked slowly.

She arched an eyebrow at him. Friendly as Tom was, Claire wasn't prepared to share any details of her personal life. "I just have a lot of things going on, and then you threw me out of the loop," she explained, not wanting to lie but not wanting to over-share either. "I was caught off-guard when you phoned earlier, and I wasn't expecting your call until, at least, sometime next week."

"Ye could've told me to meet at a later date. I wouldnae have minded."

"No! Today is fine," she assured him quickly. "I'm probably slowly weaning from the fast pace of hectic schedules in London, that at the first sign of change, I stumble a bit."

He grinned. "Weel, whatever is bothering ye, I dinnae like you looking so downcast. Maybe we can do something about it right now and tell ye a bit of good news. To cheer ye up."

"I like good news ..." she remarked, perking up, guessing he probably had a new picture or post on his blog he wanted to show.

"That's much better," he said when he caught a hint of a smile forming on her face. "As I was saying, I have a bit of good news. I've been giving your proposition a lot of thought ..." he shifted on his seat and took a deep breath. "I've decided I want to go ahead and publish my travel blog in print."

She blinked and swallowed before finding her voice. "But you haven't seen the projected sale and all the ..."

He waved a hand. "I'm quite sure after that impressive pitch over the phone, yer projected whatever and other wotnots ye wish to go over with me will be just as equally convincing. The idea is sold, and I'm on board."

"Just like that?"

He nodded his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Aye. Now that I've met ye in person, I'm pretty confident ye'll make sure I'll get a fair deal for my book. I'm a good judge of character, and I trust ye'll do what's right."

"Of course."

"So it's settled."

"Well, that's ...that's fabulous," she breathed, her mind rushing in all sorts of direction.

"This calls for a celebration, don't ye think?" he smiled, waving at the waitress.

Before Claire could reply, her purse vibrated. She pointed an index finger at Tom. "Hold that thought." She opened her bag and grabbed her phone. It was her boss, John Grey.

"Oh, hi, John! I'm in the middle of ..."

"Claire, I'm sorry to dump this on you," John said rapidly in a panicky tone. "Mary Hawkins just phoned and said she expects you to pick her up at Inverness Airport."

"Wot?!? But how? Why?" She glanced at Tom and noticed a light frown lining his brows. "She hasn't been answering any of my emails. What the hell is she doing in Inverness?" She knew it wasn't professional to be discussing another author over the phone with a potential client in front of her. But it couldn't be helped. At the moment, she was far too agitated to care. Mary Hawkins, the publishing's star author, had been elusive ever since she disappeared to France, and she'd been the reason Claire had decided to take a break in Scotland only to be given another job in the form of Tom Christie. "Please don't tell me you sent her here. I have enough on my plate as it is." She gave Tom an apologetic look, to which he just shrugged and smiled in understanding.

A frustrated sigh came from John. "I swear to God, this isn't my doing. She arrived yesterday here in London, and when she demanded to start work right away on her book, I assigned another editor. But she wouldn't have it. She insisted on working with you. So I told her you're in Inverness doing another project. And then she called a few minutes ago, demanding you pick her up at the airport. I swear I didn't know she was planning on flying to Inverness."

Oh, God! "John!" she whined. "I can't just drop everything and pick her up. I'm an editor, not a chauffeur! I'm in the middle of talks with Mr Christie."

"I'm terribly sorry for this mess, Claire but, isn't there anything you can do? Your boyfriend, perhaps? You know how Hawkins is a big deal for the company."

She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Claire felt she was being put in a position she didn't want to be in. On top of it all, her uncle would be arriving in two days, and there was the added worry she had with Jamie and potentially Jenny. The day was definitely getting worse by the second, but Claire reminded herself she was John's only hope, and he was a friend and had always been good to her. When she finally had the strength to open her eyes again, Tom mouthed something she couldn't quite catch.

Wot do you mean? She mouthed back, shaking her head.

"Claire, are you still there?" 

"Yes!" she snapped, tamping down the urge to curse. "I'm here!"

"Well?"

She let out a frustrated breath. There was no way out of it. "Fine, John! But you owe me big time! I'll see what I can do." Damn it!

"You're a star!" John said, relief lacing his voice. "I knew I could rely on you. I'll text Hawkins to let her know you're on your way, and then I'll text you her private number. I don't think you'll have that. It's one of the reasons you couldn't get in touch with her. Anyway, let me know later how you get on."

Before she could answer, the line went dead. What the bloody hell just happened?

Claire dropped her head into her hands and groaned. She wanted to bawl, throw stuff and pull her hair out in frustration.

"Problems?"

She raised her head and looked at Tom. "I'm sorry you had to witness that. I have to cancel our meeting. I need to somehow get to Inverness and pick up this author I'm working with." Without going into too many details, Claire quickly explained her predicament, almost forgetting to breathe. By the time she finished, she was gasping for air and wondering if Tom understood what the hell she was on about. "As you can see, I probably have to organise her accommodation as well. So I really must get going." She stood up and grabbed her bag. "Raincheck?"

He got on his feet as well. "Look, I'm not doing anything for the rest of the day. How about I drive you to Inverness. I can even help you set her up."

"Tom, you don't have to."

"Hey, I'm about to get a book deal from your boss. Let me at least prove to ye what a perfect travel guide I am as I've portrayed on my blog."

Claire stopped to collect herself. On second thoughts, she did need Tom's help, and she couldn't well impose on Willie to drive her to Inverness when he'd been taking time off to check up on her ever since Jamie left. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone and talk him through his own book's publishing process on their way to the airport. It was a brilliant idea, and hopefully, by the end of today, John would be able to draw up a contract for Tom. With a resigned smile, Claire appreciatively accepted the offer. "Alright then, but we do need to get going now."

"Absolutely. We'll go through the back door." When Claire looked at him curiously, he grinned. "I've parked the car in the staffs' parking lot. I'm good friends with the owner, so I get the privilege to walk through the kitchen and use the backdoor," he explained. Then he leaned closer to her ear and spoke in a low voice. "And if the chef is in a good mood, he might allow us to taste today's menu."

Claire laughed out loud, attracting attention from the pub's clientele. She ignored the curious stares. It was good to laugh again after the last couple of days of feeling down, and she owed it to herself to steer negativity and worries from her thoughts. "We'll stop by the cottage to get some clothes. Knowing my client, she'll probably want to stay in a posh hotel in Inverness and want to start working right away. She doesn't do bed and breakfast or small places. So I doubt she'll want to come to Broch Mordha."

Tom nodded with a smile as he took her hand and lead the way.

Heading to the back of the pub, Claire made a few mental notes on what she needed to take with her. She also reminded herself to message Willie about taking care of Rollo and Adso while she's away, hoping he would think nothing of it when he hears from the village gossip of her meeting with Tom.

...........

Jamie caught Willie's livid expression before the car started, and they were driving down the small country lane. He knew his brother was miffed with Ian, who'd sped ahead of them after revealing Claire's whereabouts with Christie. Though common sense told him he had nothing to be worried about, it had been still a punch in the gut to hear Claire was out with another man.

"Can ye speed up a bit?" Jamie muttered, shifting restlessly on his seat.

"We're not in a bloody motorway, and there are speed limits for a reason," Willie growled, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "And it will do ye a lot of good to use this time to calm down before we reach Claire. It's obvious ye're not thinking clearly."

Jamie almost wished he'd taken a ride with Ian instead. They couldn't see their brother-in-law's red Fiat anymore as it disappeared at a bend further ahead. But he knew Willie was right. He wasn't thinking clearly. It's just that, why it had to be Thomas Christie of all people Claire had chosen to go out with. He had nothing against the bloke, but he was a renowned player. What if Claire had grown tired of his condition and fell for Christie's charms? It wouldn't be a difficult feat as the bloke oozed charms by the bucketload. Hadn't he lost a girlfriend in the past because of Christie? Or was it because of his condition? He couldn't be sure anymore. Either way, knowing Claire was with Christie at this very moment was burning a hole in his stomach. "So ye're an expert on my thoughts now, are ye?" Jamie grunted, unable to think of a better excuse for his behaviour.

"I dinnae need to be an expert to know what ye're thinking ... it's written all o'er yer face," Willie retorted. "If ye'd called her up in the first place, then ye would've had a fair idea why she's meeting Christie, and ye wouldnae be in this stinking shite thinking the worse. The lass has been worried sick about ye, and she's put up with yer silence more than what could be expected of her. So do both yerselves a favour and calm the fuck down, aye?"

Jamie knocked back the claustrophobic sensation and forced himself to breathe. This had always been his trouble with his PTSD. He always had these intense emotions that always grew out of proportion to a point it would suffocate him, especially negatives ones like a feeling of lacking or guilt. Wasn't that what Geneva had said? There was a lot of misplaced guilt involved? And no matter what he did to get better, it was a bloody never-ending cycle that always brought him back to square one. But despite the shortcomings, he knew it would kill him if he didn't give himself a fighting chance with Claire. He might as well die trying. She was, after all, either going to be his reason for living or the reason he died. It was all right there, shining in front of him like a floodlight. 

With a sigh, he tried to relax. Jamie knew justifying his earlier behaviour was a bad idea in both their current edgy states, but nothing would stop him from seeing Claire right now. It was like a need that required satisfying, and he couldn't wait to finally see her. He focused on the road ahead of them and listened to the radio to take his mind of negative thoughts.

It's a dreich Thursday afternoon, and here's another trip down memory lane with Mac's Classics here at MFR, with the biggest hits and the biggest throwbacks. Next up is a song sure to make ye forget the dreary days ahead – Let's get rickrolling with Never Gonna Give You Up. 

"Turn it up," Jamie said suddenly, surprising his brother.

"What?" Willie glanced at him like he'd grown a pair of horns.

"I said, turn the bloody volume up!"

"Ye're joking, right? Rick fucking Astley? Nae chance pal!"

"Just do it," Jamie huffed, not caring what his brother thought of his song choice. When Claire had told him it had made her smile listening to it in the cafe the other day, he'd listened to it as well on his mother's antique record player. It was a bloody awful song, but for some strange reason, it had made him smile too.

Scowling and cursing under his breath, Willie eventually complied, and they listened to Rick Astley's song for the rest of the way. When they reached the village centre, Willie illegally parked outside Slater's Arms, carefully avoiding bumping into the menacing bollards. They were just about to get out of the car when Ian appeared from the pub, shaking his head.

Willie stuck his head out of the window. "What's the matter?"

"They're gone," Ian replied, shrugging, perplexity evident in his expression. "Spoke to Angus, and he said they didn't even order anything. They just got up and left."

Jamie got out of the car. "Did he say where they went?"

Ian narrowed his gaze at him. "I didnae ask."

Jamie ran a hand in front of his face and got back in the car. His brother had to work. There was only one thing left he could do, and it was to go back to the cottage, and if Claire wasn't there, he'd give her a call. He turned to Willie, letting out a sigh of resignation. "Just drop me off at the cottage. I've taken too much of yer time already."

"Ye sure?" Willie asked quietly. "I can drop ye off at Lallybroch. Yer car is there. Ye'll most probably need it soon, especially with more bad weather to come."

Jamie shook his head. He was certain Claire would be at home, and if not, surely later. He wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon but had every intention of making up for lost time with her. "It's time to go home," Jamie sighed, waving goodbye to Ian. "No more running away," 

Willie smiled, starting the car. "Good choice!" 

It was a short drive to his cottage, and by the time they pulled up outside his house, the sun started to peek out for a splinter of a moment, his driveway though occupied by an unfamiliar vehicle. As soon as he saw a man's profile sat on the driver's seat, he immediately knew it was Christie. As if anticipating his next move and before he could yank off his seatbelt, Willie slapped a hand across his chest.

"What?" Jamie wheezed.

"Claire's in the cottage. Talk to her first and find out what's going on before ye jump to any conclusions."

Jamie breathed through a laugh, but he could hear it was edged with doubt. "What if I've fucked this up?"

"Ye havenae. And it's up to ye to keep that way. Now go to her. Ye'll find out soon enough there's a perfect explanation for Christie hanging about."

Words were fighting to leave his tongue, but he clamped his lips together and held them back. Vocalising the feelings raging inside his chest would only allow his emotions to run away with him. He reigned them in and took a deep breath. Whether it's a consequence of PTSD or not, he couldn't expect Claire to understand every time. So instead, Jamie gave Willie a reassuring nod and hoped his brother was right. 

He got out of the car and walked straight to the cottage, refusing to acknowledge Christie. He knew he was being rude and could feel his brother's eyes boring into his back as well as Christie's. He didn't care because right at this moment, his primary focus was Claire. 

As soon as he opened the door and saw Claire hooking a bag onto her shoulder, he bounded across the room, dropping his face into her neck and breathing for the first time in days. "Sassenach," he whispered. "I'm so sorry for leaving ye. I wasnae thinking. Please forgive me."

Claire dropped her bag on the floor, wrapping both arms around his neck. "Jamie, you're here," she breathed into his ear. "Are you alright? God, I've been so worried about you."

"I'm alright now that I'm here and ye're here," he rasped, lifting his head for a moment and eyeing the bags on the floor. "Why are yer bags packed?"

She followed his gaze. "I ...ah ... it's work, and I have to ..."

"Ye're going back to London?"

"No!"

That's all he needed to hear. Unable to wait any longer for an explanation, he pulled her into his arms as urgency pumped in his veins. He badly needed to absorb as much as he could of her, breathing her in, in huge gulps of air. His mouth travelled over her neck, into her hair, across her lips, whispering for forgiveness, his hands restless as he touched her everywhere.

"Hey, look at me ... there's nothing to forgive," she murmured, drawing away. She placed her hands on both sides of his face and searched his eyes. "I understand what you've been going through, and I know you're fighting your hardest. It's going to be alright."

"I've missed ye." He turned his face to kiss her palm before placing her hand on his chest. "I-I thought ye're better off without me. I thought I could walk away from ye, and it would be enough knowing ye're safe from me. But nothing was right. I was sick to the soul, knowing I've left ye. I wanted ye to be with a better man than me, but now ... I'm gonnae be selfish and beg ye to let me be that man by yer side."

"Jamie, where's this coming from?" she queried. "I was worried and afraid for you, but I haven't changed my mind about us." She sighed. "Your brother told me yesterday, you were seeing a therapist this morning. Did you go today?"

Jamie swallowed and nodded, unable to still his hands, touching her everywhere, needing to assure himself he was really holding her.

"Is this why you're talking like this? Has the therapy dug up a lot of unwanted issues? Because if it has, it's perfectly normal."

"No!" He let out a frustrated breath. He'd been so unpredictable with the symptoms of his PTSD coming and going, she wasn't taking him seriously when he needed her to hear him out. "No, please listen and look me in the eye. I panicked when I saw the bruises on yer arms, and without thinking, I left. I did what I did because I didnae think I could ever be the man for ye ...a bloody disappointment, constantly causing ye grief. But I understand now why my condition is out of control at the moment ... it's because I have suppressed emotions that need to come out. It's been coming out more because all this while, ye've been the key to my healing. So I'm handing everything inside me over to ye because I trust ye, and ye're the only one who can make sense of me. I cannae promise smooth sailing, Sassenach, but there is one thing I know ye can depend on and will always be constant despite my condition. And that's my love for ye. I can guarantee ye with certainty ye can rely on that. This isnae a result of my therapy talking, alright? I willnae let ye go for anything. I can work around my condition with ye by my side, and I'll work twice as hard to get better."

"Jamie, I love you too, and I have no doubt that ..."

"Then why are your bags packed?" he questioned accusingly. "And why is Christie outside waiting for ye?" 

With a sharp intake of breath, Claire quickly explained everything from the call she received from her boss to Christie's involvement and an impatient Mary Hawkins waiting for her at the airport. 

He could tell she was itching to go by the way she tried to subtly glance at her watch, but he was feeling too selfish. "How about I drive ye to Inverness?" he cajoled, his hand stroking her hair. "Willie is still outside. We'll get my car in Lallybroch, and I'll drive ye." He suddenly felt like a bastard keeping her from doing her work.

"Jamie, no!" she said gently but firmly. He knew she was restraining herself from rushing off, wanting to make sure he was alright first. "I can't be fretting about you being in a city when I have work to do. There's a possibility I'll be back tonight, but if Mary wants to work straight away on her book, then I have to stay in Inverness for a couple of nights, tops. Besides, I need to explain to Tom about his book's publication and make sure he hasn't changed his mind. Until we've drawn up a contract, nothing is certain." Her hands smoothed the hard muscles on his chest. "Besides, I need you to be here when my uncle comes. He'll be hiring a car, so he won't require picking up."

"What? Ye're uncle is coming here?" he almost shouted.

"No. I mean, uncle Lamb won't be staying here in the cottage even though you told him he could. I've already booked him a place in the village centre ...close to the amenities."

He let out a sigh of relief. He didn't think he was ready to bond with Harry's look-alike ...yet. If anything, he dreaded it, afraid of other suppressed memories dying to come out and choke him with guilt.

"Jamie, I really ought to go. I promise I'll call later and explain everything."

With a groan, he pulled Claire in once more in his arms and kissed her thoroughly, and she responded with a whimper that told him she was enjoying the kiss. He hadn't even had a second to savour getting her back before the prospect of letting her go again struck him like a baseball bat between the shoulder blades. But he wanted to give her something to remember while she's away and what she'll be missing if she didn't hurry up with her work. He slipped his hand under her cardigan, caressing her nipple with the calloused pad of his thumb and pressing his burgeoning erection against her belly.

"I love ye ...always remember that." His mouth coasted along the lines of her jaw, his hands squeezing her waist. "I ken ye've been patient and understanding with me, but just try to be extra tolerant with me for now. Can ye do that?"

She nodded, her face red from beard burn. "Alright, but I do need to go, Jamie." Her eyes flashed. "And you have nothing to worry about. So please rest up tonight because you'll need a hell of a lot of energy when my uncle comes."

It's the way she looked at him, pleading for understanding that became his undoing as if she's reading his thoughts, and despite everything he'd done, she couldn't find fault with a single one. He needed to be a better man and control his emotions and needs. Her work was important to her, and she was important to him. "Fine, I'll walk ye to the car." He stooped down to get her bags and followed her outside.

They stopped beside Christie's car, and Jamie watched the other man climbed out, both men grunting a greeting at each other. 

"Am I still driving ye to Inverness, Claire?" Christie asked, avoiding Jamie's eyes.

Claire nodded. "Yes, please, if that's still alright with you. I'm so sorry I took so long."

"It's nae bother, and of course, I'll drive ye to Inverness," Christie smiled warmly. 

A long silence stretched as the three of them just stood there. Christie rocked on his heels, and Jamie held on to Claire's bags like it was his lifeline. 

Caught up in the awkwardness of the moment, Claire bit her bottom lip. "Well, I guess that's settled then. We best get going before Mary does something like bite some poor soul's head at the airport." Claire's attempt to sound cheerful lessened the tension in the air but not the one on Jamie's shoulders. She turned to him and tried to take her bags off his hands, but he couldn't seem to let go. "Jamie ...my bags," she whispered, her hand running up and down his forearm as if to tell him everything was going to be alright.

But instead of giving Claire's bags back to her, he begrudgingly handed them to Christie while launching if looks could kill look over her head. They had a few seconds of stare off until Claire's hands on his face forced him to look at her.

"Jamie, kiss me, goodbye?"

He didn't hesitate at her request and sucked on her bottom lip as she made a sobbing noise. That wee noise she made jolted something free inside of him, and he, too, wanted to cry. He couldn't remember wanting to openly cry before. Not like this. He couldn't control it, and it dragged him down, stealing oxygen from his lungs, but Claire's touches soothed him. 

"I don't want to go," she murmured against his mouth. "Not one bit. But I'm doing this for us, remember that. The sooner I'm done with work, the more time we can spend time together." 

He allowed himself to wade into the shallow waters of comfort Claire was starting to represent. He'd lived with this reality for too long that he wasn't enough. Or probably worse, he was too much. For years, these memories of loss and guilt and shame had been subdued. Now they're coming out with guns blazing, and he felt totally defenceless. But with her arms around him, he felt cocooned in her bubble of protection. So he clung to her like a drunk with his last shot of whisky, the desperation inside him going into overdrive, and he was practically mauling her lips with no care whose watching, drawing her onto tiptoes so he could get all of her from every angle.

"Jamie," she whispered shakily, gently pulling away. "My phone is going off every second. Mary is probably wondering why I haven't called her." 

Breathe, lad, it's going to be alright. Don't lose yer cool, or ye'll drive her away. He let go and opened the car door for her, not taking any notice of the man waiting patiently at the driver's seat. "I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled.

"It's alright." She smiled in understanding, squeezing his hand. "I'll be back before you know it."

He held on to Claire's eyes, the only tangible thing he could grasp, giving him a renewed determination to manage the condition that had ruled him all his life. At that moment, the world suddenly made sense, and he was veering into a place he didn't recognise ...a place of calm, where the voices in his head had lost their dominion over his thoughts.

He watched as Christie's Land Rover drove away and was surprised when a hand landed on his shoulder. Jamie turned around to discover Willie stood there, a smile etched on his face. Jamie had forgotten about his brother, too caught up with Claire's departure and the intense emotions he'd nearly let out of control. 

"Ye did well, bràthair. I'm so proud of ye."

Jamie dropped his head forward and let out an exhale, feeling a lot lighter in days. He knew he'd only scratched the surface of their relationship, but Claire was giving him all the time in the world to get back on his feet, and he was determined not to disappoint her. Though it had been a struggle not to let his emotions take control, it was at least a start. He glanced up at his brother and smiled.

"Ye alright there, Jamie lad?" Willie playfully slapped him on the back for good measure.

"Aye, I think so." This time Jamie meant it and believed his own words. He threw an arm around Willie's shoulder, squeezed it briefly before stepping back. "And thank ye for sticking around. I owe ye one."

"Aye ye do," Willie grinned. "How about repaying me like right now and coming to work. It should keep yer mind busy and help me catch up with a long list of jobs."

Jamie didn't need prodding. His mouth curved into a smile, and he nodded his head. "After seeing Christie, I think I'm in the mood for uprooting trees."

They shared a wicked glance and then laughed out loud.

 Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your patience with this story and the feedback from the previous chapter. 

Mental health stories are, I personally think, the hardest to put across because it involves a lot of emotions and psychological battle that are difficult to put into words. But I was determined to write this account even though it has its challenges, so I hope I've done it justice.

Part of the reason for pushing to write such a story that delves into the mind of a tortured soul is to raise mental health awareness because there are many things that people still don't understand about this illness. In saying that, some of you were disappointed by Jamie's behaviour, and I wanted that to happen to make a point.

In real life, it's so much easier to categorise and point out someone's shortcoming instead of trying to understand the psyche of a person's behaviour. From my perspective, each of us has undoubtedly suffered a form of mental illness at least once, but not everyone has the emotional and psychological strength and maturity to cope or overcome it. Nor do they have access to help. In Jamie' case, he's got a strong network of family, and he got Claire to help him get through it. 

So the moral of the story is, spread kindness because you never know what really is going on in someone's mind. 

For now, take care of yourselves. Until the next update ... X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter twelve

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2588

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Normally I am the type of person to be date accurate when writing things and if you are too, I'm sorry. I messed up on the dates, so the battle of New York happens like a month after it should. This is also a short chapter because it's a filler and I'm trying to just get to the Winter Soldier but have everything make sense.

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Masterlist

A few days later I had received a small archivist job in the WWII department of the Smithsonian. Thankfully the made-up resume and a few fake SHIELD recommendations came in handy. I would officially start the following week after a few background checks were cleared. In my free time until then, I unpacked all the boxes in my apartment. It started to feel more homely and warm when all of my things filled up the space. When I didn’t feel like unpacking anything, I started taking long walks to the VFW building. I hadn’t joined in on any of the meetings yet, I just stood by the doorway and watched, listening to the stories people told.

One day that week as I stood back in the hallway after the meeting had ended, a man came up to me. He was a little taller than I was and had the brightest smile I had ever seen. I had watched him in the meetings before, he was usually the one hosting them, giving advice to all who needed it.

“I’ve seen you standing out here for the past three days, why don’t you come have a seat next time? It would be more comfortable than standing out here for an hour.” He said as he leaned his back against the wall right next to me.

“I have thought about it, but I tend to get here after you have started. I don’t want to interrupt anything by just barging in.” I said over my shoulder at him.

“You won't interrupt anything, just come on in next time, we’d be happy to have a new face around,” He pushed himself off the wall and walked down the hall.

After that, I ended up joining the meetings and even spoke a few times. I learned that the man who came up to me that day was Sam Wilson, pararescue, who had served two tours in Afghanistan. From the first day he came up and talked to me to now, we quickly became friends.

The days had turned into weeks and I was finally able to live relatively by my own means. The Smithsonian was great, in the archives, no one was really around and I could spend a whole day without any interruptions, which allowed me to just concentrate on what I was doing. After closing, I normally walked to meet Sam, who was usually way too excited to see me, even though we saw each other almost every day without fail.

“You’re late today.” I jumped, startled out of my thoughts at the sound of someone talking to me. I looked up, spying Sam standing next to one of the small trees outside the VFW building.

“What do you mean late?”

“I mean you usually get here at three-thirty. It's four right now.” He said looking down at his watch.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize. I've just been lost in my thoughts lately.” I sighed.

“I know we’ve only been friends for what? A month? But I already know when something is bothering you, What is it?”

“Nothing really, just my brother. Since moving here he's called at least twice a week to check up but it’s been radio silence for the past two weeks, he doesn't even answer when I try calling him. I'm just a little worried that something bad is going on, considering his job.”

“Well, maybe he’s just really busy at the moment, or he's somewhere he can't call you. You know how it is being out on those military missions.”

“I know, it’s just the last time we were apart on a mission,” I trailed off and looked up at Sam, he raised his eyebrows, quietly waiting for the end of the sentence. “Someone close to us passed. It’s still fresh in my mind like it happened yesterday. I was there that day and I was too far away to even know what had happened, now my brother and I aren’t even in the same vicinity as each other, there is no telling what could happen and it makes me nervous.”

He gave me a small apologetic smile and patted my shoulder before leading me from the tree where we stood to where his car was parked. “What do you say we hang out at mine and just watch some tv? Get your mind off things? Or we can talk about it, either way, it’s better than dealing with it alone.” I nodded my head and grabbed onto the car door handle as he unlocked it.

Walking through the front door after him I took a quick look around. It was cozy, way more decorated than I thought it would be for a man in his early thirties living alone.

“Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?” He asked neck-deep in the fridge.

“Okay, I’ll just have some water,” I called out as I made my way further into the living room. The couch was backed up to the wall a few feet away from the dining room table. I sat down on it and scooted as close as I could to its right arm. A few moments later Sam came over with two glasses of water and a bag of chips. He handed me my drink before crashing down into his own seat. “Thank you,” I said before taking a long sip.

He nodded as he said “No problem.” Before he got himself really comfortable he searched around for the TV remote. As he pressed the ‘on’ button the TV came to life. “What in the world is that?” He sounded concerned so I quickly looked at the screen.

“Breaking: Attack on New York City. This afternoon at 2:15 several unidentified aircraft descended onto Earth's surface. Strange beings, some are calling aliens, Accompanied these ships and are causing havoc in Manhattan. Eyewitnesses have stated that they have seen Iron Man, and what seemed to be Captain America, leading a team of three others fighting back against the invaders. The battle seems to be over but updates are still coming in, let's take a look at some footage of the downtown destruction.” My eyes went wide and my heart stopped as I listened to what the reporter was saying. I kept my eyes glued to the screen as it changed to show a destroyed street. As the camera panned around I spotted Steve fighting against two of the creatures, before the clip quickly changed to show one of the large ships crashing into the New York skyline.

“Oh God Steve, what did you get into?” I murmured to myself.

“You say that like you know him personally.”

“Uhh.” I just gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “I do, he’s my brother.”

“Now really isn’t the time to be joking about things,” He gave me a pointed look.

“I swear I’m not joking, he really is my brother. I can explain later, I need to try and get a hold of him.” I pulled out the small flip phone from my pocket and dialed the number for Steve's cell phone, it rang and rang but no answer. I hung up quickly and dialed the number Fury gave me at the beginning of the month. After two rings he answered.

“I assume you are looking for Captain Rogers.”

“Where is he? Is he okay?” I tried to keep the worried tone from coming through in my voice.

“He’s fine. He is in the middle of a debriefing. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Okay, thank you.” As soon as the words left my mouth he gave a quick hum and then hung up. I looked over at Sam whose eyes hadn't left me at all. “Everything is fine, he's in a debrief so that means that whatever happened in New York is definitely over.”

“That’s good to hear, hopefully, those things don’t try to come back again.” He shook like a shiver ran down his spine. “Now please explain how Captain America, a man from the 1940s, is your brother.”

“I can hear the skepticism in your voice.”

He held his hands up in defense, “Hey, I'm not the one saying I'm the sister to a 90 something-year-old man.”

“Look, it’s a long story that I would rather not get into now but the short version is that I was born in 1921, Steve is my older brother, we both ended up taking the super-soldier serum and fought against HYDRA in the second world war. We ended up crashing a plane into some Ice in the Atlantic ocean and were found and unfrozen last October.” “If you are really Captain America’s sister, then why are you never mentioned in anything?” I looked at him and shook my head.

“Well for starters it was the forties and I was a woman fighting on the front lines. Credit is never given where it is due. But there is also the fact that I was a part of the SSR, which was very secretive, after I died.” I put my fingers up in air quotes, “They should have erased most, if not all the files on me, per protocol. The only reason Steve is well known is because of his time going cross country selling war bonds.” I paused for a second before quickly adding, “I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll find me in the history books somewhere.”

Sam just sat there not really saying anything. This was the first time I think he had ever been quiet for more than five seconds. I let out a deep sigh and stood, grabbing my bag from the floor. “Thanks for having me over, but I think I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stood and walked me to the door.

“Don’t be late. I’ll see you.” Sam waved me off and I headed down the street.

About half a year later while sorting through some archive files, I came across Peggy Carter. I felt a pang in my heart as I stared at the photo of her standing next to Howard Stark. Other than Steve and Bucky, those two were my closest friends. I fell down a rabbit hole after that, finding any information on the two that I could find. They had both helped found SHIELD in 1965, they had both gotten married and had children of their own. Peggy's children had stayed out of the public eye, but in true Stark fashion, Howard’s son evidently took over the family business and was living the high life. I pulled out a newspaper from the stack I had on the table in front of me and was shocked at what I saw. The title read ‘Howard and Maria Stark Die in Car Accident’, I knew Howard most likely wasn’t alive anymore but seeing the photographs of the wrecked car in the newspaper cast a somber mood through the room.

I laid the paper down on the table and ruffled through more of the papers before determining that we had no information on if Peggy was alive or not. That sent me into a frenzy of looking through phone books to try and find her and calling every retirement home in DC that I could. The only lead I had to go off of was a small interview from a newspaper, talking to Peggy about the seventieth anniversary of V-E Day, stated that she was living in Washington, DC.

After eight failed calls, finally, on the ninth, I had finally found a home which had a Peggy Carter as a residence in room 204. I rushed to pack up my things and left my office early. I ran down the back hallways as fast as I could without drawing too much attention. When I made it out of the building I ran full speed to the road to hail a cab.

Amazingly the traffic was almost nonexistent and I made it to the retirement home in only ten minutes. I fumbled out of the cab and I raced through the front doors of the building. I must have startled the women at the front desk because as soon as I rounded the corner to the staircase, they were yelling after me. I took the steps three at a time in my haste to get to the second floor. I stopped running when I was outside of room 204. I couldn’t see anything clearly through the frosted window so I knocked hesitantly and slowly opened the door and stepped in.

There in the middle of the room, against the wall was a single bed. A woman laid there quietly with her eyes closed. The closer I came to her the more familiar she looked. I let out a relieved gush of breath. There she was, older now, but still the Peggy I once knew. I nervously grabbed one of the chairs in the corner of the room and brought it over to her bedside so I could sit. Gently I gave her a small tap on the hand before just holding it in mine. She stirred but her eyes never opened.

All of a sudden one of the nurses from downstairs came into the room, with an angry and shocked expression.

“Ma’am, You can't be in here. If you want to see a patient, you have to sign in.” I ignored her, my eyes trained on Peggy's face. The commotion of the woman barging into the room had made her open her eyes and look around. I just watched as she scanned the room, first to the door on the left, to the wall in front of her, past me sitting on her right, then to the window behind me.” Her brows raised and she lifted her hands to her eyes to rub. The shock on her face was evident as she turned her head to stare directly at me.

“Hey Carter, long time no see huh?” I gave her the biggest smile that I could.

“Is it really you?” She reached her hand out to mine and grabbed hold.

“It is, it’s really me.”

“Ma’am, I mean it, you can't be here.” The nurse tried again, this time Peggy shot her a glare.

“Ms. I’ll have you know this is one of my best friends and she can be in here if she wants to. Now leave us alone.” The young nurse nodded her head and rushed out, even in old age she could still put on that commanding tone that struck fear in every man. She slowly turned back to me, almost like if she looked back for me, I would be gone. “How? How are you here?”

“It’s a long story Peg, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Look where I am, I have nothing but time.” She laughed out and I let out my own small laugh as I shook my head.

In addition to what I had been doing, like hanging out with Sam, after that first visit, I made it a priority to see Peggy once or twice every two weeks, depending on how she was doing. Dementia had put a lot of stress on her, and seeing me after almost seventy-five years and looking relatively the same as I had when frozen took out a giant toll on her.

And that's how the next 10 months went until Steve eventually moved into an apartment directly under me.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

[athina-blaine]

MoMM Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

Chapter 3: The Empty Corridors

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I deserve that. Your friendship. After everything I’ve done since…”

“Of course you do. Listen to yourself; it’s not like you wanted to frighten me.” An inch of space sat between their hands. “Is this …? Um. Is this okay …?”

The winds continued to howl, and Martin's hand lay limp on the bed sheets. His face grew hot, and he started pulling back. Stupid idea. But then Jon slid his hand closer until their fingers brushed. Emboldened, Martin wrapped his hand around Jon's, his burn scar grazing the soft skin of Martin's palm.

He squeezed gently.

“No one deserves to be lonely, Jon.”

Jon had no response, staring out to the storm that continued knocking on their windows. He stared, and he let Martin hold his hand.

Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1

Martin was an optimist. He had to be. Anything else would have been utterly unbearable.

That being said, he was… relatively confident things would get better. Jon had confided in him the terrible secret of Magnus Manor and the truth of this hellish storm. The Lonely. And understanding a problem meant you were one step closer to solving it, right? It meant one step closer to getting out of the cursed estate you’d found yourself trapped in.

Most importantly, though, the two of them were talking again. Above all else, that gave him hope.

 Jon was waiting for him in the foyer the next morning. His nose was buried in a book, but when Martin approached, he looked up, and Martin liked to think he looked pleased.

“Good morning,” Martin said, hoping he didn’t sound too flustered.

“You as well. Would ... would you be amenable to sharing some morning tea? If ... if you're still offering ...”

“Y-yes, of course.” So yesterday hadn’t been a fluke; Jon wasn’t going to leave him alone again. “That sounds great. Um. English Breakfast, then?”

Jon smiled, nodded, and fetched them both a pot and one cup apiece. The porcelain warmed Martin’s aching fingers, a refreshing respite from the chill that crept so subtly through the halls.

They drank, and they talked about very little. Martin’s tongue burned with questions (–what’s it like living with these entities? How do they manifest? Will we get out of here soon?–), but he restrained himself; the age lining Jon’s face had soothed as he sipped his tea,  and when he asked Martin how he’d slept, there was a shy twist to his mouth.

Right now, Martin wanted to enjoy himself. Enjoy Jon and a warm cup of morning tea. There would be plenty of time to agonise later.

In the meantime, he’d just need to keep busy. Now was as good a time as any to give cleaning the manor another chance. Masochistic, maybe. Impossible, certainly. But at least this time he didn’t have to worry about being reprimanded. Probably.

One of the many study rooms that littered the estate would be a good place to start. Small as it was, its sooty fireplace and dusty couch was enough of a time sink for his purposes.

He was in the middle of battling a particularly stubborn stain when the door opened and Jon peered inside. Despite everything, Martin couldn’t help his trill of anxiety, made all the worse when Jon kissed his teeth.

“Must I iterate that it’s not necessary for you to – ”

“I want to.” It was still such a shock to just see Jon, to have them talking, that the words came out in a breathless, jumbled mess. “I promise. I-I like cleaning, honest. It keeps my mind off … you know, things.”

Jon paused mid-stride. For a moment, Martin thought he was going to be chased off anyway, and then he’d have to actually beg to clean, because the thought of spending another minute with nothing to do but contemplate their situation– 

“I–” Sighing, Jon brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Yes, fine, if you insist. So long as you understand that it is absolutely not an expectation of you.”

Martin’s shoulders sagged with relief. Another hurdle crossed.

He’d just convinced himself to relax and finally let his mind wander, soothed by the familiar, tediousness of cleaning a fireplace, when Jon unclasped his cloak, lying it over the sofa. 

“What are you doing?”

“Assisting you, obviously. Having you clean it in my stead when I’m the one responsible for it falling into disrepair doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Doesn’t bear thinking about. What didn’t bear thinking about was a man of Jon’s stature doing menial work like this in the first place. But Martin was hardly about to refuse his help … or his company, so freely given. “Um. Thank you. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, though. There’s literally no way you could have kept this place clean all by yourself.”

“I appreciate the reassurance, but the point is moot.”

Well, if Jon wanted to roll up his sleeves and work at a grimy fireplace, Martin wasn’t about to stop him. When Jon literally rolled up his sleeves, he bit back a smile. The skin of his forearms was paler than that of his hands and face, smooth and free of blemishes. When was the last time he’d enjoyed a bit of sunshine without his shirt buttoned up to the chin?

Not that Martin had any business considering a thing like that in the first place. God, his face was burning again.

“I hate cleaning,” Jon murmured as he dunked the spare cloth in the water bucket. “Nothing ever stays clean.”

“Yeah. Gotta do it, though. Oh, you should keep your elbow up. You won’t tire out your arm as quickly.”

“Oh. Yes, I see.” Jon sighed. “Perhaps the fault lies with me. I’ve never been particularly good at domesticity, after all. The rare times my grandmother was home, the only thing we talked about was how untidy my room was.”

Martin’s ears perked. The opportunity to learn more about Jon and his past? It was too enticing to resist. “Your gram wasn’t home much, then?”

“Not often. She was the matriarch of our family, so important business kept her in the capital most days.”

Oh. How … odd. Martin didn’t know anything about how noble families handled representing themselves, but … “I figured your mom or dad would take care of that sort of thing after a while. Did your gram just enjoy the work?”

“Both of my parents passed when I was a child.”

Martin’s stomach plunged to his feet. What a stupid blunder to make. “I’m … I’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago,” Jon said, waving him away. “I was barely more than a baby at the time. I simply don’t remember enough of them to mourn their loss.”

Martin wasn’t sure if that made it worse. For all that Martin mourned the absence of his father, at least he had fleeting memories of warm hands and a deep voice to prove he’d existed at all. That he’d had a father once. “Still, that must have been … a bit lonely.” 

“Not at all. I always had my governess’ supervision. She provided the structure and discipline I required.” Jon laughed, a wistful, breathy thing, and lowered his head. “I was … a rather troublesome child.”

That did even less to make Martin feel better, because he suddenly had this image, unbidden, of a little boy with big eyes and gangly knees, head hanging as his grandmother told him off in clipped tones, before leaving once again to the bustling capital. No hugs, or gentle forehead kisses. Just a scolding about his messy bedroom.

I’m sure you were wonderful, he wanted to say. I’m sure you deserved better than that. 

But he was probably just projecting again.

“I’ve always liked cleaning,” Martin said, instead. “Makes me feel useful. My mum, she’s … she’s been sick most of my life. Nothing too serious,” Martin added quickly as Jon turned his head. “She just gets tired a lot. You know, hard to stay upright most of the time. There wasn’t a lot I could do to make her feel better, but keeping things clean helped.”

“I … I’m sorry to hear your mother is ill.”

“We were really lucky, actually. We lived in the same town as a really good doctor. He was really generous with us, but eventually … I-I couldn’t keep up with the bills running the farm all by myself, especially after our last goat died. We had to sell a few years ago, and I had to find work in the city.” Even after all this time, his throat tangled at the memory of leaving his childhood home. “Managed to land a really good job at the lord’s castle, so I always had money to send home. Every month. Haven’t been late once, yet. Until …”

“… Until now.”

Martin opened his mouth, because, well, he wasn’t late yet. There was still time for Martin to send his letter: about a week or so. That was plenty of time. But he refrained, because saying as much to Jon felt … dangerous. Like he was tempting fate. 

Things were going to work out. They had to. The storm was going to clear, they were going to get out of here, and then … 

“Your devotion to your mother is admirable,” said Jon.

Warmth ballooned in Martin’s stomach, spreading to the tips of his ears. It was an absurd thing to receive praise for (oh, you love your mother, really going above and beyond), but … well, it was still nice to hear, every once in a while. Or at all. “Thank you.”

It took most of the morning, but, with their combined efforts, they managed to restore the fireplace to an off-colour white. Martin stepped back, basking in the glow of a job well done. Jon, however, didn’t appear quite as chuffed as Martin felt. Rolling out his wrists, the man collapsed onto the couch, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process and triggering an intense coughing fit.

“Break time?” Martin asked, taking a much more gentle seat. His only answer was more coughing. Poor thing looked utterly done with the whole enterprise, if the curl of his nose was any indication. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah. Unless you really intend to help me clean this room all day?”

Jon laughed, turning away sheepishly.  “I … yes, um … Well, this and that, I suppose. Reading, mostly. I’ve always had a penchant for it, and I’ve yet to make my way through the library. Um. Music, although it’s been quite some time since the gramophone worked. I took to baking for a time. I like to think I’d gotten rather good at it.”

“Wait, so you did bake that bread? When I first got here?” Martin thought back on it, how crispy the crust was, the soft and tasty inner dough, how fresh it had been. Martin couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten fresh bread. “That’s seriously amazing.”

“It’s hardly a complex task. But … yes, thank you.” Martin wasn’t sure if it was the haze of the dust, but Jon’s face looked a bit darker, a bit flushed. But then, the good humor in Jon’s eyes fell away. “And then there was the garden, of course. It was … well. A disaster, to put it mildly.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I killed everything, didn’t I?” Jon’s eyes dropped to his lap, shoulders sinking. “Not a single bulb flourished under my care. I … I eventually figured it was more merciful to give up than keep trying.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Would be better to start with anything but roses, he wanted to suggest. You’re just setting yourself up to fail. But that would certainly come across as annoyingly patronising. “Maybe I can lend a hand?”

“Pardon?”

Wait. No. What business did Martin have making an offer like that? It wasn’t as if he knew any better about keeping things alive. But something about the resigned nature of Jon’s tone tore at him; his mouth had fallen open of its own accord. 

“I-I mean … Well, it might be fun, yeah?” Martin tried. “Personally, I’ve always wanted to learn how to garden.” 

“Is that so?”

Martin nodded, intending on leaving it there, but Jon was watching him, waiting. Oh.

“W-Well, uh, when I was a kid,” Martin said, face warming, “I’d always dreamed of having a, um, like a little cottage? That I owned? With a great big plot of land in the middle of a forest somewhere. Would get married, settle down, grow flowers and all kinds of food together. It’s … it’s a bit silly.”

“Not at all,” Jon said, eyes softening, and Martin’s heart fluttered something fierce. “I think that’s lovely.”

He smiled, hoping it didn’t come out as a grimace, because it had been a long, long time since he’d indulged in that particular fantasy. It just wasn’t feasible, these days, having a little cottage of his own or … or finding someone who’d want to marry him when he’s never even had a serious relationship before.

“Thank you, though, for your offer,” Jon said, cutting through Martin’s thoughts. “I’ll … be sure to consider it.”

The tight knot in Martin’s stomach unwound just a bit. “‘Course.”

By that point, the dust had become utterly unbearable, and they were forced to evacuate.

.

The brass of the door handle glimmered under the lamplight, rusted with age and disuse. How long had Martin been standing here, knees locked and shivering beneath the thick chill? Ages, by now. Griffiths was going to have his skin peeled for shirking his responsibilities like this, and the head butler would be perfectly within his rights.

But every time Martin tried to remind himself, that he still had so much work to do –

“… Hello?”

That voice. Still out there, somewhere behind the old door. Distant, but not beyond Martin’s reach. If Martin had already been here for ages, then that voice …

Wasn’t anyone coming for them?

If he opened the door, he could just take a quick look. Call out, see who needed help –

“And what do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Martin yanked his hand back, hand burnt on the molten brass.

“M-Mum?”

“I always knew you’d leave for good someday. I could see it in your eyes, you know. You couldn’t bear to take care of your poor, sick mother, and now you’re off to traipse about the countryside with some invert.”

“I didn’t leave.” Tight pressure strangled Martin’s throat, the back of his eyes burning. “I’d never do that. Where are you? I’m coming, I-I’ll find you–”

“And what, pray tell, would be the point of that?”

“Mum, please, just tell me where you are, I’m coming–”

“You’ve always been a wretched liar.”

.

Martin lurched upright, sucking painful gasps through his aching teeth, his sleep shirt sticking to his sweaty skin. No light permeated the windows— he may as well have been in a tomb, for all that he could see.

Jon was out there somewhere. Alone. As was his mother.

I’m coming back to you. I’ll find a way out of here. I’m doing everything I can– 

Liar.

Martin curled up onto his side, wrapping trembling arms around himself. Even though there was no one else to hear him, no one to stifle himself for, he drove his teeth into his lip until his mouth filled with the dull taste of copper.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #fanfiction #fic #[air horn noises] #yes chapter 4 will now be officially two chapters #their love just could not be contained #momm

[bestillmyslashyheart]

Propmt: Century has passed and the team reunites with Booker... I need some angst and more fics about Booker.

Booker knows there’s someone in his apartment the second he opens the door. There are no obvious signs, no evidence to point to someone having broken in despite the fact that Booker had the only key, but Booker knew. He knew it in his gut, in the way his skin hummed at the other man’s presence. You couldn’t spend hundreds of years in someone’s pocket without gaining some intrinsic awareness of them. So Booker knew there was someone there and he knew who it was before he even got the door closed.

He dropped his keys on the table and put his bags down, kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat and scarf. When he got to the kitchen the other man was exactly where he expected him to be, in the most comfortable chair, drinking Booker’s very expensive coffee.

“Joe,” Booker greeted.

“Booker.”

It had been ten years since they last saw each other, ten years since the situation with Quynh was resolved, ten years since Joe looked him in the eye and said, “Ninety-nine more.”

“You’re early.” Booker fussed with the coffee maker as he made himself a cup. If he was staring at the coffee maker he didn’t have to look at Joe.

“So I am,” Joe remarked idly. He sounded like a stranger. Booker had had decades to familiarize himself with Joe’s behavior and he thought he’d known him as well as anyone other than Nicky could know the man but the person sitting at his table was an unknown.

Joe was silent until Booker sat down. “I have questions.”

Booker exhaled roughly and nodded. “Ask them.” He braced himself for an outburst.

It didn’t come. Joe sipped his coffee calmly and stared him down across the table. “Why did you not say anything?” Booker cocked his head in confusion, caught off guard by the question. “You made a deal with Copley, with Merrick, to turn us over to science. Why didn’t you tell us? Why the scheming and theatrics?”

Booker rubbed at his forehead, his eyes searching the counter tops for the alcohol he’d left there this morning. But the counter was bare and Joe was waiting for an answer. He sipped his coffee. “I didn’t know what the three of you would say,” he confessed. It was a terrible answer, he knew, but it was the truth.

“Something you could have found out by talking to us,” Joe pointed out. “Instead you sold us out, set up and ambush, arranged for Nicky and I to be kidnapped, and for Andy and yourself to be locked up with us.” He tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to view Booker in a different light to see if it revealed any more answers. “Why go to all that trouble if you were planning to reveal yourself as the traitor anyway?”

Booker laughed harshly. “I’m a coward, Joe. I was a coward in my first life and I’ve been a coward in every life since. I wanted to die, I want to die, and that was the first real shot I thought I could have and I didn’t want to bring it to you and have you shut me down.”

Joe shrugged. “You could have gone yourself, handed yourself over to Merrick and his scientists. You didn’t need us. If you wanted to be a lab rat so bad, they would have taken you.”

Booker stared at the table. “They wanted all of us.”

“Only because you told them about us.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Copley already knew?” Booker shrugged. “He got Merrick on board by mentioning a team of unkillable soldiers so Merrick wanted all of us.”

“So it was Copley, not you.” It wasn’t a question and Booker hated Joe for it. He wanted Booker to cast the blame on someone else, to prove that he was still a coward.

“I told Copley,” Booker admitted quietly. “He found me and I told him it was all of us.”

Joe hummed and took a long sip of his coffee. It was apparently the last of it because he stood up and started making another. “Why did you work with Copley in the first place?”

“I told you. I wanted to die.”

“But how could help you? Merrick’s involvement, I understand. He had the resources to perform the science necessary to maybe find answers. But Copley doesn’t. So why Copley?” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, as his coffee brewed. Booker ached to fidget under his careful but held himself still. 

“He came to me,” Booker told him. “Said he wanted to help people and he thought I could help him do it.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee. It had cooled a little, no longer hot enough to burn his mouth, and he briefly considered heating it up again. “That’s what we do right? Try to help people?”

Joe made a considering noise as he sat back down with his full cup. “So Copley reaches out to you, tells you he wants your help helping people, and you sign on without a word to any of us. Then he teams up with a man with too much money and too many scientists and tells you that he could try to find the secret to our immortality and therefore a way to rid us of it and you don’t say a word to any of us. You take this information and you agree to do it but they won’t take you alone so you arrange for us to walk into a trap that Copley records for proof of our gifts, you sell out the location of our safe house and permit them to attack us and kidnap me and Nicky, and you walk Andy straight into the hands of Merrick. All without talking to us.” Joe pauses, giving Booker a chance to contradict him but there was nothing to argue so Booker stayed quiet. “All because you wanted to die.”

“Yes.” Joe shook his head, a breath of a scoff on his lips, and Booker started to get angry. “I made a mistake!” He yelled. “I screwed up. I know this, Joe, I know I did, alright? And I can’t fix it, it’s done and in the past. Now, you had questions so I answered them. I’m sorry they weren’t the answers you were looking for but they’re the only ones I have.” 

Joe watched him evenly as he spoke, not reacting in any way. Booker wanted to rage against it, wanted to scream and lash out until Joe responded in kind, but the longer they sat there the more he felt himself calming. When his breaths were even again, when his heart rate had settled, Joe stood up, drained his coffee and placed the cup in the sink. He rinsed it out and set it aside to dry, failing to actually clean it like he always did. Booker almost smiled at the familiarity. But when Nicky failed to appear beside him to wash the cup for him with a huff of annoyed fondness, his heart fell. 

Lost in his thoughts, he missed Joe crossing the room. Two hands grabbed the sides of his face and tilted him up to meet Joe’s eyes. “We are not made to be alone,” he said softly but firmly. “You especially.” Booker’s eyes burned. Joe pressed his forehead to Booker’s for a brief moment before pulling back to press a quick kiss to his hairline and stepping back. “We are at the monastery.” 

The monastery was Nicky’s favorite safe house, half an hour outside of Genoa. Booker had never asked if it had once been Nicky’s home, before he went to war, but he thought it might be. Even if it wasn’t, it was the closest thing any of them had left of their homes before.

“It hasn’t been 100 years.”

“No,” Joe laughed. “It hasn’t.” He slipped on his jacket and wrapped a handmade scarf around his neck. Booker had never seen the scarf before but he recognized the craftsmanship easily; Andy had never really gotten the hang of knitting not matter how hard she tried. “But you are missed. So it’s time to come home.”

Booker lost the battle against his tears and felt them spill over onto his cheeks. Joe waited a moment to let him wipe them away then came back over. He said nothing until Booker looked up and met his eyes. 

“If you ever betray us again, if Nicky ever spends a single second under someone’s knife or in chains because of you, I will make you wish for Quynh’s fate.” Joe spoke slowly and calmly, but there was a fire and a steel in his eyes that told Booker he was serious. More than that, if it ever came to it, Joe wouldn’t hesitate, not for a second.

“Understood.”

“Good.” Joe nodded once. “Take your time. We are not planning to leave any time soon.” 

Booker didn’t manage to say anything else before Joe was gone. 

---

Booker took three days to gather his things and shutter his life in Paris before heading to Genoa. 

He hadn’t had a home in a long time but the familiar steps from the airport to the gates of the rundown monastery settled an inch inside him that he’d grown accustomed to over the last decade. If he had a place to call home in this day and age, it was here, with the people that were inside.

Booker hesitated outside the door. He knew Joe had been the primary factor in his hundred year sentence, knew that Nile had forgiven him that day, knew that Nicky couldn’t stay mad for long, knew that Andy was more forgiving in her mortality, knew that Quynh probably didn’t care one way or another, and yet he hesitated. 

He sucked in a shuddering breath and let out a steady exhale, letting his anxiety leave him, his shoulders and back releasing their tension, and opened the door. The steps from the entrance to the rooms they’d converted for their own use was familiar, the walkway worn under his feet.

Halfway there he started to hear voices. First, it was Nile’s laugh, crisp and ringing through the air. It was followed by shouts in three different languages and then more laughter. Booker followed the sound like he was being summoned, his feet no longer fully under his control.

The door was open but he stopped just outside and looked in. Nicky was the only one facing him and he caught sight of him immediately. There was a brief look of surprise before a genuine smile pulled at his lips. He nodded to Booker in greeting. Joe was sitting next to him, arguing something with Nile, and Nicky took his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles without interrupting the conversation. A moment later, Andy stopped talking to Quynh mid-word and stood, spinning to face the door, her hand on her gun. She froze and lowered the gun. “Book?”

The other conversations ceased immediately, the sudden silence ringing in the air. 

“Joe said you were here,” Booker explained. Andy and Nile turned on Joe, disbelief on their faces. Joe shrugged but didn’t offer any explanation. Nicky hadn’t yet let of his hand and squeezed it gently. “I can g-”

“No,” Andy cut him off. “You’re here. Stay.” She started towards him and Booker met her in the middle, their arms going around each other for a hug. “Welcome home, Booker.”

#so this is...not what you asked for...sorry #the old guard #tog fic #booker #sebastien le livre #joe #yusuf al kaysani #idk how to tag them lol #my fic #Anonymous

[devoidwrites]

Zero O’Clock - Joshua Hong

Summary: Your soulmate can hear you whenever you sing. After your life seems to fall apart, your once happy voice turned silent. Joshua worried, thinking of the worst when you opened up one last time.

Warnings: Depressed reader, kinda angsty?

Words: 2.8K

Genres: Angst, Soulmate AU

"Dude, you do the one thing you're good at. You sing to them."

~

Y/n, I expected better from you.

Your heart dropped as you read the note your professor left on your test, the failing grade glaring at you. You had really tried this time, but it was just hard to focus these days with everything going on.

Lately you only wanted to lie in bed and sleep away your life. It felt like things were all going bad every chance they got. Your mother was fighting cancer, and you couldn’t even see her due to the pandemic going on.

You were stuck inside your apartment, the only times you were supposed to leave were when it was absolutely necessary. Of course no one really listened to the rules, but you did. You didn’t mind staying home, you rather enjoyed the alone time.

That was going good until it started coming back. You were doing so good fighting off the depression until you were stuck alone with your thoughts every night. Your friends had tried to get you to come over to their place, but you didn’t feel like doing anything.

You’ve never felt so alone, and you couldn’t help but wonder what your soulmate was doing. Were they self isolating? Sure, their voice was in your head every now and then singing a song you had never heard before. It was in a completely different language than what you were used to, and it made you interested.

You had started to learn Korean a couple years ago thanks to them, but you stopped caring about it months ago. The books that once helped you sat on your small bookshelf, untouched.

You sat up straighter in your desk chair, closing the laptop that had the failing grade on it. You didn’t need to look at it right now. Hell, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyways. Your professor wasn’t one to give out retakes on tests. She was a one and done kind of teacher.

Your feet led you over to your keyboard, and you mindlessly trailed your fingers over the keys. You hadn’t played in a while, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your soulmate had began to worry. It’s been weeks since you last sang anything, which was unusual to your daily one person concerts you used to hold.

You played a familiar tune, and your lips started moving before you could do anything about it. “How can you miss someone you’ve never met? ‘Cause I need you now but I don’t know you yet.”

You had missed the feeling of playing the piano. It was the only thing that gave you a sense of comfort nowadays, and letting out your emotions through a song was always helpful to you.

It’s not like you thought you were the best singer out there, but you new you weren’t terrible at it.  “But can you find me soon because I’m in my head? Yeah, I need you know but I don’t know you yet.”

-

“Cause lately it’s been hard. They’re selling me for parts, and I don’t want to be modern art. But I only got half a heart to give to you.”

Joshua stopped what he was doing, moving the phone from his face to focus on the words echoing throughout his head. He wanted to smile, hearing your voice for the first time in weeks, but the words processed quickly and he realized that it was different than before. It was no longer like fun songs the two of you sang back and forth.

He could tell, not only from the lyrics, but from the way you were singing that it was serious. He had been worried about you for the past couple of weeks, and this song told him that what he feared was now reality.

“Are you alright hyung?” Seokmin’s voice brought him back for a second, your voice becoming a soft echo as he tried to pay attention to the game once more. He failed. “Is it your soulmate?”

“Are they finally singing again?” Wonwoo asked, taking a seat beside him one the couch. Of course he told the guys about his worries. They were quick to assure him that everything would be fine, but now he couldn’t be so sure.

“Yeah, but it’s different this time.” He sighed, throwing his head back in defeat. “They’re sad, and I can tell by the way they’re singing that they’re crying.”

“What are you gonna do?” Vernon asked, moving his attention to the situation his friend was currently facing.

Joshua turned to glance at him. “What can I do? I have no idea who this person is, let alone where to begin to find them.”

“Dude, you do the one thing you’re good at.” Jeonghan wrapped an arm around the younger boys shoulders. “You sing to them.”

“Should I be offended?” Joshua trailed off, unsure wether or not his friend was joking. Jeonghan gave him a sly smirk before shoving him off the couch and onto his feet.

Joshua got the message and walked out of the living room. He made his was down the hall and into their small music room. As he closed the door, hundred of songs came to his mind, but one stood out in particular. It was one that he thought would help motivate you.

As his fingers trailed over the keys of the piano, playing the song from memory, he found himself singing the words that helps him on his off days. He could only hope that you were awake, listening to the words he had to sing.

“Mwonga dallajilkka. Geureon geon anil geoya. Geuraedo I haruga. Kkeunnajana.” He sang softly, not only because it was late for him, but he didn’t want to startle you if you happened to still be awake.

“Chochimgwa. Bunchimi Gyeopchil ttae. Sesangeun aju jamkkan sumeul chama. Zero o’clock.”

Joshua wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you everything was going to be alright, but for now his voice would have to comfort you in ways he wasn’t able to.

-

“And you’re gonna be happy.”

You couldn’t help the tears falling as you curled up in your bed, listening to the soft voice of your soulmate. It had been a couple days since hearing their voice, and it was refreshing.

You could place a couple of the words they were saying, but most of them had you lost, but it didn’t matter. Their voice alone was enough to calm you.

Oh how you wanted to meet them. You wanted nothing more than to talk to them and thank them for always being there for you, especially now. They had been giving you words of encouragement, through songs of course.

However, you couldn’t help but feeling even more sad now. How were you supposed to find your soulmate when they were most likely in a completely different country than you? And even if you did find out where they lived how would you even go about finding them?

You had no idea who they were, or where to even begin searching. The thought of never being able to find them only made your depression worse, and you were scared of being alone for the rest of your life.

In reality, that was your biggest fear; being on your own forever.

“Turn this all around. Modeun ge saeroun Zero O’Clock.”

-

Eight months later.

Your soulmate never stopped singing to you. They sang the same songs over and over again, but late at night they sang only to you, a different song every night to help you through it.

You started to feel better, and as the pandemic eased off you were able to see your mother once again. She looked the same as before, and her cheery attitude hadn’t changed a bit. It was refreshing seeing her once more. The FaceTime sessions didn’t do anything justice.

You had began to slowly find your determination, and even though you were still failing your classes you were still trying more. Your once failing grade turned into a barely passing one, which was better to you. You even started hanging out with your friends after everyone was able to go back to normal, and it was nice getting out again. It kept your mind off things.

So here you were, walking around with your mom and having a good time. She was discharged from the hospital quickly after the pandemic was slowing down, but you still had to wait for the okay to actually see her. That meant getting tested, and boy did you hate it.

After the two of you had lunch, you started a small walk around town, talking about everything that happened in the passed year that you had been separated from one another.

“Are your classes getting better?” She asked, taking a sip from her tea.

You nodded with a smile. “They’re getting easier.”

You had even picked up back on learning Korean, and it was a lot more fun now that you were back into the subject.

“I’m doing a lot-“ You cut yourself off, hearing a familiar song playing from one of the stores around you. Your mother quirked an eyebrow as you walked over to the store, the name KpopTown shining bright.

“Uh, excuse me, could you tell me who sings this song?” You asked the girl working. She beamed brightly at the mention of the song, clearly ready to talk about it.

“Oh! This is Home Run by Seventeen. It’s from their newest album.” She explained happily. “They’re having a concert today, so I figured I’d get into the carat spirit.”

You had no idea what she was talking about, but you quickly thanked her and walked back over to your mom, who was giving you a confused look. “What was that about?”

You shook your head, rubbing the small tattoo on your wrist. You had gotten it as soon as the shops had opened back up, and you were quick to get the words ‘One Day’ on your skin as a permanent reminded that everything would be okay.

It came from your soulmate. They had been singing it over and over, and you had quickly placed together that they were writing this song for you. You had cried for hours that day, the fact that they cared about you so much before even meeting you getting to you quickly. The part that really got to you was the song was in English, which meant they wrote it just so you could understand them.

“So you found them huh?” Your eyes snapped over to your mother, who was now smiling happily.

“What?” You asked. “How do you-“

“That look in your eyes darling.” She explained, turning to look at you with a look of happiness. “I had that same look when I found your father.”

“I haven’t found them yet.”

“But you know how to find them.” She clarified. She was right, you did know how to find them, but did you really want to? Of course you did, but there was only one way for sure to actually find them. That was to go to the venue before they had their concert. “Go. Go find your soulmate.”

“Mom are you-“

“I’ll be fine Y/n. You’ve been waiting for this moment for years, and who knows when you’ll get the next chance to meet them.”

Kissing your mother of the cheek quickly, you said your goodbyes before calling a cap and telling the where to go. Along the drive, you looked up where they would be holding the concert, just to make sure you were right. You also looked up a picture of the group, your eyes focusing on one in particular.

They were a Kpop group, and one that was doing well at that. It began to make sense as to why he would sing the same songs over and over again, and you wanted to hit yourself for not figuring it out before.

His name was Joshua Hong, and he was actually from LA too. He had moved years ago after being signed into a company that would eventually bring him to the group he was in today. You had to listen to a clip of him singing, and after the first note you knew it was him.

You could feel the tears building up as you neared the stadium, the cheers of the fans surrounding the entrance coming into your line of vision.

After paying the driver, you got out and rushed into the crowd, who was shouting out names of the other members. You paid them no mind as they cursed at you for pushing yourself to the front. You were the only one that wasn’t screaming as you finally pushed through, your eyes moving faster than ever to try and find him.

Then, the van door opened and they started walking out. Time seemed to stop as Joshua got out of the van, and followed his friends towards the door. You couldn’t find the courage to say anything until he was almost out of your vision.

“One day!” You called out, making him stop in his tracks. It gave you a little bit of hope to call out once more, reciting more lyrics. “I’ll find you one day and everything will be okay!”

He turned around, eyes instantly locking with yours. A look of realization crossed his expression before he was pulled inside completely and out of your sight.

Defeated, you waited for the crowd to die down, the group of girls leaving since their idols were no longer anywhere to be found. You took a seat beside the wall, bringing your knees up to your chest to rest your head on them.

Once everyone was gone and out of sight, the door opened and a head popped out. “Hey.”

Your head looked up to find one of the boys in the group. He nodded towards you, silently telling you to come here. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take you to him.”

Your eyes softened at his words. You quickly placed him as Vernon, the only other native English speaker from the group. He opened the door wider, motioning for you to come in, and without hesitation, you did.

“I’m Vernon.” He introduced himself as he lead you through the stadium, taking the back way to where Joshua was.

“Y/n.”

He stopped in front of a door that would lead you to the person you’d been waiting to meet for years. The only thing that stood between you and your soulmate was a damn door.

Vernon opened it, and everyone inside stood up to look at you as you walked in. Joshua’s eyes met yours, and the world seemed to fade away. It was a new feeling, but you knew exactly what it meant thanks to your friends. This was the feeling people got when they finally meet their soulmate. Time slows down and it becomes just the two of you for a couple of seconds.

When everything came back, you realized the rest of the group was gone, probably giving the two of you the alone time you deserved.

Joshua stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, bringing you in for a much needed hug. Your arms wrapped around his waist, and you clutched to his shirt like your life depended on it. For so long you had waited for this moment, and it was finally here. You had finally met your soulmate.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed it.”

You pulled back, never removing yourself from his arms. You gave him a smile. “But you were there for me, even if you weren’t there.”

You pulled one of your hands back, showing him the tattoo you had gotten first chance you’d gotten. His eyes widened and his fingers trailed over the permanent ink, a smile forming on his lips.

“Your song helped me more than you could ever know.”

He pulled you back in for another hug. He rested his cheek on top of your head. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

You felt the tears building up once more, but for a change they were happy tears. Your heart swelled up, but it was a good feeling this time. Everything was going to be okay, and for once you were excited for the future.

“Me too.”

#joshua hong #seventeen #imagine #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #fluff #soulmate au #svt #carat #joshua hong x reader #fluff imagine

[binniedeactivated]

saint. || soobin🌪(3)

🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚  𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 1893.

the both of you halt and open your eyes swiftly. Soobin’s eyes widen at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. He lifts you off of him and carries you to his closet, telling you to shh before locking you in there. As soon as the closet door shuts his room door opens, and it happened to be his mother. she looks around his room for any proof that he was studying. 

“soobin-ah did you hear me? What have you studied?”. 

soobin awkwardly clutches the handle of the closet door trying to stand as normal as possible. 

“well hello to you too mom. yes I had a good day today. yes i ate today”. 

she narrows her eyes at him. 

“don’t disrespect me choi soobin”. 

“I’m not. But you haven’t asked me those things for as long as I can remember. What does it matter if I studied? Don’t you care if I’m okay?”.

“You know I care about you soobin I’m your mother after all”. 

“so why do you treat me like i’m one of your church goers?”. 

“soobin ah! You will not talk to your mother like that do you understand me?”. 

His father’s booming voice was overly audible down the hall. you bit your lips nervously trying to keep still before you knocked anything over. 

“We’re not doing this again soobin. We had this talk already. you need to be prepared for the sin outside of this house and since I’m your mother I’m going to make sure you’re well armored”.

soobin scoffs rolling his eyes. 

“All you care about is sin”. he mumbles not expecting his mother to hear it but she did, and she heard it clearly. 

“Excuse me what was that?”. 

“Mom when’s the last time you actually really checked on me instead of checking on this biblical catholic shit?”. 

she gasped. and so did you, quietly of course. there he was. that was the Choi soobin you knew. 

“This is my house soobin do you hear me?! mine! and as long as you’re living under this roof you will not use any type of profanity are you hearing me clear?”.

“maybe I wouldn’t have to use profanity if you would treat me like your fucking child for once! For once!”.  he repeats becoming angry. 

“soobin get in here right now”. your father called overhearing the both of them. He brushes past his mother down the hall to his parents bedroom. His father was currently undressing, taking his suit jacket off and hanging it up in his closet. He keeps a stern look on his face. It was cold. harsh. mean. And that’s how it stayed for as long as soobin could remember. It was the look he always gave him when he misbehaved in school or failed tests. 

“you know what I’m about to say to you soobin”. his father addresses. Soobin raises his eyebrows in distress. “But dad! It’s true and you know it”. his father glares at him. “Why are you still going and why are you raising your voice and cursing at any adult in this house? That’s 20 licks”. 

“dad!”. 

“25 shall we raise it any higher?”. 

soobin sighs in defeat. he hated this. He removes his shirt tossing it on a chair next to his father’s bed. He gave his father a deathly glare before he places his two hands on the bed. His father reaches in his drawer and grabs the flogger. He looked at soobin’s bare back one more time before slamming the flogger down on it, to which soobin winces at how hard he did so. “Count!”. he demanded before taking the flogger and whipping it across soobin’s back again, watching his skin welt red. 

“2″. soobin says breathlessly, trying to keep himself together so he could withstand the pain. He should’ve been used to it by now but he wasn’t. It had the same burning and stinging sensation it did every single time. Merciless, his father whips him again and again while his mother watches from the doorway. Soobin could feel his arms shaking as he struggled to hold himself up. He felt the skin on his back grow redder and redder with each hit, and whenever his father whipped the same place (which he often did) it left aching bruises for weeks. 

“15″. soobin uttered feeling his eyes well with tears. You overhear everything, you didn’t know when would be the proper time for you to go or how. You knew his mother had left the room though, and this was the chance to make your grand escape. You open the closet door slowly and shut it softly enough for no one to hear. Not that they’d be able to hear anyways over the sound of soobin’s cries. 

soobin’s cries. you would love to say the jackass deserved it. that you hope he felt every lick with deep pain and sorrow. but you wouldn’t wish abuse on your worst enemy. Not even Choi soobin. It broke your heart the way he was crying, his dark voice getting choked up as he counted. you eye the rest of your surroundings making sure the coast was clear before you stroll down the stairs and exit out the front door as silent as you possibly could. 

“now that this is out of the way, i want you to apologize to your mother and I don’t want to see you come out that room until you’ve finished studying. Do you hear me?”. 

with his face red from his crying soobin nods, painfully trying to stretch his arms to put his shirt back on. He grimaces at the feeling of the wool touching his wounds. 

“i’m sorry”. soobin stated while looking in her eyes with the sincerest look he could give. She nods her head and accepts it, dismissing him. He goes to his room and shut his door. He forgot you were in the closet and dashed to open the door. Only you were gone. He was relieved that you got out on your own. He also couldn’t help but to wonder what you heard. 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was a rainy day at the Academy of St. Joseph and the fourth years had mass in the morning. The bell on top of the temple rung obnoxiously. You had been in your biology class finishing up work. you hurried to scrawl your name across the top of the page before pushing it into the completed work bin. All of your classmates gathered at the door while sister Agatha stands in front of them all urging them to be quiet. As if they’d listen. These children barely prayed when they’re told and you expect them to be quiet? You collect your books and swing your bag over your shoulder. 

“I have a date with Choi soobin friday night”. you overhear your classmate Mia say. She was chewing her gum way too wildly and curling her blonde dead ends with her finer. Mia was pretty. She had these big glassy blue eyes and long eyelashes that were to die for. She was also considerably well dressed, making her a target of many guys. You didn’t hate her. She was just one of those arrogant girls that you paid no mind to. Her friends scoff in complete disbelief.

“No you do not!”. they laugh. “I do! he’s going to take me to a fancy restaurant in his metallic mercedes benz. We’re going to look like barbie and ken in human form i can’t wait I’ll take pictures to show you guys”. you had to admit even if she was lying she was selling it pretty well. But you had this small conflicted feeling each time she said it and you didn’t know why. 

you enter the church and sister agatha is guiding your class to fill up the pews. you would be the less fortunate one to not be able to sit with your class but to have to squeeze into a pew with a different one. You hated that. At least you could tolerate your biology class. You didn’t want to have to tolerate some other. She directs you to a different pew. You weren’t surprised at all that you were seated next to soobin. you knew you’d run into him sooner or later. you were all directed to pray. everyone slides off their seats and gets on their knees, pushing their hands together to really sell the idea. you know most would be secretly sleep anyway.

you push your hands together. you always prayed for real even when no one else did. Soobin prepares to pray too. Only he spent most of his time watching you pray rather than doing any praying himself. Feeling his eyes burning holes through your face you flutter them open to meet his gaze. His face was closer to yours than you thought.

“can you stop staring at me like a weirdo?”. you whisper, looking around making sure none of the sisters heard. he swiftly looks at your lips and then fixes his eyes on you again. 

“did you hear anything yesterday?”. he whispers back. 

you swallow, giving him a sorrowful look. 

“Is your back okay?”. 

“yes jesus healed me overnight”.

“I’m sorry soobin”. you whisper. you really were sorry though. 

“Don’t be. My parents are assholes”. 

“makes sense”. you nod, trying to make it look like you were praying at least before you got in trouble. 

“do you want to come over again? my parents are going to be gone for a conference until the end of the weekend”. 

“are they ever home soobin?”. you ask curiously. he shakes his head. 

“no they aren’t”. you felt sorry for him. honestly you did. i mean, your parents weren’t the best people either but at they least stayed around.

“I guess. What time?”. 

“we can go after school”. 

“alright. I’ll tell my mom I’m going to study group again”. soobin chuckles silently. It was refreshing to see a smile on his face after what he endured. 

“what’s so funny?”. 

“you’re cute. telling your mommy where you’re going”. 

“is that bad?”. you asked curiously. He shook his head and just smiles, laying his head back onto his folded hands. 

Before you went over soobin’s house it was normal to see his mischief in your everyday life. but while you went from classroom to classroom it was weird seeing him with his friends skipping class or teasing some kid. It was hard to believe this was the same soobin that asked you if you were hungry and was willing to feed you if you were. He’d just got finished putting laxatives in the coffee grounds in the teacher’s lounge before he approached you. You were taking your books out of your locker. 

“are you ready?”. he questions holding his backpack strap. you jump, startled at his voice and he laughs. “Do you ever announce yourself?”.

“hey soobin!”. mia calls from across the hallway. he turns around waiting for her to say something. 

“what? are you going to continue talking to some unknown weirdo or are you going to hug me goodbye?”. she says loud enough for everyone to hear. Loud enough for everyone to laugh. 

“seriously soobin who is that and where did you find her?”. His friend Jacob called out joining in the party. His group of friends laughed from across the hall. soobin glances down at you. you were embarassed to say the least. All eyes were on you now. And couldn’t help but to think about how stupid you looked next to him. seriously who did you think you were? 

you’d never fit in with Choi soobin. 

“I--”. 

“just go soobin”. you wave him off. 

“what?”.

“hello! are you going to keep me waiting? I’m pretty sure church girl has nothing relevant to say”. Mia calls again. 

“just go to her. I’ll be fine”. you mumbled shoving your books in your bag. Soobin sighs, he jogs his way over to Mia. You glare at them both. Maybe they were Barbie and Ken together. maybe you actually did look like a fool next to him. 

you swing your bag over your shoulder and started your walk home. 

“I’ll see you this weekend”. Mia flirts, kissing him on his cheek. It was an unexpected kiss that made soobin uncomfortable. It made her friends squeal though. He gives her a head nod and rolls his eyes once he turns around. he looked across the hall to see you gone. 

you were halfway down the hill once you saw a car driving slowly beside you. At first you thought it was a predator until the driver’s window rolled down and you saw soobin’s face. you should’ve known that it was soobin driving such an expensive car. 

“what are you doing?”. he yells so you could hear him. “I’m walking home. What does it look like?”. you retort. 

“I thought you were going to come to my house? I was going to drive the both of us”.

“no i’ll just go home soobin. besides, mia is probably tracking your every move as we speak”. 

“so?”. 

“so I’d rather not get humiliated by the whole school because of some guy that I kissed”.

soobin smiles as your cuteness. he knew it was a serious moment but he couldn’t help it. 

“we did more than kiss”. 

“shut up soobin”. 

“come on why are you being such a downer now?”. 

“why do you care now?”. 

soobin shakes his head smiling, muttering a ‘pfft’. 

“can you just get in the car? i’ll drive you home”.

“no thank you. I’ll walk. my house is only around the corner. I need the exercise anyway”.

“Walking around the corner isn’t much exercise. No serious calories are being burned”. 

“oh yeah? since when did you get so smart?”. 

soobin drives his car in the middle of the sidewalk right in front of you to stop you from walking the rest of the way. He gets out of the front seat and approaches you. you didn’t want to hear anything he had say, if we’re being honest. 

“listen i’m sorry about mia today. she’s a real bitch and that’s pretty much the type of girls I attract I can’t help it. she shouldn’t have said that stuff to you. it isn’t true anyways”.

you fold your arms. Choi soobin? apologizing to anyone? Was the world ending?

“oh yeah? and what about your friends?”.

“they’re all jackasses and you know that. Why do you care about what they say anyways and why are you mad at me for it? it isn’t like I said it”. 

“whatever soobin”.

“so? are you going to get in the car now? because I’m hungry and I want Mcdonalds”. he pouts. you wrinkle your nose to keep from laughing. he was a big baby. 

“fine”. you agree, walking to the other side of the car. He slides in the driver’s seat as do you in the passenger’s, and the both of you buckle up. The inside of his car was very well kept and expensive looking of course. His parents probably hire people to clean his car for him. 

lucky jerk. 

“what’s a millionaire like you doing eating Mcdonalds anyway?”. 

“I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich yesterday. Mcdonalds is like a five star meal compared to that”. you laugh. 

“what? you think I just sit around eating filet mignon?”. he questions again eyeing you before looking back at the road. 

“yes pretty much”. 

“no. I’d rather waste my money on food I enjoy. Rich people food is gross and it comes in small portions”.

“at least you’ve had that experience”.

“do you want to experience it?”. 

“what?”. 

“I can buy you some if you want to dip your feet into that lifestyle. negative 1/5 would not recommend though”. 

“you don’t have to do that soobin”.

“you sure?”.

“yes i’m sure”.

“I’m glad. you wouldn’t want that food anyways”. soobin expresses before he pulls into the mcdonalds drive thru and practically orders the whole menu. To your surprise the workers knew him very well and brought his food out quickly. He parked his car in a random parking spot. 

“wait you’re going to EAT in here?”. you ask looking around at the clean interior. Soobin pulls the lever to his seat to recline it a bit. he had no space with all those bags in his hand. 

“yeah why not?”. 

“you’re not worried about getting it dirty?”.

“no because I don’t clean it myself”. 

you knew it.

he digs into the bag and hands you a huge wrapped burger and fries. He lifted the tray beneath him and puts a milkshake inside of your cup holder. 

“soobin seriously i’m not hungry”. he looked at you while chewing on a fry. 

“just try it. it’s good i promise. I think that’s a peanut butter banana smoothie you have”. 

“wait really?”. you mumble picking it up. you sip it. it was sweet yet delicious. the flavors were blended so perfectly together, you haven’t tasted anything like it. You never had time to go out to eat often.

“Is it good? I’m getting jealous”. soobin chuckles before biting into his burger and making the biggest mess ever. 

“it’s amazing”. 

“really? let me try it”. soobin opens his mouth waiting for you to put the straw to his lips. you turned it away from him. 

“don’t you have another straw? I don’t know where your lips been”. 

“on you”. he mumbles before biting into his burger again. you smack his chest and he laughs. 

“what! it’s true”. 

“whatever soobin. you’re making a mess again”.  you fish through the bags to find some napkins. You swipe his lips and pick the contents off his shirt. it didn’t make sense how messy he was. he practically had pickles and onions all over his lap.  you used another napkin to pick them up, trying to make sure he was as clean as possible. 

He watches you while he chews, waiting for your eyes to meet his. and to your dismay they did. And there was that stare again. It was even more awkward this time around for you at least, considering the fact that you were bent over in his lap. Soobin never thought it was awkward though. He admired you. 

“You know, I’d kiss you if I didn’t have an onion slice halfway down my throat”.

you reach up and pluck his nose. 

“you’re a dork, soobin”. he scrunches his nose and smiles like the baby he was.

#txt #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #choi soobin au #txt au #kpop au

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.3}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.9k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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For the very first time when stepping onto the Hogwarts Express, Robin felt old. The majority of students was younger than her, and it made her painfully aware of how this was the second to last time she would ever feel the happiness of returning to Hogwarts. Luckily that only did little to taint her current excitement, and she mentally patted herself on the shoulder for being at the station so early. Most of the train was still empty, and thus Robin picked a cabin that promised the least walking traffic. Gosh, she couldn't wait to be back at school… as pathetically nerdy as that was.

"Robin!!!" Cas beamed the very second she opened the sliding door, and already had Robin wrapped in a tight hug before she could say hi in return. It was only then that Robin noticed just how much she had missed a simple hug. The luxury of a comforting touch was hard to come by these days, especially since the one person whose touch she craved the most stayed at a constant distance. But hugging Cas was lovely in its own right, and no less overwhelming in the sudden affection. Robin's eyes watered in an instant, but not enough to form real tears. God, hugs were nice…

"Hey Cas." She finally said, once the girl had let her go and now took the window seat that wasn't already occupied by Robin herself. For a few minutes they chatted about the postcard Cas had sent her, and then the entire process of being hugged was repeated as Jorien joined them in their compartment. Robin didn't mind in the least, she baked in every bit of affection she got.

"Your hair has gotten so long!" Jorien remarked, addressing Robin once they had gotten comfortable in their spaces for the long ride. Soon enough, the landscape flew by outside the window, and the sun blinded Robin enough to be a bother.

"I forgot to have it cut over summer the year." She shrugged in return, crossing her legs on the seat. "Perhaps I will do it myself at some point, I'm quite good with a knife by now."

"Don't you dare!" Cas intervened immediately. "It looks amazing just like that! All lush and bouncy and messy… You really don't know a thing about what looks good on you and what doesn't, huh?"

"Thanks." Robin replied flatly and rolled her eyes, which only made Cas groan in return.

"Come on, I didn't mean it as an insult! Your style is perfectly alright; it suits you well with all that… chromatic elegant grungy-ness. But you could use some help with the implementation of that style."

"I didn't even know I had a style in the first place." Robin shrugged and wrapped a loose curl around her finger only to release it again a few seconds later. Her hair almost went down to her waist at this point indeed, but if Cas thought it looked good… oh well. She could still cut it later in the year if it started bothering her. "I just wear whatever I like, usually."

"Which is perfectly alright." Jorien added in with a pointed look at Cas. "Not everyone thinks that school is a fashion show."

"Duh…" Cas rolled her eyes with a huff, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I'm just trying to help. Maybe get Robin a little more male attention this term."

"Yeah, no, we are not having this conversation." Robin said before they could go any further into that direction. "So tell me… what did you guys do over the summer? Anything exciting?"

"What's even more interesting is what you did over the summer." Jorien smirked at Robin with just a little too much mischief in her eyes, but at least she was going along with the change of topic. "Melissa told me that she saw you in the newspaper!"

"Who's Melissa?"

"A classmate of ours." Cas sighed, finally letting go of her feigned pout. "She's become somewhat of a friend recently."

"Good!" Robin smiled, looking at the two girls sitting opposite to her with a hopefully encouraging expression. "I'm glad you're making friends other than me at last! Perhaps your peers are finally grown up enough to be real friend material."

"Don't distract from the question." Jorien cut in, and Robin sighed. She'd taught her too well. "Were you in the Daily Prophet or not?"

"I was indeed."

The two girls' eyes lit up in an instant. "Tell us all about it! What did you do, win some prize for your presumably amazing OWLs? Get arrested for thinking too fast? Cure some deadly disease?"

"Close." Robin laughed, and before she could think better of it, she pulled her locket out from under her shirt to summon up the rolled up picture she had put in there when she'd first cut it out of the newspaper. With a soft smile, she looked down at it for a moment, then handed the photograph to the two girls.

"Now that is a lovely outfit you're wearing here! But… wait a second… Is that Professor Snape standing behind you?!" Cas asked incredulously after a few seconds of staring at the picture. "Did you meet there by coincidence or something? Because in comparison to all the old men, you and him actually stand out quite a bit."

Robin bit her lip to keep from laughing. They indeed were by far the youngest in the picture; and it was close to impossible to miss them even in a group of over forty people.

"The picture was taken at a conference about potions, which we attended together this year." Robin explained, and went to store the picture back in her locket once Jorien had done her fair share of staring as well. "No coincidence about any of that. We went together on purpose."

"Boring…" Cas sighed, and leaned back in her seat. "I wouldn't dream of spending time with a teacher outside of school, nor to spend more time on potions than I have to. But I know you're crazy enough to enjoy both, so nevermind. Anyway, what else did you do during the holidays?"

"I had coffee with a friend, occasionally." Robin smiled to herself, thinking back to Friday. How they'd made the best pasta she's ever had, without any magic at all. How they'd just sat in the open window in the dark living room, listening to the rain drumming on the stone tiles of her patio while a chilly wind contrasted the warmth of the tea in her hands. How when he had left, it had been late enough to say until tomorrow.

"Uuhh…" Cas wiggled her eyebrows in the most ridiculous manner. "That kind of friend, yes? Your smile is such a tell."

"Not even close to it, Cas." Robin quirked an eyebrow at her in return, with an expression entirely humored and entirely feigned; no need to turn into a blushing mess in front of them. And except for the overall existence of such, her and Snape's Friday meetings had been painfully appropriate indeed. Still, they had a silent agreement that it would be best not to mention them to anyone. "We are not even on a hugging kind of level in our friendship, which is perfectly fine though. We talk about books a lot."

"Was it the same friend who gave you the bracelet?" Jorien inquired pointedly innocently, motioning to the three pieces of jewelry Robin still wore around her wrist every day.

"The very same. I don't have friends other than you and him."

"Why do you never talk about him if he's your only real friend? Besides us, I mean… but we're different." Cas frowned. "Will you at least tell us who he is?"

"It wouldn't help you even if I did… You don't know him at all." Robin said, thanking the English language for allowing her this equivocation.

"Is he in Slytherin too?" Jorien tried inquiring in a careful tone, with a curious expression she couldn't quite hide.

"Yes. No. Not exactly." Robin replied and rolled her eyes at herself. She should just shut the questions down immediately; this was coming dangerously close to a place in her mind she didn't want to speak of. But they would never stop asking if she shut them down now. Not like this.

"Not exactly? What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means that he isn't a student at Hogwarts anymore." She said truthfully. "He graduated long before your first year even started."

"Darn it…" Cas groaned and rolled her eyes. "So that's why you never hang with him during the school year."

"Wait a second, if he graduated before we ever came to Hogwarts, how did he know that I was the right person to give you that bracelet last year?" Jorien frowned, giving Robin a highly questioning look. The girl really was too smart for her own good.

"I talked to him about you, silly!" Robin replied easily enough, as if it was the most obvious thing in existence. Always telling the truth was only difficult if one didn't practice it. "You've been my roomies for a while now, did you seriously expect me not to mention you?"

"Right… that makes sense." Jorien sighed, and her desire to question Robin disappeared along with her frown. "Anyway, what else is new?"

"Got me some new robes. Just because the school says we need black robes doesn't mean we all have to have the same boring students' robes they sell in Diagon Alley, eh? Also got dress robes for the new year's ball at last… you'll be positively surprised by those." Robin shrugged with a smirk, and now the sun finally bothered her enough to make her summon the small round sunglasses she had recently acquired out of the backpack next to her. As soon as she'd pushed them up her nose, the layer of darkness brought an immediate relief to her sore eyes. Who cares if it would get her some weird looks; not everyone could be a worshipper of the sun. "That's about it for me and my summer. What's new with you guys?"

_______________

The best thing about being in sixth year now was that Robin only had to take the subjects she actually cared about. No more history of magic, no more astronomy, no more divination… school was way more fun without those redundant classes. With the list of courses she wished to attend already being fixed, it had been ridiculously easy to set up her schedule on the first day of classes, and the week had started off relatively smoothly.

Professor Morgan's jaw had dropped quite literally when Robin had sauntered into his classroom on the first day of defense against the dark arts class, sitting down in her usual spot and looking indifferent to him as ever. Honestly, she couldn't have cared less if he was upset that she was continuing his class. She was here to learn, and if he couldn't be professional beyond his hatred for her, then she would just have to do the same thing she'd done since first year: study for herself and ignore Morgan as much as possible.

Other than that, Robin loved the courses she was taking; N.E.W.T. level classes were a lot more demanding in their magic and assignments, but still no real challenge to Robin no matter how much she'd hoped they would be. They were fun though, and the assignments were actually enjoyable to complete most of the time.

Outside of classes, she continued working on her handbook whenever she could, adding details and new information on a daily basis, and somehow she'd also ended up adding little drawings or clippings she'd been able to get her hands on to the correlating pages. By the middle of October, Robin felt like her project had finally reached a presentable state, and while she wasn't nearly done in her own eyes, the thick journal she had used was almost completely filled up by now. It was only then, on a lovely bleak Saturday, that she finally decided it was time to show her work to Snape at long last.

Saturday meant that Robin first of all spent a good while after breakfast tutoring Cas, Jorien, and Melissa (who somehow always tagged along with the two of them now) in transfiguration. When they moved on to potions after that, a few other third years overheard that Robin was very much knowledgeable in the subject, and they reluctantly asked if they could join the class. The shy request made Robin smile to herself, and she graciously agreed to accept them as her students for the day. In the end, they needed to move to a bigger room, for Robin ended up with sixteen students of various houses who wanted to listen to her going over the last month worth of third year potions class.

So really it was only after lunch when Robin finally had the time to find Snape in his office. Just out of a spree, she actually knocked before she entered for once, then however continued on in as usual, without waiting for a reply.

"Hey…" She smiled at him while she moved over to the side table to drop her backpack on her chair. "What are you doing?"

"Inflicting terror and remorse, one idiot at a time." Snape sighed in a pointed tone, and Robin had to chuckle. It shouldn't amuse her so much that he was so annoyed with his students… but after three hours of tutoring, she was simply amused by the fact that he looked just like she felt.

"Ah, same old then." She grinned, and was just about to grab her secret project out of her backpack to proudly present it to him as a hopefully welcome distraction, when he muttered something under his breath, subconsciously, followed by a quiet sigh that was almost plaintive even. Perhaps… this wasn't a good time. Robin let her notebook drop back into her backpack and turned around to look at him instead, sitting down on the edge of the small table.

Snape was bent over some parchment on his own desk with a deep frown on his face, looking partially annoyed, mostly frustrated and entirely done with whatever it was he had to do. Robin could practically feel the stress radiating off him, and it strongly supported her decision to lay off with her plans of showing him her project for now. Presenting him with more research and books surely wasn't something that would better the situation, which in return was all Robin could currently think of doing.

"Can I do anything to help you?" She asked first of all, raising her eyebrows in a hopeful expression when he looked up at her for a few short seconds.

"Not unless you want to suffer the same slow death by utter nonsense that was forced upon me with these second year essays." He replied in an annoyed tone, frowning back down at the desk and aggressively scribbling an overly large Dreadful on the parchment in front of him. Robin found that she pitied Snape just as much as his students in that moment, and she knew that for everyone's sake, she would have to come up with something other than chocolate cake.

"Alright, come on." She said determinedly, then pushed herself off the table and brushed imaginary dust off her black jeans. "There is something way more important to do than grading second year essays right now."

"And what would that be?" He raised an eyebrow at her in return, but already dropped his quill on the desk so abruptly that little sprinkles of ink dusted over the next essay paper as well as his hand.

"Going for a walk with me." Robin grinned as she summoned a jumper out of her backpack and then moved to put it on over her henley shirt. The second one she owned now, thanks to the positive remarks she had gotten for it. "I want to show you something."

Admittedly, that something probably wouldn't impress him nearly as much as her handbook would, and Robin had never really considered showing it to him in the first place, but somehow the little sprinkles of black ink on his pale skin had convinced her that it might be worth a try. What she wanted to show him was neither related to potions nor to anything else in that regard at all, it was practically useless but for its potential to delight with its mere existence. So really, all Robin hoped for was that he wouldn't be mad at her for dragging him outside for something as pathetic as that. And still, a part of her couldn't wait for him to see it. With a grin, she motioned for him to come along as she made towards the door.

Snape didn't even try to protest as he rose to his feet to go along with her plan, keeping his eyes on her with a subtly curious frown. Meanwhile Robin wondered when exactly she had reached a point with him where she could just burst into the room and suggested something like this, and he would drop what he was doing in an instant to go with her. Alright, she would do and had done the very same for him as well, but that was different! He just could've told her to scurry off and stop distracting him from his work. But he hadn't, and that made her heart swell in the most pleasant way as she sauntered out into the hallway, where he soon followed before locking the door.

Together they made their way through some of the most desolate corridors and passageways, avoiding as many people as possible until they arrived under the blindingly white sky at last. A chilly wind, swaying trees and the smell of impending rain greeted them, wrapping around Robin's senses like a silken sliver of liquid calm. A perfect day for a walk, and an even more perfect one for what she wanted him to see.

"Lead the way then." He said as they gained a distance to the walls of the castle. "Or is there no precise destination you wish to go?"

"Not really, no." Robin chuckled in return and crossed her arms over her chest for some warmth. It wasn't freezing, but her jumper was barely warm enough. "It's a spell I want to show you."

"A spell that requires us to leave the castle?"

"You'll see, believe me. But other than that, I simply wanted to take a walk and you looked like you could use some air as well."

He returned a quiet hum in acknowledgement, perhaps agreement even, and they continued to make their way down the hill in comfortable silence. It really had been a while since they had taken a walk like this, just for fun. A while long enough for Robin to forget if they had always been walking next to each other so… closely. It was quite distracting to feel his presence next to her on a constant basis, scorching her entire right side and making her skin crawl. But then again, the mere fact that he was here with her was quite delightful on its own.

For a while they aimlessly wandered through the landscape, sometimes following the paths and sometimes straying away on purpose, through the trees that were torn between an early winter's desolate death and a late autumn's colourful beauty. When they finally found themselves on the shore of the black lake, the place that seemed to hold an inevitable gravity on Robin, the October chill was already sitting deep in her bones. But so was the calm.

"Perhaps we should return to the castle before it starts to rain." Snape remarked, but made no attempt to turn around as he stood with Robin on the waterline, overlooking the mildly crinkling but ever vast surface of the lake. A black mirror.

"I still want to show you that spell." She replied easily, smiling to herself as her eyes lifted from the deep dark grey of the water to the almost blinding greyish white of the sky above them. "I merely had to wait for the right moment."

"And when would that be?" He inquired with a layer of curiosity in his tone, as a crashing thunder rippled through the bubble of serenity that surrounded them.

"Now." Robin replied with a soft smile, then she pulled her wand out of her sleeve and pointed it up at the sky. All she heard for a few seconds was her own breathing, her own heartbeat, and the faint lapping of water at the stones beneath her feet. Focus… Breathe. "Lux obscurius."

The white sky, blinding in its cold brightness. A black lightning, a bolt of utmost darkness, cutting through the white and splitting time for a broken second. Veiling the world in darkness. And then, light again, accompanied by absolute silence. The drowning out of every sound, every noise absent and gone for the duration of this negative of thunder. A heartbeat later, the wind whispered again, the water rolled over the pebbles, and Robin let out the quiet breath she had been holding. A perfect lightning of darkness, a perfect thunder of soundlessness.

"It's quite useless, is it not?" She chuckled nervously after a moment, turning to look at Snape with a small frown and a weak half smile. Damn his enigmatic expression, damn his silence; she had no idea what he thought. "I was just experimenting. Again. It really isn't anything special, it's just-..."

"It is a piece of art if I have ever seen one." He interrupted her, holding her gaze with the barest hint of sincere awe shining through the intricately woven layer of burning emotions Robin couldn't separate into graspable strings. A layer that she only now understood to be the very same as his facade of neutrality. "You should show it to someone who is capable of being moved by such delicate beauty."

"I believe I just did." She replied with a small smile, and his brows furrowed into a frown that was more defense than accusation. Robin understood that he didn't want her to know… but she wanted him to understand that she knew anyway. "You are bleeding emotions, you know… Out of invisible wounds that are unfathomable in their origin to me, but still I can feel you bleeding like you saw the crimson on your fingertips when I did."

For a moment he just stared at Robin, and she in return observed how his chest rose and fell with every breath he took. It was a calming sight, intimate and distant at once. They still stood on the shore, still tempting fate to open up the skies in an orchestration of water, sound and wind. But for the moment, time was frozen.

"You are so very receptive of some matters, and yet so very blind to others. Why, pray tell, do I fall into the former category?" He finally inquired without any spite, and Robin realized just how much she had hoped that he wouldn't just shut her out entirely. Relief drowned that spark of fear before it could root.

"Because I care to look, and you allow me to see." She replied easily, confidently almost, in the knowledge that it was true what she said.

"That's ridiculous... I most definitely do not!" He scoffed with a sullen look, but as Robin quirked an eyebrow at him in doubt, he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Fine, perhaps I do. Unintentionally, I should say. What you are supposed to see is annoyance, and occasionally anger."

"Anger is the only emotion that doesn't make you vulnerable by showing it." She shrugged, offering him another small smile that hopefully portrayed understanding rather than disregard of what he was saying. "And the more vulnerable you feel, the more anger comes pouring out of you. Always lashing out, before anyone else has the chance to hurt you first. It's only self-preservation, really. I tend to do the same."

"How do you do it?"

"What?"

"Knowing."

"As I said, I care to look." Robin's smile widened a little, and she shrugged one shoulder. "And you let me see."

"Don't get me started on what you let me see." He huffed, but there was undoubtedly a spark of humor in his voice, now made room for by the vanishing defensiveness. He didn't deny her statement, not again. "For example, I can always tell when you so desperately try to hide your wish to disagree with me in class."

Robin's lips parted as they curled into a large smile, then she had to laugh after a second of surprise. "Well, at least I try not to be an insufferable know-it-all in front of the entire class!"

"You are quite insufferable as it is, but you do know a lot indeed. Next time you want to disagree with me, humor me by trying, will you?"

"You know I'll succeed anyway."

"We should have to see about that." He quirked an eyebrow at her with a not-smirk, clasping his hands behind his back just as the first raindrops ruffled the surface of the lake.

The wind picked up as well, blowing Robin's hair into her face despite the ponytail she'd put it into, but she kept on smiling even as heavy pearls of water hit her lips, her neck, her lashes, each one a beautiful reminder of how intensely and desperately alive she felt in that moment. Sometimes the world ended with a bang, sometimes with a whisper. And perhaps it was reborn the same way.

A bright flash cut through her vision, lightning followed by a deafening thunder, and hell broke loose at last. In an instant the rain doubled in speed, faster and louder and stronger and colder, but Robin only closed her eyes as she smiled up at the sky to let the rain pearl down onto her face. The water soaked through the fabric of her jumper in an instant, stinging her skin in a sodden cold, but it held nothing against the pleasure of raw passion that tided through her at the same time.

When Robin opened her eyes at last, an entire legion of dark lightnings surged through the sky in a web of black ink, hitting the world in a display of brutal fragility. Soundlessness, inevitably drowning out the rain and the wind, as loud in its silence as a crash of thunder in its noise. Then it was just the rain again, putting everything into perspective as Robin finally lowered her gaze from the skies to look at Snape.

He still seemed to be mostly dry, standing under the faint glow of his umbrella spell, and he observed Robin with an expression that, for him, looked almost sincerely happy. The sight squeezed Robin's heart in pure adoration, and she couldn't help but smile while rain dropped down from her lashes and onto her lips.

"You are insufferable." He mused with a small smirk and the most obvious teasing expression.

Robin chuckled in return, shaking her head to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest to at least keep some of her warmth. By now, she was entirely drenched. "What did I do this time?"

"For one, you showed me one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen."

"The spell?"

"Passion." He said without the slightest hint of discomfort, as if it was just another easy fact, and that one mere word set Robin's skin ablaze and her heart under electricity. Damn…

"But…" He added before long, and Robin got the impression that he finally caught on to what he had said. "You are also entirely sodden, and I have to return you to the castle somehow before you turn into an icicle. So get yourself an umbrella before I take pity on you."

"Sure, as soon as you tell me the spell to do so." Robin smiled, giving him a small shrug while she leaned her head to the side. Really, they taught spells for turning animals into drinking cups at school, but not how to conjure up an umbrella. Education… Ironic.

"Perhaps another time." He replied with a hint of a smile as he took the one remaining step to stand next to her, then he wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders at last.

Robin let herself be pulled close more than gladly, under the dry space of the umbrella and into his side. A moment later the water melted off her skin, fading from her clothes into a thin mist that was blown into the wind and disappeared altogether within a few seconds, leaving her dry enough to bask in the warmth that radiated off him. Gods, he was warm indeed… and his touch still heavenly as ever. She smiled down at the path beneath her feet then, and leaned into his side just a little bit more than she had to as they made their way back towards the castle. If he noticed at all, he made no attempt to protest.

______________________________

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[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 3.7k

Warnings: Smut, swearing,

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 4 Part 6

Part 5

I lived about 40 minutes away from Liam in the suburbs. I still lived in the house Andy and I had bought together, planning to have a family.

I kept thinking about the house on the way there. I remembered being so excited when we found out our offer was accepted. When we moved in a few months later, we did what I assume most young couples do, and we had sex in every room, including the laundry. I had joked that if I got pregnant from the laundry sex, we should call the kid Westinghouse.

After Andy died, I had used his life insurance from his superannuation to pay off the mortgage. I had decided against selling it and moving somewhere smaller. I couldn't do it as it felt like I was abandoning our dream.

When we got home, Liam said, "you live here? I expected you lived in an apartment or something, not a whole house by yourself."

I wasn't meant to be here by myself. I didn't say it, though. I just shrugged, opened the door and said, "You live in a huge place by yourself."

"Yeah, but I didn't pick it. A place to live close to the studio was part of the contract.".

We went in. Perrin came lumbering to the door to greet me and gave Liam a short bark. I scolded Perrin and patted him, telling him Liam was a guest. Liam was unfazed and knelt to pat him and had a chat. "You're just protecting your lady, aren't you, buddy? Well, don't worry, I'll take good care of her." Be still my beating heart.

I took Liam past the bedrooms, pointed out the main bathroom, and went to the open plan kitchen, lounge and dining room. I got out food for Perrin and fed him and found Liam hadn't followed me into the room.

He was in the hallway looking at the pictures on the wall. Well, one in particular. The one of me in my wedding dress, kissing Andy. Oh shit... this was awkward.

I didn't say anything, what could I say?

"I'm sorry." He eventually said. He finally looked at me.

"Why?"

"It must have been awful."

Don't cry! I just nodded.

He pulled me to his chest and held me. "I know you told me what happened when we first started chatting. It didn't really register until I saw this." He pulled back a bit to look at me but still had his arms around me. "Is that why you were so upset last night?" I didn't have to say anything. It must have been written all over my face. Shit.

"Shit," Liam said, echoing my thoughts. He let me go and ran his hand through his curls. They seemed to have dried now. "I'm sorry, I should have realised..."

"No," I interrupted him. "Look, I'd be lying if I said I was over it. I don't think you can ever get over it, but I'm ready to move on. I've been trying to date for a while now. It's just taking that last step and sleeping with someone..." I trailed off. I didn't know how to say what I was thinking without him believing I didn't want him. "I want to be sure it's the right person. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Sweetheart." Liam pulled me close again. "I'll try to control myself."

"Don't try too hard," I said. "I want you too."

Liam grinned, "You shouldn't have said that." He buried his face into my neck, kissing me and nipping at me until I started to giggle.

He let me go smiling. I said I had better go shower. His eyes widened a moment. "You ok to wait while I do?"

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. I'll have plenty of thoughts to keep me occupied while you're in the shower."

I pretended to be offended, "You're filthy."

"Yes." He said. I ran.

I showered as quickly as possible and got dressed in some leggings and a t-shirt. I went out to find Liam playing on his phone, patting Perrin. He looked up when I came in, and the smile he gave me was so dazzling I stopped for a moment. Gathering myself, I walked over to him and sat on the lounge, not quite close enough to touch him but not out of reach either.

"What should we do today? Do you feel like being lazy, or do you want to go out?" I asked.

Liam hummed a moment. "I think a lazy day would be nice. I won't get many of them soon."

"We could watch a movie?"

Liam agreed. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything really. Except for romance or a tear-jerker."

"What? Why?"

"I hate crying, and I cry at the drop of a hat. I can't even watch Disney movies without crying. Once I watched Seven Pounds and cried for three days straight." Yeah, I really did. "Plus, I'm an ugly crier." Why, oh, why can't I keep my big mouth shut.

Liam laughed, "I find it hard to believe that you could ever be ugly." And I can't breathe. I think I need an oxygen tank. "Alright, we won't watch a romance."

"Ok, come with me and let's choose. I have a heap of Blu-rays and DVDs. I like director cuts, extended cuts, that kind of thing." I took Liam's hand and tried to pull him off the lounge. He didn't let me. Instead, he pulled me closer until I was standing in front of him.

"Not yet." Liam wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me onto his lap, so I was straddling his glorious thighs. "If we can't watch a romance, maybe we could..." He didn't finish the sentence, which I'm thankful for because I don't think even he could have said anything after that, which wouldn't have been cringe.

Liam's hands slid behind my hips to my bottom, and he gripped me, pulling me closer. Once again, I giggled at his strength. Sometimes I swear I want to slap myself. His hips moved upwards, and I slid further down until I could feel his hardness between my legs. Oh fuck, I don't know how long I can hold out. He put a hand on my neck and pulled my face towards his. His lips met mine. I tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress the moan that came from my throat.

"Fuck," he breathed into my mouth. "When you make noises like that, I just can't stop thinking about what other noises you can make."

I didn't respond, and I just kissed him back. I let my hands trail down his chest, savouring every curvature of his muscles. My hands reached under his shirt, and I felt my way back up his chest.

Although I was travelling blind, my fingers found the spot they were looking for. Liam hissed as my fingers trailed over his nipples. A self-satisfied smile came across my lips. As if in retaliation, he pulled his hands away and held the bottom of my shirt.

"I don't like this shirt. It covers too much." He grinned roguishly. I wasn't going to give in easily.

"But it's a Ramones t-shirt," I complained. "Don't get between Joey and me."

"Joey, huh?"

I nodded, "didn't you know I was a punk rocker?" I stuck my tongue out and did some devils horns.

"Do that again." Liam was grinning at me, so, like an idiot, I did. He whipped the shirt off over my head so quickly I couldn't stop him. I stared down at my chest. My bra was still keeping my modesty in check. I must have had a crazy look of surprise on my face because he laughed at me. "That's better." He said and started kissing the top of my breasts.

I put my hands into his hair, letting him have a small victory while I took mine. His hair was as soft as I thought it would be. Then I curled my hands into fists and pulled, so he had no choice but to pull back and look up at me.

"That was very rude," I said, trying not to smile.

"You loved it." He wasn't wrong.

"Maybe, but it's only fair if..." I trailed off and tugged at his shirt. He leaned forward instantly, and I pulled his shirt off. He was so broad in the chest I felt positively small next to him. I pushed him back against the lounge, well, he let me push him, and I leaned down to kiss his chest. His hair tickled my nose as I travelled my kisses across his chest to his nipple. I kissed it gently before flicking it with my tongue.

"Fuck me," I heard him say. That encouraged me, and I took his nipple in my mouth and gave it a little bite. His whole body jerked in response.

Liam growled, "Fuck it". Suddenly his arm was around my waist and the other under my bum, and he stood up, taking me with him. I squealed and wrapped my legs around his waist. He was stronger than I thought.

"Which one is your bedroom?" Liam asked as he started towards the hall. His eyes held mine, and his blue eyes seemed dark and hungry.

"Second on the left." I should have given my room a clean! Maybe he won't notice if I keep him occupied.

He took me to the door, and I reached behind my back and opened it. He took me in and put me down. He closed the door behind us, and I turned around, looking at my room. Embarrassment crept in.

I had a massive pile of dirty clothes hanging out of my laundry basket and a pile of clean clothes on a chair. My bed was unmade, pillows everywhere. My bedside table was piled with books and had an empty Ben and Jerry's tub on top. Ok, it's bad, but it could have been worse. Then I remembered something, and my eyes flew to the bedside's open draw.

I felt the blood leave my face. It was worse. The last thing I wanted Liam to see was my god damned vibrator. Fuck!

"So, what should we do now?" Liam stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my bare waist. He ran his hands up my side and kissed my neck, nuzzling into me. Although it felt amazing, all I could do was look at the pink silicone sticking out of the draw. I was as still as a statue.

"You're not into this." He stated, his hands dropped, "That's ok, I told you I wouldn't do anything you didn't want to do." I mumbled something, not sure what, and kept thinking about getting to the draw and hiding the vibrator without drawing attention to it.

Liam's voice came out strangled and about an octave higher. "Hide the vibrator?" His voice calmed, and he said, "Damn, Sweetheart. I would have been happy just to feel you up a bit. But if you insist."

I want to die. Liam saw it. I jumped to the draw and slammed it shut. "Umm, I didn't mean for you to see that." I still couldn't look at him.

"I didn't see anything until you said it." Oh. Well, I'm a fucking idiot.

I slowly turned and looked at him. I could see Liam's bloody lip twitching as he tried to hide a shit-eating grin. I wanted to hit him.

"Don't be embarrassed." His voice was deep again, his accent making each word soothing, "I'm not." He came closer to me, his head. He spoke softly in my ear, "I think it's hot as fuck."

I moaned, partly turned on, partly wanting to die. I could feel the heat between my legs grow, and a pleasant tingle radiated through me as I shivered. "No, it's not," I said. Why was I such a prude sometimes? I hid my face in my hands.

Liam didn't attempt to hide his grin. He took my chin in his hand and lifted my face to his. "My rock hard cock disagrees." Oh, Lord, help me.

"Really?" I asked. I hadn't always been like this. Ten years ago, I would have pulled the vibrator out of the draw and put on a show. I knew lots of guys liked to watch a girl orgasm. Just picturing myself doing it now was cringe-inducing.

"Fuck, yes." Liam took my hand. He was gentle and moved slowly as if I were his prey, and any sudden movement would make me bolt. Liam placed my hand on his jeans between his legs. He groaned, and his forehead leaned against mine. "That's what you do to me."

A thrill flowed through me. I wanted to touch him so much. I cupped my fingers around Liam's balls and pressed my palm against him. I moved my palm slowly up, trying to find the end, fuck it was big.

Liam put his hands in my hair and kissed me roughly. I kept moving my palm up and down slowly and firmly against him, my own excitement growing. I was getting so turned on, I lost control for a moment and bit on Liam's lip. Liam growled.

I couldn't stand it anymore; the desire to feel him was too much. I undid his belt. Not wanting to take the time to undo each button, I pulled his jeans apart, each button popping as they came undone. Liam looked down and watched as I slid his jeans down his thighs. I gripped him through his underwear and explored his length. Liam stood there still, watching as my hand moved over the fabric.

It felt so good, but I wanted more. I wanted to hold in my hand what I had glimpsed the night before. I put a hand into his trunks, but before I could touch anything, Liam grabbed my wrist and removed it from his underwear.

"As much as I want this and believe me, I fucking want this. I need to make sure this is what you want." Liam's voice was strained. I looked at his face and could see the effort it took for him to have stopped me. His desire was plain.

"I want it." Liam closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened his eyes, they seemed on fire.

"Tell me exactly what you want."

Please don't make me say it. The shyness was back, or shame, I can't tell. I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry. "I want to touch you," I whispered.

"Tell me where." His voice was hoarse. It was such a fucking turn on.

"I want to touch your cock." I felt his pants move at my words. I looked down and saw the tip almost peeking out of his underwear. I put my hand in and held his shaft gently, and his skin felt soft and velvety. Liam shuddered against me. At that moment, I felt powerful watching this huge man tremble at my touch. I moved my hand.

Liam bucked his hips against my hand, moving slowly at first, but his rhythm increased as did mine. I couldn't stop watching his body move, the muscles in his abs contracting with each thrust, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. It was so fucking erotic.

I felt Liam's hand move over my face, and I looked up and realised he had been watching my face. His thumb moved over my lips. I parted them, and he put his thumb in my mouth. I let my tongue rub over the pad of his thumb and sucked. His eyes went wide, and his hips stuttered. I kept sucking and jerking him, syncing them into the same rhythm.

"Fuck, Lana, stop." I released him slowly and took my hand out of his pants. I let him withdraw his thumb, but I still sucked. It made a slight pop as it left. He leaned into me, catching his breath a moment. I think I nearly made him orgasm. I tried to keep the triumphant smile from my face. I didn't try very hard.

"You're..." Liam was shaking his head. He didn't finish the sentence.

"Terrible Muriel?" I suggested. Way to kill the fucking moment, Lana.

Liam laughed, thank god! "Not what I was going to say." He flopped onto the bed and laid on his back. "Fucking good at that is what I was thinking." He pulled his jeans and shoes off and closed his eyes, his breath slowly returning to normal. I wanted to jump his bones.

Instead, I laid down next to him on my tummy, leaning on my elbows.

Part 6

#original character #original fiction #romantic story

[actordougjones]

Helen Chavez 1959 ~ 2020

Sitting in silent conflict today, some numbness, many tears, grief, and the happiest memories that make my heart smile. To lose a close friend (whom I referred to as my big sister for the last 16 years) to complications from covid-19 and other health issues, is a blow I could not be prepared for. Yet to sit with my memories of her is a relished joy.

Many knew her as “Hellmistress” on the Sony Pictures Hellboy message boards in 2003. As I was an occasional visitor in those boards while filming Hellboy, I took special note of the witty, gentle, sarcastic, encouraging posts from this woman I found myself wanting to know more of.

She made her way into those message boards by way of her love for Ron Perlman, as she also was a contributing writer for a site called ThePerlmanPages dot com. But once in there, and once we got to interacting, Helen and I both found kindred spirits in each other, about the same age, about the same irreverent sense of humor.

She jokingly described herself as “windswept and interesting.” When we finally met in person the first time around the premiere events Guillermo del Toro had arranged for these fans of Hellboy in April 2004, I found this description of her to be true.  All I had to hear was that Helen had sold a cow to finance her flight from Scotland, and I knew I was right about this one!  Yes, she and her husband Mark raised cattle on their rural farm outside Aberdeenshire, Scotland.  But she was also a highly knowledgeable archivist at the local museum there.  With a thirst for learning, and a lover of history, artifacts, classic film, TV, music, literature, science fiction, and all things geekery, she did indeed earn her “windswept and interesting” title.

(Our first in-person meeting after “Hellebration” 2004 with Sony Pictures Hellboy message board regulars, Left to Right: Maurice Mpayamaguru, Dougie, Pat Paone, Helen Chavez - who was so excited to be having a burger with American ketchup!)

She flew away the next day in 2004, but that would not be the last of this Helen. Upon returning home to Scotland, her friend and ThePerlmanPages creator Pat Paone (who had also been on this trip) said something to Helen that lingered in the air... “After this entire ‘Hellebration’ weekend in Los Angeles, do you realize you haven’t stopped talking about Doug Jones?” which struck Helen odd since she was a devout Perlman fan who was gushing about someone other than Ron after a weekend to celebrate a movie in which Ron held the title character.

That’s when I received an email from Helen proposing an official website she wanted to create for me. So was born TheDougJonesExperience dot com, a site that was lovingly poured over and updated by Helen as her pet project that she never let me pay a dime for, no matter how I tried, from 2004 to 2014, when her own life required her to take pause. That pause from the site included finishing up her Masters Degree, still working full time at the museum, still tending the cattle, and now caregiving to her husband’s failing health ... followed by her own health issues.

She was ever the stoic type, though, who never ever, EVER wanted to be a burden on me, so I would rarely hear of her trials in life unless I told her, “I’m not hanging up until you start talking.”  She would always brush off her own issues and turn things back around to doting on me like the protective big sister she loved being.  She also took in Mrs. Laurie as her little sister with great pride.

To sum up the amount of life shared with this incredible woman would take volumes.  Volumes that could be tied together with one thread.... “cheerleader.” She championed me personally and professionally with the kind of care and tireless energy that gave my own mother and Mrs. Laurie a run for their money!

Her cheerleading came in the form of not only that exhaustive website with endless fan correspondence as she wrote with a voice that was uncannily like my own, then later helping administrate “The Tank” forum on DelToroFilms dot com where “FanSapiens” would gather to chat about little ol’ me, but also trips to see me when I was in the United Kingdom for a fan convention in Birmingham, or a make-up trade show in London.  She also ingratiated herself to Guillermo del Toro and was invited to visit our Hellboy II: The Golden Army filming set in Budapest with her old friend Pat Paone, spending a large part of that visit with me through my whole day, from make-up, to the Troll Market set, to lunchtime, to afternoon naps in my trailer for all of us, to touring the city on a rare day off. 

(During Hellboy 2 set visit 2007 at Budapest, Hungary’s “Hero Square” pictured Left to Right: Pat Paone, Dougie, Helen Chavez)

And I could never tally up the countless hours of phone chats, messenger chats, book-length emails, where she was often celebrating successes with me, calming my nerves when I had failed, giving me some well-needed big sisterly advice on life, or playfully nagging me to sleep and eat more.  Boy, was she ever stern about those last two.  If I even hinted that I had been pushing myself too hard, not sleeping enough, not eating right, she would give me “the look.”  You don’t want “the look.”   It was that raised eyebrows, all-knowing eyes searing into me kind of look, with a probing stare over the top of her glasses into my soul kind of look. You could hide nothing from her when she gave “the look.”

I adored hearing all her tales from her museum, getting history lessons all the while about who used what in what century in what country for what purpose, everything from farm tools to ancient toilet paper.  To keep me in her loop, one year for Christmas she sent me some ancient Roman coins, after I had mentioned how I love looking at coins, waving it off with, “those things are so easy to come by.” Her gifts were always accompanied by authentic Scottish shortbread cookies.  But my favorite story of hers was the mummy head she had no better place for, so he lived under her desk ... for years.  And of course, she named him “Marlon.”

I’ve always been a hugger, but Helen is the one who taught me about “Bosies.” The difference being that a Bosie is a huggle that doesn’t need to end anytime soon, where you envelop the other person in a cradle that makes them feel safe.  She was masterful at those Bosies.

I could tell Helen stories for hours, as could so many of you puppies whose lives she touched with her listening skills, mentorship, and her tireless encouragement to keep all of us creatives reaching for our dreams.

(Pictued at “Hellebration” 2008 with “FanSapiens” Left to Right: Tim Rosenberger, Katie McGregor, Helen Chavez, Stephanie Metz, Dougie, Kate Daley, Seth Lombardi)

(Pictured at Hellboy 2 premiere after party 2008 with DelToroFilms regulars; Top row: Paul Kindschi, Gary Deocampo, Maurice Mpayamaguru. Bottom row: Helen Chavez, Dougie)

But I’ll leave you with one last story.  It was 2008, and we flew Helen out to Los Angeles (I didn’t want her to sell another cow) to join all the festivities for the premiere week of Hellboy II: The Golden Army, and to see the finished product of the film set she visited with me the year before. Everything from having a salon day with Mrs. Laurie to get all done up for the red carpet premiere, and the next day she was sporting a fancy fish-print top to dutifully lead Team Blue (those beloved FanSapiens) at the Del Toro sponsored “Hellebration” party and screening night. Another experience I wanted to give her that week was her first press junket, so Mrs. Laurie gladly went to her own job that day, and Helen went with me down to the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills, where many film press junkets take place on a floor full of press suites. These are high energy days, as one after another, TV, radio, print, and dot com journalists interview us back to back all day. Helen watched from behind the monitors with Publicist John, and every time I glanced over, she was just beaming as she gave me a thumbs-up. At the end of this marathon day, we were heading home in the back of the studio-hired limo, and my eyes were getting droopy in the dark.  Helen glanced over the top of her glasses with “the look” and said with all the doting mother, favorite auntie, protective big sister she had in her, “Awe, little brother mine, come here.” I leaned my head onto her shoulder, while she pet my hair and told me how overjoyed she was with this phase of my life, and how watching me handle all the press that day made her “buttons burst with pride,” a phrase she used many a time. She always knew how to bring such peace, such calm, such encouragement, such a safe harbor.  The next thing I knew the car stopped in front of the house, and I awoke with her still holding my weary head.

Oh how I wish for one more limo ride.  One more chance to soak in her uplifting words, so I might know how to handle whatever comes next.

She went by many names -- Hellmistress, Webmaster Helen, or her preferred “Webmistress” Helen, Auntie Helen, Mentor Helen, Therapist Helen, Dear Friend Helen, Big Sister Helen, but there was only one Helen in this wacky world. She leaves a void that no one else can fill. It’s painful how much I miss her already.

I pray the angels gave her a thrilling ride to her rightful place in Heaven.  I can almost feel her gaze again right now, as she sits at the edge of a crescent moon, tilts her gaze down over the top of her glasses and gives me “the look”.....

Alright, Big Sis, I’ll eat something and get to sleep now. 

#rip #hellmistress #webmaster helen #sister #dear friend