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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— earbuds, my love + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — a single train ride has you sharing your headphones and your feelings with your long time crush, yoichi isagi.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, mutual pining, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 1K.

⭑ notes — third fic queued for aali's away time, one of my many isagi wips! he's literally ceo of friends to lovers ngl !! i love him so bad... enjoy my lurvs - m.list ✩

“this song makes me feel like i’m falling in love with someone.”

isagi glances up at you from his phone, no longer shuffling the playlist that you’re both listening to. you’re looking out of the window, your feet propped up on the back of the seat in front of you, your head resting on your closed fist. you miss the way he flushes red.

“do you want to keep listening to it then?” he mumbles softly, thumb hovering over the slip button and his voice just barely above a whisper. you almost don’t hear you despite the fact that you’re sharing headphones and only have one ear-bud in while he takes the other.

this time, you tilt your head away from the window and the scenery passing by to lock eyes with your childhood best friend. “no, s’okay,” you say, your voice equally as low. “you can change it if you’d like.” your facial expression is tranquil, the swell of your lips pressed into an appreciative smile and your eyes sparkling with the sunlight that glitters outside of your moving train.

isagi’s nerves quickly get the better of him and he breaks eye contact, swallowing thickly before looking away with his own smile (mostly for himself).

“i think we’ll keep listening to it.”

you’re both on the train from the bustling city of tokyo back to the tiny town you both grew up in. with the off-season approaching, japan’s beloved striker had finally managed to get some time away from the blue lock team to visit his parents, and you were off on your university’s allotted spring-break.

this was the first time, in what felt like forever, that your calendars were synced up.

your bond with isagi had always been strong — from the very first moment you’d met, back in middle school when he’d kicked a soccer ball straight into your lunch and then instantly offered to buy you a new one. impossible to separate, you were joined at the hip right up until he left for blue lock. these days, your paths rarely cross and while isagi’s career in soccer bloomed like you always knew it would — you went the more traditional route of life and found passion in your own university degree.

after some moments of quiet, aside from the children crying in their mother’s arms, teenagers gossiping on their way home from junior high and the calls from the attendant manning the snack cart — isagi speaks up, shyly. “who…who would you be in love with? yanno…because of this song…”

“some guy, i’ve known him for years.”

“does he know…how you feel about him?” you shake your head and isagi presses you again. “have you tried telling him?”

“gods no, yoichi!” you wave him off almost too quickly — curling in on yourself like a highschool girl handing her crush a confession letter or chocolates on white day. perhaps because this is exactly like that. you’ve liked him, loved him, for as long as you can remember. he makes your skin hot and your thoughts a mess and when isagi’s nearby you hardly remember who you are.

and he hardly realises how lovesick you’ve been for him over the years. it would be too embarrassing to admit that you have a raging crush on one of japan’s favourite athletes.

“why not?”

“because…if he felt the same he would have noticed by now.” you answer, trying to shut down the conversation. “i’ve been obvious with my feelings. the ball’s been in his court for a while.”

“maybe he’s just oblivious.” isagi keeps going and in the cramped space of your train seats you feel hot under the collar — your nerves shaking under the pressure.

you’re given a brief moment of relief when the attendant on the snack cart stops for the couple seated opposite you. they seem happy and in love, it makes your heart twist.

the train jolts, pushing the attendant into isagi, who then topples into you — invading your space once more, causing heat to build up under your skin.

“h-he’s a way too smart for that.”

“maybe…he’s unsure? maybe he doesn’t understand your signals?”

the song you’re listening too changes as you pull into the next station.

“or maybe he doesn’t love me, yoichi!” you snap, turning your head away so fast that the ear-bud slips from your ears and the wires are left dangling between the warmth of isagi’s body and your own. you try to sit still, fighting off burning, frustrated tears — lucky that no one’s heard your outburst over the busy ambience of the train. “believe me, i’ve held out hope for it.”

“but i do love you.” he snaps back, grabbing you by the wrist so that you’re forced to look at him. isagi’s eyes are wide and deep, swirling in their hypnotising shade of blue with an emotion you don’t recognise seeing on him. love. “maybe you’re the one who’s dumb enough not to have noticed. maybe i’ve been too shy or too caught up with soccer to say so. but i love you. i want that song to make you feel like you’re in love with me.”

“o-oh…yoichi i—“ your eyes widen, then soften all at once and you feel yourself melting fast — as if all of your dreams have come true. “i don’t know what to say…”

the tips of his ears are bright pink, the hue blooming across his cheeks like they’re roses in bloom. yoichi chews on his lower lip nervously before shoving the right bud of the headphones back into your ear. “just say you like me back ‘nd we’ll leave it at that for now, okay?” he mumbles like a teenager, very much unlike the confident, cocky isagi who everyone fears on the pitch.

wisps of a grin tug at the corners of your lips as you reach out and grab his larger hand with yours — giving it a squeeze. “alright then, yoichi,” you say, leaning over to kiss the warmth of his cheeks. “i like you too.” his eyes go wide.

this is all silly and new for the both of you — having been in love with one another for years without saying. you’ll have a lot to talk about once you reach his parents’ house, how you’ll make this work with his soccer career and your new life in the big city, what you want this to be, who you’ll tell. but for now you try not to dwell on it, letting your head flop to isagi’s shoulder and his on top of yours, sharing headphones and listening to songs that made him fall in love with you.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock x you #bllk x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi fluff #yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x you #yoichi isagi fluff #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock fluff #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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salamanderinspace · 4 months

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I watched the first two seasons of House M.D.. Processing thoughts.

I used to watch them over and over when I was about 18, or 19. Those were the DVD days--no streaming yet, cable cost money, and I was living on my own and paying my own bills. So I watched the DVDs over and over, especially the middle episodes of the second season like "All In" and the Christmas one with the Munchausen's patient. And the one where Cameron does meth.

I'm trying to figure out my feelings about the show, as an adult. It's been awhile. I went through such a feminist journey in my 20s that I probably couldn't have stood to identify with a protagonist like Greg House. As a teen I used to think the things he says - especially the racist and chauvinist remarks - were just for shock value. By keeping conversations off script you can make people share things they otherwise wouldn't and save a lot of time, which is important if you're in pain. Pain causes impatience as well as irritability. I used to see House as a perfect representation of someone in pain.

That's before I even understood my experience as one of chronic pain. The way I grew up, the "walk it off" and "I'll give you something to cry about" sort of way, I had no idea I was experiencing physical pain even when it was severe. I'd completely sublimate it. I thought maybe House was like that. And he reminded me of my father, who I think was always in pain, whether he knew it or not. Genetic condition and all. He used to sublux his hips, but neither I nor him knew what that was or ever talked about it. It was just normal. A way of walking.

Anyway. It seems like the show is proposing that House has always said inappropriate or hostile things, even before his leg hurt. I'm trying to be listening more to the story that's being told and less to the version of one that made sense to me. It's a story of a guy who pushes people away. This is usually played as a sign of immaturity, because I guess 13 year old boys are scared to get close to anyone--but in my experience it's also a sign of maturity, to know yourself well enough to know that you'll be happier with people at arm's length. So--does the character believe in stereotypes about women and black people, or does he just say things that will make people leave? I don't know. I think we're seeing a character written by a couple different writers who each have subtly different takes about who House is and what he wants. That's evident at the end of the season, in "No Reason," when it seems like the writers are thinking out loud about how to grow a character like that. Where does he go from here?

The show tries to be progressive, often. Sometimes it fails. In the early 2000s it was disruptive to really harmful mythologies about fatness and queerness and mental illness and a dozen other things, mythologies which were believed as fact back then. Basically it's a show with empathy and progressive goals and storytelling, but with a coarse protagonist who is (IMO) a straight white man that's kind of an asshole. He says he doesn't vote. He's not a perfect hero. But he's believable. And he's likable. People who think fast and quip and always have an answer for things are always likable, somehow. Even when they're bullies. The bullying is actually what makes them likable. It's why I watch a lot of video essays I disagree with by leftists whose main passion is dunking on people / art they don't like. Some people are built to bully. It's like watching a dancer dance.

House and Wilson have such a hostile relationship in these first two seasons that they barely read as friends to me. Maybe that's the teenage boy version of intimacy. I can see that. Some of their arguing is expositional, though, as they're drafted into the writer's needs to convey two conflicting viewpoints about a problem. Neither one is always right. That's another interesting blip inbetween the character and the show--House believes in right and wrong, but the show believes in complexity and ambiguity.

Some of the episodes feel more formulaic and contrived than they used to when I was a kid. Everything is contrived to make House seem clever and smart and right. He's a good diagnostician. He has a calling. It drives him; he enjoys the mystery. This doesn't erase what harm he does by failing to connect with humans. It doesn't outweigh it, somehow--it doesn't have to. You have to start from a position that nobody owes the world anything, nobody owes the people around them any particular type of caution… we can owe each other kindness and respect but express that in a myriad of ways. House does it by being honest and dark and making that open space for pain. Wilson sometimes does the same thing when he talks to House.

The thing is, you relate to House as an 18 year old with bad social skills, and then you grow up and see that the writers mean for him to have great social skills. He actually knows exactly what he's doing. It's like a super power. He just doesn't feel warm and fuzzy about other humans the way most humans do. And that's relatable too, because nobody feels warm and fuzzy all the time, even where they're supposed to. Sometimes somebody thanks you and you feel nothing. Sometimes people are scared of you and they should be.

I haven't rewatched the later seasons as much so I'll check in after watching on.

#house md #meta #liveblogging

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rpxgifs · 1 year

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[ hailee steinfeld | she/her | 20/22 ] rumor has it that PEYTON ANDERSON has been seen wandering around town. they are a VAMPIRE who is one of the SURVIVORS. they are known to be OPPORTUNISTIC but deep down they are CAPTIVATING. when it comes to the brewing conflict in new orleans they’re on the side of THE QUEEN’S GUARD.

name: peyton elise anderson nickname: pey age: 20/22 birthday: July 22, 2006 species: vampire gender: cisfemale pronouns: she/her sexuality: pansexual hair color: brown eye color: brown family:

angelo ortega ( birth father )

gabrielle pearson ( birth mother )

bryan anderson ( adopted father )

laura anderson ( adopted mother )

two older adopted siblings ( wanted connections )

relationships:

maddox kenner ( ex-boyfriend )

ember kenner ( best friend )

history :

Peyton was put up for adoption immediately after her birth, her birth parents both being teenagers who could barely take care of themselves, let alone a child She wasn’t in the system long as there is always a list of families waiting for a newborn over any other age and she was adopted by Bryan & Laura Anderson, a family of witches from New Orleans.

Growing up in a family of witches, though not one herself, Peyton grew up with a general knowledge of the supernatural world. She was told all the stories about the crescents and the Mikaelsons and encouraged to stay as far away from their drama as possible Peyton tried to live as normal of a life as possible with her witch family and supernatural adopted siblings. That was until she met Maddox Cordeaux. The two hit it off immediately and before she knew it, she was completely immersed in a life of the combined crescent pack, french quarter coven family.

Her involvement in the supernatural world went off without a hitch for a few years. But one fateful night, a baby vamp was in the middle of the road just like many vamps before them in the hopes of finding some innocent, helpful bystander to stop and succumb to their attack. Peyton was just that kind of person. But, at the last minute, the vampire started to panic and attempted to heal her but it was too late and she had succumbed to the blood loss.

Waking up in transition, her first visit was to the Cordeaux home. She knew her parents would only give her a lecture for falling for the oldest trick in the vampire book. But the Cordeaux home was the one place that she could think would comfort her in her moment of vulnerability. That was until she got there and was in the presence of their untriggered, close to human son. The sound of his heartbeat rang through her ears, deafening all sound around her. She could feel herself starting to lose control and that was on thing she wouldn’t let herself do. Not with Maddox. She cared about him too much to let him get in the middle or let him get hurt, let alone let herself be the cause of that pain.

The only thing she could think to do was go away and go far away. If her loved ones thought she was gone, they were in no danger. If her loved ones thought she was gone, they wouldn’t come looking for her. Peyton paid off a few guys to fake an accident and fake her death while she escaped to Atlanta.

Over the past couple years, Peyton was taken in by an older vampire (wanted connection) who helped her learn and perfect her newfound powers and teach her control. She created a life in Atlanta, a life that she thought she was going to live for a long time until she had to move on to keep from wandering minds. But never did she think she would come back to New Orleans. That was until word spread of a supernatural war taking over the city. Despite time away, she instantly worried for her family, for the Cordeauxs, and without a second thought, she made her way back to New Orleans to check up on them.

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aliveinacoffin · 1 year

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Strawberry Fanta

A Shouta Aizawa x Reader Fanfic

TW; Yandere, Stalking, Cyber-stalking, violence, and more.

Pls read this on Ao3 if you enjoy the first chapter, more coming soon! I have 7 so far, 6 ready to post :)

“Y’know, those are horrible for you.” A deep voice pulled you out of your daydreaming, following his eyes to the sickly sweet drink in your hand. The cold stung your warm hands, and you looked back up at the strange man.

“So are those.” You pointed to his killer of choice, Mevuis, Japan's most popular brand of cigarettes.

The strange man looked back into your eyes, deep and invading. You quickly looked away, waiting impatiently for the cashier, who mysteriously seemed absent. The air grew thick with an unknown tension, one that suffocated you. Taking a glance back at the stranger, you saw he had never looked away. Or maybe you both had awkwardly met eyes by chance?

The sound of the analog clock was deafening, but the sound of your rustling jacket somehow was louder. As slyly as you could, you reached into your pocket for your pepper spray, better be safe than sorry. The man seemed to shuffle closer to the middle of the counter, looking at the product stand in the middle of the long counter. Your knuckles turned white as his thick shoes inched closer to you, his breath seemingly on your neck. Turning your head slightly, you could see how close he had gotten, so close in fact, that even if you slightly leaned over both of you would be touching.

Both of you were startled by the door behind the counter swinging open, an alt teenager sauntering out as she popped her pink bubble gum. Thankfully, she rang you up first, eyeing you up before looking back at the dark-haired man beside you. You quickly paid and rushed out the door, refusing to look back as the hair on your neck raised.

You let out a breath as you walked farther and farther from that dammed store, all tension and fear seemed to slip from your body. The walk back to your shitty apartment wasn’t far, and it wasn’t all that bad in the daylight, a contrast to the terrifying dark. The feeling of unease took over you again, so you jogged back to your apartment hoping that you could run off that feeling of fear.

The fear didn’t leave you, even as you locked all the doors to your apartment.

♥————————————————————————♥

The sound of your alarm clock awoke you, precisely at 7:30 as it always did, and hastily you got ready for your job as a counselor at the local high school. Simply brushing your teeth and hair would do for beauty today, the train you needed to catch left in 20 minutes, and you needed that ten to walk to the train station. As you shoved yourself into your uniform, you stuffed your mouth with a breakfast bar. Rushing out the door, you quickly made your way through the lively streets. You had barely made the train, quickly settling yourself inside the train, feeling like a packed sardine in the sweaty train. Aimlessly you looked around at the people sitting and standing on the train. It always made you wonder what lives they lived, where they were going, or maybe where they were leaving from. Mindlessly you turned your head around, when your breath caught in your throat, and goosebumps raised on your arms. Quickly you turned back to the window facing the front of you, hastily fixing your panicked face to a calm one.

It was the man from the convenience store.

Sure, it could be that you two lived in the same area, given the fact of how late you both went to the store. It could have been just a walk away, just like you. And maybe it was just a coincidence that you both had to ride the same train to get to work or where ever he was going. But it just didn’t feel right, it felt wrong. And you knew it was the same man by his unkempt hair, his dark eyes, and his black clothes. He had the same eyebags, the same stubble, and the same fucking invading stare. Seriously, did no one teach this guy not to stare?

Unfortunately, looking out the side of your eye, you both made eye contact again. It seemed like forever before you got off your stop, your kitten heels clicking behind you as you rushed to your job. It must be a coincidence, it has to be. Yeah. You were just being erratic and deranged, there were tons of people you recognized riding the train during your work days. But they never made you so uncomfortable and so on edge as that man did.

Taking a deep, calming breath, you let your feelings and anxiety go. A new wave of fresh calmness washing over you. It was fine, everything was going to be fine. You repeated this mantra to yourself over and over, self affirmations always helped ease you. So lost in thought you missed the shadowed footsteps behind you.

♥————————————————————————♥

This Wednesday was no different than any other day. Students didn't usually come in, only the occasional regular coming in to complain about their problems. Always, you were an attentive listener, always giving advice and directions to the lost students.

"Goodbye Y/n, I'm glad you decided to show up today." Daiki grumbled out, slamming the door to your office as he left.

You sighed, smiling. Knowing that he came from a good place and that he was, in his own way, thanking you for listening to him and being reliable. Which wasn't hard, you always came on time, every day no matter what. Packing up important papers, you slipped out of your office for the day, the meeting with Daiki running later than you both would like.

Your work wife, Aya, stood waiting for you. She was the advanced math teacher, she was smart and beautiful, something you had always been jealous of. To top it all off, she was extremely kind, an example would be how she waited for you every day.

"Hey! Wanna walk to the train together?" She offered with a bright smile. Her work uniform hugged her body in every right way, all the way to her beautifully placed hair.

"You don't even need to ask at this point Aya, you know we always do." You teased her, interlocking your arms as the both of you descended the stairs of the school. The golden afternoon light casting everything in a T.V-esk glow, making the day even more beautiful.

As the two of you chatted about nothing and everything, you decided to bring up the strange man from the train. Aya nodded attentively, always the sweet girl who listened to your every word.

"Well, I have to agree with the coincidence part! He might be new in town, and maybe that's why you feel off! You aren't used to his face, so that's why it's so uncomfortable for you. Maybe it'll get better if you talk to him." She perked up, happy she solved this life mystery.

You looked away, grimacing. "Hmm, I might just leave it be y'know? He's still a stranger." You looked up at the camera, hidden to the side of the financial building. For some reason, you felt like it was watching you specifically. "Actually, I might as well. This anxiety is taking over my life." You laughed, trying to ease your nerves.

Aya smiled, tugging you closer to her, her face so close that if the two of you just moved just that much-

Before you two could meet, Aya’s phone buzzed to life in her pocket. She snapped her head to her phone as if it had deeply offended her. She made a face.

“What's wrong?” You cawed out to her, saddened by the lost moment.

“Just some unknown number. Weird. C’mon, or you’ll miss your train!” She tugged you forward, the mood dampened by the mystery call.

You enjoyed the rest of the walk, soaking up Aya's warmth. Everything about her was warm, from her color pallet, and her skin, to the brightness in her smile and hair. You boarded on the train, looking out wistfully as she happily waved you off. Because of the lateness, the dawn slowly but surely became night, and not as many people were on the train with you. The occasional student and late worker were with you. Right across from you, you noticed a person in a black hood. They almost seemed asleep in their slump-over hooded form, though, with how still they sat you knew they were awake.

You enjoyed the rest of the train ride in peace, only slightly disturbed by the distant fear of being watched. It honestly was probably just from this morning, your mind was more than likely still ringing false alarm bells.

How silly can the mind be, truly?

♥————————————————————————♥

Read it por favor

#shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #my hero acedamia #tw yandere #male yandere #cyberstalking #yandere stalking #violence #yandere shouta aizawa #non quirk au #no quirks au #fanfiction #bi reader #kidnapping #these tags may or may not be spoilers ;)

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hoardofshinythings · 7 months

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Hauled In To Fandom Kicking and Screaming

Look. I usually dance along the periphery of fandoms, ones I have actually watched the shows of and ones I am literally just in it for one or two good fan fiction writers. It is VERY rare I see a character and it actually makes me want to get in to a fandom. My ADHD/Autism combo makes it hard for me to get in to the mood to watch shows okay? Movies maybe. but series? oh lordy I have been bitten and burned so many times I am gun shy as heck with getting in to watching a show. I have gotten involved with to many shows for them to get axed for attracting the 'wrong' fans (Teen Titans, Motor City), or bizarre choices to take everything that attracted people to the first seasons and toss them in the trash and stick a sexy white woman in peril as the main into it's place. Weirdly specific but the fact it has happened several times is... something (Grimm, Sleepy Hollow). Or later episodes fall down the Stairs of Stupid Out of Character Decisions and Mistakes An Idiot Plot for a Plot Twist. I'm sure at least a few shows popped in your head at that one!

So I am .... reticent.... to get in to anything these days. Enter Eddie Munson.

Look. Stranger Things is in the background of the internet fandom zeitgeist. Okay creepy monsters, 80's, people actually LOOK like they are from the 80's and aren't airbrushed into an inch of their lives. Made a huge splash in its first season then kinda... floated in the background for the next few seasons.

Nothing about it really grabbed me. Looked fun. Not enough to attract my scraggly feral arse.

Then THIS little curly haired muppet man starts showing up on my dashes.

Eddie before disaster.

See. I KNOW this fucker. See I was a wee barely existing bean in the mid 80's. I have a brother who is over a decade older then me who thankfully I grew up having a great relationship with. So he was a TEENAGER during the 80's. Closer to Henderson's age then Munson's during 86. But I look at this fucker, and I KNOW him. Eddie Munson is the cobbled together pieces of my older brothers friend circle. The hair from one. The weed from another. The fashion from a few of them. My brother was more of a Johnathan type fashion and music wise (not personality), but a lot of his buddies were heavy metal or grunge. And more then half of them were in to DnD and comic books. Two of them were always writing or playing an instrument while hanging out at our house or back yard. They gamed at our house or at the drug dealer guys house (I didn't know he was back then cause again, baby wee me, but I remember he did cool smoke ring tricks and got my younger brother and I a huge pile of dinkies, so A+ dude to me) because hey, GUESS WHAT, the Satanic Panic was even a thing in but fuck nowhere Eastern Canada. My dad was Atheist (GASP) and my mom was vaguely Anglican (Sunday every week for socializing) but had logical heads. Mom was scared at first when my older brother got in to DnD, but despite being a early 20's young mother to two toddlers and a teenage step son with the whisper of church ladies in her ears... she sat down and learned about it. Found out it's just creative writing within a group with math. So we were the one place other than the drug dealers house they could have their games without judgement. Obviously our house was nicer so they were over a LOT. Which with it being the 80's, and both our parents busy nurses overworked and always on call, that resulted in a bunch of teenage scrungey boys babysitting tiny me and baby brother while playing DnD, practicing, hanging out, or whatever. I KNOW this fucker. I know Eddie Munson. All the pieces that make him I know them because I grew up with them. I have NEVER had a character give me a whiplash feeling of nostalgia for the past like THIS MOTHERFUCKER. Yes. I got bitch slapped by a blorbo in to watching a show so I can actually tell if the character is written believably (much more elastic then you think) or if the fandom is full of poop.

So I watched short snaps of just his scenes. God dammit he is Like That. Well NOW I have to go back to the beginning of the show because guess fucking what you shit heads. I want to actually try writing fanfiction. I want to making Eddie Munson SUFFER my twisted form of love.

I haven't done that in over 10 years. I've kept up with character writing, but nothing beyond role play games. This FRIGGER is making me dig up so many things from the graveyard of my fandom enjoyment past I may as well accept my new life as a Necromancer.

The show is meh, I know this, but the world has so many options of PROMISE. MUSIC THEMES. the fucking 80's! The characters, once again, do NOT look like airbrushed, they actually look like 80's awkward kids and adults and people. There's mullet's and mens crop tops and short shorts. All on the background of Modern (ish) Suburban Hidden World Fantasy with a good and proper horror twist. Shitty government fuckery. Monsters. Weird powers with no real explanation as to WHY. POTENTIAL!!!! SO yeah. There was a shiny toy in the sandbox (Eddie Munson) and I'm joining in, cat turds and cigarette butts be damned. I am going to try and slap in my observations of each episode as I go. Have fun watching me hate but love it all.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things Newbie #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things Watch #Lord have mercy I am going to make these characters #make them what?#For you to find out #Lets see if my new ADHD meds let me actually put my writing where my mouth is #Or if I can even survive a full watch of this

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daedreamingghosts · 1 year

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Hey^^, so I read your dad ghost x daughter reader, and I really enjoyed it, so I wanted to ask if you could write general headcannons for x daughter reader. It doesn't have to be ghost specifically if you'd rather write for someone else.

hii :D I did all of 141 so apologies that it took so long :) ♡ Hope you enjoy it! Have a good day/night lovely's ♡

masterlist

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

I am 100% biased but he'd be the best dad ever. (even if in the beginning he didn't believe it)

Definitely got closer to you as you grew up, like from the age of about five he became your bodyguard/buddy but before that, he just saw you as this small fragile thing that would break if he moved the wrong way. It wasn't until you'd come back inside from playing with a bloody knee from scraping the pavement saying how you hoped you'd get a 'cool scar like daddy's ones' did he realize you were your own little person now.

He'd teach you everything he could, how to defend yourself, football (soccer), anything and everything he could.

He'd be so gentle even after you'd grown up. He wants to shield you from the world, from the bad in it. 100% did everything he wished his father would have.

He'd be so overprotective for your whole life doesn't matter if your five or 25 he's still by your side being 'scary dog privilege' aka scaring anyone in your general field of view.

He'd never let you have boys over.

If he did let them study (BIG IF), he'd be there lurking around the living room (where he'd force you to stay). I'd be very surprised if any boy stayed longer than 20 minutes before backing out even if you were just friends Ghost is just too scary. If however, a boy can deal with the death glares and snarky mumbles, Simon didn't know whether to have slight respect or even more worried. 'Damn kids got balls... the fuck am I gonna do now, that usually works'. 😧🤺🤺

I can imagine how if you got into trouble for standing up to some bullies (totally not based on a story I'm currently making👀) where the headmaster had to call Simon in it'd be hilarious. A squeaky old headmaster ranting about the rules you broke to a 6'4 military man who didn't see anything wrong with what you did.

100% if you got in a fight he'd be the 'who won?' parent.

John 'Soap' MacTavish:

Soap, your dad? Nah that's your best friend.

He's the dad who just can not remember any of your friends. 'Oh hi, nice to meet you!😁' 'Dad you've met them before. We've been friends for the last 5 years🤨' 'Oh. Really?'

When you were little he got you both matching outfits <3

He goes all out on every holiday no matter what. Decorates the house, buys all the food for the holiday, dresses up every time, and forces you to join him.

He's the dad that is SO easy to talk to about absolutely anything. Even if it's something you're not allowed to do; if you had a crush and wanted him to drive you to the movies if you sneak out and have no ride home. If you called him, he doesn't care whether it's 6pm or 4am he's picking you up and getting food on the way home.

Personally, I think he's a very chill dad if he knows/ finds out you're doing something he told you not to, he just settles with the fact that you felt comfortable enough to tell him anyway. Tries to prioritize your relationship with him rather than being the 'normal' strict parent.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

I imagine Dad!Gaz was a young single dad, who barely knew what he was doing.

He'd be the guy to call his mother/sister/grandmother 24/7 asking 'hey uh she rolled over in bed idfk if that means something!?!?' at like 3am

he'd be SO worried about you as a baby, something that fragile... he definitely had nightmares about dropping you or sum.

He 100% is the type to record EVERYTHING his little girl does, showing them to the team.

When she's a teenager, he definitely acts more like a best friend than a dad,

however, if you're having trouble at school with bullies or someone breaks your heart, it's scary how quick he can turn from bestie 🤪✌️ to Sergeant Kyle Gaz Garrick 👺💪.

Will support you on ANYTHING. That man is on your side, no doubt. Want to take ballet classes? he'll pay sweetie. Want to play a sport instead? He'll be there watching as much as he can. Failing classes? He's right next to you trying to help. Want to drop out? He'll help you look for a first job. Whatever it is, he's there with you<3

Captain John Price:

100% gave you some of his beer or bourbon to try when you were like 8 years old, 'aye you asked for some, didn't say it was gonna be good.'

Very sweet dad tho. Makes sure you have everything you need. Whether it be your favorite snacks while doing the shopping or making sure that one stain is out of your favorite sweater.

Sucks at helping you with your homework. 'What do you mean that's not how you do it anymore? How can they change math?'

Will accidentally make you cry trying to help understand math questions... you know what I'm talking about.

Learns all your best friends' names, is the best host for having a sleepover (all your friends always want to stay at your place). Has snacks for you all, always gets takeout for you and your friends, lets you stay up if y'all wanted to, 'your fault if you all feel like shit in the morning'. Makes waffles in the morning (or pancakes if ur lame 😒)

Protective over you with boys but not nearly as much as Ghost. He'd give you the least awkward sex talk than all the others. 'just remember I was your age once too- Haha yes a long time ago.'

Would definitely show you off to Laswell showing her all the 'facebook mom' photos he'd taken of you.

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ilici · 3 years

Text

a night to remember.

Summary: After a long 4 months of just bickering, they finally decide to meet up. (Second part to 'Pretty Little Lies')

NSFW MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: Choking, cockwarming, hair pulling.

Word Count: 2892

Dream had enough of the two bickering at each other, he finally slammed his desk with his hand, making the two come to a halt. “Will you two fucking shut the hell up?” He asked annoyed, and Y/N just scoffed while looking away from the screen. “You two have reached my breaking point.” He said, seeing George just look away and Y/N discord icon stop glowing green besides the few shuffling coming from her side. “All you two do now is just bicker, we get it you guys have sexual tension but for the love of God, please just shut the fuck up.” He begged, while George’s ears burned at the mention of sexual tension. Opening his mouth to speak, nothing came out as Y/N was the first to speak up, “If I buy a plane ticket to go and visit the UK will that help you?” She asked sarcastically, and Dream sighed in relief, “Yes! Yes it fucking would!” he said loudly, while Sapnap just listened in noting to himself that he saw George’s eyes light up at the thought of Y/N visiting him. “I was joking but sheesh fine, I will.” She mumbled, and George looked between the sleeping Dream icon, and the Coraline icon that belonged to Y/N.

“Do I not have a say in this?” George finally spoke up, and raised an eyebrow that disappeared behind his long hair. Sapnap now laughed dryly, “Don’t act as if you didn’t enjoy the idea of Y/N coming to you, you know damn well your eyes lit up at the mention of it.” He said, and George just shrunk down in defeat while Dream laughed at the boy’s reaction. “There I bought the plane ticket.” She said, and they heard a ding indicating someone had joined the call, “Why the fuck did I just get a message saying I bought a plane ticket to the UK?” Quackity asked, and Y/N laughed loudly, “It’s for me but I used your money since you owed me anyways.” She told him, while Quackity just stared at his screen in shock. “That’s it I’m leaving.” He said, leaving the call right afterwards. George was now silent, and playing with the strings on his hoodie, “How long will you be staying?” Sapnap asked, and Y/N hummed leaning closer to her mic, “About three months, I want to meet everyone else, not just George here.”

Nodding, Sapnap seemed satisfied with the answer, “Wear protection.” Dream said, and George snapped his gaze up looking back at the screen, “Shut up.” He muttered, embarrassed while Y/N just laughed to cover up the fact that she too was embarrassed. “Well, I leave for the UK in two days, I still have to find a place to stay.” She explained, and George rubbed his chin before he came to a decision in his head, “You can stay with me, I recently moved into an apartment that has two rooms, you can stay in there. Although I won’t be home until later when you arrive mainly because I’ll be recording a video with Tommy and Phil.” He told Y/N, and she just listened, “Alright, then that’s settled.” She said before she grew confused, “How will I get to the house?” She asked and George shrugged, “I could have Tommy and his dad pick you up when he comes to pick me up.” He said, and Y/N nodded even though no one could see her.

“Sounds good to me.” She said, “Well I will arrive around 9 am, so.” She muttered, looking at her phone, “That’s perfect because Tommy said he’d be around at my apartment at 9:30, and the airport is only a 20 minute drive away.” He informed her, and she nodded, shooting Tommy a quick text and telling him to keep it under wraps since he was streaming. The other two in the call were silent, enjoying the time where George and Y/N weren’t arguing. “Well I better go, I need to go pack and I also need to fix my sleep schedule.” She sighed out, before saying her goodbye’s. Leaving the call, everything hit her like a brick. She was going to leave to see George in two days. Hearing her phone ring, she saw Sapnap was calling her, answering it she put it on speaker so she could hear him while she got ready to pack. “Hey Sap.” She said, and Sapnap greeted her back, “I was wondering if I could see your face before you leave to see George.” He asked, in a very rushed way which was difficult for Y/N to keep up with.

Laughing to herself, she shrugged as Sapnap was one of her best friends and she planned on face revealing to him anyway. Clicking the FaceTime option, she propped her phone up so he could see her packing. Sapnap answered it, only showing half of his face, before his eyes widened at Y/N. She changed a bit from what George had described four months prior, “Wow, George was right. You are hot.” He said, and Y/N laughed, “Although you look a bit different apparently.” He said trying to pinpoint what looked different on her, “Oh, my hair is longer and I also dyed the the underneath of my hair.” She told him, and he nodded noting that her hair did look different from what George said. “Are you nervous?” He asked her, trying to keep the conversation going and Y/N shrugged, “A bit, mainly because I feel like when we meet things will be awkward, and we will manage to argue.” She said, while Sapnap just nodded in understanding.

“Well, if you ask me, I think meeting Tommy is going to be worse, mainly because he get’s to see your face.” He told her, and Y/N grimaced at the thought of the loud child bragging about seeing her face. “Don’t remind me.” She grumbled, while Sapnap laughed at her reaction, “Well, that’s all I need to pack.” She said after a three hour long call with her friend. “I’ll see you later, sleep well.” Sapnap said, before ending the call leaving Y/N to her own thoughts. Shooting Dream a text, asking her for advice that she’d read when she woke up. Sighing, she laid down in bed looking up at her ceiling that seemed bare to her now ever since she took off the stars. “God why did I do this?” She muttered to herself, covering her eyes with her arm before drifting off to sleep.

Finally, it was the day she was leaving for the UK. She was at the airport with her two suitcases waiting to board the plane. She had coffee in her hand as it was super early for her, and she was on call with Callahan who didn’t speak back but would text responses in return. “Callahan, I board in seven minutes holy shit.” She said, starting to panic a little, and Callahan quickly tried to calm her down making some typos along the way. “Okay I can do this.” She whispered to herself, and Callahan sent a message telling her that she’d be alright and he’d be here for her when she landed. Callahan planned on staying on the call, even though he’d be left alone for some hours. Their plan was as soon as she lands, she’d join the call and let him know she had landed. Thankfully he’d be awake as he was busy coding stuff for the new manhunt. “Well that’s my plane, I’ll see you after I land.” She told him, and he sent a quick goodbye before she left the call.

Y/N got on the plane and decided she’d sleep the entire plane ride. She had thankfully gotten first class, so she had privacy. Reclining back, she put on the movie that seemed least interesting so she wouldn’t get engaged in it. Shortly falling asleep, she woke up a couple times and would restart the movie if it had ended. Finally, after what seemed like days she finally heard the voice saying they were landing. Stretching she groaned hearing her body crack, and got up when they officially landed. Walking out and going to get her luggage, she went to get something to eat and a drink She joined the call back to see that Karl was also in the call along with Dream. “Hey guys, I landed.” She spoke up, and she got a response from Callahan first, and Karl soon unmuted, “That’s good, I hope things go well.” He said, while Dream finally unmuted, “I was about to head to bed, but I’m glad you made it safely.” He said, before he muted again going back to whatever it was he was doing. Karl and Y/N spoke for a bit, till she got a message from Tommy saying he was here.

Leaving the call, she walked out and looked around for the tall teenager, and finally spotted him looking at his phone with his face covered by a mask. “Hello Tommy.” She said, and Tommy looked up from his phone, seeing the girl approach him without a mask, figuring it was because she had food and a drink. Walking over to her, he pulled her into a hug, “Hello Y/N, I can’t wait to brag to George that I met you before him.” He said while the girl rolled her eyes, as someone grabbed her luggage that she was struggling to bring as her hands were full from the drink and food. “I bet.” She said, and they all got into his car, as she was full on jet lagged. “You can sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” The older male spoke up, and she thanked him, closing her eyes to let the sleep consume her. Feeling herself being picked up, she groaned a bit but kept her eyes closed wanting to go back to sleep.

Hearing muffled voices she could decipher some of the sentences, but the rest were just gibberish to her, “Let her sleep, I’ll wake her up when I get back.” She heard someone say, before she fell back asleep. George looked down at the sleeping girl and rolled his eyes, “First day here and she’s already getting treated like a princess.” He muttered under his breath sarcastically, as he had to carry her into the guest room. Getting up and leaving, he couldn’t help but think of what was to come. After 6 hours of hanging out, George walked into his apartment, and was shocked to see Y/N on the couch watching some random movie. “Hello Georgie.” She spoke, and George just looked at her, “Seems like you’ve made yourself at home.” He said walking over to the couch and sat down beside her, keeping his distance. Y/N looked over at him and her lips tugged up into a smirk, “What are you smirking about?” George asked, looking over at her.

“A little birdie told me that you said you’d give me a night to remember.” She told him, and George froze before he looked over at her once more, “I’m going to kill Sapnap.” He said gritting his teeth, and Y/N shrugged, turning her attention to the movie. “Why don’t you give me a night to remember then Georgie? Hm?” George now clenched his jaw as he turned his head grabbing Y/N’s jaw forcefully making her look over at him. “Someone’s being a bit cocky.” George said, and Y/N just looked at him and groaned when George moved his hand down wrapping it around her neck. “Not so cocky now, are we?” He teased, leaning forwards and chuckled into her ear. Y/N was genuinely shocked at how quick he switched. “It’s the first day, and you’re already wanting me to fuck the shit out of you.” He mumbled, and Y/N shivered, letting out a soft whine.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to.” She bit back, and George just looked at her before laughing dryly, “Who said I don’t want to?” He told her, as he grabbed some of her hair, forcing her head to lean back. Tightening his grip around her neck she whimpered out, and closed her eyes, clenching her thighs together. George noticed this and smirked, “Someone’s enjoying this.” He said, and Y/N was about to let out some curses but she bit her tongue to hold herself back. Moving his hand away from her throat, he started unbuckling his belt while Y/N watched him in a daze. “Stop staring and strip.” He demanded and Y/N immediately obeyed, stripping off her clothes. George looked at her body, and he bit his lips, “Come on then.” He said patting his now bare lap and Y/N quickly straddled his lap.

“Since you’ve been so rude every time we talk, maybe it’s time I fuck some sense into you.” George whispered to her, as he grabbed her hips lifting her up so she could easily slide down onto his dick. “You’re on the pill right?” He asked, and Y/N just nodded her head, before she let out a loud moan at the feeling of George stretching her out. He leaned his head back, letting out a slight groan at the feeling. Tightening his grip on her hips when she tried to, she groaned, “Why?” She whined, and George just leaned forward moving her hair out of the way as he kissed the back of her neck, “You are to stay like this until I feel like fucking you.” He told her, and Y/N shivered at the kiss only listening because she enjoyed this feeling. “Such a good girl, I figured you would be a brat since you act like one.” His voice rang through her mind, and Y/N just whimpered leaning her head back on his shoulder.

“George, please I can’t wait any longer.” She begged, and George just smirked before he lifted her off of him, and threw her on the other side of his couch. Y/N yelped as she was thrown, before she had the chance to raise up George had a hold of her hips making her ass stick up in the air. Pushing down on her back so she was perfectly arching her back, he was holding onto her hips making sure he left bruises. Slamming into her, Y/N moaned out loudly, gripping one of the stray pillows that was near her. Biting her bottom lip, George kept relentlessly pounding into her while Y/N was now a blabbering mess. George enjoyed this as he reached forwards grabbing a handful of her hair and tugged on it. “You look so beautiful like this, so sweaty for me.” He teased, while Y/N just let out an incoherent ‘fuck you’.

Not liking this, George brought his hand up and slammed it down onto her ass. Letting out a small scream, Y/N felt herself grow closer, and George reached around now toying with her clit. He himself was feeling close to his climax, and Y/N could tell from how sloppy his thrusts were getting. Using the hand that had her hair in it, he moved his hand up grabbing her neck bringing her up so she was against his chest. “Fuck George-” She muttered, leaning her head back against George’s shoulder much like earlier. George gave sloppy kisses along her jawline and neck, as they both let out a loud groan. Y/N mumbled words, and George let out a quick, “Fuck” as they both felt themself cum. Pulling out, George watched as some of it leaked out and onto her thighs.

Wiping away the sweat that was on his forehead, he picked her up, “Have you seen the bathroom?” He asked Y/N, who only shook her head, “You’re about to see it now.” He told her as the two made their way into the bathroom. It had a shower, and a bathtub, “Pick which one.” He told her, and Y/N looked between both and pointed to the tub, “I would’ve chosen the shower if it weren’t for how my legs could give out at any moment.” She whispered embarrassed, and George chuckled as he sat her down on the side of the tub, her feet in the tub. “Let me how you want the water to feel.” He said, turning it on and Y/N waited till it felt good, and she nodded, “That’s good.” She said, as she sunk down into the tub.

George smiled at her, as he went over to the cabinet under the sink to grab the bubble mixture. Pouring some into the water, he watched as Y/N mixed it around which formed bubbles. Sinking down into the water, he brought Y/N over to his body, and let her relax against him. “Don’t tell Dream or Sapnap, they had a bet. I really don’t want to lose.” He said, while Y/N lightly laughed at his words, as he massaged her shoulders. “I’m still going to be here for 3 more months, so they are bound to know it happened at one point.” She shrugged, and George hummed in agreement.

#georgenotfound #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfound smut #mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.

A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌

I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.

➠ see also: [homeowners association]

Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*

Dabi would know you anywhere.

You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.

It’s you. You. You.

You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.

Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.

This is going to be fun.

Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.

Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.

Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.

You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.

He doesn’t forgive you.

Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.

You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.

When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.

Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.

He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.

A monster. A freak. A victim.

“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”

Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.

…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.

You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.

Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.

Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.

He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.

Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.

Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.

God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?

It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.

He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.

Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.

You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.

You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.

When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.

It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.

Until you didn’t.

‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.

And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.

Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.

He lights the cigarette anyway.

///

Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?

He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.

When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?

If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.

In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.

In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.

In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.

(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.

And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)

Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.

///

Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.

Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.

Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.

On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.

It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.

Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.

You used to say that to Dabi.

The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.

It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.

Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.

It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.

How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?

So say it. Say you love him.

Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.

You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.

And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—

“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”

And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—

—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

—please stay, forever.

///

When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.

You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?

Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.

Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.

By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—

—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.

It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.

He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.

Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?

///

Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.

The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.

Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.

Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.

///

Whore. Your husband called you a whore.

You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.

He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.

So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.

The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.

Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.

Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.

The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.

Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?

But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.

Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.

“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.

Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.

“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”

Just like back then.

“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”

///

In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.

You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.

But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.

Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

The Akatsuki as Parents

Obito

Was a bit reluctant when he found out he was going to be a daddy ... at first. Not because he didn’t want kids ((he really did)), but because he severely doubted his own ability to be a father. But the second he holds the baby in his arms, he’s hooked. He will be so eagerly helpful and hands-on that during the child’s infancy, the other parent will rarely have to lift a finger. Diapers need changing? Obito’s on it. Baby needs to be fed at 2am? Obito’s already out of bed and warming formula on the stove. Rash? Fever? A cough? Obito is consulting every doctor within a 20 mile radius on what to do. Note that Obito is a hard-core traditionalist and, if he isn’t married to the child’s other parent before he gets them pregnant, he’ll be persistent about doing so before the kid is born. Sobs the first time his child calls him “papa”. As the child grows older, Obito will be a tireless teacher and mentor, and you better believe that the kid will know every facet of what was once the Uchiha clan. Sharingan training is a bit nerve-wracking for Dad, because while he wants his child to grow strong, he knows the power of the eye is a deadly one, and doesn’t like to see his son/daughter get hurt. Is the type to be a bit more strict with his sons than with daughters, in fact being a complete pushover for anything his little girl(s) wants. Very, VERY likely to insist a girl be named Nohara. Also the type to sneak and let his kid eat lots of sweets (like Obito himself does) before meals, much to the other parent’s chagrin. Also involves the other Akatsuki members as uncles/aunt in the kid’s life, especially Itachi and Sasuke as he wants the kid to be exposed to members of the family more often.

Hidan

The literal first words out of his mouth are “pregnant? Why the hell didn’t you make me wear a condom?!” Takes a long time to warm up to the idea of parenthood, but once he does, he’s surprisingly better at it than anyone would anticipate. He tends to be very fast-paced in his body movements and not really used to being careful, so if he’s holding his infant it’s best to make him sit still in a chair first. Once the kid(s) is older, it’s better, because Hidan’s energy levels will match (and overshadow) even the liveliest of children. It will be a big point of contention between Hidan and his co-parent on whether or not to introduce their kid to Jashinism, and Hidan will eventually promise to wait until the child is an adult to start talking about “all that shit”; although Hidan’s idea of adulthood seems to be when the kid is old enough to use a kunai. Puts a startling amount of emphasis on his kid getting a good education, and will be sure to send him or her to the best village school that he possibly can. The reason behind this is because Hidan himself had a poor education growing up, and is in fact barely able to read or do basic math; and he says over and over that his kid “isn’t gonna be some dumbass like his/her father”.

Kakuzu

Nearly faints when told he’s going to be a father. Will immediately get out a calculator and start figuring out expenses like diapers, food, toys, education ... is so preoccupied that he ends up neglecting the person who carries his child, causing them to go off on their own expecting to be a single parent. Oddly, it’s Hidan who sets the old guy straight. He stays on his case and talks to him until the nonagenarian sees the error of his ways, and goes after the person having his baby. Kakuzu will be gentle with a baby, and show a surprising affinity for making up and singing lullabies. As the kid gets older, Kakuzu will be a bit more strict. “Food is expensive; you better eat every bite on your plate.” “A hole in your pants? No give them to me and I’ll mend them; buying new clothes is unnecessary.” His child will grow up knowing how to stretch a buck and budget money better than any other kid their age. Kakuzu isn’t really one for showing much warmth or affection, but there will be a few rare moments in his kid’s life where his father hugs him and tells him how proud he is of him. Kakuzu knows that the life of a shinobi is hard and therefore encourages his kid to pursue other career paths, such as opening up his/her own business.

Konan and Nagato

These two are so closely intertwined that they could only be parental mates to each other. When a baby comes into the picture, Nagato will still maintain his position as leader of the Akatsuki as Pein, but will insist that Konan quit. It’s for a practical purpose rather than a sentimental one; they both lost their collective parents to war, and Nagato always thought that if he had a child, he’d ensure that at least one parent would be around to always take care of him or her. Konan, however, will still keep in touch with all of the Akatsuki members, who will become very enthusiastic uncles to her child. She’s always been a good cook but with a child she’ll level up to professional chef caliber, creating dishes that are fun and healthy. Her child(ren) will be taught all of their mother’s paper jutsus, and Nagato will work to devise a way for the brightest one to get his rinnegan once he passes. The kids will primarily spend time with Nagato through Pein, and only be taken to meet their father when Konan feels they’re ready. Because Konan and Nagato had a childhood devoid of parental love, they’re often at a loss for how to be affectionate or sentimental, instead putting a lot of emphasis on “toughening” their kids up, so that they’re prepared to face the cruelties of the world. But the kids will know that mom and dad love them; it’s obvious in everything they say and do.

Deidara

Will be the fun, loving, yet highly irresponsible father. As soon as his kid is born he anxiously awaits to see if he or she inherits his explosion-release kekkei genkai; and if the kid DOES, he’s ecstatic. “Art is an explosion” won’t just be a saying in his household; it’ll be a way of life. The child will grow up given complete freedom to express his or her artistic tendencies, with Deidara highly praising any and every impact they make on the outside world. Yet despite being for artistic creativity, he’ll be (surprisingly) strongly against the child joining any kind of organization that’s like the Akatsuki; he regrets his own decision to join as he feels it out a horrible damper on his artistic expression and independence. Likes to tell his young children stories every night, which are actually just heavily edited and sanitized versions of his Akatsuki missions. Like Obito, will be a bit more of a pushover for a daughter than a son, and will love spending hours brushing and styling the beautiful long hair that the girl inherits from him. He’ll let any member of the Akatsuki around his kids except for Hidan (because he doesn’t want his foul language around the child).

Zetsu

There are people in this world who know for certain that their lives wouldn’t be fulfilled by having children, and Zetsu is one of these individuals. While wanting no offspring of his own, he IS rather a good “uncle” to the children of his fellow Akatsuki members ((although the majority of these kids are too terrified of his physical appearance to want to go anywhere near him until they’re at least teenagers)).

Sasori

A child would be hard-pressed to elicit any kind of emotional reaction from Sasori, as the man cleared himself of most feeling when he underwent his puppet transformation. However, one thing that he could never rid himself of, was his ability to love. Even if he has difficulty showing it, he loves his child and would do literally anything to help or protect them. When the child is a baby, Sasori will spend hours crafting tiny puppet-dolls for the kid to play with. As he grew up with a skilled medic grandmother, he possesses a wide knowledge of herbs and healing, which he will painstakingly pass on to his children. Not one to baby his children by any means, as he lives by the philosophy that the world is tough meaning you have to be tougher; however will offer advice, support, and encouragement on any issues that may be troubling his son/daughter. Early on he expresses a desire for his child to learn to be a master puppeteer like himself; however will be understanding if they choose to pursue a different path. Is very smart and naturally mistrustful of strangers, so will likely choose to educate his kids at home rather than send them to a village school. The type to seem more like a trusted mentor or an interesting uncle than an actual father; also the type to relate to his teen or adult children better than young kids.

Itachi

Itachi never feels like he deserves any of the good things in life, because of what he’s done, and therefore doesn’t know how to handle blessings that are given to him. A baby is the ultimate example of this. Itachi will feel as though any child of his would be better off not knowing him or being “exposed” to the cursed Uchiha bloodline, so at first he’ll make it a point to barely be around his baby ((even though this kills him inside)). Surprisingly, of all people, it’s Deidara who will talk him out of this mindset, telling him how important it is for a child to be around their father “even if he is a damned red-eyed weirdo”. Once Itachi allows himself to fully commit to parenthood, that’s it — he’ll be the best damned father in the universe. He’ll be warm and affectionate, especially liking to pick his kid up (no matter how old they are or how embarrassed it makes them) and squeeze them. He’s not much of a disciplinarian, believing that kids need to be able to make mistakes in order to grow from them. The only time he’ll ever get angry is when the child does something that could have resulted in a serious injury. Itachi’s intelligence has always been off the charts, and he utilizes this to help his kid be a spectacular student. In fact, as the kid gets older, they’ll start bringing his/her friends around the house in order to receive Itachi’s tutoring. Itachi’s brother Sasuke will adore his nephew/niece and come home more often simply to be with them. Also Kisame will come around practically every day, and the kid will grow up learning an impressive arsenal of water jutsus to compliment the traditional Uchiha fire jutsus.

Kisame

The tall, somewhat awkward father that scares all of his kid’s friends with his intimidating physical appearance ... until he opens his mouth and they hear a god-awful dad joke come out. Any child of Kisame’s is going to be part shark, and therefore have some affinity for being in/breathing under the water. Kisame’s favorite pastime will be taking his baby (and yes, I do mean baby, as he tends to start his kid on this when they’re young) out for long swims in the ocean. Kisame has always been self-conscious of his looks, so from the time the child is born he will spend a good deal of time teaching him or her to have self-confidence and love for him/herself. Like many of the others in the Akatsuki, Kisame never received much of a formal education, and therefore puts a lot of emphasis on his child going to a “normal” school and giving it their all when it comes to their studies. When the child proves him or herself physically capable, Kisame will start training with them on how to wield/control samehada, as well as fight with a variety of swords. It goes without saying that Itachi will be in Kisame’s kid’s life from the day they’re born, and be their favorite “uncle”.

#the akatsuki #parenting #obito uchiha #itachi uchiha #hidan #kakuzu #deidara #sasori #zetsu #nagato #konan #kisame #i’d call any one of these guys Daddy including Konan 😫

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sidespart · 3 years

Note

For the fake fic title, if you're still doing it: Why do you hate me? (I honestly don't know where I came up with this lol)

X-Men AU!!! Found Family + Anxceit friendship. TW: child soldiers, child endangerment, abuse etc

(So typical X-men universe set up: some people are born with the X gene, which typically triggers during puberty, giving that person a mutation which normally results in cool powers. Many people hate mutants for their differences (/ bad press of people using their mutant powers for the evilz) and so most mutants live in hiding. The Xavier Institute is a school set up by an extremely powerful mutant which seeks to provide a safe space for young mutants to learn to manage their powers, get a regular education and hopes to see peace between humanity and mutant kind. The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants is a group of mutants who believe humans will never let mutant live in peace and do various anti-human, pro-mutant vaguely terrorist-y actions (there’s like a billion version of the x-men and these details may not be correct for all the versions all of the time because comics but this is the vague idea))

ANYWAY PLOT - Containment breach at the Super Secret Child Soldier Lab (SSCSL) - Subject VII has escaped. Subject VII is only 6-7 years old but his mutations were artificially triggered much younger than is normal. He can warp reality and create very sophisticated illusions, but has very limited control over his powers.

Cut too - Virgil and Dee, a couple of teenage mutants living on the street. They find a little boy with a buzzcut wandering around The Bad Part Of Town and Virgil immediately decides they need to adopt/help him (Dee makes more of a fuss about how this is not their responsibility and the kids barely even talking and do you know how hard I work just to keep you and now you wanna add another mouth to feed?? Huhh?? but obviously does not actually say no) (Dee is like. Barely any older than Virgil he’s just dramatic).

Naturally, just as the three of them have had time to bond, the SSCSL and other assorted bad guys show up to try and take VII back. There’s a big fight, Virgil and Dee have a lot more experience with flight and would probably have ended up dead if the X-men (Patton and Logan) hadn't shown up to save them.

But they lose VII.

Patton and Logan take them back to the Xavier institute to recuperate and offer to let them stay. They can go to school there, get some training and help the X-men track down VII and the whole SSCSL. Virgil says yes, Dee says no.

(So, reasoning - Virgil's mutation developed when he was 12. It was not pleasant. Various students at his school were injured and the media set up a which hunt for the mutant that caused the chaos. Virgil ran away from home because he was worried about the backlash on his family and about hurting anyone else again. So to him, this school full of mutants who can help him control his power, can offer him stability and a return to normal structures and routines, who are promising to help him get in contact with his parents if and when he’s ready?? This is like every fantasy he’s ever had come true

Unlike the other characters, Dee’s primary mutation is physical. He was born with it, its very obvious and its resulted in him being rejected for most of his life. He bounced around increasingly disturbing foster homes before running away when he was very young, so most of his memories are of living on the streets and surviving on his own. So, to him, number one: all adults are inherently untrustworthy idiots and number two: stay at a school? where they expect him to have a curfew? and, what - write essays? follow all their random arbitrary rules? rely on them for food and heat and all that shit? Completely ludicrous.)

It doesn't occur to either of them that the other one isn't going to agree with them. The resulting argument is epic and cruel, both hurling accusations at the other (Ungrateful /controlling are two of the big ones..) and both basically feeling hateful and 100% betrayed. Dee leaves and although they look for him, he’s got a lifetime experience of hiding and they cant find him.

CUT TO - 5 years later. Virgil is a (semi) well adjusted 19 year old junior X-men. He’s still a bit withdrawn, but is very close with Patton and Logan. He’s still holding out hope of finding VII one day and still firmly pretending he’s not listing out for any possible news of Dee (there were rumours some years ago of him joining the brother hood of evil mutants but then it all went quiet) who he, of course, hates for his betrayal.

BUT THEN - mysterious knocking at the door in the night. Dee, now wearing a hat and cape and calling himself Janus, has returned. And he’s brought with him a little boy with a buzzcut and a tattoo of XXII on his foot.

Janus and Virgil need to put aside their resentment and work together to help XXII, who really does not seem interested in helping them, and hopefully use any clues he can give them about the SSCSL to track down VII. But that's difficult when they’re both still struggling with their own trauma and have no idea how to reconnect - both of them want to ask why do you hate me but are a bit too scared of the answer. ...

This already got way to long so mutant power/ extra back story descriptions under cut!

Patton - 22/27 years old. An extremely powerful telepath/empath. It takes him serious concentration and focus to not hear peoples thoughts and its almost impossible to not feel their feelings. Some people dislike him because of this as they feel he's spying on them. Grew up in the Xavier institute and 100% believes in and is committed to the future where humans and mutants live in harmony. Has pretty limited life experience in the real world. Sometimes floats. (inspired by professor X)

Logan - 21/26 years old. Fires destructive laser beams from his eyes. Was in a car accident when he was younger leaving him with permanent but apparently harmless brain damage - until his mutation developed and he slowly realised that no matter how much he trained he just couldn't control his power. Has to wear specialised eye guards at all times to keep himself from accidentally destroying everything around him. Had big plans to go to university and was angry at his mutation for a long time for getting in the way of that. Eventually enrolled online and is now a very dedicated teacher at the Institute. (inspired by cyclops)

Janus - 15(?) / 20(?) His primary mutation is lizard/snake like scales over most of his body, but especially the left side. Has oversized fangs, and yellow eye and a short lizard tail. His secondary mutation makes him immune to almost any sort of mental based mutation (so Logan could still knock him on his ass with his lasers, but Patton cant sense anything form him and Virgil cant whammy him). Spent a lot of his life on his own and got by being sneaky, cunning and charming. Initially took Virgil in because he saw that his powers could be useful for keeping them both safe, but eventually Virgil became his first real friend.

Virgil - 14/19. Shadow manipulation and ‘draining’. Virgil can make himself (and with practice, people he touches) literally disappear into the shadows. He can also direct shadows as powerful energy ‘blasts’, but in order to do so he has to drain any surrounding living things of their energy. When his mutation first developed he took out half of the school hall where his exam was being held, leaving 15 students in a coma. (inspired by rouge/shadow cat)

VII - 6? / 11? Reality warping/illusion powers. One of the institutes first successful subjects. He was able to escape by changing the wall of his cell into a door. He finds it hard to talk but can project his ideas as lifelike illusions who can talk for him. One of his best is the image a handsome grown up Prince and he will often use this Illusion as an avatar to communicate. When he was 6 he did have some hazy memories of outside the SSCSL and expressed a desire to go home. Current status is unknown.

XXI - 7. Illusion powers (reality warping has been removed from the program by his time as subjects proved too difficult to control). Has no memories of outside the institute and is extremely uncooperative with his new captors/guardians. He does not understand the affection they’re trying to show him and lashes out a lot, often by creating a lot of extremely disturbing and graphic illusions. Bites.

#sanders sides #anxceit #virgil sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #fake fic meme #remus sanders #sidespart writes #x men au #giving it its own tag because ive been thinking about this one for a while and might do some more with it.#Anonymous

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mindofharry · 3 years

Text

here’s some vampire harry!!!!! pls treat him with the love and respect he deserves <3

“Honey, this is just water under the bridge” Your mother, Joanne, reassured you. She placed a rogue piece of hair behind your ear. You were both sitting on your bed, cuddling like you were 10 years old again. Getting fired, from your dream job for no apparent reason at all has basically broken you. Your mother is trying to reassure you, that it was meant to happen - that everything happens for a reason. You just want your job back.

“We’ll start job hunting again, next week. Ok?” Joanne said, you sighed and rolled over on your sighed. Your mum rubbed your back and took all the dirty cups from your room with her as she left your room.

You tried to sleep, to try and forget everything that had just happened that afternoon. But, your mind was occupied and too busy. So you decided you better start looking for some jobs, even interviews. Even though you still live with your mum, you still need money. Not just for yourself, but your mum too. All the money that comes into the house is coming from you and the jobs you have. You were finally comfortable with money, for the first in your life. But the world just really hated you at the moment.

You walk over your desk and sit down, opening up the second hand laptop you bought yourself for christmas. It’s nothing special like a mac, but it does the job. Once you’re logged in, you open google and type in ‘JOBS IN MY AREA’. You didn’t go to college and you barley passed high school, you’ll be lucky if you even get a job at the local book store.

You needed to stop this, punishing yourself. It’s not your fault, you remind yourself.

Nearly falling asleep at your desk, you decided to head to bed. Tomorrow will be better.

Tomorrow is not better. It’s worse than yesterday. You couldn’t even bare to open your laptop after being so disappointed last night. And you’re mum kept trying to reassure you, but you felt responsible for this.

Your mum couldn’t work, she’s not well and she’s in denial about it. She goes to AA meetings and talks with therapists, but she just can’t stay sober. You’ve tried to get her into working, but she manages to fuck it up everytime. Your mum is good mother, she took care of you and did the best she could. But sometimes you just wished she’d just stay sober, for even a week. So you could be a normal 19 year old, go out for drinks and hang out with friends. But you know she’s not a normal mum. And that’s something you just have to live with.

“Morning, love” Joanne said sipping on her ‘tea’. You knew it was alcohol so you gave her a pointed look.

She sighed and poured the drink down the sink. “Good, now go brush your teeth and we can talk” you say pulling your hair up. You mother shook her head and sighed. “I’m the mum here, Y/N. Don’t treat me like i’m the teenager” she said and you laughed. Really? This is how today’s going to go? the universe really hates me, you thought.

“You just hid vodka from me mum” you say and she sighed walking over and kissing your temple. “I’m sorry, ok? I’m trying, lovey” she said and you could tell how hard she was trying to keep together. you nodded and smiled, this was going to be a good day. Bite your tongue, Y/N.

“Yeah, i know. Now go get ready, i need help job hunting” you say and she nodded making her way out of the kitchen and up to her room. You sighed and put the kettle on. You walked into the pantry and took the vodka she had opened and poured it down the sink. Let’s see how long it takes her to notice.

You sat down with your cup of tea and one for your mum, opening up the paper and your laptop.

When your mum came back in, she looked a lot nicer and healthier. The shower did her good.

“So i saw someone looking for an assistant on facebook” Your mum said logging into her facebook on your laptop. You smiled to yourself, she really cared about you. “His name is harry i think, something along the lines of needing someone to sort out his schedule which you’re pretty good at” she said showing you the post. A few, actually a lot, of people had already liked the post and there was people sharing their CVs in the comments begging for a chance. You didn’t have the heart to tell your mum that this person wasn’t going to accept you.

“I mean, you can apply for other jobs but i think it’s perfect for you” She said biting her nip nervously. You nodded smiling in reassurance. “Yeah, it’s perfect mum. Thank you, i’ll try and get an interview. I also found a cleaning job too, so that’s good. Both jobs look like they pay well” you say with a shrug.

Joanne nodded and kissed your temple. “You’ll get a job. Don’t worry about it.”

After sending your CV to multiple possible bosses, you shut your laptop and turn your phone off of silent. Job hunting is a pain in the ass and exhausting, all you can do now is make lunch and hope for the best.

You were braiding your mothers hair when you got the call. You were both having a girly night as your mum hadn’t drank a sip of alcohol all day, it was definitely something to celebrate.

“Is this Y/N L/N i’m speaking with?” the voice asked, he sounded so bright and chipper. And he was irish too.

“This is her! how can i help you?” you asked and the man cleared his throat and paused for a second. “I’m offering you a job. the job” he said and you almost dropped your phone. You put it on your leg, on speaker so your mum could hear and you could multitask. You brushed the ends of your mum hair and let out a shaky breath.

“Do i need to come in for an interview?”

“Well, me and the boss would like to get to know you, get a feel of how you work on your own and with help. just like a test run, but if i’m being honest the is yours” he said and you could almost cry. “You’re exactly the kind of person Harry, my boss is looking for Y/N” he said.

“I’m niall by the way, i’m harry’s personal assistant” Niall said and you smiled.

“Well, when can i come in?”

After settling some stuff with Niall, who is kind of your boss too you were free to hang up. your mum squealed and pulled you into the tightest hug ever. “I told you, everything happens for a reason! you were exactly who they were looking for, babe” your mother said caressing your cheeks. You kissed her temple and nodded.

“You’re the best, you know that?” You said and your mum shrugged. “Eh, i’m okay” she giggled, you sat back down on the couch.

“Lay down, mum. We’ve got it sorted now”

You were going in to the offices, or as what niall called STYLES x MALIK, harry styles and zayn malik are both the bosses of the fashion company they both created. They have a headquarters in the states, but they’re just starting up a new headquarters in england, as harry and zayn grew up here and would like to see their families a lot more. Niall basically told you their whole life story over the phone, which you were very thankful for. Saves you the googling.

It was a tuesday morning, when you got the go ahead to pop in. Niall said to look nice, but casual. Like you’re going out for a dinner with your partners family. So you pull out your best high waisted flare jeans, an orange stripped shirt and tucked into your jeans. You topped it off with your lucky platforms and some jewellery. You left your hair natural, and the same with your makeup only some lip gloss and mascara.

“You look beautiful, honey”

“Thanks mum” You grinned pulling her into a hug. You placed your bag over your shoulder and took the car keys from the bowl at the front door. “I’ll be back soon, ok? Go for a walk or something” you say squeezing her hand, before leaving.

20 minutes away from you, is a angry, grumpy vampire. Niall was sat in front of harry, with a grin on his face.

“She’s literally perfect harry” Niall try to reason, but harry was having absolutely none of it. He wanted to rip that blonde son of bitch heart out.

“Niall, i didn’t want her though.” Harry said standing up from his desk, opening up a file and pointing at a picture.

“i wanted her”

Harry was pointing at a girl, blonde hair, blue eyes and great blood. He had tasted her before and worked his magic into getting her an interview - of course, she doesn’t remember him though. But this Y/N girl, he didn’t want her and he never agreed to having her come here today.

“You’ll have to fire her or make up some excuse, fuck i need something” Harry mumbled placing a hand over his eyes, Niall walked over to the fridge in the corner of harrys office he opened it up and took out a bag of blood pouring it in to a small glass. He placed it on the table standing in front of a frustrated vampire.

“She’s really good, Harry. You’ll regret it if you don’t let her do the test run” Niall said before walking to the door. “And she’s hot as fuck” he added leaving the room.

Harry hated being the bad guy, usually he’s a nice person. More lively, a bit like niall. A lot more quiet though, he’s pensive and reads people really well, one of his many talents as a vampire.

Harry was born in 1908, to a wealthy family. He had caring parents, a loving sister and good future a head of him. Until he met liam payne, they met in university decided to work together. The next thing you know, liam had his fangs in harrys neck and he was immortal. The first few years were hard, he was wreck less and did everything possible to get even a drop of blood. He met zayn five years after being turned, and he was sort of like the alpha of their ‘pack’ so to speak. He taught harry all he knew about control and using powers to get what you want, but only when you so desperately need it. They met niall in the 70s, he was freshly turned and needed help. They took him under their wings, and here they are today with a fashion company and a load of money in their pockets.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Zayn asked walking into harrys office with a few files in his hands. Harry huffed and sipped on the blood niall had poured for him. “I’m closed” harry said sitting down on his chair, zayn laughed and shook his head. “You have an interview in 5 minutes, get it together styles” Zayn said and dropped the files on his desk.

“Whether we hire or not, be nice. Her file is there, read it, study it. And keep those fangs to yourself” Zayn warned pointing at harry, then walked out of his office. Harry sighed and opened the file, stopping in his tracks when he saw your face.

You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful.

He could tell the photo was professionally done, and you definitely had gotten someone to take it in a rush. Your CV is also a mess, but harry thinks it’s endearing. God, you’ve hypnotised him already. Harry could feel your aura through a picture, how the fuck was that even possible?

“She’s here” Niall said through the glass door. Harry nodded and cracked his neck, let’s get this over with then.

He could see niall biting his lip as she walked up, he couldn’t keep it in his pants for 2 seconds.

Niall opened the door and harry watched the girl walk in, her flares and platforms got his attention. She’s perfect. For him. Niall was still checking her out, so harry cleared his throat. Niall smirked and shook his head walking out of the office.

“Take a seat” Harry said and you smiled, sitting down. “I just want to say, i’m really grateful for this opportunity” you say, and harry nearly rolled his eyes. She’s too beautiful for a sob story. “I appreciate it” you say, and harry nodded quickly wanting to move away from anything emotional.

“um, so we don’t need you” He lied and you nearly choked on you own spit. Your eyebrows furrowed and you flushed a bit. Harry could see niall shaking his head. Damn you, super human hearing.

“Don’t need me? Niall said that i was just what you were looking for” you say, not angry just confused. Harry was impressed at how well you could keep your feelings in check, but he could feel how agitated you were becoming.

“Well, he’s wrong” Harry said and closed the file. “Have a nice day” He said with a fake smile. You couldn’t believe this. Fuck this.

“Fuck you” You said grabbing your bag and hoisting it up onto your shoulder. “Woah, Woah, what’s going on in here?” Zayn asked his hands in the air.

“Ask him, thanks for nothing” You say moving to walk out of the office. You needed to get out of here. “Just wait” Zayn called out, you stopped and sighed turning around.

“You’ve got the job” zayn said and your eyes widened in shock. “You start this friday, niall will email you detail. Use this week to treat yourself, on me ok?” Zayn said handing you a 50 dollar note. Who are you to deny money? You nodded and smiled at him. “Thank you” you say and he nodded.

“Don’t disappoint me”

You got yourself a coffee on the way home, you were a little overwhelmed and you needed to calm down before you went home to your mum. You just hope she didn’t do anything stupid while you were out.

“Mum, i’m home” you called out handing your bag up on the hanger. You got no response, so you looked around the house. Nothing in the kitchen or bathroom. The only places left are her room and living room.

You walked into the living room, to see your mum passed out on the couch a bottle of wine and an empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. you sighed “Oh, mum” you said tears welling up in your eyes. “Why do you keep doing this” you mumbled picking up the wine and empty bottle, you put them away and cleaned up the cup. After that, you placed a blanket over her.

“You’ll get better soon, mum. I’ll be able to pay for it. We’ll have everything we’ve ever dreamt of and more” You say, kissing her forehead.

The next couple of days, you were nursing your mother back to health and used the 50 dollars your new boss gave you to by some groceries. Your mother really needed some hangover snacks, and she needed a lot of them. Luckily, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than you should’ve.

“Mum, i’m off to work” You said peaking through her door. She wasn’t talking to you at the moment.

“Alright, there’s medicine on the counter downstairs, snacks and stuff too. There’s no alcohol and no money, so don’t even try” You warned closing her door. God, this was so hard. You wondered how long it would take to be fired from this job.

You arrived early at the office, niall greeted you and took you to your own little office. It was nothing huge, but you absolutely adored it.

“Hey, don’t worry about harry” Niall said and you nodded. “I’m not, don’t worry” you reassured him smiling as you put down your diary.

“Good, well i’ll leave you to it” Niall said and you grinned at him.

“Good luck”

“Why?”

“You’ll need it”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Biggest Fan 2

Part 1

Warning: coercion, blackmail, porn, nonconsent sex, cheating

It was a long, silent walk back to the office. You rubbed your palm with your thumb as you struggled not to think of the feel of him in your hand. The hardness still barely concealed in his pressed pants.

He opened the door for you and you walked ahead of him. He followed you up the stairs and you felt his gaze on your ass, realising too late your mistake. As you reached your floor, you rushed over to your desk and he let you. He went to his office. It was as if nothing had even happened. As if your hand hadn’t been on his dick only fifteen minutes before.

You took a shuddery breath and logged in to your computer. Most of your work was transcription or shadowing Andy. Nothing overly complicated. Even so, you found it hard to concentrate on your work. You rubbed your forehead and leaned back in your chair. You glanced towards Andy’s office, his door was open, he was watching you, his pen pressed to his bottom lip. He tore his eyes from you and grabbed his phone.

You wanted to be sick. You drew your attention back to your screen and forced yourself to type. The buzz of your phone distracted you but you ignored it. It vibed again and you slid it out of your blazer pocket onto your desk. You positioned it just under your monitor and unlocked it.

‘Today. After work.’ The first text read and the second hovered above. ‘I can’t wait for the real thing’.

You swept away the bubbles and blinked at the computer screen. He was like a teenager. This man you’d looked up to, this man you’d admired for his professionalism, his veracity, were just like those boys in your program who tried to talk you into one of their stupid red cup parties. And he was married. The thought made you want to sob but you just forced down the bile and kept typing.

Though the morning had dragged by, the rest of the day seemed to fly. You looked at the clock and your phone lit up. Another message from him. You packed up your things before you dare to grab your cell and reluctantly looked at it. ‘Got a meeting with Canavan. Meet me at Joe’s down the block, 20 min.’

You looked over and found his office empty. You’d been so determined to ignore him, you hadn’t even noticed him leave. You grabbed your bag and headed out. Joe’s was a coffee place just down the block, you always grabbed Andy a small coffee when you got yours. Wait, had you led him on? With coffee?

No, no. He was a forty year old man and you were just a college student. This wasn’t your fault. Well, those were your pictures on the internet. You had put them there.

You barely recalled making your descent onto the street or hurrying down to the little cafe. You ordered a bottle of juice so you could sit in the corner. You picked at the unbroken seal and your leg shook nervously beneath the table. What were you doing? If you just ignored him, would he really send those pictures? Andy was a good guy… or so you thought.

You were startled as the table shifted and he sat across from you. He smoothed the front of his suit and smiled at you then looked around.

“We shouldn’t stay here long,” He said. “Too close to work.”

“You can’t be serious about this?” You kept your voice low. “Andy, I--”

“Shhh,” He raised his hand. “Look, we don’t have time to waste.”

You stared at him and gulped.

“First thing, delete your account.” He said.

“What? I can’t-- That’s how I--”

“I told you. I’ll take care of you.” He interrupted. “Delete it. Now.”

“You’re married,” You whispered. “Why--”

“I know what I am. What I want.” He turned his hand down onto the table. “Ten seconds or I add your professor to the CC.”

“Goddamnit,” You bent and reached into your bag.

You sat up with your phone and keyed in the code. You opened the app and he took the phone before you could hit anything else. He placed it on the table between you and went to settings. You watched as he scrolled through the settings and finally found the option to delete. He accepted several warnings before everything just disappeared. He turned the phone back to you and slid it forward.

He stood and sighed as he checked his watch. “Alright. Laurie’s taken Jacob to his tournament so we should have some time. Let’s go.”

📚

Andy’s house was nice. Much nicer than your small apartment near the college. You felt out of place as he drove right into the garage and let you in through the side door. You hated that you were sneaking around. Hated that you were doing this at all.

You entered the kitchen and he turned to you. He took your bag and set it on the counter. You shuddered as you lifted your foot and he stopped you.

“Keep the shoes on,” He smiled. “I like ‘em.”

“Are you… sure about all this?” You lowered your foot slowly. “My account is gone, you made sure of it.”

“That’s not what this is about,” He grabbed your arm and wrenched you forward. He took your hand in his and pressed it to his crotch again. “Feel that. That’s what you do to me. Every fucking day.”

“Andy--”

He spun you and pushed you against the island. You saw a flowered notebook on the other side. That was probably hers, just like the man behind you. He leaned his weight against you as he gripped your waist and purred.

“I can’t help but think of you on my desk as I’m sitting on it but this will have to do,” His hand went to your ass and he slapped you hard. “Oh, fuck.”

His hands crawled up to your shoulders and he pulled your blazer off. He dropped it on the floor and reached around to unbutton your blouse. You grabbed his hand and he brushed you off.

“Don’t make this difficult, baby girl,” He warned. “Don’t tell me this isn’t what you wanted all along?” He tore your blouse open and forced it down your arms. “Posting those pictures.”

“Please--”

“Shhh, don’t want the neighbours to hear.” He flung your shirt. “They always are so fucking nosy.”

You hung your head as he unzipped the back of your skirt, pulling back to let it slip past your hips. It pooled on the tile and he stepped on it until you lifted your feet one at a time and he kicked it away. You regretted your ridiculous choice not to wear underwear. Well, it had been more a dare and earned you a smooth fifty on your paypal.

“Fuck.” He rubbed your ass as his other hand fought with his belt.

You smelled his woodsy cologne as his fumbling grew more frantic. You heard the soft metallic clink and his zipper as he pushed it down. He wiggled as he shoved his pants down. His hand went around to your stomach and he guided himself along your ass his foot between yours as he urged your legs apart.

You slapped your hands on the island as he dragged his swollen tip along your folds and found your entrance with a hum. He pushed inside you and jolted your hips into the edge of the counter, nuzzling his head into your neck as he leaned into you. His hot breath was wet against your skin as he forced himself to his limit.

“Shit,” You swore as you stretched around him.

“Mmmm,” He hummed and thrusted hard, lingering inside you as he basked in the feel. “God, you’re even better than I could have--” He rocked his hips again and choked. “Jesus.”

You scratched your nails against the marble island and pushed your head back against his shoulder as he moved his hips steadily, each tilt coming quicker than the last. You gritted your teeth as you tried to fight off your own arousal. Despite your reluctance, your core burned hot and you could hear how slick you were with each thrust.

He withdrew his hand from your stomach and grabbed your shoulders. He pushed you down until you were bent over the island and your feet left the floor. He held you down as his motion picked up and he slammed into you with dusky grunts. With each jolt of his hips, yours hit the marble and you held your breath to keep from moaning.

You closed your eyes and pressed your cheek to the cool counter. Your lips formed an O as you came quietly, covering your face with your arm. He crashed into you harder than before, you felt your juices spreading along the open v of his pants and the tails of his shirt. He gripped your hips and his thumbs dug into your flesh.

He pulled out of you sharply and swore as he spilled down your thigh, stroking himself along so that his tip rubbed his seed over your skin. Breathless, he spread his hand over your lower back then dragged it down to your ass and squeezed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” He rasped.

He drew his hand and backed away. You slid off the island and your feet wobbled beneath you, your heels almost perilous as your legs buzzed. Andy leaned against the other counter as he wiped himself with a paper towel and put his cock away. He zipped up his pants and buckled his belt before tucking in his shirt and straightening his collar.

“Whew,” He took a breath. “Baby girl, that was worth every last penny.” He looked you up and down and bit his lip. “Better get dressed before the wife gets back.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber x reader #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #dark!andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #drabble #sequel #biggest fan #defending jacob

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bloodypapercut · 3 years

Text

despise (f.w. x reader)

this is my first fic! yayy! i hope all you angels enjoy. have a wonderful day or night and take care of your beautiful selves! :)

word count: 4.5k

I despised Fred Weasley. Upon this discovery, I always questioned the veracity of my feelings towards him. It was never in my nature to be hateful, if anything I was known for being kind, caring, and helpful. Perhaps at times, I could be a little aloof, but that was simply due to the fact that my mind was always elsewhere. Never in my life had I felt so strongly about someone, better yet hate someone so fervently. Oftentimes I would feel guilty for scoffing at every remark he made, or rolling my eyes when he would flash his infamous coquettish smile. I abhorred him, it’s not like I made the decision to by my own volition, I couldn’t help it. I’m aware of how this sounds, a typical loathsome teenager who hated the boy who has attention, the boy who has people falling at his feet, the boy with a lot of friends and a close family. It wasn’t that, no not at all. I had my reasons.

--------

I had never been more excited. I could barely keep the grin off my face as my legs swung back and forth, my heels hitting the seat. It was my first time being away from home, my desire to practice my independence as an 11-year-old was being fulfilled by the second. Looking out the window as the trees grew thicker and predictions of what the year could hold running through my mind a repulsive scent filled my cabin, thick smoke cloaked my vision and settled on my skin and robes. My violent coughs and labored breathing created a cacophony as the sound of hushed giggling and footsteps sounded from outside the door. My shaking hands made haste to dust off the soot, horrified of what others would think of me when I arrived at Hogwarts. A dirty and poor mudblood. I had expected the worst after hearing the stories my mother told me from working at the ministry, how could anyone disrespect someone I loved so dearly? The fear of being called out in such a hostile way and being looked down upon by potential friends caused my chest to tighten and sobs to violently rack my body. Not to mention the guilt I felt for getting my brand new robes dirty, especially knowing my mother worked extra shifts to get them.

Stepping out of the Hogwarts express I was met with a tall man, guiding me along with other students to the boats. The soot hadn’t disappeared completely but I had gotten as much as I could off. The boat ride was pleasant. I had acquainted with a girl named Luna along the way, she was an idiosyncratic girl but I appreciated her kindness and her curious comments about sea creatures. I felt relieved that someone was talking to me without judging me based on my appearance, but the sadness I felt about my dirty robes still lingered over me.

Looking up at the enchanted sky of the great hall I’ve never felt so enthralled by something. It was just as wonderful as my mom had described, I couldn’t wait to write to her all about it. But as I approached the front of the hall I felt dread put a weight around my ankles, I would have to stand up in front of everyone with my soiled robes. My uneasiness produced a scowl on my face and I could have sworn the familiar giggling was right behind me, but as I whipped my head around there was no one that seemed to be responsible for it.

“Now, when I call your names I will ask you to come forward, be seated on the stool, be sorted by the sorting hat, and after you will continue to your house table.”

I felt guilty that I wasn’t paying attention to my peers being sorted but my unease wracked at me, the ends of my sweater tangling between my fingers and the heel of my shoe being ground against the tiled floor.

“Y/N L/N”

Sighing I stepped forward, the giggles resonating once again making me stumble slightly. The lady at the front, whose name I had failed to remember, gave me a tight smile and waited for me to be seated. As the weight of the sorting hat pressed against my head I saw it. A trio of boys, 2 identical and one with dreads giggling, their soot covered hands coming up to their faces as they analyzed my robes. They must’ve felt my gaze because one of the twins and the boy with dreads stopped, but one continued, only laughing harder and looking right back at me. There, that was the moment I knew I would end up hating this ginger boy.

I had been so preoccupied with burning holes into his eyes that I had failed to recognize the incessant tapping on my shoulder and the dying cheers of the students sitting on a table at the far right of the room. Snapping my head towards the stern lady behind me. I hopped off the seat and rushed to the table that I assumed belonged to my house, which I didn’t know since I wasn’t listening. My face grew warm and my hands became sweaty with how tight my fists were clenched. I sat down quietly, never taking my eyes off that git.

That’s how he ruined my first highlight at Hogwarts.

--------

My second year was going just as I had planned. I had been practicing for Quidditch during the summer with my best mates Cho, Graham, and Julian (as Luna tried to befriend the gnomes, which didn’t end so pleasantly). I was convinced that I had improved greatly since my first chaotic flying lesson at Hogwarts. I was so sure of my skills, that I was unperturbed about trying out for my house team. That was a big mistake.

Going into compromising situations with nonchalance, knowing that the Weasley twins are in the same vicinity as you is a foolish, doltish mistake that anyone can be a victim to. I had been a victim to many of the playful endeavours during my first year and I thought that it was all over. Maybe they were mature now and knew when to stop. Thinking about it now makes me laugh, what a pretty lie I told myself.

It was the final cut for the team and I smiled as I gripped my broom, ignoring the splinter that found a place to reside in my thumb. The captain walked around smiling softly at all of us as she explained what the final tryout would entail. I clung to every word and as soon as she asked for a volunteer, my hand soared.

Tendrils of hair whipped around my face as I bolted to get the quaffle and shoot it into a hoop. I could hear words of praise from my friends on the ground and it only made me go a little faster, smiling as the quaffle passed by me. In an instant I spun my broom around, sending the ball flying to a hoop as the end struck it. I continued playing, doing tricks to show the captain I belonged on the team, I was so captured and focused that I didn’t notice the ball of fire that was in front of me, I also didn’t notice the screaming and shouts of warning from the ground but even when I did it was too late. Being faced with the fire ball it took me by surprise causing me to slip off my broom and fall a rough 20 feet from the sky.

The sound of a crack should have been the main sound that plagued my ears but it wasn’t, the pain radiating in my arm should have been enough for me to realize my arm could have been broken but it also wasn’t. At that moment I was verklempt because all I could hear was that notorious giggle and all I felt was a ferocious vindictive ball of anger swelling inside of me. In that moment I was certain that I deplored that Weasley boy.

“L/N are you okay??”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine let me just get back on my broom and finish my try out. Please, I really wanna make the team.”

“No! Are you mental? You can't! You have to go to Madam Pomfrey now.”

“No please let me finish, I have to make the team.”

“You’re on the team kid, you’re talented but for the love of Merlin please go your arm looks horrible.”

--------

The stems of the flowers felt smooth in my hand and the soft petals grazed my nose as I inhaled its scent. I had never been given this much attention by someone and I had to admit it felt good. Getting mysterious notes everyday, serendipitous boxes of sweets on my bed and something to giggle about with my friends. The only thing that was covert was who it was coming from. I knew how they felt about me, I knew they were in all my classes and I knew that he was a Hufflepuff. I felt excited coming to my dorm, anticipating a note on my bedside table or a flower on my pillow. It all seemed a little too good to be true, and a part of me nagged, telling me it was just another Weasley prank.

After reading copious articles about wolfsbane, due to Snape’s unreasonable wrath, my head felt numb. I dragged my feet to reach my common room and after answering the riddle I stepped through the entrance ready to fling myself onto the couch.

“Hey.” It was James Abernathy, my seat partner in potions and herbology, and he was in all my other classes. His presence confused me, he wasn’t permitted into this common room, he was a Hufflepuff. Upon this realization, a ball of excitement spun in my body. Could it possibly be him? He was the epitome of my dream guy, but with my history in Hogwarts my gut told me that this was too good to be true.

“...hi? What would you need?”

“Actually can I speak to you outside?”

“Uh..yeah? Sure I guess.” He nodded curtly and walked towards to exit, letting me trail behind him. Thoughts flooded quickly, leaving me in anticipation for what he would possibly have to say to me. The idea of it being him excited me, but he had a bit of a reputation. Not that I thought he was incapable of holding interest in someone for longer than a week, it just seemed unlikely that it would be me of all people.

“It’s me.”He chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair, the veins being accentuated as he tugged at the ends lightly.

I remained silent, awfully confused and in disbelief.

“You?” He nods quickly. My head was spinning and I couldn’t pinpoint how I felt or how to react. How could it be collected, witty, dallying and charming James Abertnathy, has taken an interest in me? It was hard to believe, it was so unlikely that I just knew it was too good to be true. Someone like me never goes with someone like James, that’s just how it is. Despite that my judgement was clouded by excitement, never had anything so romantic occurred in my life, the thought of having someone like James as a partner was a dream I thought I deserved to live out.

“Wow, that’s lovely um..”

“So what do you say to a day at Hogsmeade?” The echo of his footsteps sounded as he drew nearer to hold my limp hands in his, running his thumb over my knuckles.

“She says no, more into redheads you see.” My neck could have snapped with the velocity at which my head turned. Of course, of course he had to be just around the corner. Of course he had to be hiding behind a pillar, probably running away from Filch after terrorizing an innocent student or professor. How could I be so blind, so naive? I couldn’t have anything good, because he existed. Looking up I was met with the smile that seemed to frequent his face, he waved comically as James huffed and walked away. I couldn’t help the quiver of my lip as I watched him revel in the joy he got from terrorizing me.

“W-why would you do that?” I couldn’t meet his eyes, but I could feel them on me. I couldn’t stand to look at him because I knew if I did I'd slap him so hard that even the lines on my hands would be imprinted on his face for weeks.

“Because he wanted 15 galleons and you wanted him, it would have never worked darling.” Fred was lying, I knew it. James was popular but not an absolute prick. He lost interest in people, he didn’t place bets on them.

“What are you on about? He..he wouldn’t.”

“Oh but he would, 15 galleons is one hell of a price.” He chortled, patting my head. I had gotten used to his belittling comments and I usually remained stoic, but it hurt hearing I was worth nothing more than 15 galleons, and hearing him confirm that just hurt even more.

“What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much? Ever since I got here you’ve been nothing but hellish to me. I’ve done nothing to you, I’ve never even had a full conversation with you! Merlin, this is the most we’ve ever spoken so please, Fred, just tell me what it is I’ve done so I can apologize and you can bloody stay away from me.” My breath hitched, my hands shook and I felt disappointed in myself for losing my composure.

“Nothing! You’ve done nothing at all it’s just-” His continuous patting on my head had stopped and his hand rested on my shoulder, which I shrugged off immediately upon realizing its presence.

“What? Just what, what could I have possibly done for me to deserve this. Do you know that I have never written to my mother about a single good thing that has happened to me here, and you know why? It’s because of you! You selfish git!”

“Listen the only reason I did those things was because I wanted your attention.”

“And why on earth would you want that?”

“Isn’t it obvious I fancy you, like a lot?” He threw his head back lightly as he crossed his arms. His nonchalance was palpable, and I just knew that he thought he had won, he thought that I would suddenly change my demeanor and drop to my knees thanking Merlin he liked me. Unfortunately for him, he was dead wrong, sure he was attractive, very in fact but his personality made him the most repulsive and hideous human I could ever be faced with.

“Oh? Really? You’re going to pull that card? So you’re telling me the reason you were an insufferable twat for 3 years, was because you were too much of a coward to divulge your feelings? I find that very hard to believe, you’re practically known to be brazen without fail so why?”

“Because you’re you! You’re known to be indifferent, how would I ever get you to feel strongly about me in any way when you disregard everyone who tries to get close to you?”

“Well uh I don't know?! Maybe have a conversation with me? Ask me about my day? You could have done literally anything other than cause affliction on me for years. You ruined some of the best possible moments of my life, and I’m not going to let some sodding excuse of you liking me disregard that!”

“Love, please just lis-”

“I am not your love and I will not listen! What on earth did I expect from you? How could I be so stupid?! You’re right, you’re you and I’m me. And I know that I would never do anything to merit the havoc I’ve had to endure and I know that you’re only treating me like rubbish because you’re a bored little boy, who doesn’t ever get enough attention so you have to terrorize innocent people to fulfill some fantasy of achievement and success. A fantasy I know you will never achieve because you care about nothing but ruining the lives of others.”

He looked back at me vacantly, and for the first time, I knew that I had gotten the upper hand. In a way it felt good, it was like the revenge I’d been craving for years. Yet the other half of me knew it was wrong, to berate someone so zealously without listening to their side. I knew I had gone overboard and I knew the guilt would consume me later, but the memories of reading the first letter my mom had owled me fled in. The overwhelming guilt I had felt for asking her for new robes after the soot wouldn’t get out, the embarrassment of nearly missing the team from falling off my broom due to a fireball, and the insecurity I currently felt, after hearing that I’m worth only 15 galleons prevented me from holding back. I felt too much and had too little time to process it.

“Please just-”

“Fred, do you not understand what I’m saying? You’ve never failed to humiliate me and you’ve regarded me with nothing but disdain and contempt, I never said anything because I wanted to be polite but you know what? You don't deserve my patience or manners. You’ve never listened to anyone but your thick obdurate skull, but you know what you’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen well. I HATE YOU! Now leave me alone.” I stormed off muttering the answer to the riddle once more and rushed to my dorm shutting the door and curling under my blanket. I could hear the footsteps of my roommate apprehensively approaching me. Her hand resting on my arm.

“Fred?”

“Fred.”

“Git.”

I felt nothing but guilt as I fell asleep that night. Fred was still human and though he was horrible to me, I could understand why he did those things, though they weren’t justified and I would personally never do it. Ron had told me before about how his brother was, how he really was a good person. Someone driven, thoughtful, kind, and creative. How he was a great older brother, especially to Ginny. I realized how hurtful my words were, and I regretted them immensely.

--------

Hermione and Ron never failed to put on a spectacle for everyone around them. Whether it be arguing about the definition of a word or how barbaric wizards chess is, they always disagreed. So it wasn’t a real surprise when I walked in the great hall for breakfast when I heard their strident bickering from halfway across the room. Walking closer to them, the words they threw at each other became distinguishable.

“‘Mione- no! Listen, you’re not listening I’m telling you he does he really does!!”

“You never fail to prove your fatuous way of thinking Ronald. I mean I would understand literally anyone else, I mean she’s all angel but not him. He’s absolutely horrible to her. Why would you think such a thing?” Deciding to be nosy and sit here instead of my house table I sat next to Harry, nudging his shoulder as he snickered.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He nodded, handed me a roll and pushed his cup of pumpkin juice towards me.

“Any idea what they’re on about?”

“An inkling.” He smirked.

“Not talking huh?”

“Mhmm. Just listen I’m sure you’ll find out.”

“He’s my brother, I know how he is around people he likes- loves. He’s an arse to us, yeah, it’s in his nature, but behind our backs he would do anything for us. He just doesn’t want us knowing.”

“Oh wow Ronald, you’re gonna compare his love for you to his ‘love’ for her? How ridiculous.”

“No-bloody hell no! Don’t twist my words, what I’m saying is I know what he’s trying to do. The amount of times he’s stood up for her behind her back, you’d think he’s her puppy. Do you know how many people he’s hexed and pranked for her. Remember he gave Flint boils for a month after he called her a mudblood after a match? Or when he beat up Mullard...and Nilesmith and- Merlin I could go on and on. C’mon, he’d never do that for someone he hated.”

“Okay fine maybe...since when did you care so much about the relationships of others?”

“She’s our best friend! And he’s a git that needs to be calmed down, but you know he never does so if we end this now it’ll be better for all of us.”

“Wow Ron, you’ve unlocked the capacity to sympathize with other humans.”

I knew it was about Fred, and I knew it was about me.

Swallowing the unchewed bite of bread in my mouth and gulping down the rest of Harry’s juice I rushed out of the great hall, not in the mood to be reminded of Fred. Not in the mood to process what I had just heard.

--------

The Triwizard Tournament. A time for friendship, unity and excitement. Ever since the Beauxbaton girls and Durmstrang boys came to Hogwarts the energy had been different. Something promising lingered in the air. Things truly felt different this year, and I’m sure they would be. There was so much to look forward to. New friends, the tournament itself and the Yule Ball. My excitement and joy for the new school year couldn’t be smothered, even by the fact that I had detention every evening for 2 weeks. I suppose reading in the restricted section after hours wasn’t the wisest thing, especially considering it wasn’t my first time getting caught. So here I was, using a brush no bigger than my pinky to polish cauldrons, the bristles getting thick and grimy from the remaining ingredients left in the dents of the cast iron. Humming to myself I let my thoughts wander to how exhilarating the ball will be, how fun it will be to dance with all of my friends, how pleasant it will be dressed up. Nothing could possibly spoil that not even Fred Weasley, I wouldn’t allow it.

It had been at least an hour, my hands were cramped and I was anticipating the completion of my 30 minutes left until I could rush to my dorm. I had finished cleaning and now I was left sitting here, vacantly twirling the brush with my fingers. The minutes couldn’t possibly go slower but as I heard the offbeat footsteps that I had grown accustomed to looking out for I knew that my night was going to be much longer than anticipated. Once I heard them I knew to evacuate, but being stuck in the trophy room I had no choice but to stay, Snape’s unreasonable derision wasn’t worth the fuss. The tiny brush I was forced to clean threatened to snap as my grip tightened. When the footsteps came to a halt, the unease in the room multiplied by 5. Without a word, there was the sound of shuffling, a drawer being opened and a brush being grabbed. It took 10 dreadful minutes for him to finally speak. As soon as the first syllable dripped from his mouth I couldn’t hold back a sigh, of relief or apprehension, I’m not sure.

“So what color are you wearing to the ball?”

“Sod off Weasley.” I grumbled, straightening my back. Another 10 minutes of silence followed.

“I’m sorry...I know I’ve been a foul, detestable and painfully foolish ass. I know that whatever I do it will never be enough to prove that I never had any bad intent behind my actions. I know you think I’m a no-good inconsiderate twat who doesn’t care about anyone, that I’m bound to fail and I deserve that. The things I’ve done to you are absolutely horrible. But Y/N please, please believe me, I never did any of that to harm you. Just please give me one chance, just one and I swear if I mess it up I will leave you alone forever.” I barely understood a word he said, it was so rapid but I clung onto everyone as best as I could.

“Why should I?”

“It’s selfish, to ask for so much after all I’ve done but I know that you’re the most intelligent, kind, resilient and beautiful person I’ve ever encountered. And my feelings towards you aren’t enough to ever justify what I’ve done. I know that I have ruined every year of your time here, but please please please give me one chance to make the rest of your years remarkable. To let you live out the highlights you deserve, so you can write to your mother about how much fun you had going to hogsmeade, or how amazing the Yule Ball was, or-”

“You’re asking me to the ball?”

“If you’ll have me.” My breath hitched and I let my brush drop, and for the first time since that night I had divulged my hatred for him, I looked him in the eye as I stepped closer. I remained silent and did nothing but look at him, every twitch of his eye, every rise and fall of his chest, I had to see it, I had to make sure this wasn’t some elaborate game that he wanted me to lose at. It must’ve been at least 5 minutes because his face dropped and his chest deflated, he turned to leave but before he could I ran in front of him. Nodding my head yes, I held his face, running my thumb over his freckled cheek.

“This is for Flint.” I whispered as I slowly neared his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead after brushing his hair to the side. His arm wrapped around my waist.

“Mullard.” Another to each of his temples.

“Nilesmith.” The tip of his nose.

“And every other person you stood up against for me, even after everything I said to you and even though I never knew about any of it.” The corner of his mouth. His eyelashes flutter against my cheek.

“And this is for taking me to the ball.” I looked into his eyes, searching for confirmation that it was alright to continue, he squeezed my wrist in confirmation. It was warm and sweet, safe and pure. It was filled with passion, all the things we have yet to admit to the other was translated into this moment. I wanted him to feel the admiration I had for his confidence to stand up for the ones he loved to whoever defied them, every freckle on his face, every laugh that would emerge from the back of his throat, the calluses on his hands, the determination in his heart, the respect and love he had for everyone, hidden behind all of his playful antics. We pulled apart, laughing softly and refusing to let go of each other. Our foreheads pressed together and we hugged tightly, our arms refusing to release the other. I had never felt so warm, so elated, so appreciated. It was odd, especially coming from him, but I accepted it. I had never accepted any feelings towards Fred that were positive, but now I let them in freely without shame or denial.

“I can’t believe I used to despise you.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins #harry potter

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americancowgirl19 · 3 years

Text

Story of Our Life

Summary: In which your daughter finds your diary detailing your life since you were a young girl all the way to a few days before you die. She learns first hand how you fell in love with her father, Bucky, and survived everything life through at you.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death of loved ones, fluff,

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,575

A/n:

Masterlist

“Hey, has anyone checked this box yet?” Rebecca questions, finding a dusted cardboard box in the corner of the basement.

“No,” Her sister, Stephanie, mutters offhandedly. Rebecca glances at her before kneeling besides the box.

“Anything interesting in it?” Toni, the middle child, questions abandoning the box of vintage clothes in favor of the box Rebecca had picked out.

Rebecca doesn’t respond as she carefully opens the flaps of the box. At first it looks like there’s a bunch of junk in it, causing Toni to lose interest and return to her box. Rebecca pulls out the various items and sets them on the floor.

“Hey, Steph, there’s some old clipping of Uncle Steve,” Rebecca calls out. “And some of Uncle Tony... and Uncle Sam... and pretty much everyone else,” Both sisters find themselves sitting on either side of Rebecca in order to look through the clippings.

“Mom had to have been the one to do all this,” Toni mutters.

“You really think Dad would sit down and take the time to find these articles and then cut them out?” Stephanie asks, scoffing.

“Hey, look at this,” Rebecca alerts, pulling out an old framed picture. It shows their parents and their Uncle Steve. It was easy to place when the picture was taken because both of their parents were in their war uniforms and Uncle Steve had yet to get the serum that made him Captain America.

“They look so young,” Toni whispers. All three girls look at the picture but their eyes linger on you, their mother.

Out of the three of them, Rebecca looked most like you. She had your hair, your eyes, your height but more of Bucky’s bone structure. Stephanie was the one who looked like the perfect mixture between you and Bucky while Toni favored her father.

Stephanie sniffles and forces herself to look away from the picture. Her eyes return to the news clippings, which don’t help lessen the grief. By this point the only one still alive is Uncle Sam, and even he was on his last leg.

Uncle Steve had been the first to go, long before Rebecca and Toni were born. Stephanie still remembers him, vaguely but he’s still there. Stephanie had been born nine months after half the universe was snapped away. You didn’t know you were pregnant until after everything had gone down. Stephanie grew up with Uncle Steve as a father until Bucky was able to return. She remembers not understanding how one second Uncle Steve was young and the next second he was an old man but she remembers still loving him till the day he finally passed.

Toni was the next one to be born. She hadn’t been planned either. She had been conceived while you and Bucky were stuck in some random cabin during a surveillance mission about five years after Bucky had been brought back.

Then came Rebecca nearly two years later. She was the only one planned and the baby that convinced you to transfer to a more normal life. Bucky cut back on missions but didn’t stop completely like you had.

“Oh, I wonder if this is another art notebook Uncle Steve filled up,” Toni wonders, snatching a heavily worn thick notebook from the box. Rebecca glances at it while Stephanie continues to try and hold herself together.

“Those aren’t pictures,” Rebecca mutters.

“No, they’re words, genius,” Toni rolls her eyes. Rebecca snatches the notebook and flips through it.

“It’s a diary,” Rebecca whispers, gaining Stephanie’s attention. “It’s mom’s...” She realizes, lowering the book onto her lap. Stephanie and Toni share a look before looking at the notebook.

“Dad had a few of those,” Stephanie mutters. “His were... heartbreaking...” Stephanie whispers, remembering stumbling upon one of the dozen notebooks Bucky had filled throughout his life. She remembered that she had found it while the three of them were going through his stuff a few days after he had died, just like they were doing with your things now. “I couldn’t finish his...”

“I don’t think I want to know about hers...” Toni admits. “Mom and Dad told us all the stories they wanted us to know. We all know they had it rough. I don’t want to find out just how rough it was,” Toni says, standing up and returning to the vintage clothes.

“Keep it if you want it, Becca. I don’t want to find out things I won’t be able to forget again,” Stephanie says, standing up and returning to the box of more modern clothes.

Rebecca looks at her two sisters before looking back down at the notebook. She could only imagine what her mother had put in the book. Looking at the dates it seemed as if she started around the time she was a young teenager all the way to a few days before her death.

…

It wouldn’t be until another three weeks before Rebecca looked at the diary again. She had been debating whether or not she should read it since the moment she figured out what it was. Eventually, she gives in.

The first entry is when you were about 14. You started writing in the diary because your mother died and you needed an outlet. The first few entries were heartbreaking and made Rebecca cry as your death was still so fresh in her mind.

Unable to continue, Rebecca flips forward a few years. Unfortunately, she stops around the time you had lost your dad. Not wanting to cry again, Rebecca flips forward once more.

She stops on an entry from December. You’re in your early 20′s and your describing your day. It’s normal at first. You talk about how you had been shopping with your best friend when you stumble upon a scene you just can’t walk away from.

...

“I think he’s going to propose on Christmas... Or maybe he’ll do it on Christmas Eve. One or the other,” You friend rambles, with a love struck grin on her face. “He’s been dropping hints ever since Thanksgiving and you know how he is, can’t keep a secret to save his life. I’m surprised he’s been holding it in for so long,”

“I’m sure he just wants it to be special, a night to remember,” You comment, adjusting the bag on your tiring arms.

“I know,” She sighs. “I just want him to blurt it out already. I want to be the fiancé now, not the girlfriend,”

“It’ll happen,” You assure her. “He’s obsessed with you, there’s no way you’ll be the girlfriend for long,” She smiles, daydreaming about the future wedding. “There’s the car,” You mumble in relief.

“Oh, finally!” She groans, picking up the pace while you slow to a stop. It takes a moment for her to realize your not following. “What are you doing? You planning on walking all the way home?”

“I think there’s somebody down there,” You comment, seeing movement in the alley.

“It’s Brooklyn, Y/n... There’s people everywhere. Come on,” She pleads but you ignore her and go down the alley. “What is it with you and going down creepy places?” She grumbles, begrudgingly following you.

The further you two walk, the clearer the scene becomes. There’s a large, brute of a man beating on a smaller guy. The guy looked stick thin and obviously couldn’t fight back every easily. Although, you did have to respect the fact that the guy didn’t give up. He kept standing and attempting to fight back.

It only takes a few seconds for you to become fed up with what’s happening in front of you. You shout to gain the man’s attention. You grew up the youngest of 5 brothers, you’re used to making people pay attention to you.

“Well, hello, there,” The large man smirks, shoving the smaller one to the ground. You watch as the blond rolls into trashcans, your anger towards the larger one growing.

“Hi,” You smirk. “What’s a stupid brute like you doing in an alley like this?” You question, enjoying how his face falls. “You like hurting people smaller than you?”

“Sometimes you just have to show people who’s the alpha, ya know?” He winks, but you unamused.

“I don’t see an alpha here,” You tell him. “I see a bully who’s probably been bullied before so he gets the idea in his head that it’s ok for him to bully other’s since it’s happened to him,”

“I ain’t ever been bullied,” He snaps, clearly offended by the mere thought of being the bullied instead of the bully.

“Oh, so you were one of those brainless ‘pretty’ boys who thought it was ok to bully people smarter than you because you could never reach their level of intellect. Oh, and that means you’ll never be as smart as them. Either way, you’re a spineless jackass with no place in this world,”

“Listen, lady-”

“You, you listen,” You snapped, stepping up to him instead of backing down like he wanted. “You’re just a waste of space, asshole trying to bring others to your level instead of climbing out of your own crappy life to become a decent human being. News flash, nobody really likes assholes like you so why don’t you go back to your parents basement and never come out again until you’ve grown up like the rest of us. Ok? Bye,”

“How about you come with me?” He suggests, a suggestive smirk on his lips. You stare at him dumbfounded. “I can teach you a lesson on how you’re supposed to talk to me,”

“Hey, why don’t you leave the lady alone?” The blond swaying on his feet demands. You glance at him but the large man in front of you completely ignores him.

“I’m wondering, how would you know how people talk to men when you’re just a little bitch?” You ask. Your little jap is the last straw and the man snaps.

You barely register your friend gasping as he attempts to slap you. Luckily, you managed to lean out of his reach and dodge the hit. You don’t hesitate to drop your shopping bags and slam the heel of your shoe into his foot. He groans, too focused on his foot to see your fist heading straight for his jaw. He staggers backward giving you the opportunity to kick him in the balls.

He hunches over covering his man hood. You examine your hand for a second, forgetting how uncomfortable it is to punch someone. Before you reach forward and grab the mans chin, forcing him to look at you.

“My brother taught me how to do that, you should go see him when you’re ready for a lesson on how to treat other people like decent human beings,” You growl, before shoving his head away from you.

“Oh my God, Y/n, are you alright?” You friend asks coming up beside you. You offer her a coy smile and nod.

“I’m fine,” You assure her before noticing a new guy standing a few feet from you with an awestruck look in his eyes. Nobody says anything for a moment as you size the newcomer up. He’s tall with short cut, dark hair with beautiful blueish grey eyes.

“Well, I came over here to see if the beautiful dame needed some help but looks like I’m not needed,” He smirks, walking closer to you and your friend. You feel a surge of pride run through you, a smirk mimicking his coming to your lips.

“What can I say? Mama didn’t raise a damsel,”

“No, no she did not,”

“Y/n,” You introduce yourself, your eyes locked with his. They’ve been locked since he first spoke up and you felt as if he had trapped you with his gaze. The greyness in his eyes seemed endless, you would willingly get lost within them.

“James but people call me Bucky,” He introduces himself. “You can call me whatever you want, beautiful,”

...

Rebecca couldn’t stop the shit eating grin from coming onto her face as she read how her parents met through her mothers eyes. She read how her mother described Bucky as handsome and charismatic yet also goofy and lovable.

Before she turns the page, she notices a footnote. The footnote is more recent, it’s dated during the 21st century.

“I learned today that Bucky told Steve he was going to marry me the instant my friend and I were out of ear shot. Seconds after just meeting me,” Rebecca could feel her grin widening. “Had it been up to him, we would have been married within a week but Steve convinced him to wait. Bucky could only wait seven months before proposing.”

Rebecca knew what the world thought of her father. Most of the world knew him as the Winter Soldier but she knew him as the incredible father he was and the hopeless romantic he had been for you.

She spends a few minutes reminiscing on the memories of Bucky stopping on the way home from school to randomly pick you up flowers. She remembers the dances in the kitchen when she and her sisters had moved the the living room. She remembers the random dances everywhere, Bucky loved to dance. He had danced with his daughters multiple times but it was never like how he held you.

Rebecca remembers how she and her sisters would spy on you and Bucky. They were meant to be in bed but on the days they knew Bucky felt extra romantic, they snuck out to see what he had planned. Of course, being soldiers and spies you both knew you had eyes on you but pretended not to notice.

Bucky would always hold your hand in his and wrap you close with his other arm. There wouldn’t be a space between the two of you as you swayed together. Even the blind could see that you two were head over heels in love, even after everything you went through.

Flipping through the pages, Rebecca stops on an entry dated in the month of July. It was the date you told your grandmother, who you had lived with when your parents died, about your engagement to Bucky.

...

“You’re shaking, doll,” Bucky mutters, pulling you to his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine,” Bucky whispers, kissing your hair lightly.

“She’s going to be mad,” You whisper.

“She’ll get over it,” Bucky assumes. You smile, leaning your head back to look into his eyes.

“You don’t know my grandma,” You mutter, “She’s a horrible person,” Bucky laughs and kisses your forehead.

“It doesn’t really matter what she thinks right? We’re going to get married either way. You do want to do this, right?”

“Buck, I’d marry you tomorrow if I didn’t want some kind of a wedding,” Bucky smiles, tucking some loose strands behind your ear. His hand stays there, caressing your head.

“We’re going to be just fine,” He promises. “No matter what happens, you’ll have me. You have me from now till the end of our days,” He whispers.

“I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Barnes,” You whispers, back. He smirks, pressing your heads together. “Once you marry me, I won’t ever let you go,”

“I should be saying that to you,” He mutters, tightening his grip around you. “You sure you wanna do this, doll?”

“Marry you? Absolutely... Tell my grandma? No,” Bucky smirks, kissing your nose.

“Come on, the sooner we get this done the better,” You sigh but let him pull you into the large house that belonged to your grandma.

Your grandma is an impossible person. She’s judgmental and cynical. She came from money and looked down on those without it. Those like Bucky. She had disowned your mother because she fell in love with a blue collar man. Deep down you knew the same was about to happen to you.

“Well, looks like street rats can clean up,” She comments, looking at Bucky’s attire. You jaw clinches tightly as you quite literally bite your tongue.

“Nice to meet you ma’am, I’m James but you can call me Bucky,” He introduces himself, politely. He holds his hand for her but she just looks at it.

“Your late,” She states, staring at you before walking into the dinner room.

“Well, she seems nice,” Bucky mutters.

“We should make a run for it,”

“Think we just got locked in,” Bucky whispers, seeing the main door close.

“Damn,” You whispers. Bucky smiles, holding your hand tightly.

“We out number her, stronger in numbers right?”

“We’re gonna need a couple more people to outnumber her,” Bucky sighs, giving your hand another squeeze before leading you into the dinning room.

Dinner had been tense with few words spoken. Bucky talked about himself when your grandma had flat out refused to answer him. You tried to ease the tension but nothing seemed to work.

“So, Y/n,” Your grandma finally speaks.

“Yes?”

“How long as you going to keep this hoodlum?” She questions. Your jaw drops for a moment as you wonder if she had seriously just asked you that. Bucky pauses in his feast to glance at you. Your mouth slowly closes and a glare sets.

“For the rest of my life,” You tell her. “I’m marrying him,”

“No, you’re not,” She laughs, shaking her head.

“I am,” You state sternly. Bucky gently caresses the inside of your thigh but it doesn’t soothe you like it normally does.

“No, you won’t,” She says. “Why don’t you marry that dashing Vince from next store?”

“Because Vince is a tool who can’t think for himself. I don’t love Vince, I love Bucky and I will marry him,”

“Darling, do not make the same mistake your mother made,”

“My mother loved my father,” You snap. “They loved each other to the day they died,”

“Your mother would have still been alive had it not been for that man,”

“My father was not at fault,” You growl. “Besides, had they not gotten together me and my siblings wouldn’t have been alive,” She scoffs.

“Oh, and the world surely wouldn’t have been able to survive with disappointments like you and your brothers in the world,” She rolls her eyes.

“My brothers and I are not disappointments,” You snapped. “If anything, you’re the disappointment with you bitterness and lack of love for the world and your family. Someday soon, you will be lying on your death bed all alone because of your cruelty and hatred. I will not live like you. I’ll live with love in my heart and family around me. I will marry Bucky and you won’t stop me,” You said standing up.

“If you marry that boy, you’ll die without a dollar to your name,” She tells you.

“As long as I die with the ones I love by my side, I’ll be considered the luckiest woman in the world,” You grandma scoffs as you grab the back of Bucky’s collar and yank him out of his seat because apparently he hadn’t gotten the idea that you two were leaving.

...

“Wow, Grandma really was a bitch,” Rebecca mutters. You hadn’t talked about your grandma. You just only ever mentioned having lived with her until moving in with Bucky. You never went into more detail and the girls just stopped asking, not that they were entirely interested in the old hag.

Rebecca continued to flip through the diary. She smiled when she read about the simple wedding they hand in your brother’s back yard in upstate New York. You had worn a crème colored sun dress. A dress Steve had accidentally stained right before you walked down the aisle.

...

“I am so sorry,” Steve apologized for the millionth time as you and your brother’s wife tried to clean the dress.

“Steve, it’s fine,” You laugh, smiling at him.

“It’s not like it’s going to be on all night,” Your sister-in-law, winks at you. You smirk, laughing as Steve’s cheeks flamed red.

“You uh... you still look beautiful,” Steve promises. “Bucky probably won’t even notice,” Your sister scoffs and you pinch her arm. “I’ll uh... I’ll be outside,” Steve slips out. You sigh looking at the mirror. The large stain covers your entire stomach.

“Well, we knew anything that Bucky and Steve were going to be apart of was going to be interesting,” She tells you. You smile and nod.

“Definitely a wedding to remember,” You mutter.

“Alright, ladies!” You eldest brother shouts coming into the room in his best trousers and button up shirt. “You look....” Your brother starts to chuckle causing his wife to slap him upside the head.

“Just do your job and make sure she makes it down the aisle,” Your sister snaps, pointing at him threateningly. He smirks giving her a wink and a salute before smacking her ass as she leaves.

“So, you’re positive you want do to this?” He asks. “We can have a car here in 30 seconds and have you in the next state in 30 minutes,”

“I’m fine, I want to do this,”

“Poor bastard,” He mutters. You laugh, punching his arm. He laughs pulling you into a hug. “Come on, the sooner I can give you away the sooner I can run away,”

“Here goes nothing,” You whispers, as you and your brother begin to walk down the aisle.

“Make no mistake, all these people are looking at this handsome man,” Your brother whispers to you.

“More like stupid man,” You mutter back. He smirks but doesn’t say anything. Once you reach the end, he hands you to Bucky, who pulls your as close as possible.

“Nice stain. Really brings out your eyes,” He winks at you.

“You can thank Steve for the finishing touches,” You whisper. He smirks, kissing the top of your head.

“You could be getting married in your underwear and I’d still be happy,” He whispers.

“Something tells me that you’d prefer it if I wasn’t wearing anything,”

“Hey, if the shoe fits,” You laugh leaning into him as the preacher talks in front of you two.

...

“135 years,” Rebecca whispers, once she figured out how long the two of you had been married before Bucky had died. Buck had passed a few years ago. You had never been the same but managed to stick around before you passed in your sleep on his birthday about a month ago.

Rebecca continues on. She reads a few of the shorter entries. They’re mainly milestones for you and Buck. Your first apartment together, your first car together, your first pregnancy that had unfortunately ended in a miscarriage.

A few years later, the United States enter the second world war. She read about your fear of losing Bucky. She read about the numerous attempts Steve had made to get into the Army, being rejected each time. She read how you supported Steve despite everything he does worries you. She skimmed past the parts where your brothers enlisted but stopped when she saw the part where you had enlisted.

...

Your father had been a pilot in the first world war. He told you stories and you clung to them growing up. When you got the opportunity to become an Airwomen, you jumped at the opportunity.

You knew you should have mentioned it to Bucky but he hadn’t said anything about joining the Army. You knew he would but he could have spoken to you about it first. Instead, he enlisted and showed up in his uniform. You remember being so angry but understanding why he had done it.

You were many things and petty is one of them. You didn’t talk to Bucky about joining the military because it isn’t his decision, it’s yours. The same reasoning he had for joining the army.

When you got accepted, you showed up at home in your uniform. To say Bucky was surprised is an understatement.

“What are you wearing?” Bucky asks, staring at you.

“A uniform,” You tell him. “I’ve been recruited for the Women Airforce Service Pilots program,” You explain. “I’ll be leaving for training a little bit after you. Base is in Avenger Field, Texas.“ Buck stares at you as what you told him sinks in. “I’ve been told if I go over seas, they’ll be noncombat missions,”

“So, you just join the Air Force and not talk to me about it?” Bucky asks. You laugh and shake your head.

“You don’t get to be mad at me Buck, you didn’t talk to me about joining the Army-”

“That’s different-”

“How?!” You snap, as he stands up. “How is it different Buck? We both want to protect this country, we’re both doing it our own ways. How is it different?”

“Because it’s expected of me to go over!” Bucky shouts. “If I hadn’t volunteered I probably would have been drafted, I didn’t have a choice,”

“Oh, please, even if you had a choice you’d enlist,” You roll your eyes. “Just because I’m a female doesn’t mean that I can’t fight in the war,” You tell him. “I have every right to lay down my life just like you do,” Bucky clenches his jaw before pacing and racking his fingers through his hair.

“I know,” He grumbles, falling back on the couch. “I know you deserve the same chances as I do but that doesn’t make this any easier,” He finally meets your gaze. “I’m still coming to terms that I’m in the army. It’s just... It was easier knowing that when I leave you would still be here. Safe. I love you, Y/n. You’re it for me, you’re all I want. Joining the war... Even if it’s noncombat, you’ll still be in danger and I can’t lose you,”

“Buck, I could lose you just as easily,” You whisper, sitting beside him. “I can’t lose you Buck but I can’t stay here and wait for you to come back. I’ll lose my mind,” Bucky smiles a bit and gently pets your hair. “I love you. I wish there wasn’t a war but there is and we’re both apart of it now,”

“What is it with you and Steve?” Bucky grumbles. Your smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. He holds you close.

“You know I can handle myself,” You whisper to him. “You and me, we’re going to be fine. We’re going to make it through this war and we’re going to have a hundred babies, everything’s going to be fine,” You shift your head to look up at him.

“I love you, so much,” He whispers. You smile, gently pressing your lips against his. “Are you sure this is something you want to do?”

“Yeah, Buck,” You whisper nodding. Bucky sighs holding you tightly. “I have to do this,”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier,” Bucky whispers. You slowly begin to grin. “You come strutting in that nice uniform,” You smirk straddling his waist.

“Now you know how I felt when you came home, Mr. Barnes,” You wink, rubbing down his chest. Bucky hums, a coy smirk on his lips.

“I’ll love you forever, baby doll,” Bucky whispers, gently holding your hips in his hand.

“No matter where we are shipped to in the world, I promise I’ll always find my way back to you,” You promise him. “I won’t let anything, not even death, keep us apart,”

“I’ll hold you too that, doll,” Bucky whispers, kissing your lips tenderly.

...

Rebecca takes a break from the diary. She makes herself some food and debates if she wants to go further. She knows that everything begins to go down hill once the two of your are separated by the war. She didn’t know if she would be able to handle your personal thoughts on what happened.

Rebecca had learned about you, Bucky and Uncle Steve in school. She had seen you all in museums. They never really intrigued her since she had the real stories at home. It’s one thing to read the stories on a random wall or listen to watered down versions from your parents and an entirely different thing to listen to your unfiltered thoughts.

Stephanie had told her and Toni what she had found in their father’s notebooks. His notebooks consisted of the same stories written down as he remembered, forgot and then remembered them again. She briefly explained the guilt he felt and just how detailed he had gone into with all the things he had done.

Rebecca knew your story would be just as traumatic and bloody. She didn’t know if reading it would taint the memory of you or not. She wanted to remember you as the loving, caring, yet badass mother you were. Not the weapon Hydra had made you into.

However, her need for the truth and her thirst for knowledge made her want to learn more. Before she knew what was happening, she was back in front of the diary.

The first thing she noticed is that your diary jumped from right before you had been kidnapped by Hydra to the 21st century after you and Bucky had been reunited with Steve.

...

“Whatcha doin’ there, doll?” Bucky asks, coming up behind you. You glance at him from your seat at the desk.

“Writing,” You whisper. “I used to do it way back when and my therapist thinks it’s a good idea I start again,” Bucky sits beside you, your thighs pressed against each other.

“Is that the same diary-?”

“Yep,” You nod, smiling a bit. “Don’t ask me how it survived but here it is,” You tell him. “Thought I could pick up where I left off,” You whisper, your mind slowly slipping back to the last entry you had made. It was two days before your plane had been shot down and you were kidnapped by Hydra.

“I’ve been writing, too,” Bucky admits. You glance at him. “It helps keeps the thoughts together but other than that...” Bucky sighs, frustratingly.

“Hey, we’ve made it this far,” You smile, pressing your hand on his leg. “We survived the world war, survived Hydra, reconnected with Steve, became Avengers,” You laugh a bit. “At this point, I’m feeling pretty damn invincible,” You tease.

“You are, baby doll... I can’t seem to get rid of you,” He smirks.

“I do remember telling you that I wouldn’t let anything, not even death, keep us apart,” Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his lap. The two of you hold each other tightly.

“You did,” Bucky recalls. “And thank you, so much, for keeping that promise,” He whispers.

“You’re mine, Bucky. You’re it for me, I don’t want anybody else,” You whisper, kissing his forehead. “Sure, we may be a bit more screwed up now,” He laughs a bit. “But we can be screwed up together,”

“There’s no one else I’d rather be with,” Bucky whispers, nuzzling his head in your neck. You smile, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you,” You whisper to him.

...

The next entries after that one were more horrific. You described the assassination's you had done. You wrote about the people you had tortured, interrogated, and killed.

Although, through all the darkness of the entries you made, something stuck out to Rebecca. You wrote about the fact that Hydra never woke you and Bucky up at the same time.

You and Bucky had been so in love with each other that you could snap each other out of Hydra’s hold. Even if you couldn’t bring each other’s memories back, you just instinctively knew how important the other was. Nothing, not even Hydra’s agenda, was more important than keeping the other safe and close.

You two had caused so many problems with Hydra that you had to be separated. They had originally tried making you two work together but then you both disappeared. You both knew Hydra was bad and that you two were good. Hydra unfortunately found you two hiding out somewhere and recaptured you. After that, you two weren’t woken up at the same time again.

Keeping you two apart was the best decision for Hydra. Until Alexander Pierce got antsy. Captain America and Black Widow were close to taking down Hydra and stopping Project Insight that he woke both of you up despite knowing what would happen.

He was desperate and it was his downfall. The instant you and Bucky were left alone, you both turned on Hydra. You helped Steve bring down Hydra in return Steve helped you both regain your memories.

There was a little blip when they found out about Bucky killed Tony’s parents but they managed to work it out without killing each other. Eventually, you and Bucky had become close with Tony.

Tony went out of his way to sure you and Bucky were comfortable. He continuously made upgrades to Bucky’s arm. He made it to the point where Bucky could feel with it. He even made an arm that looked human, as if he had never lost it.

Against all odds, the pair of you became Avengers and saved the world.

Rebecca was proud to call you and Bucky parents. She hated that you both were gone yet happy that you two were together now. She knew that even in your late years of life the horrors of your younger years still haunted you. Now, however, the two of you were at peace together.

#bucky barnes #James barnes #Winter Soldier #WW2 #Captain America #Avengers #Hydra #Marvel #Bucky x reader #Bucky x female!reader #x reader #x female!reader #x avengers!reader #avengers!reader

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