#YOU REFUSED TO GO AFTER HIM WHEN HE LEFT THE BAR IN TEARS DESPITE BEING HIS FATHER AND NOW YOU ADMIT THIS?!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

Text

It Comes Back

➪the one where you and lip are broken up (but not for long).

Warnings: swearing, shameless themes, mentions of alcohol, drinking, fake ass friends, angst, fluff, kissing (oh no), drunk reader, pet names.

Word Count: 3.4k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The pounding on the door never went away, despite Lip ignoring it for about five minutes now. If he didn’t do something about it soon, everyone in the house would wake up and he’d have a bigger problem to deal with.

He sits up from his lying position and stands up from the couch, making his way towards the front door with an irritated look on his face. Swinging the door open, he was met with the annoyed faces of your friends, Daneel and Marissa. “Fucking finally,” Marissa muttered and it was then when Lip noticed your slouched form. Your arms were draped over your friends’ shoulders as you struggled to stand up properly. “Ever heard of opening a door?”

“I just did,” he replied and narrowed his eyes at the way they were both doing a piss poor job at keeping you upright. “What’s wrong with her?” He tried to hide his concern, but there was no denying that he was more than a bit worried at the state you were currently in.

“She can’t handle alcohol to save her life,” Daneel grunted as she pushed your arm off her. “That’s what’s wrong with her.”

Lip glared at her as he instinctively reached out to grab your wrist before you were sent stumbling back. “How much has she had to drink?”

“Not a fucking clue,” Marissa laughed as she pushed you into the arms of your ex-boyfriend. “I lost count after her third beer.”

“Fuck,” he muttered as he held your nearly limp body against his chest with one hand. The other one reached up to brush away the messy strands of hair from your face, and his gaze softened at the sad expression you wore as you refused to meet his eyes. He looked back over at your friends and furrowed his brows when he saw that they were halfway down the stairs. “Hey, where the hell are you two going?”

“Back to the bar,” Daneel called back. “We just wanted to make sure Boozie over here got home safely.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t her house,” he pointed out, but his words didn’t seem to affect the two girls.

“Right, you guys broke up, didn’t you?” Marissa laughed quietly and gave Daneel a shrug. “Maybe that’s why she was so depressed tonight.”

They both laughed at that before waving at Lip and walking down the street.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered as he wrapped your arm around his shoulder and guided you inside. He sat you down on the couch where he previously was, before heading back towards the door and peeking out at the retreating forms of your friends. He scoffed and flipped them off before shutting the door loudly. He usually didn’t bother with locking it when it was just him and his family there, but since you were only a few feet away from him and drunk, he found himself twisting the lock.

Back in the living room, Lip finds your shivering form still on the couch. He noticed the way your arms were wrapped around yourself in an attempt to warm yourself up, so he took it upon himself to grab a blanket from off a pile of magazines that was near the window.

He draped it across your shoulders and watched as you gave him a drunken, grateful smile, before he sat down next to you. He tried not to think about the last time he was on the couch with you, back when the two of you broke up and you left the house in tears. It was hard to think that the time before that was when he had the house to himself for once and fucked you into the very cushions you were sitting on.

Lip had to hold back a groan at the memory of it. You were drunk and very clearly upset, and he needed to be there for you, despite it being just over a week and a half since you broke up.

“Thanks,” you murmur softly as you bury yourself in the blanket. As you inhaled the scent that was the Gallagher’s, your brows furrowed and your eyes closed a bit more. “Wait, why am I here?”

Lip shook his head and leaned back on the couch, his elbow pressing into the armrest as he huffed, “Because your so called friends are fucking idiots,” he muttered and turned his head to look at you. “I’ve told you that before, I don’t know why you hang out with them.”

You refuse to meet his eyes as you give him a pathetic shrug. “Because they’re my friends,” you offer weakly and don’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes.

“Friends don’t pull the kind of shit that they just did,” he mumbled and desperately wanted to light a cigarette right now, but he didn’t want to leave you unattended. “Fuck, I mean…we’re fucking friends, and I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t leave you.”

Lip wasn’t actually sure where he stood with you. You were exes, sure, but friends? He had no clue if you were even friends at this point, but the whole relationship had originally started out as a friendship, so it wasn’t like you two couldn’t go back to that, no matter how much he hated the thought of just being your friend.

“I was ruining their night,” you weakly tried defending your friends while also calling yourself out.

Lip scoffed. “They told you that?”

You shake your head and inch closer to him, your body beginning to feel weak with fatigue. “They didn’t have to,” you mumbled. “I could tell I was being a wallflower, and they shouldn’t have to babysit me all night long just because I can’t get my shit together.”

He shook his head at your words. You were always one to defend the fucking idiots in your life, himself included whenever you stuck your neck out for him when you were still together. He tried to ignore the way you leaned even closer to him and was barely able to keep yourself upright. “They shouldn’t have invited you out in the first place when they knew you weren’t in the right state of mind to drink as much as you did,” he said, before quickly adding. “Which was fucking dumb, by the way. What were you thinking? You can barely handle one beer, let alone three.”

You look down at his lap, embarrassment washing over you at his tone. You felt like he was your parent and lecturing you about sticking to your limit when out at the bar, but he really wasn’t much better. “I was thinking about you,” you mutter and see his head turn to face you out of the corner of your eye. “I’m always thinking about you, and for one night, just one fucking night, I wanted to forget. I want to forget you.”

Lip felt his heart deflate a bit at that, but he knew you were completely wasted, and he held onto that fact. There was no way you meant that, right? You had been together for nearly two years before calling it quits, and he’d hate to think he hurt you so much that you were beginning to regret getting with him in the first place.

He wasn’t able to wallow in self pity for much longer, as you continued before he could even think about how to respond to that, “I still want you, still love you and I wish I never met you,”

Your words caught him off guard, and he really wanted that cigarette now.

He looked over at you and felt his shoulders tense up at the sad expression you wore. You weren’t making any sense, and he could only hope you would feel up to talk to him about this in the morning, when you were sober.

For a minute, Lip let himself go back to when you were both so happy and together. He found himself getting lost in how it felt to be so close to you again, and how much he missed being around you, how much he missed you. “You should get some sleep, baby,” the name slipped past his lips before he could even stop himself, so used to calling you that, but you didn’t seem to mind as you just nodded. “You’re going to feel fucked up tomorrow.”

You closed your eyes and leaned towards him. He was about to stand up so you could lay down properly on the couch, but stopped when you blindly reached out to push him back down. When he is sitting down again, you wrap the blanket further around you before laying your head down on his thigh and using it as a pillow.

Lip couldn’t move now even if he wanted to, and he really didn’t, as you fell asleep almost instantly. He sighed as he ran his fingers through your hair and glanced at the clock. The time read 2:35 in the morning, and he wondered just how much of this you would remember when you woke up in a few hours.

He woke up the next morning when Fiona had made her way down the stairs, her being the first of many Gallagher’s to wake up. He lifted his head up from where it had tilted back against the top of the couch sometime last night when he fell asleep, and groaned quietly at the stiff muscles in his neck.

As his older sister passed by the door frame, she stopped and backtracked when she caught sight of you with your head still resting on his thigh, and your arm draped over his knee. She furrowed her brows as she mouthed, “Are you back together?”

Lip shook his head and watched the glimmer of hope fade from her face as the sound of Ian bounding down the stairs was heard throughout the house. “Oh, shit,” he said in surprise when he, too, saw you on the couch. “Are you guys back together?”

Fiona answered for her brother, “No, they’re not,”

Ian looked confused as he asked, “Then why is she sleeping on you?”

“Her fuckhead friends dropped her off here last night,” Lip said and looked down at you, the movement making his neck ache but he didn’t mind it as he caught sight of the way your lashes fluttered against your cheek. “Apparently she ruined their fun by drinking too much.”

Fiona cringed as she grabbed a mug. “Poor girl,”

Debbie was next to walk down the stairs, and her loud morning voice was what woke you up. Lip’s thigh was sore as you slowly lifted your head from it, and he decided that he liked it when you fell asleep on his chest a lot better.

Your eyes are barely open as you sit up and immediately cover your ears when Debbie notices you. “Is that Y/n?!” She asked excitedly and ran over to you. You had no time to process anything as she threw herself at you in an embrace.

“Hi, Debs,” you mutter, clearly confused as you hardly return the hug before she pulls away.

“Knock it off,” Lip says as he tugs his sister away from you, knowing that you weren’t at all a morning person and were probably refraining from going off on the kid for waking you up.

“Yeah, Deb, lay off the sugar before bed,” Fiona says sternly as she hands you a mug. You take it from her and sip the coffee, grunting in disgust when you were met with a bitter taste. “Black coffee is the best way to reduce a hangover. Take it from me.”

You slouch back against the couch as you hold the mug with both hands, still in the process of waking up. Glancing to your right, you notice Lip still sitting next to you. “What happened last night?” You ask as you try to recall how exactly you ended up on your ex-boyfriend’s couch.

“You got drunk, like, really drunk, and Melissa and Danielle dropped you off here,”

“Melissa and Danielle?” You ask with a furrowed brow before realizing who he was talking about. “Oh, you mean Marissa and Daneel?”

“Same difference,” he muttered just as Carl came flying down the stairs in a mess of limbs.

He reached the bottom and shot up when he walked by the couch. “Oh, hey, Y/n,” he greeted you as if your presence here was a normal thing, and up until almost two weeks ago, it was.

You give him a half-assed wave before closing your eyes tightly and praying that you will survive the pounding in your head.

Fiona must have felt bad for you as she quickly gathered up a few lunch foods before throwing them in a couple of disposable brown bags. “Okay, time to let the drunk girl rest,” she said and guided Ian, Debbie, Carl and Liam towards the front door. “Time to go to school. Lip, I take it you’re staying home to look after her?” She nodded at you and he waved her off as he stood up.

“Yeah, yeah, I got her,” he said and walked into the kitchen.

Soon, the house was empty except for you and Lip, and you cower further into the couch as you listen to him rummage around in the next room. After drinking half of the gross coffee, you felt well enough to sit up properly and shrug the blanket off of you, hating how it smelled like your ex.

You place the mug on the coffee table just as he exits the kitchen with a plate in his hand. He sits next to you again, though a bit further away than before, and holds the plate out to you. “Toast?” You ask as you eye the food, ignoring the flutter in your heart at the fact that he had made you some form of breakfast, despite him not needing to.

“With jam,” he corrected with a quick smile before it was gone and you were shaking your head. “It’s all we have.”

“Thank you,” you take the plate from him and lift the toast up to your mouth, taking the smallest bite possible out of it.

“So,” he starts as you chew the lightly toasted piece of bread, hating that he knew your toast preferences so well. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

You put the toast back onto the plate and think about it for a second, before shaking your head. “Not really,” you answer and set the plate down on your lap. “Why? Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his hand and massaging the stiffness out of the back of his neck. “Your scummy friends ditched you with me because you got drunk.”

You rolled your eyes and shove the plate back into his hands before grabbing the mug and standing up. “Just because you don’t like them, doesn’t mean they’re scummy,” you mutter and walk into the kitchen, finishing off the coffee and setting the mug down in the sink.

Lip scoffs as he bites into the toast he made for you. “No, them dropping you off at your ex-boyfriends house so they don’t have to keep an eye on you and to go get drunk makes them scummy,” he calls out to you and sets the half eaten toast on the plate, leaving it on the couch as he gets up to go after you. He finds you leaning against the counter, your arms crossed over your chest as you stare at him.

You were still in the black dress you wore to the bar last night, and he was pretty sure that it was his favorite one, as he recalls complimenting you every time you wore it out with him. “They’re not so bad,” you say quietly, and Lip was about done with hearing you defend the people who abandoned you.

“They’re the fucking worst,” he said, fed up. “I asked you this before, and even though you didn’t give me a decent answer then, I’m going to ask you again. Why the fuck do you continue to hang out with them?”

You shrug pathetically as you avoid eye contact with him. “Because they’re all I have,”

Lip shakes his head at that, not happy with your answer at all as he leaned against the fridge across from where you were. “That’s bullshit,” he grunted. “You had me, you still have me. Why do you let them treat you like that? In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve always let people walk all over you. Then you get pissed off with me when I call you out on it. Why?”

“It was too much,” you mumble and shake your head, crossing your arms tighter. “It felt so right with you, too right. You made this fucked up place seem. You, Fi, fuck, even Carl. You guys are a real family who look out for each other. I never had that, never felt like I deserved it. You know where I came from and what my life was like before I met you. That’s what I deserve, not this. Not you.”

Lip had never heard such nonsense in all his life. He had never heard you talk like that about yourself, and he quickly decided he didn’t like it. “You think you deserve to go back to that life? To how things were before I took you away from all that shit? You don’t,” he crossed his own arms, mirroring your stance as you lifted your head to meet his eyes. “You’re smart, but you’re also fucking dumb if you think I’m going to allow you to go back to that part of your life.”

You tried not to let his words affect you, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at how much he still clearly cared for you. “It’s not up to you,”

“Damn it, Y/n,” he ran his hand through his hair, frustrated at you now. “Why can’t you see yourself in the way that everyone else does? Daneel or Danielle or whoever the fuck she is dosn’t give a shit about you, and you shouldn’t give a shit about her, either.”

You knew he was right, you knew that Daneel and Marissa were the definition of fake friends, but you didn’t have much experience around those who cared for you. Between your friends, parents and your siblings, none of them treated you like how Lip and his family did. Could you really be blamed for believing that you weren’t worthy of him? “They’re all I have-”

“They’re not, baby,” he slipped up and called you by the name once again, but didn’t bother correcting himself as he stepped forward and grabbed your right hand in both of his. “They’re not and you know it. You have me, and my own fucked up family. You have us. You and me.”

You felt shy suddenly as you asked, “Still?” He places your hand flat against his chest so you could feel the steady beat of his heart, something that calms you down as you clarify your question. “I still have you?”

“Yes,’’ he answered and you don’t bother holding back a sigh of relief. “You still have me.”

“I’m sorry,” you nearly whispered, despite the two of you being the only ones in the house. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he said back, moving forward to press his forehead against yours. “Fuck, breaking up was the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.”

You hum in agreement as you bring your other hand up to rest against his chest while his reach down to grip your waist. “You regret it?”

“Are you kidding?” He scoffed before pressing a quick kiss to the skin of your neck. “I haven’t been able to sleep without you, that’s why I was on the couch last night before you even got here.”

Your face heats up at that, as well at the feeling of his lips on your skin. “Really?”

Lip hummed as his forehead returned to yours.

“Well,” you trailed off as you slid your hands up his chest and set them on the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. “We might have to do something about that. When was the last time you slept for more than a few hours?”

“When did we break up?”

“A week and a half ago,”

“About a week and a half ago,” he answered and you grinned for a second before he was closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in nearly two weeks.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher imagines #shameless #shameless us #shameless x reader #shameless imagine #philip gallagher #angst #fluff #carmen berzatto #jeremy allen white

2K notes · View notes

delirious-donna · 4 months

Text

Second Chances Are Not Promised [Part Nine]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: A few days have passed since you chose to run from Kento rather than face a reality where he rejected your advances. You hate to admit that you miss him, but does he feel the same way and would you ever find out even if he did?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: angst, emotionally charged argument, NSFW throughout, I don't want to spoil the story too much and I don't think there is any triggering content but the NSFW is there for a reason

Part Eight | Series Masterlist | Part Ten

The past few days had been some of your worst. Torn between annoyance at being this emotionally distraught at the actions of a stupid, coward of a man and the genuine hurt that penetrated your heart at the thought of him. Leaving had been a necessity, and although it meant some strategic couch surfing until you were finally able to return to your cozy little student apartment, it was the lesser of two evils.

The idea of remaining in Kento’s apartment after his rejection turned your stomach. To be faced with him knowing that there was an attraction between you, that it wasn’t all some torrid fantasy in your head, and still he chose to turn away from it, would be too damaging. The beginning of tears blurred your vision whilst you thought about it, of those restless hours trapped inside the room which smelled like him resurfaced the agonies that had not yet begun to heal.

Over and over, you chastised yourself for allowing another person to whittle you down to your very core components, and with what you considered to be clearly little compassion for the results, but the blame should not fall upon your shoulders. Nanami Kento was a man of logic and reasoning, you had come to learn this and that had ultimately been the downfall. He allowed the fear of things not working out for the best to ruin any chance of ever finding out. It was his fault, that much was true.

Stupid man…

It would be easier if you could hate him. If you could shield your heart with the burn of fury and hatred. No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, softer memories invaded your mind to override the unpleasant ones. The Chinese takeout and Kento’s rigid posture before he succumbed to your invitation to join you. The visit to the bar and the conversation that flowed as easily as the drinks. The museum trip and the adorable couple that had given unsolicited advice in such a cute way you couldn’t be mad. The movie night… the faint dream-like memory of a kiss against your forehead and distantly murmured words that left you with a dopey smile and a fluttering in your chest.

You still caught whiffs of his scent despite having washed all the clothing from your stay as soon as you could. The lingering smell of expensive coffee beans that you could never afford, wafts of leather and earthy notes that you couldn’t give a name to, had a way of invading your nose even in the dead of night when your body begged for sleep, but your brain refused the respite. Along with how you could perfectly recall the taste of him when his tongue swept into your mouth, it was torture—a torture of your own making.

Another night, another failed attempt at sleeping more than in short fits and starts. None of it was restful either, dreams assailing you from the mundane to the wildly vivid. You grabbed up your phone and groaned at several messages and a missed call on the screen. Since your return, you hadn’t spoken to Karin and because she wasn’t due to return to school until the day after next, you weren’t even sure if she knew you were home. Would Kento have called her? Did he care enough to let her know you’d ran?

Pulling the covers over your head, you sighed and dropped your phone onto the mattress. There was no desire to reply to the messages, none of which had come from Karin, which made you assume that Kento hadn’t informed her of what transpired. Your eyelids drooped low, the pull of sleep tugging at you like the dark tendrils of water trying to drag a poor victim to their lair to remain eternally. You put up no resistance, letting yourself be submerged until only darkness filled your mind.

The noise of muted conversations, tinkling laughter that sounded far from genuine and the constant drone of air conditioning drowned out Kento’s thoughts. It was amazing to think that not long ago he longed to be here, to return to the luxury of his corner office and the accounts he knew like the back of his hand. Now, he hated it.

There was no comfort to be found in the continuous noise of the printers, the clipped footsteps of assistants in the most uncomfortable looking high heeled shoes he had ever seen and the forced conversation he had to endure from his colleagues. In truth, Kento had no interest in playing the games he was accustomed to. Office politics no longer felt compelling or exciting.

He felt… done. Done with the routine, the faked smiles and the forced conversations. “How’s the wife and kids? Did you get up to much over the weekend? When are you going to settle down, Kento? Surely, you’ve got a different girl in your bed every night that you could choose from.” He hated it and it was your fault.

Kento had lost count of the times his phone found its way into his palm, his sister’s contact info blaring like a beacon on the screen with his thumb poised over the call button. Where were you? Were you okay? Those questions plagued him day in day out, and only his pig-headed stubbornness kept the answers from his grasp. Abruptly, he slammed his pen atop the desk. It bounced from the force of the impact and shot off the edge to roll beneath a cabinet, a reprieve from his anger.

Once more, the memory of your petal soft lips assailed him. The taste of you manifested in his mouth and he let his eyes slide shut as he slumped back in his chair. His cock throbbed behind the tight hold of his trousers, and no amount of adjusting and readjusting would alleviate the gut-wrenching ache that resided within him. He remembered how your fingers felt moving closer to the hairs at his neck and how he…

The memory couldn’t remain pleasant, though he longed for it to take a different path. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have your nails scratch against his scalp. He wanted to find out if you would tug his hair or play with it gently. What might it be like if his hold of your waist had not been so timid, if he had caressed your sides and kneaded at your hips how he really wanted to. Would you have let him lead you to his bed to tumble amongst the sheets? Would you cry out his name when he tasted you for the first time? Kento was panting like a dog cruelly trapped in a car on a summer day.

A knock on the glass wall of his office shook him from his twisted fantasies. He jolted upright to see the nefarious grin of a rival colleague who clearly assumed he was napping on the job, not aware of how close Kento had been to taking his dick out behind the cover of his desk and fisting himself furiously to endure a painful orgasm that would not sate the yearning he was at the mercy of. Instead, he scowled at the man with hot, seething hatred written across his face. The man paled and quickly walked away.

“That’s right. Run back to your office. Email your little cohorts and begin my assassination,” he hissed, fury bubbling under his skin and making him want to scratch at his arms until they bled.

The door slammed behind him as he made for the exit, head bowed over his phone until he raised it to his ear whilst taking the stairs two at a time to reach the parking lot. Each shrill ring cut his nerves to the quick until at last, she answered, and he could finally breathe again.

“Karin? Don’t talk just listen…”

A knock sounded at your front door, quiet and innocuous, it wasn’t enough for you to warrant moving from the couch. Your movie was more important even though you weren’t paying it the slightest bit of attention either. A moment passed in which you assumed your visitor, whoever they were, had gone away, but no. Once more a knock sounded, and this time it was firmer. The person’s knuckles rapping loudly against the cheap wood veneer.

Annoyed, you grabbed up the remote control and increased the volume in what you hoped was an obvious sign that you didn’t wish to be disturbed. There were only a few people it possibly could be and none of them needed to see you in your current state of moping.

However, the knocking continued and this time it was positively furious. The entire frame of the door vibrated from the pounding fist hammering against it. Now you were curious, or perhaps it was fear that had you turning to glance at the door which shook with yet another blow.

Maybe it was the landlord or the police, but wouldn’t they have called out to announce themselves? Fuck, what if it was someone hurt or in need of help and you were wilfully ignoring them. The Good Samaritan in you would be silenced for only so long. It only took a few hurried steps to reach the trembling wood, your hands reaching out to brace against the wall so you could glance through the peephole, and what you saw made the air in your lungs seize completely.

Kento.

It was Kento pounding on your door and looking as determined as you had ever seen him. On the other side of the door, he too froze in place, and you clapped a hand over your traitorous mouth. He had heard your gasp of alarm. Your heart physically ached from how violently it thrashed inside your chest, knees wobbly from working to keep you on your feet.

“I know you’re in there, I heard you gasp. Can you let me in? I’d like to… talk. Please?”

Hot tears trickled down your cheeks and you angrily swiped them away. The sound of your name from his lips, so soft and tentative, only worsened the angry twist of your heart and stomach. You weren’t sure how long passed, but clearly, it was enough to have him call out again, a resigned sigh evident in his intonation.

“I’d really rather have this conversation more privately,” he muttered, stepping as close to the door as he could. “If… shit… if you’re worried about being alone with—”

Kento jumped back as the door swung wide open, his alarm at the suddenness made him blink and when he found composure… there you were. The corners of his lips twitched with the desire to beam at you. His shoulders lost a little of the tension he had been carrying all this time, and he let out an exhale that lightened his load just the tiniest bit. Your expression was one of fury but even that couldn’t dissuade the hit of dopamine that coursed through his blood at seeing you after these days apart.

“Get in here,” you yelled, stepping aside to allow him access to your apartment before slamming the door shut with a rattling echo shaking the whole room. “You think I’m afraid? Seems like you’re still an idiot.”

You might harbour the desire to wring this man’s neck, but not once had you ever felt afraid of him, not for a single second. Not even when he had burst in on you in his bath, naked and vulnerable. The mortification on his face had dissolved any concern for your safety in an instant. Wow. That moment felt so long ago now, but in reality, not that much time had passed.

Kento shrugged, unknowing what else to do and at last you took him in.

So, this was him suited and booted. He looked good, annoyingly handsome, and you could kick yourself for thinking that. This was the outer shell of the man you had met on that first fateful day; his shirt was crisply pressed and a surprising navy blue with neat tan trousers showing sharp creases down the legs, his expensive timepiece adorned his wrist and the brown polished Oxfords on his feet managed to shine in the dinghy low light of your living room. There was no jacket in sight, though you knew instinctively that one should reside over the width of his broad shoulders, and then you noticed it. A garish yellow splattered tie decorated the length of his sternum. It should have thrown his entire image, but somehow it didn’t.

Your nose wrinkled at the strange tie, head canting to the side and if you didn’t know any better, you might have said that this was the real Kento shining through the gloom of the mundane. There, at the heart of him, resided a man who didn’t want to fully abide by the standards laid out for all to adhere to. A small spark of a rebellious spirit weathered by cupped hands against the cruel winds of corporate culture. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t certain sobs were more likely to emerge than laughter.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?”

It was your turn to shrug, already knowing the only possible answer. “Karin,” you answered bluntly. “I thought you were the one that disliked pointless questions.”

He winced at your cool tone, eyes falling from your less than impressed expression to bore holes through the floor. He deserved your ire—your anger and vexations—what he couldn’t stand was your indifference. The impact hit far harder, ice settling over his heart when he hesitantly gazed at the woman, he so ruthlessly scorned.

To Kento, you seemed tired. Dark circles underlined your dull eyes, not a single sparkle, of which he knew resided within them, remained. This was his doing… Despite that being the case, he felt the brush of butterfly wings in his stomach, soft and heartfelt. You were beautiful. So beautiful, and he knew this would be the last chance he’d ever get to make this right. To prove that he knew of the mistakes he had made and promise never to be so stupid ever again.

“I came to apologise,” he offered, slowly stepping closer only to see you take the same step back, much to dismay.

“I don’t accept. You can leave now.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and you followed the bounce of the front strands that refused to return to their original position. He was ruffled and hating every second of it. You were glad of his discomfort, at least he now felt an ounce of what you did.

Kento sighed. “I won’t stay if you really wish me to leave, but I’d prefer if you’d hear me out at least.”

“What could you possibly have to say? You rejected me, Kento. You fucking kissed me then shoved me away. There is nothing more to add.” You shot your reply like the bullets of a machine gun, fast and deadly.

“I was trying to protect—”

You interjected before he could finish, pacing back and forth like a caged predator who belonged in the wild, not on display like this. “Don’t you dare say it was to protect me. Don’t you dare assume that you know what is best for me! I make my own decisions in life, and no man is going to step in and change that.”

He raised his hands in surrender, eyes fixed into the depths of the floor and the passage of your feet.

“Protect us both… maybe more so me than you. I-I hate myself for only considered the implications that affected me,” he admitted quietly, shame burning in his gut. “We’re so different but also alike. I can see myself in you at that age and remember the dreams I had, and how they all revolved around success and money. I was driven just like you are, but you’re better than me. So much better and I don’t think you even realise it.”

Your pacing slowed as you listened, the pounding in your ears still very much present but growing quiet so you could hear the words being said and the unspoken ones too—for there were many.

“I admire your strength and determination, how you refuse to let anything, or anyone stand in the way of your happiness. You don’t let expectations change who you are. You were right when you called me jaded, because I am—or I was. Happiness was never a primary focus and it’s only now that I’m understanding what a fundamental mistake that was.”

“You sound like the male lead in those lovey-dovey romcoms you hate so much.”

His face split wide with his first smile in days. You watched in alarm when he bent over to clutch his stomach, until laughter poured from him, and the unabashed honesty of the noise made you glance away before you too were caught up in it. You weren’t ready to show him that side of you again.

“I guess I do, and I told you that I don’t hate them all.” He paused to slowly raise his arm, fingertips daring to brush against the back of your arm and when you didn’t pull away, down to your knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

The shield around your heart was straining against the emotional onslaught. He sounded so genuine, and you reminded yourself that not once had he said anything that he didn’t mean, even when those things hurt. You took your hand back and hugged your arms around your middle.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” You asked, pointedly ignoring his last remark and how badly you wanted to reiterate it back to him. “You’re certainly dressed for the office, except for that tie. Not sure if I love or loathe it.”

“I should be at work, but I walked out.” Kento shrugged as if that was the most obvious and rational thing he could say. “As for the tie…” He smiled down fondly, picking up the yellow material and letting it fall back against his chest. “I’ve always liked it. Makes me stand out against the other suits in the room.”

You couldn’t deny that.

Uncertain how else to further the conversation, or if you should try at all, you shuffled your feet against the floor before finally resigning to the wants of your heart. “You want a coffee?”

“Does that mean you’re not kicking me out?”

“It means… do you want a coffee?”

“I’d love a coffee.”

He followed you into the small kitchen, eyes taking in his surroundings for the first time and what he saw was a modest student apartment, much like the one he had lived in, but you had imprinted all over it. There were pieces of art hanging on the walls, leafy green plants on nearly every windowsill, cushions and blankets draped haphazardly over the cheap looking couch and little photos and mementos stuck to the fridge door and some cupboards.

Your face stood out in the ones that caught his eye, bright smiles that radiated joy and he even spied Karin in a few. The two of you were almost worlds apart but clearly cared for one another. He hoped that his intrusion into your life wouldn’t spoil that friendship. Although he was getting ahead of himself. One cup of coffee did not mean you were willing to give him another chance, and he hadn’t even asked yet.

“I’ve only got instant, didn’t know I’d be visited by a coffee connoisseur today,” you grumbled whilst finding two mismatched mugs.

He had to fight not wrinkle his nose and it did not go unnoticed, your eyebrow rising in a challenge to either put up or shut up. Wisely, he chose the latter, only shrugging in acceptance and gratefully taking the steaming mug when offered.

“You know, I’ve made your morning coffee every day since you left. It didn’t feel right only pouring one cup.”

What was this man doing to you? He was killing you with these heartfelt admissions in such quick succession, that’s what he was doing to you. The urge to cry tightened your throat, because for all your seething over what had happened, you had missed him. It was his voice you heard in the dead of night, his scent that tormented you when you least expected it, and his hazel eyes with warm caramel flecks that crinkled happily when you were lost in thought.

“Mm.” You didn’t know what else you could say, and you weren’t ready to admit that you felt the same way. Leaning back against the kitchen counter, you took a small sip of the cheap instant coffee and masked your grimace behind the rim of the mug before setting it down.

Kento took the few steps to put himself directly in front of you and you were frozen, staring right ahead into the centre of his chest. You didn’t dare to lift your gaze from the ridiculous yellow splattered tie, you couldn’t. He was so close that you could feel the heat from his body, it radiated outwards and teased at you like wandering tendrils. Your heart was thundering, so much so that you missed his arm moving as you worked to control yourself. His fingers gently lodged beneath your chin, slowly bringing your face upwards to meet his eyes, and it was a mistake.

Those intelligent eyes were sorrowful, and it thickened the lump lodged in your throat. It felt like time was suspended whilst he grazed his fingertips along your jaw and over your cheek until he was cupping your face so gently that you nearly wept on the spot. You let him explore the soft apple of your cheek, allowed him to run his thumb beneath your eye and felt the moisture of tears you weren’t aware you had shed stain the swirling thumbprint. He was so close and yet not close enough.

Caught between the urge to shove him away and drag him close, instead, you did nothing. You refused to put yourself in another vulnerable situation with him, if he wanted something then he would lead the charge and take what he sought. You wouldn’t be made a fool of again. You wouldn’t—

His lips found yours—tentative and slow. Lost in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed when he leant in to close that final gap. Your gasp was swallowed whole, washed away by the sweetest kisses that were nothing like the one you shared in his apartment. Angry passion fuelled that kiss, but not this one. It was a kiss reserved for deeper emotions, dare you say, the first budding blooms of love. There was an apology at its roots, and you accepted with your reciprocation.

It was like coming home, nothing else felt like this, and before you knew it, your arms were around his neck. This time, when you moved to delve your fingers through his lush head of hair, he didn’t stop you. Kento groaned against your mouth at the sensation, your nails gently scratching along his scalp in answer to a question he had long wanted to ask. You melted against his body; chest tightly pressed to his whilst you sobbed through a moment of clarity.

You were the one to pull back this time, a hand leveraged against his shoulder, but it was different to when he stopped you. Your finger sunk into the stiff material of his shirt, your way of not letting him escape, because this wasn’t over. “Kento… I need to know.”

“I want you. I have wanted you for longer than I realised. I hate that I hurt you to understand any of that. It will never happen again. I’m sorry… I will repeat that as many times as you need to hear it, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself.”

The words poured from him like a fountain. It was the most candidly you had heard him speak, and the gravity of that wasn’t lost on you. Kento was opening the door for you. He was welcoming you into his inner sanctum and hiding nothing from you. There were no veils in place to hide shadowy recesses, only pure light that defeated every phantom doubt there could possibly be. It made you smile, watery from unshed tears but you didn’t cry, you laughed.

Kento was a statue as he waited for your answer, for something to tell him if he had won his second and final chance. He was too scared to move, every muscle locked into place and when you laughed, he knew. Those beautiful eyes turned up to him with fresh tears sparkling but happy. The sparkle was back, and he could drown in their depths if you’d only let him. He let out the breath he’d been holding, and his head bowed forward until his forehead rested against the gentle slope of your shoulder. The sound of laughter seemed to turn up the colours in his world, everything seemed far brighter, and he crushed you to him.

“Words are pretty and all, but if you really want me like you claim…” you mused whilst your arms weaved beneath his so your hands could trail the length of his spine with deliberate slowness. “… show me.”

He huffed a laugh whilst your unique scent tickled his nose. You were always challenging him, whether in small inconspicuous ways or in monumental ways that forced him to look inwardly and reassess his priorities. This was nothing new, and for the first time, he wanted nothing more than to rise to this particular challenge.

“With pleasure.” Kento turned his head, planting a series of wet kisses to your neck and savouring the stutter of your breathing. Your fingers stilled from where they were teasing near the space occupied by his belt, and he seized the chance to let his lips curl away from teeth. He licked a strip over your frantic pulse before sinking his teeth into you.

Your body shuddered, held up only by the support of the counter and Kento’s grip on you. The pain was short-lived as it gave way to pleasure, careful lips kissed away the lingering hurt and you were fast developing a second heartbeat between your legs. He was acting on instinct, that was the only explanation, and you wondered how far those instincts would take him. You wanted him to drive this, to do as requested and show you how much he wanted you, but that didn’t mean you were going to be some shrinking violet. Pulling him into a bruising kiss, you smiled into the depths of his mouth at the answering grunt from his chest.

A trail of clothes led from the kitchen to your bedroom, the door kicked shut by a polished shoe right before it was yanked off and left in a heap with socks and trousers. Your nimble fingers worked free the buttons of his shirt, loosened his tie enough to tug it over head just as he stripped you out of the sweatshirt that hung far too loosely on your body. Instead of discarding the yellow tie, you looped it over your head and let it hang between your breasts. Framed by lace and sensitive skin that was singing from his hurried touch, you silently thanked all that would listen for the decision to wear a bra at all, let alone the expensive one that was usually reserved for intimate encounters. How serendipitous of you…

Kento stopped in his tracks, completely overcome with the sight of you. Perfect skin yet unmarked by his touch, soft curves and his tie around your throat. This was better than any wet dream, far more hedonistic than the lewd thoughts that crept into his brain when he fisted himself in the lonely hours of the night. This was reality, and what could be better than that?

“You’re so beautiful. You’ve no idea how many times I wondered what this might be like… and nothing compares to this,” he enthused, taking your hand and leading it to the obvious bulge tenting his underwear.

He groaned when you curled your fingers around his erection through the fabric, hips bucking forward involuntarily. Grinning like the cat who got the cream, you moved higher to hook those same fingers into the waistband and tugged him close so you could feel his cock twitch against you.

Tumbling onto messy sheets followed easily, amidst breathless kisses and explorative hands. Everything was new and exciting, there seemed to be no inch of your exposed skin left untouched and that only left what was still covered. Kento’s breath fanned hot and heavy over the lace of bra, enough to tighten your nipples. Your spine arched from the bed when he licked over the cup and wet you with his saliva, his hand slipping to the small of your back to keep you there so that when his teeth nipped at you, you could only squirm.

He repeated the action on the other side, leaving you panting and desperate for friction. The palm at your spine wandered to the clasp of your bra and he paused, offering you eyes full of sincerity. “May I?”

Your heart seized in your chest. Where had you found this man? You’d never know a man to get you into bed and down to your underwear and still ask for permission to proceed. Any lingering thought that this might be a one off to scratch the itch that had buried deep beneath your skin disintegrated in an instant. There wasn’t a future you envisaged where you would give him up, not without a fight.

Cupping his face in both hands, you kissed him and whispered. “Touch me like nobody else does.”

A wet path trailed from your clavicle to right below your belly button, little bruises blooming in places and the indentation of fingertips in others. Kento looked like a God from his position between your thighs, his chin shiny from the arousal he coaxed from you using his surprisingly silver tongue. Blond tousled hair and ruddy cheeks, swollen lips and brown irises almost completely swallowed by midnight pupils. Sweat dripped from your temples whilst you floated back down to Earth, your fingers tangled in his hair once more and you felt him lean into the touch before crawling over you.

“Sweeter than honey…”

Your skin flushed hotter—not a feat you thought possible—at his words, followed by the taste of yourself on his tender lips. His tongue pushed deeper and deposited the tantalising tang directly onto your tastebuds. Your body cradled him; legs wound tight around his hips to indulge in his guttural groans when his cock moved through your swollen folds.

Precum and the mess he’d made of you hastened his movements, hips rutting downwards whilst he captured your hands and entwined your fingers at either side of your head. The velvet glide of his cock through your sex stole the air from your lungs, the tip teasingly torturing your already abused clit. His jaw was set in firm determination, and you huffed at the expression. There was no way this was ending without him fucking you, whether he realised or not.

“Kento… please.”

His eyes flew skyward, barely held restraint fraying with each subsequent mewl of want. He squeezed your fingers when you rocked your hips and shifted the position in an attempt to nudge him towards your entrance. Hearing you speak his name would always be his undoing, it had been like that since the very first time you addressed him as Kento. It had never sounded better than from your lips, and he shuddered at the inflection, at the desire written openly across your features. You didn’t hide from him, didn’t obscure your true feelings behind a mask. He wanted to return that, and whilst he might be new to be using so open, there was no better time to start.

“I’m scared,” he admitted.

You paused, blinking your eyes open to watch him above you. “Of what?”

“That… that if I cross this final line, I’ll never let you go. You deserve everything, and what if I can’t give you that?”

“Keep me forever, Kento. You don’t need to cross this line for me to know that I want to be by your side whilst you figure your life from here out. I want to be a part of it. Let me look after your heart and you’ll have given me everything I could ever ask for.”

He loved you. He knew it in the very centre of his soul, but there would be time for that declaration. Right now, wasn’t the time. “Now who sounds like they’re in a lovey-dovey romcom?” He teased, nudging your nose with his whilst his heart felt lighter than it had in forever.

You bit at his bottom lip, feigning a growl of annoyance whilst your eyes narrowed on him and the brilliant smile he gave you. Without warning, he moved and all at once he was exactly where he needed to be. Inch by slow inch, he eased into your body. You swore through the exquisite stretch, only silenced by his mouth which descended upon you hungrily.

It had been a while since you last had someone in bed with you, and despite being worked open by skilful fingers and tongue, it was still a snug fit. When he bottomed out, the coarse golden hairs at his pelvis rubbed at you with that delicious friction and stimulation, and you sighed in contentment. The fullness was welcome, and he fit you like a glove, like he was meant to have found his home here by now.

“O-okay?” He asked with a shake in his voice, and you nodded enthusiastically. The pace he set was slow, bone deep and so heartfelt that it seemed like your body merged with his. Kento spread your thighs further apart with his knees. He made every thrust count, hips angled to massage the sweet spot he’d discovered earlier.

You were clenched around him so hard that he swore he’d cum in record time, in fact, he was still astonished not to have spilled in his shorts when your first orgasm had wet his face. It was a moment he was likely to never forget and would be subject to many a dirty thought in years to come. He continued to be amazed at how expressive you were, and seemingly that didn’t end in the bedroom. It was refreshing. No one was like you, but that was okay because he had found you and even though he messed up, you were better than he ever could be. So sweet and joyful. You accepted him, flaws and all, and only offered him a helping hand.

Kento was lost in the sensation of being joined with you. His heart beat in time with yours, chests flush together whilst he took you higher and higher to completion. The orgasm approaching felt different to any before, it spread throughout his body like warm honey, and he glanced down at you in panic that he would find his end before you did.

“Fuck… there. Right there! Don’t stop… oh god, I’m gonna—Ken!”

His stomach dropped into his toes, the strength in his arms near failing him when you broke apart to milk him with sweet sucking pulls that he had never experienced before. The incessant pulsing was too much to deny, and he pulled out with a fierce growl that forced your eyes to snap wide. Kento sat back on his haunches, hand ready to wrap around his aching dick to pump the final few times and spill his seed, but he hadn’t counted on you leaning up on an elbow to reach him first. Your hot touch jolted electricity down his spine and the wet glide of his foreskin had barely reached down to the base before he was shooting his load across your quivering belly and thighs.

He moaned unabashedly and the sound thrilled you right down to your already overstimulated core. Both your eyes and his fixed on the sticky pool he was creating on your skin. His cheeks turned a burning red at the continuing spurts of cum that seemed to never want to end, until at last he was drained completely.

A moment of silence fell, only disturbed by your combined heavy breathing. Kento couldn’t find it in him to look you in the eye, a sense of embarrassment settling on his shoulders at the sheer mess he’d made. Clearly, he didn’t understand that you adored the painting he’d created. He was the paint, and you were the canvas. You scooped your finger through the creamy paint, tracing designs with his essence.

“I… I don’t know what to say now,” he said softly.

Your head canted, humming quietly whilst beckoning him to you with two grabby hands and not relenting until he flopped beside you. His face buried into the crook of your neck, forcing you to dig it out with laughter bubbling in your throat. Suddenly he was shy… adorable.

“Why say anything at all? We have all the time in the world for words. Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

He kissed your bare shoulder, reaching over you to his discarded shirt and using that to clean your stomach so he could cuddle you into his arms comfortably. You were right, there wasn’t much needed to be said right now, except he did have one question… “Did I show you?”

Throwing a leg over his hips and nuzzling his nose with yours, you smiled and gave a nod. “More than I expected. Although… next time, finish inside.”

Kento nearly choked on his saliva which only made you laugh more. His neck and ears burned white-hot, and you pretended not to notice whilst he looked everywhere but at you. “I’ll—uh—I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Mm, good because we have a lot of time to make up for and I intend to keep you in this bed until your legs give out.”

“You always have to have the last word, don’t you?” he teased with a bark of laughter.

“Yep. So, I suggest you get used to it, love.”

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut

388 notes · View notes

ickadori · 4 months

Text

thinking about nanami as a step-dad to your kid…

[cws] fem reader -> reader is a mom. suggestive.

Nanami stepped into the role very easily, despite thinking he wouldn’t. He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that some people saw him as a sort of custodial figure, Itadori and Ino specifically, but they were both well and grown now, and your kid was…well, a kid.

Your son was only just getting out of diapers, and still refusing to give up his pacifier. Nanami was an only child and he had never known anyone with children, so his experience with toddlers was nonexistent, but you had been patient with him as you showed him the ropes.

Diaper changes that morphed into helping him on the potty, warming of bottles that morphed into trying to discern what food he was willing to eat that day, rocking to sleep that morphed into the reading of bedtime stories and the ritual of checking the closet and underneath the bed for monsters.

He had eagerly learned it all from you, even going beyond and researching a few things on his own - things that had always stumped you and left you frustrated. Like when your son had refused to eat anything but plain waffles for two days straight and you were sure he was going to develop some kind of deficiency - he didn’t, and all it took was Nanami cooking all his (and yours) favorite foods for the boy to finally crack and start eating.

Or when he had went through a phase of ripping his diaper off and running around the house nude - that hadn’t been fun for anyone. You had been at your wits end, overwhelmed and teary-eyed as you watched the mayhem unfold, and Nanami had stepped in easily enough with a firm voice and even firmer look and that issue hadn’t happened again since.

He found himself doing that a lot - being the firm one. You could never bring yourself to be but so firm with him, always crying to Nanami about how ‘sad he had looked, Kento! I feel like an evil mother!’. He tried to assure you that telling your son no, he couldn’t climb onto the dinner table and belly flop onto the floor didn’t make you an ‘evil mother’, but he didn’t particularly mind dabbing your tears away and placating you with kisses.

Nanami was the one to enforce bedtimes, the one to keep him from drawing on the walls and furniture, the one to make him clean up his mess after a tantrum, the one that had to carry him kicking and screaming out of stores because of a candy bar that wasn’t bought…

“I think he missed you, Kento.” You speak in a hushed tone as you curl into his side, fingers mindlessly toying with the blonde hairs on his chest. He gives you an unbelieving look, hand moving to rub at your knee, your leg thrown on his hips. “Really, I do! He was so fussy this week while you were away, I couldn’t even get him to calm down with bath time.”

He hums, recalling just how eager your son had been to point at the front door and stomp his foot when he saw Nanami dressed and ready to go. It had been cute, a tad offensive as well, but cute nonetheless.

“How’d you get him to nap?”

“I used that trick you taught me. The one where you rub your finger between his eyebrows,” you demonstrated on Nanami, finger smoothing out the crease that had settled between his brows, “and play in his hair.” You combed your fingers through blonde locks, and Nanami relaxed further into the bed. “He was out in five minutes.”

He quirks a brow.

“More like thirty but who’s counting, y’know? He’s sleep and that’s all that matters.” Nanami lets a tired, amused grin curl onto his lips.

“How long has he been sleep?” The hand that had been rubbing at your knee slides a bit further up your leg, fingers now kneading into the fat of your thigh.

“Mm, maybe an hour? He shouldn’t be up for another hour at least… plenty of time for me to show you just how much I missed you.” Your lips meet the underside of his chin, and he tilts his head up and to the side, allowing you to trail kisses down his throat. “Did you miss me too, Ken?”

“More than I’d like to admit.” He tugs you onto his lap so you’re straddling him, hands immediately moving to palm at your ass through your shorts. “I already let the office know that I won’t be available for anymore overseas trips due to family matters.” Your eyes sparkle at his words.

“Family matters?” You repeat, hands splayed across his chest as you begin to rock your hips down against him. His jaw clenches at the feeling, arousal pooling in his gut and warming his skin.

“Yes, family matt—” Your lips are on his before he can finish his sentence, and he has no complaints, easily opening his mouth so your tongue can venture inside. His hands help you rock back and forth on top of him, his own hips occasionally bucking up into you.

A creak sounds just outside the bedroom door and Nanami pauses, lips going still against yours as he strains to hear. “Honey,” he calls, mouth breaking away from yours.

“Yes, Ken?” You breathe out as you sit up, your full weight now weighing down on his heavy, aching cock. “What’s wrong?” You take his hand and guide it underneath your shirt, his rough palms meeting soft, supple skin. He groans low in his throat when he reaches your breast, thumb smoothing over a puckered nipple. “I thought you missed me?”

“I did—fuck, I did.” He traps your nipple between the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger, pulling a soft cry from you, and his mouth runs dry at the sound. “But—”

“But what, Ken?”

Creak.

The both of you hear it this time and pause, heads turning to the cracked bedroom door. You scramble off of him in a flash, his hand slipping from underneath your shirt as he sits up in the bed to place a pillow over his lap while you straighten your clothes.

A sleepy ‘mama’ sounds, and you’re on your feet in the next second, hushes already leaving your mouth as you pull the door open to reveal a sleepy-eyed toddler. Your son has his signature blanket clutched in one arm, and his pacifier hanging from the clip on his pajama top.

You scoop him up into your arms as you gently bounce him, and Nanami smiles at the sight. “Did you have a good nap, sweetie? You want mommy to make you a snack—”

“Nana!” He suddenly shouts, gaze finally falling on Nanami, and all the sleep that had been in his face melts away. “Nana!”

“Nanami? Yeah, he just came—oh.” You hurry to set him down on his feet as he struggles in your grip, and he wastes no time dashing to the bed and clambering up onto it and launching himself into Nanami’s chest.

He catches him easy, arms closing around him as the both of you share a look of surprise. He ruffles his hair and pats his back, and your son squeals out a laugh as he pulls back to place his hand against Nanami’s face.

“Nana stay? Nana stay home?” You climb back into bed beside him, head moving to rest on his shoulder.

“Yes, I’m going to stay. I’m not going anywhere.” He assures, and your son’s face crumbles as he lets out a cry. You pout from beside him, and Nanami rubs his back and guides him to lay against his chest, a warm, fluttery feeling blooming inside.

“See?” You whisper in his ear. “I told you he missed you.”

#nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

204 notes · View notes

undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

A companion piece to my previous Shinedown Steddie thingy.

Eddie's last year was...

Yeah, it just was. It existed. That's the best he can say about it.

Sure, there was a ton of touring, awards, interviews and he really tried to keep it together, he really did. But ignoring that he and Steve were no longer together was about as easy as ignoring he was missing an arm or a leg. Sometimes he wishes he actually lost a body part instead of Steve's love.

But that wasn't exactly true, was it? Because Steve told him he still loved him when he left. And hell, if he didn't feel the same. Still does.

Eddie keeps dodging questions about Steve in interviews. Asks for privacy, for space, but never refuses to answer the simplest question - does he still love Steve? "At this point, I'm pretty sure loving Steve is a part of my DNA," he smiles at the interviewer. "I can't even imagine not loving him, not caring for him. So yes, um...the answer to your question is still yes. It will always be yes."

It took him a while to actually get back to working. The first weeks were something Eddie had never felt before, and he's felt a lot of pain in his life. This? This was almost worse, because instead of something sharp and burning he could focus on, there was just ever-stretching emptiness, with no promise of ending, not now, not ever.

When Gareth basically forced himself through the door of his (and Steve's former) home, he found Eddie curled up in a ball on the bed, smelling like unwashed laundry, dirt and misery. He hadn't showered in about a week or so, only sometimes got up to drink, Steve's voice still ringing in his head - "please don't blame yourself, Eddie. And take care of yourself, okay? I still care about you and I need to know you're going to eat something healthy, drink enough water and sleep. Please, don't take this out on yourself." So that's what Eddie did - once in a while he got up, got a glass of water, nibbled on a cereal bar if he felt like it and tossed the rest in the trash. Then he curled up back in bed, surrounded by the books he loved, used to love, but now couldn't read a single paragraph. He cried the lot the first day, the second too, then less. After a while, he wasn't even sobbing anymore, his tears just did whatever they wanted and the most he was willing to do was flip the pillow so he didn't constantly lie on a wet fabric.

Gareth saved him. It sounds dramatic now, but he really did. He forced Eddie out of bed, opened the curtains and the windows to let fresh air in and sent him to the shower while he ordered pizza. Not the most gourmet and nutritious dish and Eddie kept chewing on his two slices until they grew cold and soggy, but at least he got something warm in his stomach. And as Gareth sat next to him and patiently waited for Eddie to take another bite, come on, just one, he felt a pang of guilt - this was his friend, not just his bandmate. And if Eddie didn't start doing something, he could hurt someone else he loved, their careers, livelihoods.

He promised Gareth to stop by the next day despite Gareth's insistence that he could take as much time as he needed. But Eddie doesn't want to. Steve was already gone so he just had one thing to live for. Well, and Wayne and the kids. But abandoning his work felt like the whole breakup was meaningless and he knew Steve didn't want him to give up on his dream. So he dove back into work and didn't resurface until months later.

The words didn't come at first, but Eddie willed them to, waited for hours over an empty notebook until they seeped through his barriers, bleeding onto the paper. His previous songs were about anger, rebellion, joy of being different. The new ones? They spoke about regret, lost tenderness and love transcending time. He was worried to present them to the band, but they give it a shot and surprisingly, their manager sees the potential. So they go along with it.

During one of their tours, Eddie read the news and his heart did that thing where it squeezed so tight he thought he'd faint. There was a mass accident near the area Steve lived now - Dustin kept updating him, always so convinced they'd find their way back together - and Eddie wondered what if Steve got caught up in it, what if he's one of the victims, what if he'll never get to make things right-

He knew he shouldn't, but he grasped his cellphone in shaky hands and quickly typed.

So sorry, I know I probably don't want me contacting you but I read the news and I got worried. Are you OK?

Just a simple OK is enough

please

just let me know you're fine Stevie

Minutes and hours stretched insufferably and Eddie was already going through the worst case scenarios, but then his phone beeped. He nearly dropped it, but when he read the message, he choked out a relieved sob.

I'm okay

Thank you for checking in, Eddie. Sorry for making you worry

I was helping at the scene, just got home now

Are you okay too?

After that, they kept in touch. Just brief messages, ensuring each other was fine, that Eddie safely landed wherever the tour took him and that Steve wasn't too stressed out from his job and studies, didn't get too much in his head. Small, supportive messages, careful but loving.

And so they're here, almost a year later.

The hole in Eddie's chest is still massive, still bleeding, but he thinks that having Steve in his in any capacity is better than not having him at all. And he'll take anything he can get.

He pours his adoration into his songs, never sending them to Steve, not wanting to pressure him or make him feel guilty, but all the love he still has for him needs an outlet. "The Crow and the Butterfly" just came out and it does fairly well. It makes Eddie feel a bit weird, to expose his feelings so openly, but he will never be ashamed for loving someone. Especially someone as amazing as Steve.

It's late evening and he's home now, even if it still feels half-empty. Working is the only thing that makes sense now and so he's spending his free time perfecting one of the last songs that feels like a small personal breakthrough for him, he feels like he's getting somewhere, maybe closer to acceptance, understanding.

He strums on his acoustic guitar and sings.

Wrap me in a bolt of lightning

Send me on my way still smiling

Maybe that's the way I should go

Straight into the mouth of the unknown

I left the spare key on the table

Never really thought I'd be able

To say that I'll visit on the weekend

I lost my whole life and a dear friend

I've said it so many times

I would change my ways no never mind

God knows I tried!

Call me a sinner, call me a saint

Tell me it's over, I'll still love you the same

Call me your favorite

Call me the worst

Tell me it's over I don't want you to hurt

It's all that I can say

So I'll be on my way

I finally put it all together, nothing really lasts forever

I had to make a choice that was not mine

I had to say goodbye for the last time

I put my life in a suitcase

Never really stayed in one place

Maybe that's the way it should be

You know I've lived my life like a gypsy

I've said it so many times

I would change my ways, no never mind

God knows I tried

Call me a sinner, call me a saint

Tell me it's over, I'll still love you the same

Call me your favorite

Call me the worst

Tell me it's over I don't want you to hurt

It's all that I can say

So I'll be on my way

I'll always keep you inside

You healed my heart and my life

And you know I've tried

Call me a sinner, call me a saint

Tell me it's over, I'll still love you the same

Call me your favorite

Call me the worst

Tell me it's over I don't want you to hurt

It's all that I can say

So I'll be on my way

The tones finish but he's still staring into space, wondering if this is really it, all his life will be.

And then his phone beeps.

Eddie doesn't really want to answer anything or anyone, but he knows Steve had an important exam a few days back so maybe he has the results. And he won't make him wait ever again.

He sees the text and blinks, frozen in place.

What if I told you that you aren't too late, crow?

He can't believe it. But it's Steve's number, it's him, and Eddie is laughing like a madman now, tears streaming freely from his eyes. It isn't a victory, still pretty far from it, but it's like a first stitch for his wound, a promise of healing.

He grabs his phone and quickly types back.

I'd tell you that I'd chase you forever, butterfly, I'd wait as long as you needed. Do you need me to wait longer?

In seconds after answering, his phone makes a sound again, but it's not a message this time, it's a call.

Eddie has never answered a call this quickly in his life.

"Hi," he chokes out and holds the small lifeline to his ear with both hands, as something incredibly fragile and precious.

"No more waiting, Eddie," says Steve and maybe he's crying a little too, from the soft shift in his voice that only Eddie knows from evenings spent together, romantic tragedies and broken friendships on screen giving Steve the same vulnerable tone. "You've finally caught me and I'm...I think I'm ready to be caught, too. If you still want me."

The "yes" that Eddie gives is the first of the two most important ones in his life.

Even if he doesn't know it yet, he will give the same answer two years from now, to kneeling Steve. But that's another story and another song.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie songfic #steddie song rec #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #Spotify

372 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Note

if youre still doing the headcanons- "what is he doing here?"

Steve hadn't seen Eddie in two years. Hadn't talked to him in nearly three. He'd worked pretty hard to not have to hear anything about him or see any news about him for most of that time, too.

So when he sees him sitting on Dustin's couch, lounging, as if he belongs there, he gets a little pissed.

"What is he doing here?" He asks Dustin through gritted teeth.

Dustin failed to mention that anyone else would be at his house for their monthly dinner, let alone that Eddie would be here.

That Eddie was even back in Hawkins.

Eddie overheard him, sitting up on the couch quickly and staring at them both.

"Eddie's in town to visit with Wayne and he stopped by to say hi."

"And he's leaving?"

Eddie looked down at the floor.

Was he...sad? He looked sad.

Steve refused to care, he couldn't care. Not with how Eddie left.

No note, no phone call, just an apology through Dustin as if he should have ever been put in the middle of whatever they had.

But if he was this sad, maybe something was wrong with Wayne? Steve admittedly hadn't checked in with him in a few months, his questioning about what happened between them often leaving him feeling drained.

"No, he's not leaving." Dustin looked between them with an angry glare. "Neither of you are leaving actually. Not until you at least talk about things like adults. You don't have to be friends or whatever, but you damn sure can't keep doing what you're doing. Steve's miserable, Eddie's pretending he isn't. Fix it before we all tie you down and make you."

"Dust-"

"No!" Dustin held his hand up as Eddie tried to speak. "Fix it. I'm going to call Suzie and when I come back, you better at least be able to look at each other."

The next few minutes were silent. Awkward.

Painful.

He noted every physical change in Eddie, saw how thin he was, how the dark circles under his eyes had somehow gotten worse despite the fact that he'd left to make it big and succeeded. He should be happy.

He should be thriving.

He got everything he wanted.

He left Steve behind so he could.

"I guess we should at least talk a little," Eddie finally said, voice much quieter than Steve had ever heard it before.

"Sure."

Steve sat on the other end of the couch from Eddie, looked straight ahead so he could avoid making eye contact.

"I don't know if you keep up with me or anything-"

"I don't."

It was harsh, harsher than Steve actually meant to be. He saw Eddie flinch out of the corner of his eye, resisted the urge to apologize.

"Um. Okay, yeah. Makes sense." Eddie sighed. "I'm kind of. Okay, so I'm in Hawkins for more than just visiting Wayne."

"Okay."

"I'm here because the label isn't happy with my writer's block and they told me to take a couple months and write an album or they'll consider the contract voided."

"Mhm."

Eddie was bouncing his leg, an old anxious habit that clearly hasn't gone away.

"I'm hoping being back here will help. But I also just. I want to spend time with the people I care about. I miss everyone."

"Yeah, I bet."

"I miss you."

Steve's head turned to see Eddie looking at him, unshed tears building in his eyes.

"Eddie-"

"I know I have no right to say it. Or to even be here. I didn't just leave you, I left everyone. And I barely gave any explanation and I've barely kept in touch with anyone except Wayne and Dustin because I'm scared. I'm so overwhelmed all the time and I have so much pressure on me and I didn't want any of that I just wanted to make music and see the world. I haven't slept more than a few hours in two years. When I told our manager, he said to start taking cocaine. Taking it! Like it's medication! And I did actually use it a few times to stay awake. I hate it, hate the way I feel after, but it was that or fall asleep during photoshoots. And this sounds like I'm whining, but I'm just trying to keep it together long enough to make sure Wayne doesn't see how much I hate this and how much I just want to be here playing music at stupid bars and going fishing with him even though I hate fishing and playing D&D with the guys and kissing you."

Steve was biting back his own tears as Eddie's fell.

No matter what, no matter how he felt, no matter what Eddie had done to hurt him, it still hurt to see someone he loved hurting like this.

And wasn't that a thought.

He knew he still loved Eddie, he always would.

He just didn't think he would ever have to face it head on like this.

"Eddie, I." Steve cleared his throat. "I'm sorry things aren't what you wanted, but. I can't. I can't let you in again. I spent a year trying to tell myself you'd be back. A year watching your every move in newspapers and tv interviews. Waiting for the day you'd mention me or come visit and apologize for leaving like you did. But you didn't and I had to accept that. I had to force myself to believe that you didn't care because thinking that you did hurt worse. I couldn't love you the way I wanted to, so I had to tell myself you didn't love me, even though I'm pretty sure you did. I'm pretty sure you still do. But it wasn't enough then and it wouldn't be enough now, and I can't let myself settle for not enough. I've done it before, you know how that fucked me up. I can't let it happen again."

Eddie nodded once, then stood up.

He was leaving again, Steve knew it.

But then, Eddie sunk to his knees in front of Steve, placed his shaking hands on Steve's knees.

"If you tell me to stay, I will."

"Eddie-"

"No. Please. Tell me to stay. I don't want to go back and I need you to tell me to stay. Even if you never talk to me again, I need you to be the reason I give the guys when I tell them I can't do it anymore. They'll understand if it's you. They always knew it would be you."

"Stay. You need to stay."

Eddie sobbed as he dropped his head down, resting his forehead against Steve's knee.

Steve placed a hand on the back of his head, biting back a sob as Eddie's hands squeezed his legs.

Steve couldn't do this right now, he didn't think Eddie could either. Emotions were too high, Dustin was in the room down the hall, and Steve knew there would be yelling, and crying, and words said that might lead to regret.

But it was something to have Eddie here, something to have him begging for Steve to be the one to tell him to stay, something to know that Eddie missed him the way Steve missed them.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon #drabble #dustin henderson #angst with a hopeful ending #this got long #oops

167 notes · View notes

infinitethree · 29 days

Text

With the immediate crisis mostly resolved– bar the more long-term issue of what to do about Innit, of course– that means Aster can fucking breathe.

Sure, Daz…pretty much hates him right now. And Theo and Day are a little pissed at him too, even if they largely agree that his actions were for the greater good.

But the immediate issue of Daz trying to off himself has been stopped, and the bastard is being forced to deal with some of his shit.

What had been a fairly pleasant morning in his kitchen with frozen pancakes, sausage, eggs, and a protein drink has been hijacked, though. Aster can feel the fucking Observers present, and given the lack of questions…

He’s about to learn some horrible new information about Daz. Information that will only increase the burden on Aster’s shoulders and Daz’s fury towards him.

Right on cue, his everything his hijacked to show–

Huh. It’s…the Christmas celebration-gala-thing.

Except that, uh, it’s not one he recognizes. Usually they kind of blend together, and Aster doesn’t often stay that long, but he would definitely remember this happening.

…Because he’s watching himself dancing with Daz.

No, he realizes. Not just dancing– they’re wearing matching suits.

This doesn’t seem to be one of the times when he’s in Daz’s head, thankfully, and he has some limited range of movement. He floats down closer to try and get a better look at himself and the bastard.

Both of them seem happy. Maybe more than happy; they look like they’re entirely engrossed in each other.

Weird!

“I can’t take my eyes off of you,” Daz murmurs, tone warm and fond in a way Aster has never heard before. “That’s my line,” other-Aster chuckles, his smile growing.

Daz tells him, “I don’t get to make stuff like this often; it’s nice seeing you in something so nice. I can tell you think it doesn’t suit you. You’re wrong, though.”

Wait wait wait– he made that? So then they’re dating? Is this the future, and they date? Date and get serious enough that Daz claims him?!

“You shine just as brightly as your namesake on the inside. I’ve only put that awe-inspiring sight where everyone else can see it too,” Daz tells other-Aster.

…Despite having no interest in this sort of thing, Aster can’t help but feel a little flustered by that. Shit, this bastard is smoother than he ever thought possible. If Daz showed any interest in romance, he’d have a string of broken hearts trailing after him.

When other-Aster just seems awed, Daz laughs softly and leans in. “Was that too poetic? Sorry, let me be blunter. I was able to dive down and see what your soul truly looks like. This is inspired by what I saw. Even with code tinkering, it pales in comparison to the real thing.”

And then, just to make it absolutely clear what kind of relationship they have, Daz drips other-Aster backwards into a long, deep kiss.

Other-Aster, far from fighting it, just slides his arms up around Daz’s neck.

Once the kiss finally breaks, Daz’s stare bores into other-Aster’s. “You stole my heart, but I can’t even be mad about it. Nothing in my life has ever been as good as you. Your devotion is the balm against the long, lonely, miserable years that led me here. With you at my side, I could take on gods. Without you, I have less than nothing. My deepest, most fervent fantasy is the one you already know; to die peacefully of old age in my sleep alongside you. Neither of us leaving the other, instead simply refusing to accept even a moment being so far apart. To the point of madness; to the point of ruin– I love you.” It looks like other-Aster is tearing up a little as he eventually croaks, “It’s a shame we’re already married. That’d be a hell of a marriage proposal.”

Aster’s not-entirely-existent eyes go wide as he realizes that they’re both wearing fancy netherite ear cuffs; stars-themed with basalt for Daz, dark shiny stones and swirls for other-Aster.

And then he’s sent somewhere else.

A wedding– their wedding?

He’s left reeling as he watches Day walk other-Aster down the aisle and–

Innit is there. Innit is not just there, Innit is handing Daz off to other-Aster.

Whatever the vows are, Aster doesn’t process them. He’s too busy freaking out about Innit being actively present in Sanctuary, and how nobody seems to be batting an eye.

Abruptly, Aster finds himself back home and staring down at his food.

That’s definitely not anything that’s happened so far, so–

In the future, he and Daz get married. And Innit gets a body…but is chill enough to be able to give Daz away at the wedding?

He’s pretty sure that if he could have heard Daz’s thoughts for that, it would have been just…love. It was so blatant on his face, and in the stupidly romantic gesture of making and wearing a representation of Aster’s soul.

It almost makes sense, in a weird way. Isn’t there a whole trope about people who hate each other hooking up? It’s just flipping from one side of an axis of strong emotion to the other.

On the other hand, though, it’s still him and Daz. The two of them barely tolerated each other before all of the current events, and now Daz actively hates him.

In what fucking world do they get past that and start dating– let alone get married?

…Wait a fucking second.

Is this a hint? Is this, like– what he’s meant to do, to get Daz to a more stable place? Pretend to fall for him, and make Daz love him?

Holy shit, he’s really not sure if he’s comfortable pretending to love Daz in order to anchor him in reality. No matter how much a little part of him points out that other-Aster seemed pretty damn thrilled to be with him, it’s still super fucked up.

Also, y’know, if Daz ever realized the truth, it would be crushing. It could do so much more harm than good.

Then why did other-Aster do it, then? What did he learn that made him decide to either pretend to fall for him or actually fall for him?

For once, he wishes he could have seen more.

#long post #chronotag #shiningaster #dazzlingvoid #if it wasn't obvious; Aster is completely unaware he's seeing an alternate timeline #this one is Sorrow's Ultimatum!! in which Aster ends up stuck in Daz's reality and mourning him for three years after falling for him #except that Daz has been dead. as hinted at by the word 'mourning'.#but he wakes up years in the past back in Sanctuary and decides that He's Not Losing Daz Again #he drags Daz kicking and screaming into a healthy and loving relationship. and by that I mean he blackmails Daz into dating him #this is somehow a good thing because Daz is DAZ and wouldn't attempt it otherwise regardless of interest #Sorrow is a delight and this Aster (Lumen) is Pretty Traumatized but mostly Incredibly In Love. Daz (Nova) has NO IDEA how to handle that.#for now tho mainline Aster is gonna assume this is what's going to happen SOMEHOW. and be very confused #like also relieved it's not soul-crushing shit again #but very '???? how the fuck does that happen'

2 notes · View notes

channwie · 8 months

Text

𓍯 HE’S MY BOYFRIEND ! ⋆ DRACULE MIHAWK ─ ⋆

how to escape unwanted attention? point at a stranger and say he’s your boyfriend !

no wc ⋆ fem!reader ˖ fluff n humor ⋆ notes ˖ i’d be scared of mihawk too tbh

“Need another, honey?”

You nod bashfully, sliding your empty glass across the counter to Makino, and she laughs over the loud singing in the pub. “Must’ve been a rough day then.”

Partys Bar is a little slow today, except for the incoming group of Shanks and the rest of his ragtag crew. You, however, find pleasure rather than discomfort in their off-key singing for tonight. Your friends, not that you’d ever call them that to their face, had a way with setting the ambience in this little old town.

“Oh, you have no idea.” You shake your head at Makino who stalks off to get you another pint of beer from the special barrel in the back. ‘Don’t tell Shanks n’ em.’ she’d always say. Afterall, you were her favorite customer, visiting occasionally during your lunch break or after a perilous night shift like this one.

When Makino returns with your beer, Yasopp is the first to steal the drink from your hands before you take a swig. “Hey— c’mon!”

“That’s not how you treat a lady.” Shanks, bellowing a fit of laughter, swipes the drink from Yasopp just as he tightens his fist around the handle. And just as you’re about to thank your hopeless red haired friend for returning your drink from your other hopeless fiend of a friend, he turns the glass to his head, gulping down at least half of your pint of beer.

“Shanks!” You, Makino and Yasopp scream in unison.

He hiccups and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “Wanna dance, or?”

Half a pint later, you’re excusing yourself from a mini crowd of bar goers and the world’s dumbest pirates, throat a little hoarse from singing along to some song Shanks made up a few minutes ago, rocking to the beat and laughing with tears wetting the corner of your eyes.

With a harsh inhale, you wipe a trickle of sweat from your brow as you make your way to a vacant corner to get some air, having exhausted all your energy.

“Shanks, get off my table!” Makino screams over the singing and you chuckle, taking a seat as you watch the antics from afar, a hand propped against your jaw with a dopey little smile.

“You one of the Red Haired’s girls?”

You turn your head to the source of the question, eyebrow raised. A man, who you assume is just a bar patron, hair soiled and grinning, leans against the window a few feet away from you.

One of the Red Haired’s girls?

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles, and shakes his head, which you assume is his washed up version of an apology for being so crass. “Just sayin’, don’t want no pirate tryna kick my ass over ya.”

“I’m not anyone’s property.” You quip, bored. He’s got some nerve, you think.

Despite this, he pushes himself off the wall and walks over to where you’re seated.

“You’ve got a smart mouth on ya.” He says, and you glance to the side for a moment, immediately perturbed.

“I like that. Think I could put it to use?” He grins at you, and you think you’ll just stand up and punch him yourself. You roll your eyes and push your seat back to stand up—

“I have a boyfriend, sorry for the inconvenience.”

You look at the man up and down and inwardly gag. He doesn’t seem to get the memo though as he remains planted in front of you, practically refusing to move out of your way.

“Boyfriend? I don’t see him anywhere.”

He almost wants to laugh at you. A pretty girl like you with no boyfriend?

You panic. Immediately you take a look around. Shanks and the Red Haired’s are still partying up a storm. You don’t see Makino behind the counter.

“My boyfriend’s over there.” You blurt out, outstretching an arm, index finger pointing accusingly into the mini crowd to your left, out of your field of vision. “Oh really?” The man scoffs, turning his head in the direction of your finger.

You don’t know why, but the man’s mouth falls agape.

“Uh huh.” You reaffirm, standing tall. Whatever it was, it was working. “And he’s got a temper on him too, so I suggest you—”

“That’s not your boyfriend.” He grabs at your wrist, calling your bluff and your index folds into your fist. You’re going to kick his ass yourself then. “Now be a doll and—”

“Are you stupid?” A voice echoes behind you.

The man in front of you looks over your shoulder at the intrusion, and his eyes squint to slits to make out whoever just spoke in the dark. “The fuck did you just say to me?”

“I asked if you were stupid.” The man who interrupted steps between you and the other man. His height obstructs your view of anything in front of him. “But clearly you’re deaf too.”

A white East Blue dress shirt, long sleeved, unbuttoned. You can see his shoulder blades flex in the dim light if you squint just right. From here, you think he’s impossibly structured.

Who even is this guy?

“She your girl or somethin’?” The scum steps up, yanking away his grip on your wrist. The force of it almost sends you flying into him.

“So you are deaf.” Moonlight streams through the window, and you catch a glimpse of yellow, almost tinged vermillion eyes narrowing. “Choose your next words—” He speaks, head tilted to the side almost mockingly, and though it’s your assailant on the receiving end, you feel your knees almost buckle. "—very carefully."

“Y-You're—” The man’s eyes go wide and he’s already scrambling back on shaky legs, sputtering unintelligible apologies. “My bad, I didn’t— ain’t know she was your girl, man.”

“Leave.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

A breath of silence sits once the creep is gone, and the man who came to your rescue stalks forward to walk away, his job complete. But you stop him.

“Thankyou—” you blurt out, and he stops mid-walk, as if he knows you have more you want to say. “Sorry about roping you into that silly little lie…” your words trail off, hesitant.

Why are you so nervous?

“You shouldn’t apologize for scum like him.” He says, back still turned to you.

God, you wish he’d turn around.

“Your wrist—” he begins, turning his head to look over his shoulder at you, and you freeze. “How is it?” His gaze feels like it’s cutting you in half.

You take a small step forward, considerable space between you both. “I’ll live.” You say, rotating your wrist a few times for him to see, a shy smile reaching your lips. “Who–”

“Does it matter—" He finishes, answering your question before you even get the chance to ask. If even possible, your curiosity grows. "—who I am?"

“You kind of helped me out of a rough spot there.” You reason, and he shakes his head.

"You didn’t need me.” He replies.

In the dim lighting of the bar you can make out the angle of his jaw, the apex of his throat, and most noticeably, the wide brimmed fedora sitting atop his head, almost elegantly.

“It was a courtesy.” He turns to face you, and despite yourself, you persist.

He gazes down at you, posture straight, gold plated belt held by crimson thread, beard angled in a perfect line, mustache the same. He seems bored, like he’s lived a thousand lives before. You want him to tell you about each one.

“Tell me your name.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat that you can’t hear too well from here. “Don’t people ask for things they want?” You assume he found you funny. The thought of a man like him laughing makes your stomach do a flip.

“Can’t I want to know your name?” You hum, eyes meeting his. It’s a struggle to meet his gaze. “Don’t do that.” He urges, eyes narrowing, as if he’s considering you.

“Do what?”

“Act unassuming. You could’ve easily gotten rid of him yourself.” He says, and you gape at him for a moment, then smile even wider. “And what makes you say that?”

You eye the golden crucifix hung around his neck, the cross rising then hitting his chest softly as he takes a step towards you. “You thought about it. I saw it in your eyes.”

You laugh, just a little bit, and he’s not in any way offended, rather, he’s intrigued by you.

“So you’ll tell me that but not your name?”

“You’re inquisitive.”

“You’re enabling.”

Across the room, Shanks leaps from a table, causing a ruckus, both of you avert your eyes for a moment at the noise. When he looks back, you’re already staring at him. That alone makes him raise an eyebrow at you.

“Why did you help me then?” You ask.

“I told you, it was a courtesy.” He replies, almost as if he’s holding something back. With a grunt beneath his breath, which you assume is a curt farewell, he prepares himself to leave.

But for some reason, he waits.

You look up at him with a childish grin. “What?”

He turns away, almost bashfully, “Mihawk,” he murmurs. “Dracule Mihawk.”

You’re ready to chide him about giving in so easily, but he's already turned to leave.

“Will I see you again sometime, Mihawk?” you ask, and he slows his steps, the softest twitch of a smirk on his lips.

“Maybe, if you need a pretend boyfriend again.”

Oh, you’ll see him again.

BONUS :

"YOU MET MIHAWK??"

“You know him?”

Shanks is folded over a table after listening to your story, drunk off his ass. He can barely talk without hiccuping.

“They're friends of sort…” Yasopp grumbles, slouched on the floor, sobering up slowly.

“That hiccup bitch wants to hiccup kill me!”

5 notes · View notes

thetrishtalgem · 2 years

Text

Whumptober Day 10: Poor Unfortunate Souls

Taser || Whipping || Waterboarding

A year after the disappearance of Emperor Malacode and the Bar Crawlers, Miklan finally makes a breakthrough in the search for his brother.

Tag List: @poetic-leigh-me @writerofscribbles @whumptober-archive

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons (OCs)

It had been almost a year since Emperor Malacode's disappearance.

Things in Rython had quickly fallen to chaos. Empress Taravena and Princess Kalia vanished without a trace as well, leaving no successors to the Imperial throne left. The remaining Barons and Baronesses of the various provinces struggled to keep peace in their own territories. They had tried to maintain an alliance of sorts at first, primarily headed by Baron Ronan of Altrus. But whispers quickly spread of his ties to the rebellion before the chaos, and he was swiftly removed from further council meetings. From there most of the leaders turned back to helping their own citizens. Others had to fight against invaders and pillagers now that the Imperial Army had disbanded. In a lot of ways, it almost seemed that things had gotten worse.

But what Miklan found most concerning were the rumors of what happened to the Bar Crawlers.

Most people assumed that the Bar Crawlers, as the most notable rebel group in the Empire's history, would have taken the opportunity to grab the throne the moment it seemed anything was amiss with the Emperor. But there was a piercing silence from them as well. Rebels across the continent whispered amongst each other about when the group may return. Some thought that they were waiting for the right moment to strike and help bring the people together again. Some believed they had slain Malacode themselves, only to have been killed in the process. Others had long since abandoned hope that they would ever return. Despite the growing likelihood of that rumor being true, Miklan held on to any shred of hope that he could find.

He'd remembered the day that Sylvain told him and their parents that his battles were going to take him into the Hells. Their mother could hardly keep herself together. Their father even had a grim expression on his face. Both of them had pleaded with Sylvain not to go, but all of them knew it was futile. Whenever Sylvain had his mind set on something, he was going to see it through to the end. His end or otherwise. And so Miklan had kept a brave face on despite the worry that gnawed at him like maggots. It only got worse with each day that passed. Miklan watched as his parents grew wearier and wearier with worry. Some days his mother refused to eat or sleep, she was so sick with worry.

But he'd finally had a breakthrough.

He and Arveene had been tracking rumors of a pair of strange travellers. One was a human that was quite the capable mage. He carried a staff that bore the crest of an Archmage of the Grand Archive yet claimed no connection to the organization. Travelling with him was a curious elven man who seemed frightened of everything around him. He didn't speak but for occasional shouts of anger or terror. Instead, he depended completely on the human he travelled with. Miklan and Arveene had offered to trail the pair as some of the rebellion's best remaining scouts. Their investigation and research taught them that the elven man was tall and a bit muscular, with longer orange hair that seemed barely maintained and piercing lavender eyes.

It was too much of a coincidence to be true. But Miklan didn't want to believe it.

Yet it was impossible to deny as he stood before Archmage Marcus Titus of the Grand Archive in tattered and filthy nobleman's clothes. Marcus had nearly jumped out of his skin when Miklan first approached and asked him about the elven man that traveled with him. Marcus had nearly burst into tears as soon as the words left his mouth.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he stuttered. "I would have found you sooner but it was so difficult, since we'd never met before."

Marcus had warned Miklan that he wouldn't be ready for the state that Sylvain was in.

But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

The man standing in front of him certainly shared physicalities with Sylvain. He had the same hair, the same facial structure, the same height. Yet Miklan found himself hardly able to describe the person before him as a person. The man's eyes were sunken and sallow, darting almost everywhere around him. He flinched at nearly everything. His frame was thin, like he was slowly withering away. He stayed hunched over, curling in on himself.

"Syl…?" Miklan's voice was weak.

He took a hesitant step forward and watched in disbelief as the man in front of him recoiled, absolute fear overtaking his expression.

"It's okay, it's okay, Sylvain," Marcus soothed him. "He's not gonna hurt you, okay? He's family. Fa-mi-ly."

"Faah…fah-muh-lee?" Sylvain looked at Marcus.

Marcus nodded, a weary smile on his face. "Yes, Sylvain. Family."

Sylvain looked at Miklan with wide eyes. He slowly turned his head back to Marcus and pointed a single finger at him. Marcus nodded his head.

"Yeah. He's…he's kind of like me," he answered. "He'll help you because he's your brother. He cares about you."

Sylvain turned back to look at Miklan. "Br…bruuuh…bruh…bruh-bruh."

"Sylvain…" Miklan felt like his voice was going to give out.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms slowly around the man standing in front of him. The shell of his brother. Sylvain stiffened for a moment, but then Miklan felt Sylvain wrap his arms awkwardly around the smaller boy. Miklan thought for a while that the tears might never stop. He had wanted so badly for his brother to be okay. To be alive, at the very least.

Now, he wasn't so sure that was for the best anymore.

"Bruh-bruh," Sylvain babbled.

Miklan let out a choked laugh, "Yeah. That's me."

"He had this with him, when I found him," Marcus held out a rolled piece of parchment. "You'll want to read this later."

Miklan nodded his head, taking the paper wordlessly as he held onto his brother for dear life.

…

To whomever reads this:

My name is Sylvain Eldrin Gautier. I am the oldest son of Elaria and Blythe Gautier, older brother to Miklan Gautier, member of the Bar Crawlers, and Champion of Helm.

If you learned this from reading this letter, then it means the rest of my party members are gone.

We were foolish. We didn't know who we were dealing with. In our defense, we thought we were doing the right thing. There seemed to be no other avenue in dealing with the Ruby Rod. It is an artifact of pure evil, and better for the world if it were destroyed. But everyone we turned to said it was impossible to get rid of it. Instead it would need to be sequestered away somewhere that no one could ever be corrupted by it nor tempted by the power it holds. This seemed like the only thing we could do. Perhaps I should start from the beginning.

After we raided the Vault of the Silent Legion and had the Ruby Rod stolen from us, we were contacted by an ancient and evil being. The Sea Devil himself, Marius Bermuda. He wanted us to retrieve the rod for him to store in his vault, away from mortal hands. Such an artifact would not corrupt a being with his alignment the way it had eaten away at Tamriel. He offered us various boons in exchange for this contract. And as collateral, we were to offer him our souls. They weren't to be taken unless we willingly went against his wishes or the contract. My party thought this to be a fair trade. And so I went along with them, under the condition that my memory be used instead of my soul.

I won't know what happened that I am left in this state. All I can say is somehow, someway, we angered a very powerful being. If I am left a shell with no memory, then it means the other Bar Crawlers had their souls taken. They are gone.

I know not what the state of things will be in Rython if we do not return. But I should share what truths I know while I still can.

Baron Ren Gautier was murdered by Bran Cassian and replaced by Leiron Ostoroth for raising a rebel faction of bladesinger wizards. His disdain for the Empire was rewritten as madness, to assure that none follow in his footsteps.

My grandfather, Gael Gautier, was murdered Inquisitor Xera for his involvement in the rebel attack lead by Baron Ren Gautier.

Emperor Malacode is no longer a mortal. He completed some sort of ritual to transform himself to an Arch Devil.

There is a cult known as the Order of the Talon that seeks out the power to overthrow Asmodeus as the ruler of the Hells and destroy the demonic forces of the Abyss to bring the Blood War to an end. Their patron is Emperor Malacode. Whatever happens, he has to be stopped. No words could accurately describe the chaos this world would fall to if that came to pass.

I ask one last favor of whomever is reading this. All I can hope is you take pity on this poor unfortunate soul. Find my family. Tell them what happened to me. What happened to the Bar Crawlers. And tell them I am sorry, beyond comprehension. No words will ever do it justice.

Sincerely,

Sylvain Eldrin Gautier

#whumptober 2022 #no. 10 #poor unfortunate souls #fic #oc #dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e oc #dnd5e #dnd oc #war for rython #wfr

1 note · View note

out-of-context-batfam · 4 years

Text

Detective Comics (2016) #1032

#YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME BRUCE THAT YOU DIDNT KNOW HE WAS IN PAIN #YOUR SON WATCHED ALFRED GET HIS NECK SNAPPED BY BANE RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM AND BLAMED HIMSELF FOR THE DEATH #HE TOLD YOU AS MUCH AT THE BAR WHEN YOU GUYS WERE MEMORIALIZING ALFRED HOW MUCH HE WAS HURTING #YOU REFUSED TO GO AFTER HIM WHEN HE LEFT THE BAR IN TEARS DESPITE BEING HIS FATHER AND NOW YOU ADMIT THIS?!!#AND THE WORST PART IS THAT BRUCE WAS THE ONE WHO SENT DAMIAN INTO GOTHAM SO BRUCE GOT ALFRED KILLED NOT DAMIAN #dc comics #batfam #batfamily #out of context #detective comics #Batman #Bruce Wayne #funny #dammit bruce #worst dad ever #will someone call the child protection agency on Bruce Wayne #he watched Alfred die and blamed himself! of course he is hurting #I hate you so much #THIS MADE ME SO ANGRY I CHANGED THE ORDER OF MY POSTS THIS USUALLY COMES OUT AFTER THIS POSITION

353 notes · View notes

from-the-clouds · 2 years

Text

Thinking of a Place (Part VIII) - Kendall Roy x Reader

gif by @televisionchronicles

Summary: The final chapter.

Words: 5.1k

Warnings: Angst, alcohol consumption, brief mentions/discussions of sex.

A/N: When I tell you that I rewrote this chapter 3 different times, rewrote those rewrites, and then left literally thousands of words on the cutting room floor, I’m not dramatizing. I don’t know why I fought so much with this last part, perhaps because I have invested so much into this story and it's sort of sad to see it come to an end. Also because I couldn't seem to be satisfied with any ending that I wrote -- even this one I'm not fully in love with! But I’ve kept everyone waiting long enough. I really appreciate all the love I've received on this story, I've written for so many other fandoms and despite how small I feel like we are on here, the Succession fandom has by far been the most kind and supportive. I hope you all enjoy this, and who knows, this might not even be the last you see of these two. :)

Of all the places to be angry, this was not one of them. You knew that, looking out the windows at the end of the bar, at the palm trees swaying in the breeze and the waves creeping up along the white sand. An old Eagles song played lowly over the speakers, weaving underneath the chatter of the bar's patrons. The whole environment was manufactured happiness. But it didn’t matter. You were still angry.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that led up to that moment. To you, slumped over a bar at one of the most expensive resorts in Hawaii, wrought with frustration. Continuing to mull it over, to wallow, wasn’t doing you any good – and you knew it.

As you finished off another round of well tequila on the rocks – a drink you were punishing yourself with – a new beverage was placed down in front of you, one you hadn’t even ordered.

“Thanks,” you smiled weakly at the bartender. At least he understood to keep them coming.

“Actually, I’m supposed to tell you that this one’s on the gentleman sitting over there,” he jerked his head towards the other end of the bar.

Eyes nearly rolling back into your head, you refused to look right away. The last thing you wanted was to entertain conversation with some silver-tongued suitor who couldn’t read a room. Wasn’t it obvious to all the other patrons you were upset, that you wanted to be left alone? You’d assumed your sour mood would be deterrent enough on its own, let alone that after a nine hour flight and a tearful argument with the front desk staff you were looking rather haggard.

“Great,” you said sarcastically, but you weren’t in any position to say no to a free drink, taking a swig and welcoming the sting of the liquor. Funnily enough, it never came. Whatever had been ordered for you was an upgrade from whatever cheap brand you’d settled for when you sat down.

The nagging feeling of being watched didn’t let you hold out very long. You would have to give some type of acknowledgement or it wouldn’t go away. Preparing your best bitchy glare, you hoped whoever sent the drink would get the hint that you weren’t in the mood. Maybe it was ungrateful to snub the stranger who bought it for you, but you couldn’t be bothered to feign flirtatiousness at a time like this.

But the glare didn’t make it very far at all, because when you saw the stranger across the bar, you realized he was no stranger at all. Hands clasped together as he leaned over the counter, aviators tucked into the collar of his linen button down, sat Kendall. His mouth was curved into a coy smile, eyes sparkling, and a person at the booth behind him was not-so-subtly trying to take his photo. You wondered if it was because they were simply shocked to see Kendall Roy fratnerizing at a hotel bar, or if it was because he looked so fucking good. Disgustingly good, seemingly better than the last time you’d seen him in person, salt-and-pepper stubble across his jawline, sunkissed along his cheekbones.

Warmth flooded your cheeks at the sight of him, a reaction so automatic that you weren’t even able to save face by feigning annoyance. Not to mention the fact that you knew you looked like shit. Slowly, he rose from his spot and approached you.

“Drowning your sorrows?” he asked, leaning against the bar, and while you badly wanted to play coy, you felt so ashamed of your current state all you could do was shrug bashfully, looking down at the rocks in the bottom of your glass.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Want company?”

You gave a small nod, and tilted your head towards the seat next to you. Kendall sat, taking a sip of what looked to be soda water and lime.

“How are you? It’s been awhile.”

“It has.” He was right, two months had passed since last you’d spoken.

It hadn’t been for nothing, though. Because from the beginning of your fragile reconciliation, you’d been expecting Kendall to fuck you over. It would be a textbook. Grieving the loss of his dad would run its course. In the meantime, you were easy to cling to, something familiar, but disposable – he’d made that much clear time and time again. Eventually he’d find something– someone– better, and you would be left brokenhearted…again.

But after the night of his fathers funeral, Kendall didn’t reach out to you for emotional support like you were expecting. He did still reach out to you though. A handful of times, you’d met up with him for coffee or lunch. The absence of Logan’s malevolent presence in his life seemed a positive change, though that came as no surprise. He divulged to you he’d been seeing a therapist and he was working through the steps of a recovery program – actual healthy outlets for all his trauma.

Not to mention that Kendall’s whole demeanor had changed. It was like he was a different man – you couldn’t help but notice how he stood a little straighter, walked with a little more confidence, smiled more easily. Of course, he still had plenty of demons, and you still saw them slipping in and out of hazel eyes. Even then, it was probably the happiest you’d ever seen him.

Your instinct was still to keep your distance. All your meetups had been civil. Calculated. You didn’t talk about much else besides work, or what you’d been up to lately. And maybe sometimes, you’d reminisce about your days together at Waystar – conveniently avoiding any discussion of all the fighting and feelings. So it was very careful. Kendall was courteous, respectful of your personal space, of your boundaries and your time. After the time you’d spent apart, too, it was clear he moved on. With all the progress he’d made, you didn’t know why that last part was so disappointing. You’d moved on, too. It was for the better, after all.

“How’s Con?”

“Oh, just over the moon,” Kendall said. “His bachelor party is tomorrow. Roman’s planned it.”

“Oh god,” you raised your eyebrows, and snorted despite yourself. You couldn’t imagine what a bachelor party planned by Roman would entail. “Good luck with that.”

Kendall chuckled. “Yeah, I still have no idea what he’s getting us into.”

You’d been shocked to have snagged an invite to Connor and Willa’s wedding. Of the Roy siblings, Connor was the least familiar to you. In fact, of the couple, you were probably closer with Willa than anyone else – you’d spent many a Roy family gathering with her, shivering on a balcony, sharing a joint, and watching the circus from outside through floor to ceiling windows.

“You’re here early,” Kendall observed. “The wedding’s not until the weekend.”

“Yeah,” you answered. “I was hoping to get out of town, take a break for a couple days, work’s been pretty crazy.”

“I seem to recall the last time we were together, you were bragging about how chill it was,” Kendall smirked. His whole body had turned to face you, knees slotted between your own as he rested his elbow on the countertop, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. You had to make a conscious effort not to stare at his hands. “Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise.”

“Ha-ha,” you said sarcastically. “It was. We’re just growing and understaffed. Good problems to have, I suppose.”

“Well, it can’t be as bad as the shitshow at Waystar, right?”

You felt a smile tug along the corners of your lips, feeling suddenly nostalgic. “No, it’s not that bad.”

Kendall grinned along with you. “Do you remember that time when I had to give that presentation, to…oh fuck, I can’t even remember the client’s name…..And in the middle of the presentation my dad called and made us put him on speakerphone so he could tell them to fuck off?”

“Oh god, yeah. That was fucking embarassing,” you said, straightening up, leaning in. “But he had some beef with the CEO, right?”

“Maybe,” Kendall’s face fell slightly. “That was probably just an excuse to fuck me over.”

The clear hurt in his expression nagged at your gut. In the beginning, you’d been so naive when it came to Logan’s abuse. “I think I didn’t sleep for like 48 hours preparing for that pitch. And then it was all for nothing.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I was so fucking pissed,” you raised your eyebrows. “Shit like that was always happening.”

“Uh-huh,” he turned away, and now he was looking at his feet. You took another drink. “Yeah….I still don’t know why you stuck around for so long.”

“Why do you think, Kendall?” scoffing, you looked over at him, knowingly. “I loved you.”

The words slipped out before you could really process what they meant, the truth revealing itself so easily under the spell of alcohol. His head popped up quickly, his eyes were on yours, doing that thing they always did, searching, yearning, trying to find some sort of validation. But you weren’t going to give it to him. Couldn’t. You cleared your throat and spoke again. “Working with you, I mean. I loved working with you. It wasn’t all bad.”

It was a poor recovery, and Kendall nodded like he understood. In the awkward silence that followed, you scolded yourself for the slip-up. Good god, what the fuck is wrong with you? Get a fucking grip, how many things can you fuck up in one day?

“So, work, then? Is that what’s going on?” Kendall looked pointedly towards your half-finished drink and the empties alongside it.

For a moment, you’d forgotten why you were getting drunk at a hotel bar alone. And you couldn’t believe that it was Kendall who had a front row seat to the shitshow. Why did he always seem to show up at the most inconvenient times? And even worse, right now he seemed determined to get an honest answer. Coming into this trip, you had known you were probably going to bump into him, but you imagined that it’d be in much different circumstances.

You hadn’t thought about it much, but maybe it’d be at the wedding, after a few days of decompression from work. You’d be wearing the expensive, new dress you’d bought for the occasion, the one that fit you just right. Okay, actually, you’d apparently been thinking about it alot, but no one needed to know that. You’d be put together, competent, he’d be able to see for himself. Look! I’m fine! Look! I have every beautiful thing anyone could want! Look! What you did hasn’t affected me at all!

It was pointless, fabricated bullshit. And none of it would happen, anyways, because in reality he was here while you were unkempt, dejected, and halfway to blacked out before the bar had stopped serving their brunch menu. Oh, and apparently letting your tongue slip enough to confess old feelings you’d hardly ever acknowledged, not even to yourself.

When Kendall said your name, you realized you’d never even answered his question.

“Uh, yeah,” you shrugged. It wasn’t a lie…well, it kind of was. If you were someone who considered omitting information a lie.

“What is it?” you made the mistake of glancing at him, and his gaze was fixated on you again. Not so brooding, but wide, intent. And pretty….no. That was not helpful.

“Nothing, it’s stupid.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, leaning a little closer, voice soft.

“You’re going to laugh,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’m not going to laugh.”

There was no use in going back and forth all day. You gestured towards the bartender to bring you another round, finishing off the last in your glass before sighing in defeat.

“I uh….I forgot to book a room,” you said flatly. “I mean, I did, or at least, I thought I did. I wanted to come out early and have a few days to myself because work has been so crazy. But apparently it’s been so crazy that it must have slipped my mind. I get here, and the hotel is all booked up, as are all the fucking hotels around here. Now, I’m on one of the most remote islands in the world, and don’t have a place to stay. I’m probably going to have to sleep in the lobby tonight, that is, if they don’t kick me out. So I came here.”

To punctuate the ending of your story, the bartender set your next round down in front of you, and as you reached for it, Kendall caught your hand. “Hey,” he said. “Maybe you should slow down.”

The last thing you were expecting was to have Kendall of all people reprimanding you about substance use. You were in worse shape than you thought. Everything was going to shit. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you entertained the possibility that you were being melodramatic. It was too late to turn back now, though. The anger you’d been feeling shifted to something else entirely, embarrassment surging to the forefront, so strongly that heat was rising up your neck. No, no, no, no, no, don’t cry. Don’t you dare fucking cry.

Because you were now thinking just a little too hard, you were realizing. Maybe this wasn’t melodrama. Maybe this wasn’t about the hotel room, or your wedding date that had ghosted you last minute and showed up Instagram engaged the next day, or the crying baby that had kept you from sleeping a wink on your flight here. It could’ve been a little, but it wasn’t everything. There was more. You’d spent over a year now at a new job, creating a new life for yourself, determined to find happiness after everything you’d known was destroyed, through some fault of your own. You’d worked so hard to build it all, to convince yourself that it was the right path. But you had no other option at that moment than to face the truth. The truth being that after everything you’d worked for, you couldn’t help but feel like something was missing.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” your voice cracked, despite the venom you’d attempted to lace through it. Kendall didn’t miss it, even though he loosened his grip and you reached towards the drink.

“Hey.” his voice was stern, a tone you hadn’t heard from him since your days at Waystar. He wasn’t your boss anymore, but muscle memory kicked in, and you paused, just long enough to look him in the eye. “Trust me, I don’t think this is the solution to your problem.” Voice soft, his thumb ran over the back of your hand. You shivered.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve got a whole villa to myself…and the kids aren’t flying in for a few days. Why don’t you stay in one of the guest bedrooms? The hotel might have some openings in a few days.”

You shook your head. “Ken, I can’t put you out like-”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing. How many fucking times have I put you out? I uh…probably owe you one.”

You snorted. He was right. “You probably do.”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “Then don’t argue.”

“.....Okay,” you agreed hesitantly. This was definitely a bad idea, the worst case scenario you didn’t even consider when it came to options. But you had nothing else. You’d keep your head down, keep to yourself. It’d be fine.

“Okay,” Kendall said. “Let me get the tab, we’ll get you out of here.”

Considerably drunk, you stood, wavering slightly, and Kendall steadied you with an arm around your waist. You couldn’t help but lean into him, and you could’ve sworn on your walk to his suite he was etching soft circles into your hip with his fingers.

The villa was huge. You didn’t know why all that space was necessary for one person. Four bedrooms, four bathrooms, multiple balconies, and a giant back patio with a private pool and spa that overlooked the ocean.

“Feel free to make yourself at home,” Kendall said, hands tucked into his pockets as he leaned against the doorway to what was now your room, seemingly scared to cross the threshold while you put your luggage in the closet and snooped around. You turned to him, away from the floor to ceiling window with an ocean view. “I won’t be around much this afternoon, I told Shiv and Roman I’d meet them for lunch and it sounds like we have to help out Con with some last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “Okay, sounds good.”

“And do me a favor…”

“What?”

“Drink some water.”

“Okay, dad.”

Kendall’s laugh sounded a little pinched, but he stepped away, footsteps retreating down the hallway. Your shoulders sagged in relief once you were finally alone.

After a long nap that lasted a few hours, you woke up somewhere between still tipsy and hungover. Exhausted from the travel, the time change, and the tequila, you gulped down some water, and beelined for the shower, hoping that hot water and the two Advil you popped before getting in would quell the throb between your temples, and your turning stomach.

It was late afternoon now, and the sun would be setting soon. It felt somehow sinful that you hadn’t even stepped on the beach yet, and there was a good chance that a walk with your toes in the sand would clear your mind. After scoring a snack from the fully-stocked fridge, you donned a sundress and sunglasses, and set out.

The water was warm, crystal clear, and you waded ankle deep as you made your way down the secluded shoreline, focusing on nothing but the sound of the waves, the heat of the sun on your exposed skin. It didn’t take long for the problems that earlier had you slumped over a bar to shift into perspective, the tension and stress slinking off your body with each turn of the tide. It wasn’t until the sun began to dip below the horizon you decided to head back.

“Hey.”

You were slinking past the pool on your way to the bedroom when his voice started you. Kendall sat on an oversized lounger that had an impossibly picaresque view of the ocean, and the sunset, thumbing the pages of a book on his lap.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t see you,” you said, sheepishly.

“That’s okay,” he answered. “Are you uh…are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” you offered a stiff smile, laughing it off. “I’m sorry about all that. Guess that’s what nine hours on Spirit Airlines can do to your psyche.”

“Spirit Airlines?” Kendall cocked his head. “Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

“Of course not,” you couldn’t help but giggle at his joke.

“It’s uh, it’s okay, though. To be honest, it was kind of refreshing to not be the one breaking down for once,” he grinned.

“Well, in that case I’m glad I could be of service.”

Kendall laughed, fully this time. “Want to sit?”

“Only if you promise to change the subject,” you weren’t interested in dwelling on what had happened earlier.

“Deal.”

Normally you’d say no, but after your walk, you were convinced that it was a little irrational to be so afraid of him, of spending time with him. Things didn’t feel nearly as natural as they once had, but had they ever been that natural to begin with? You still derived a strange amount of comfort from his presence, even if the anxious part in your brain found that displeasing.

Kendall’s shirt lay open, unbuttoned, most of his torso bare, and a few water droplets clung to his exposed skin, probably from a recent dip in the pool. He looked a fair bit more muscular than you remembered him to be, not that you’d had any issue with how he had looked before. In fact, the issue now was that he seemed to be looking better and better every time you were together. You weren’t sure how long you spent checking him out, but you were thankful for your sunglasses when you finally snapped out of it.

If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, seemingly content, one of his arms slung over the back of the couch. You wished you could feel that, too. With the exception of the odd fling here and there, it’d been awhile since anyone offered you any affection. After the stress of the day, you wondered what it might feel like to rest your head on his lap, to have his fingers running through your hair absentmindedly. Even during your brief time together, you hadn’t really been allowed that sort of domesticity.

“What are you reading?” you asked. He closed the book and shifted over so you could sit next to him, and he showed you the cover.

“Something my NA sponsor recommended. So far, it’s not great.”

“That’s the worst,” you sympathized. “How’s that going, anyways?”

“What, sobriety?”

You nodded.

“Honestly, it uh….it fucking sucks,” Kendall said, then shook his head, offering a short exhale a weak laugh. “I’m kidding…uh, you know…it’s not so bad. Better than where I was before.”

You nodded, leaning against the back of the couch and tucking your legs underneath you. “So when you were at the bar today, it was only to pick up women?” you teased.

Kendall tilted his head, warmth glowing in his eyes. “Just one.”

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it off. “Uh-huh.”

Thankfully, Kendall moved on. “So, are you here alone, then?” he asked. “For the wedding?”

“Yeah,” you said. Your on-again, off-again fuck buddy and go-to wedding date, Ron, had bailed on you last minute. Then, right before boarding your flight, your friend had sent you a photo of him cuddled up with a perfect, blonde model, who was proudly displaying a diamond ring to the camera. It was part-hilarious, part humiliating, since the last time you were over at his apartment, he’d made a big show of gifting you a bottle of your favorite Rye ‘to keep on hand’ for whenever you came over. There had always been an expiration date, you weren’t disappointed it was over, but realizing you were the other woman was unsettling, you felt dirty somehow. “Why?”

Kendall shrugged. “Well, you know….you were at uh, my dad’s funeral with Stewy.”

You frowned. “....And?”

“I don’t know, you just….you seemed….close.” He paused. “I thought maybe….”

It clicked for you. “Oh my god. You’re joking.”

“Uh-huh, look, I uh, I just got a vibe.”

“Oh, you ‘got a vibe’? What kind of ‘vibe’?”

“Forget it. I’m just saying,” Kendall raised his hands. “I’ve known him for awhile, we used to party together in college, and he’s not exactly the most loyal-”

“Oh my god, stop, I already booked the wedding venue, what am I gonna do?” It was laughable. Stewy had texted you after the funeral to apologize for dipping out, and that was the last time you’d heard from him.

“Fuck off,” Kendall’s voice sounded pinched, even though his shoulders had relaxed slightly. “I just had to say it.”

“I appreciate the warning.” Was he….jealous? There was no way. Gerri had already told you a little while back that Kendall had been linked to some former anchor at ATN, and things seemed pretty serious. You had been a little puzzled as to why she thought you should know, and found yourself wishing she would’ve kept it to herself. But this was probably just his guilt talking, some cheap attempt to prove that he actually cared about your well-being, you rationalized.

You had to bite your tongue to keep from pointing out that between himself and Stewy, only one of them had ever broken your heart, and it wasn’t Stewy. But you figured it best to stay quiet. “What about you?” you asked. “I assume you’re here alone?”

Kendall nodded.

“Finding a wedding date,” you mused. “It's way harder than you’d think. I mean, the date part is easy, but actually having a good time with the date is always what gets me.”

“Uh-huh, is that right?”

“Yeah,” you continued. “You’re not only a guest at a party, you’re also playing host for someone. You gotta make sure the date is having a good time with all these people they don’t know. It’s so much effort.”

“You know,” Kendall cocked his head. “You’re making a really good case for us to just go together.”

“Very funny.”

“What? I’m serious,” he said. “It might not be such a bad idea. And uh…lately, I think that you and I, we’ve been really good. Fucking nice and professional. Haven’t we? ”

“Mmm, I guess.”

“I think we’d have fun.”

“Mmmmmmmm,” you wrinkled your nose. “Would we?”

“Come on,” he said your name. “At the very least, we know there’s chemistry.”

“Oh, is there?”

Kendall leaned forward, slightly, and the lounger seemed a lot smaller than it originally had, his face was only inches from yours. “Do you need a reminder? We used to-”

“Yeah, I know,” you cut him off.

“I think about it all the time. Don’t you?” One of his hands settled on your knee. Your skin burned where he touched you.

You bit your lower lip, squirming in your seat, thinking about a few days prior when you’d spent the evening writhing in bed, imagining his head between your thighs. Or the week before, when you’d zoned out during a business meeting, because the only thing ping-ponging around in your brain had been the sound of his voice, low and sultry. Good girl, you look so pretty with your mouth full.

If for nothing else other than spite, you were determined to keep your wits about you. “Maybe, sometimes….” Even if it was difficult to maintain your composure, you closed the space between you even further, your hand on the armrest by his side, across his body. Kendall smelt of sun, of saltwater and cigars, and the cologne he wore that you’d never been able to place, maybe because he wore something different for every occasion, always equally intoxicating. And you were reminded how easy it was to flirt with him, to render him speechless with his breath caught in his throat. His eyes were half closed in anticipation, until you spoke again. “And then I remember that you’re bad news.”

Being cruel hadn’t been your intention. You had only wanted to beat him at his own game. But when you pulled away, the ornery sparkle had left his eyes, and they were vacant. Actually, you might as well have slapped him. He tried to save face, swallowing hard, the fake smile he forced looked more like a grimace, and he shifted away from you and brought his legs closer to his chest, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re probably right, I was uh…just kidding.”

You pulled away too, a little ashamed of yourself. But you decided to pretend you didn’t notice his reaction, for his sake and your own. So you changed the subject. “How was your lunch?”

“It was….good,” Kendall answered, but avoided your gaze. “Shiv and Roman are good. Connor is so happy….which is good, too, I guess.

“I would hope so.”

He didn’t answer, just turned to look at the ocean, and you followed his gaze, the last evidence of the sunset just a fading orange glow on the horizon. After a moment of silence, he laughed to himself, bitterly. “Yeah, fuck, I’m uh….I’m trying to think about the last time I was that excited about someone.”

“Oh yeah? Rava?”

“No.”

You knew what he was saying without him even having to say it, when he pivoted back towards you. The attraction you felt towards him – had always felt towards him, was impossible to deny, especially now, with his features basked in waning sunlight. He really was so handsome, you didn’t want to admit how good it felt to have all of his attention, to know what he was saying without having him say it.

You gave him a weak grin. “I know the feeling.” However short-lived it had been, you just couldn’t bring yourself to lie.

“You’re right, you know?” he answered. “I’m bad. I really fucked it up. I’m sorry.”

“Kendall, don’t-You’ve already apologized. It’s in the past now.”

At that sentence, he looked back at you, sitting up straight, though the forlorn gaze you were used to seeing had returned to his eyes. It was the most tortured you’d seen him since Logan died. “I loved you, too, you know that? I still-” he began, but paused, shook his head. “I hope you know I’d do anything for you, whether you want me or not.”

“It’s okay, Ken.” You frowned, wrapping your arms around yourself in a tight hug. “You don’t have to worry about me, anymore.”

“I want to,” he said your name, and reached up to push a loose piece of hair off your face, thumb lingering on your cheek.

He was so close, getting closer, and you were so aware of the proximity between you both. Warmth bloomed in the pit of your stomach, rose like smoke up your neck and settled in your cheeks. And worse, it was prickling at the corners of your eyes.

Almost as if to demonstrate, Kendall’s palm left your face, and he took your hands gingerly, moving them away from your chest so he could pull you closer to him, an arm around your waist. You couldn’t resist the embrace, letting him tuck your head beneath his chin, body pressed against the sun-kissed skin of his torso.

You stayed like that a moment, listening to the steady thump of his heart, his fingertips grazing up and down your arms, skin tingling in their wake. It wasn’t enough. Pulling away slightly, you spoke. “You’ve always had me,” you said softly.

His mouth curved slightly, and he leaned in, his mouth finally connected with your own. Years worth of pining, of fighting, of misunderstanding and miscommunication all seemed to dissipate in that single press of his lips. It was soft, gentle, and he pulled away slightly at one point, to let his forehead rest against your own, his thumb swiping along your bottom lip, his free hand drawing your body somehow closer.

You’d remember the night for the rest of your life, even just if it was in snippets, his mouth on the inside of your thighs, how full, complete you felt when he finally gave himself over to you, the sweet nothings he whispered when you came undone beneath him. And you’d always remember afterward, as you laid in his arms, mapping out constellations in the sky stretched above you, how it felt like everything had finally clicked into place.

#kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #succession #succession writing #kendall roy x you #succession fanfiction #ken x reader alliance please rise #i wanted to write smut for this part but i just wasnt feeling it #maybe at some point i will go back and write their makeup smut in more detail

305 notes · View notes

bing-bang-bingo · 4 years

Text

- 4x3: c. 40:00 Cas comforts Dean after Mary makes a deal w/ Azazel

- 4x7: 15:50 Dean stops Sam from shooting Cas, then Sam mentions that he’s “heard a lot about him”

- 4x7: 39:00 Cas tells Dean he prayed he’d save the town, then he tells him about his doubts and Deans future troubles

- 4x10 & ???: Dean calls “last night on Earth” his best line. He uses this line on Cas

- 4x10: 27:15 “Castiel has this weakness. He likes you.”

- 4x10: 32:50 Cas looking jealous and sad when Dean kisses Anna

- 4x16: 7:30 Cas tells Dean he got in trouble for showing emotion and getting to close to Dean. 8:20 “I would give anything not to have you do this”

- 4x16: 39:00 Cas warns Dean to be careful while Dean is in the hospital, they discuss the first seal and saving Dean from hell

- 4x18: 31:30 Cas tells Dean how to save Sam from Lilith even though he’s not allowed to interfere

- 4x20: 38:00 Deans face when Cas tells him he “learned his lesson when he was in heaven”

- 4x22: 30:40 Cas considers rebelling for Dean. 33:00 He does. 35:20 He fights multiple Archangels for Dean

- 5x1: 5:45 Dean denies Cas’ death 8:25 “I learned that from my friend Cas you son of a bitch”

- 5x1: 31:00 Cas saves Sam and Dean from Zach

- 5x3: 6:10 Cas-“I need your help because your the only one who will help me”

- 5x3: 10:20 Dean fixes Cas’ tie and jacket

- 5x4: 38:50 “Don’t Ever Change”

- 5x8: 38:20 Dean makes Gabriel bring Cas back, then makes sure he’s okay

- 5x13: ?:?? Cas won’t let Dean meet with Anna because it’s not safe

- 5x17: 30:30 Cas and Dean discuss what it’s like to have a deadbeat dad

- 5x18: 25:15 Cas kicks Deans ass for trying to sacrifice himself

- 5x21: 3:50 Cas and Dean bickering like and old married couple then Cas gives Dean a heartfelt apology.

- 6x17: 18:55 “No you’re confusing me with the other angel, the one in the dirty trench coat who is in love with you.”

- 6x17: 38:00 Sam: “So you killed 50,000 people for us?” Cas: *looks at Dean*

- 6x19: 25:20 Bobby reassures Cas that they’ll be back soon, Cas acts like a worried and disappointed wife.

- 6x19: 36:25 Cas yelling “Dean!” when Eve bites him

- 6x19: 40:00 Dean is the only one who doesn’t think Cas is working with Crowley (he’s wrong but it’s sweet)

- 6x20: 4:50 Dean v v worried, “But Cas you’ll call right? If you get into real trouble?”

- 6:30 Crowley implies that Cas is distracted by Dean and tells him he reeks of the Impala.

- 7:20 Cas says that Dean taught him how to care and what to care about. Then Cas saves Sam (for Dean)

- 13:15 Cas says that the worst part of working with Crowley (basically his sworn natural enemy) is that it hurt Dean and that he hated lying to him.

- 25:20 Cas refuses to ask Dean for help because he has “sacrificed too much” even though it means Cas could die.

- 26:00 Crowley tells Cas he has a way for everyone to get a happy ending “with all possible entendres intended” while Cas stares longingly at Dean.

- 33:00 Dean is close to tears when he learns that Cas is working with Crowley, Cas says he did it to protect Dean.

- 35:25 “Dammit Cas we can fix this!” “Dean it’s not broken!” He then tells the boys to run from the demon cloud and Dean gives him the saddest look in the world before being forced to leave him behind.

- 38:00 Cas watches Dean sleep. “I’m doing this for you Dean. I’m doing this because of you!”

- 6x21: 22:40 “I do everything you ask. I always come when you call and I am your friend. Still despite your lack of faith in me and now your threats I’ve just saved you yet again. Has anyone but your closest kin ever done more for you?”

- 6x22: Dean to Cas- “Don’t make me lose you, too.”

- 7x2: 5:35 Dean nearly cries on screen when he thinks Cas is dead

- 7x17: Cas says “I remember ~you~” as soon as he regains his memories.

- 7x17: Cas ask why Dean didn’t tell him all the horrible things Cas did. Parallels the conversation Karen and Dean had about telling Bobby she remembered him killing her and her telling Dean that he had never been on love before.

- 7x21: The face Dean makes when he sees Cas again plus the prolonged eye contact when Cas says Deans name.

- 7x21: Hester telling Dean that when Cas first saved him from Hell he was lost- parallels- Lucifer/Jess saying she was dead the moment she met Sam.

- 7x23: 8:50 “Go ask him. He was your boyfriend first.” Meg to Dean about Cas

- 7x23: 32:45 “I’m sorry but I’d rather have you, cursed or not.”

- 7x23: 36:50 Cas steps in to protect Dean despite spending the whole season avoiding fighting and saying he won’t fight.

- 8x2: 25:00 Cas ran away to keep the Leviathans away from Dean. Dean refuses to leave purgatory without Cas.

- 8x7: 20:30 Deans reaction to seeing Cas all cleaned up.

- 8x7: Dean convinced himself that it was his fault Cas was still in purgatory because he’s a sweet idiot boy who hates himself

- 8x7: 35:00 The whole Dean and Cas conversation about purgatory and Cas doing stuff that puts him in danger.

- 8x8: 12:30 Cas just casually going through Deans stuff and Dean not saying anything.

- 8x8: 13:00 Cas offering to watch over Dean while he slept

- 8x8: 15:15 Dean talks to Cas about feelings and heaven even though Dean hates talking about feelings.

- 8x17: Cas fights Naomi’s mind control for Dean

- 8x23: 22:50 Dean and Cas sadly discuss Cas closing the doors of heaven and say goodbye

- 9x1: Dean prays to Cas and tells him he isn’t mad about the angels falling.

- 9x1: Cas’ first instinct is to explain himself to Dean then to come help him.

- 9x1: Dean begs Cas to “for once, look out for yourself.”

- 9x3: 36:45 Dean to Cas after Cas came back from the dead “Don’t you ever do that again!”

- 9x6: Literally just Dean trying desperately the whole episode to hang out with Cas

- 9x10: 26:00 Dean and Cas talk about how Cas is doing and Dean offers him a rare sincere apology. Plus the “I prefer the term ‘trusting’. Less dumb, less ass.” dialogue

- 9x18: Cas’ little smile when Dean makes a joke about Honor Bars and Cas is just so happy to hear his voice.

- 9x18: Metatron’s illusion of Gabriel calls Cas Dean’s boy-toy

- 9x18: Cas can tell something is wrong with Dean, then Cas yells at Dean about getting the Mark of Cain

- 9x22: Cas chooses Dean over all of Heaven once again

- 9x22: The Cas and Dean conversation about the three of them being enough when an army wasn’t and Cas giving up an army all for Dean

- 9x23: “I’m blaming you for taking Cas’ grace.”

- 10x1: 5:00 Cas about Dean- “I miss him.”

- 10x2: 9:00 Cas’ reaction to learning that Dean is a demon

- 10x3: The conversation between Dean and Cas at the end of the episode. “You look terrible” “You on the other hand, your looking good.”

- 10x5: Deans reaction to Cas and Dean actors hugging and holding hands

- 10x5: “Put as much sub into that text as you possibly can.” *looks directly at fake Cas*

- 10x9: 15:00 Cas tells Dean he’s a good role model. Then asks him if he’s okay and when Dean lies and says he is he pushes it further. Dean makes Cas promise to kill him if he goes Dark

- 10x22: Dean and Cas fight and parallel Cain and his Wife.

- 10x23: Dean sees Cas’ bloody face in the mirror

- 11x1: Cas being more worried about Dean than himself even though Cas is under a spell that will kill him.

- 11x2: Dean calling Cas and stressing out when he doesn’t answer

- 11x3: Dean trying to coax Cas out of the attack dog spell, refusing to fight back when Cas was attacking, freaking out when Cas took a minute to wake up, refusing to let Cas heal him (because he “had it coming”), and refusing to let Cas apologize (because “there’s nothing to apologize for”).

- 11x10: “Dean, I came as soon as you called.” Also: “Stick your tongue out.” Dean-*does*

- 11x11: Dean realizing that something is wrong with Cas (while he is possessed by Lucifer)

- 11x11: Mildred says that Dean is pining for someone else(probably meant to be a reference to Amara, but she told him this after he had seen Cas for the first time in a few days.)

- 11x14: The sadness on Deans face when he realizes Cas is Lucifer and then his determination to save Cas

- 11x15: Dean getting kinda dark when he talks about what he’s willing to do to save Cas and he prioritizes saving Cas over bearing Amara.

- 11x17: Dean once again prioritizing saving Cas over saving the world. Sam reassuring Dean that they’ll save Cas (even though Dean didn’t say anything about what was upsetting him)

- 11x17: The camera zooming in on Dean after Michelle says that there is no normal after losing the man you love.

- 11x18: Dean refuses to put Lucifer in the cage or let him fight Amara while using Cas as his vessel.

- 11x18: The difference in the way Dean looks at Lucifer vs at Cas

- 11x18: Dean about Cas: “Lets go find that idiot and bring him home.”

- 11x19: Dean has been looking for leads non stop for a week since Amara took Cas

- 11x21: Amara uses Cas’s heart to find Dean, then shows Dean images of Cas beaten and bloodied to convince him to turn against Chuck

- 11x23: Dean’s face when he realizes Cas is back and Lucifer is gone.

- 11x23: Dean tells Cas he isn’t stupid and that he always helps

- 11x23: Cas: “Dean are you okay? How do you feel?”

- 11x23: Cas hugging Dean super tight before he goes off to die. Dean entrusting his life’s purpose (look after Sam) then thanking him for everything.

- 12x1: Cas seeing that Dean is alive and hugging him while his voice breaks.

- 12x1: Cas taking the job Dean have him very seriously

- 12x2: Dean adorably venting to Cas about his mommy-issues

- 12x3: Dean- “Morning sunshine want some coffee.” Cas- “No thank you.”

- 12x7: “Well at least I don’t look like a lumberjack.” They are such husbands

- 12x7: “Engaged in what Cas? killing you?”

- 12x8: Cas being so worried about what happened to Sam and DEAN that Kelly escaped.

- 12x9: Mary-“You left them!” Cas- *voice breaking* “Dean told me to go!” Also, just Cas looking so hard for them.

- 12x9: Cas blaming himself for Sam and Dean being taken

- 12x9 Cas knowing how long the boys have been gone down to the hour.

- 12x9: Cas’s voice and eyes when he hears Dean’s voice on the phone.

- 12x9: Cas killing Billie because “You mean too much to me” and “The world needs as many Winchesters as it can get.”

- 12x10: Poor Sam having to deal with Cas and Dean while they fight like an old married couple.

- 12x10: Dean immediately telling Ishim to go to hell when he insults Cas

- 12x10: Sam telling Dean to go to Cas when Dean thought Cas was in trouble

- 12x10: Cas immediately believing Dean about Ishim even though they’re mad at each other. Dean about to let Ishim kill him to save Cas.

- 12x10: Ishim comparing Dean and Cas’s relationship to Ishims relationship with his human lover, then saying he was going to cut Cas’s human weakness

- 12x11: “And Cas is my best friend.”

- 12x12: Dean about Cas- “My shy but devastatingly handsome friend here...”

- 12x12: Dean stressing out and voice breaking as he tries to comfort poisoned Cas

- 12x12: LITERALLY TOLD DEAN THAT HE LOVED HIM WHILE CAS WAS DYING

- 12x12: *looking at Dean* “I love you.” Then adds “I love all of you”

- 12x12: Cas- “Run.” Dean- “Cas, no.”

- 12x12: The look Dean gives Cas when he won’t stop staring at him after he’s healed.

- 12x14: Dean says some very harsh stuff to Mary after finding out the reason they Cas almost died at the lake house was because Mary was working for the British Men of Letters

- 12x15: Dean could tell something was up with Cas after talking to him for less than a minute, over the phone.

- 12x18: Sam trying to make Dean feel better about not hearing from Cas.

- 12x19: Dean literally always acting like a scorned wife when Cas comes back after long periods of time

- 12x19: Dean made Cas a mixtape

- 12x19: Cas- “I ~needed~ to came back here with a win for you.”

- 12x19: Cas- *gesturing between Dean and himself* “You mean... we?” Dean- “Yes, dumbass, we.”

- 12x23: Dean screaming for Cas when he attacks Lucifer and trying to chase after him forcing Sam to drag Dean back through the rift. A direct parallel to Dean pulling Sam away from Jess and the fire in Pilot

- 12x23: Dean kneeling next to Cas’s dead body looking up at the sky completely devastated.

- 13x1: Dean couldn’t bring himself to say dead when referring to Cas

- 13x1: Dean PRAYED to GOD to bring Cas back

- 13x1: “We just lost ~everything~. And now you’re gonna bring ~him~ back.”

- 13x1: Dean personally wrapping Cas’s body and giving him a hunters funeral.

- 13x1: The look of complete devastation on Dean’s face when he burns Cas’s body.

- 13x3: Dean refusing to help save Jack because he blames him for manipulating Cas and getting him killed.

- 13x4: The Empty to Cas: “I know what you love, what you fear. There is nothing for you back there.” He loves Dean and Cas fears that Dean doesn’t love him back.

- 13x5: Sam being worried about Dean who has given up all hope since Cas died.

- 13x5: Dean being so distressed thinking Cas is gone forever that he tries to kill himself

- 13x5: Dean seeing Cas alive again and they both have tears in their eyes.

- 13x6: Dean hugging Cas and saying he’s been gone for “too damn long”

- 13x6: Dean being immediately happier and nicer to everyone once Cas is back

- 13x6: Cas saying “Yes. Yes, he does” (in response to Jack saying Dean really likes cowboys) with the tone of an exhausted spouse.

- 13x6: “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper. Like a bear.”

- 13x6: Dean made Cas watch Tombstone with him.

- 13x6: Dean and Cas dresses like cowboy husbands.

- 13x6: Cas saying “I’m your huckleberry” to Dean in a deep accent and Dean looking away.

- 13x6: Their undercover names are Russel and Kilmer

- 13x14: The whole scene where Cas and Dean fight Gog/Magog and act like an old married couple.

- 13x14: The angry, dark look Cas gives Donatello when he tries to kill Dean

- 13x16: “Dean has him by the thigh!” Cas, jealously: “He ~what~?”

- 13x16: “and that includes the Cartwright twins.” Cas, again jealously: “what did you do with the Cartwright twins?”

- 13x19: Cas angrily confronting Naomi about forcing him to kill a bunch of Dean clones.

- 13x21: Cas secretly sliding Dean more pizza when Mary and Sam left the room.

- 13x21: Cas having to hold Dean back from going after Sam. Dean would have beat the shit out of anyone else who tried to stop him.

- 13x23: Cas trying to stop Dean from giving himself to Michael even if it meant losing Sam AND Jack

- 13x23: Cas sitting alone in the bum jet with tears in his eyes after Dean left

- 14x1: Demon: “How is it you lost Dean. I thought you two were joined at the... everything.”

- 14x1: Dean trying to save Cas from Lucifer then vs Cas trying to save Dean from Michael now

- 14x3: The look that Dean and Cas give each other when Dean comes home.

- 14x9: Cas almost being happy seeing Dean happy. And then having to force himself to not be happy so he doesn’t die.

- 14x12: Cas being phased at Dean for wanting to put himself in the box with Michael forever

- 14x14: Cas is the only Dean will let talk to him about Michael and be honest about how Dean feels

- 14x14: “No, it’s on us.”

- 14x14: Cas’s voice breaking when he talks about the possibility of Dean dying one day.

- 14x18: The pure self loathing in Cas’s eyes when he feels like he failed Dean by not telling him about Jack’s soul.

- 15x2: “You asked ‘what about all of this is real?’ We are.” THE MOST ROMANTIC LINE EVER. (Plus later Eileen and Sam have the same conversation but they get to kiss because homophobia)

- 15x9- 20:00 Dean said that they lost everyone they cared about, then added Cas specifically. Then he says “I had to bury him” not “we”

- 15x9- 23:00 Dean cries when he can’t find Cas. Then he prays to him and apologizes for letting him go. He falls to his knees praying to him and fully crying

- 15x12: “I created the world.” *shows Destiel*

- 15x15: This time when Dean sees Cas leaving the bunker, he stops him. (In reference to Cas saying “you didn’t stop me” when Dean got mad at him for leaving)

- 15x16: This is the the only version of Cas that rebelled for Dean. This universe is literally being saved repeatedly because of Cas’s love for Dean

- 15x18: CAS CONFESSES HIS LOVE TO DEAN then goes to mega hell for being gay

Anyway, Cas loves Dean and Dean LOVES HIM BACK, OKAY?!?!? Feel free to add more

8K notes · View notes

puffpasstea · 2 years

Note

https://at.tumblr.com/puffpasstea/whats-the-harshest-punishment-hes-ever-given/hy0k28voln5j

Can u make a blurb about the emotional one

Sure! Sorry if this isn’t my best work. Still feeling like crap but trying to get myself out of the funk by writing.

——

It had been a long night for both of them, though they felt differently about it.

For Harry, the night had started with him in a near blind rage. He’d watched her reckless behavior at the bar, itching to do something about it but wanting to allow her to make her own decisions. As time went on, however, he felt that her own decisions were thoughtless and dangerous. Leaving her drink out like that for any creep to slip something into, letting men walk all over her, entertaining any douche with a smile who wouldn’t let her even get a word in. He hated sitting idly and just let people do whatever they wanted to her. Most importantly, he hated that she just let them. Even after he’d lectured her countless times about how she ought to look out for herself. By the time they got home, his dom side had kicked in. He was ready to teach her a lesson about good girl behavior.

He was sure she’d have a different recap of the night. From her view, she was just being polite to an overly pushy acquaintance who was in a really chatty mood who asked questions without giving her room to even respond and she just couldn’t say anything in the moment.

Regardless of the exact context, in Harry’s eyes, she’d broken his rules and put herself in an unsafe position. While in her eyes, Harry was being stubborn and refusing to hear her out.

That’s how they’d found themselves in their current state. Harry’s hands having left her marked up all over, edging and denying her any release, then flipped her over so she was laying on the bed, face down and ass up.

She’d started feeling floaty and tingly a while ago, reaching her trembling hands out and begging for Harry to hold them, but he’d only swatted her hands away telling her to keep them pinned by her sides instead. She was desperate for any crack in his dominant exterior. Maybe a smile, a praise, or word of encouragement to let her know that he’s no longer angry with her, but her kept his emotional distance all night despite her best efforts. She’d tried acting bratty, remorseful, cute, flirty, none of it worked. The longer his silent rage went on, the worse she felt.

Harry finally took off his boxers, letting them drop into a pool at his ankles, and then stepping out of them. He promptly lined himself up with her very wet, very sensitive cunt, and thrust in without warning. Her hips swayed and nearly collapsed as she jolted in surprise at his touch, but he quickly steadied her with his hands and grabbed onto her sides for more control. She made no attempt at fighting or resisting, though she felt sensitive all over and wished she could crawl away instantly. She’d made up her mind that she was going to be on her best behavior.

It was clear Harry was nearing his release when his movements became faster and less deliberate. The memory of earlier tonight flooding his mind, reminding him why he’s determined to be so harsh with her. “Fucking bar girl. Do I have to keep doing this? Hmm? Do you always need to be punished every other day just to stay in line? You’ll risk your own safety to get my attention?”

The words “bad girl” pierced through her ears making her squeeze her eyes shut as tears rolled down her face and onto the duvet. She would hear him lecturing her, and in her mind, she deserved every bit of it, except that every time he used the word “bad” she felt a pang of guilt course through her heart and she cried harder, reaching, again for his hand, wanting to coax the tenderness out of him and remind him that she’s his. But he only rolled his eyes and told her to stop being a child and take her punishment like a big girl.

#ask #dom!harry #harry styles blurb

48 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

His + Hers

Summary | You didn’t want a bodyguard and certainly didn’t need one. Bucky didn’t want the job. But as soon as the two of you meet, all bets are off.

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4.2k

Warnings | language (including light degradation, possessive!Bucky, smut (oral - f receiving, piv) - minors dni or you will be blocked

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” rolled eyes and loudly snapped gum. Crossed legs and an anxiously jiggling foot. The aging clock ticked loudly as your gaze burned into the giant dual monitors that shielded the man on the other side. He had just oh so casually dropped some horrible news to you.

What was his name? Jeff? Jeffrey? Jefferson? It didn’t matter. Funny. For a man that you’d seen more often than your father in recent years, you’d think you might have remembered his name. Despite all that you still hadn’t seen him more than four, save five, times.

“Those are your father’s wishes.”

“Then why isn’t he here telling me this?”

“He’s a very busy man.”

“A man too busy to see own daughter, his own child, always work, work, working,” you spat, “what he could be doing that’s so important that he couldn’t even spare me fifteen minutes of his time?”

“He’s-”

“It was a rhetorical question,” you stood up and grabbed your bag, “sometimes it still shocks me that a man that claims he loves me so much he barely speaks to me, sees me. I don’t want this bodyguard - if you send them to me I will simply send them away. Don’t waste my time or theirs.”

“Your father is going to send someone regardless of your wishes, you must know this by now.”

“Tell him if he’s so insistent upon me being chaperoned like a puppy that he can come and talk to me himself,” you threw your shoulders back as you tried to chase away emotions or feelings. This was not the time or place for them, “see you in another six months for so.”

“Miss -”

You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bucky’s groan was heavy - irritated - as he trudged up the stairs to the ninth freaking floor. Of course you couldn’t live somewhere near the bottom. Of course the elevator was broken, “I’m gonna murder you, Wilson.”

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, he calmed himself with every single step. Left foot, right foot, and repeat. Before he knew it, he arrived on your floor, less angry but still annoyed.

Bucky looked around for your apartment number, finding it quickly but wishing he hadn't. It was supposed to be a simple job - hang around you for a little while until things calmed down around your father. There was never any huge threat to you, but you were to be kept safe anyway. Typical rich people, he practically rolled his eyes. Complete idiot, he sighed at himself. He could have walked away from the gig easily, but things had been quiet after everything in New York and he needed something fresh. Naturally he’d say yes to this when Sam mentioned the job to him.

Once he found your apartment he slowly trudged through the hall, his mind all but made up about you already. You were going to be nothing more than a spoiled little brat. He looked at the golden number above your door and sighed heavily before knocking loudly.

For a few moments, nothing but silence met his ears before he finally heard what he was sure was annoyed grumbling inside accompanied by soft footsteps. The door was whipped open and Bucky came face to face with you.

Your brows knitted together as you studied him before crossing your arms over your chest, “can I help you?”

“James Barnes,” his name practically came out as a sigh. You raised your eyebrows at him but remained silent.

“And?” you asked as you moved to close the door, “I’m in the middle of my fifth zoom meeting of the day and annoyed and hungry. Thanks for wasting my time. Have a fantastic day.”

Before you could slam the door in his face, Bucky stuck his foot in the doorway and prevented you from closing it. A huff escaped your lips as you glared at him through the crack, “your father sent me. I’m supposed to look after you.”

“Ahh yes,” you rolled your eyes and frowned, “the baby-sitter my father hired. I told him and his assistant that I don’t want - or need - anything to watch me. I’m fine. So if you don’t mind you can leave. I’m busy and don’t have time to deal with you.”

“You don’t pay me sweetheart,” he scoffed lightly as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You wanted a challenge? He’d give you one, “and as long as that’s the case, I stay.”

“I’ll double whatever he paid you.”

“Oh honey, I doubt you could ever afford that.”

“What can I do to get you to leave?”

“Nothing.”

“It really doesn’t seem like you want to be here either so why don’t we both do ourselves a favor and cut the shit?”

“Not until your father tells me it’s okay to leave,” he smirked, “I don’t take orders from little girls, sweetheart. Nor do you pay my bills.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a bitch,” your mouth opened into a little pout as you attempted to shut the door on his foot, “you can shut the door, it won’t hurt me. I’ll just tear it down if I have to.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Want to find out?” he asked as you threw your head back and sighed at the ceiling. Yes and no. You wanted to push his buttons and see how far you could press. But you also didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Instead you slowly, ever so reluctantly opened the door, refusing to move but motioning for him to come in. He practically sauntered in with a victorious little smirk on his lips, “good girl.”

You were to let him have it when he turned around to face you and finally got the chance to study him. And your jaw almost hit the floor. Fuck.

He was handsome - dark hair and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen with a five o’clock shadow. He was dressed in very well fitting jeans, along with a henley and leather jacket. So casual but he managed to make it look so good. For a moment you thought he looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place. Maybe you’d seen him around somewhere.

Well, this presented a whole new predicament. This would have been so much easier if he hadn’t been one of the most gorgeous men you’d laid eyes on.

“Like what you see?”

“I’m not into old men,” you cocked your head to the side and watched him with a smirk. Bucky almost tripped up and let an emotion slip but instead he remained pointedly neutral as he looked you up and down.

It would have been easier to dislike and hate you entirely if you weren’t so damn cute. You were dressed in a comfy, oversized sweater and joggers and big fuzzy socks - casual and cute but effortlessly so. It was a challenge not to stare.

“Whatever you say,” he held up his hands in mock defeat as you became momentarily placated, “what’s the plan for today?”

“I have a job and things to do,” you huffed as you pushed past him, “so just do something or whatever and stay out of my way. If you insist on being here.”

“I do.”

“This is going to be fucking hell, isn’t it?”

“It can be whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart!”

“Sure thing, doll.”

"I hate you already.”

“The feelings’ mutual, honey.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hating Bucky was a full time job. Bucky having to chaperone you through all of your shenanigans was a full time job. Both of you were incredibly stubborn and damn near made the job impossible.

You'd be lying if it said he wasn't attractive and that you hadn't thought about him. Especially late at night. Alone in bed. But you'd rather die than admit that to him.

Bucky had a feeling he'd break you down eventually; not that he expected anything to come of it. He enjoyed flirting with you and watching you get frazzled and nervous. But you weren't his type. Nuh uh - Bucky Barnes wasn't into pretty little spoiled brats. Even if they weren't attractive and smart and genuinely kind underneath it all.

That wasn't part of the job. Which was why he never let it go past anything that could be deemed as flirtatious.

Just as he vowed to break you down and just admit you liked him, you might have had a little goal of your own…

"Come on," Bucky sighed as he paced around your living room, waiting for you to come out of the bedroom so you could pizza and watch movies. It had become somewhat of a Friday night tradition, reluctantly so. It was hard to get out and have a lot of fun when you had a silent, intimidating brooding man following you around, "how long does it take to change?"

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes as you opened your bedroom door and stepped out, slipping on your heels, "I'm ready."

Bucky's eyes widened as he looked you over. You were wearing a little black dress and fuck me heels along with ruby red lips and a full face of makeup. He fought back a little growl as you smirked at him, "what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Its called a dress, genius."

"To get pizza so we can come back and watch movies?"

"That's not the plan," you straightened up and walked past him, grabbing your purse and jacket.

"You said-"

"I lied," you stated the obvious, "I'm going out to finally have some fun. Without you."

"I'm coming with you," he crossed his arms over his broad chest as you tried not to stare, "that's the job, sweetheart."

"And I'd like to actually have fun and get laid," you threw your hands up, "its hard to do that with you breathing down my neck constantly! If you insist, can you at least like stay ten feet away. Give me a fucking break."

His breath had hitched in his throat as soon as he heard the words get laid and he worked to keep it together. He sighed as he forced himself not to imagine you underneath, naked and begging for more.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly, "ten feet only."

"Thank fuck."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One drink had turned into two which easily turned into three and after that you’d both lost count. Bucky had been sitting at the bar, a singular, but arbitrary drink in his hand as he watched you get progressively looser as the evening wore on. His steely gaze almost never left yours as he watched you chat up people around you. You were naturally extroverted, and definitely a flirt - but then again maybe that was the alcohol - and it wore Bucky out trying to keep an eye on you. He wasn’t terribly concerned about what was going on, but still, he was a man that took his job seriously.

It wasn’t until he decided that it was fine to let you out of his sight for a few moments only to turn back and found you missing. A growl bubbled up in his throat as he scanned the tightly packed pace and found you in the middle of the dance floor. You were pressed against a man that had been eyeing you up since you’d gotten there, mouths smashed together as you kissed him like your life depended on it. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were on your ass the entire time.

As soon as you ground up against him, something in Bucky snapped. He threw back the rest of his drink and quickly made his way over to you. The people in his path parted like the seas when they noticed the predatory expression in his eyes. Before you could even realize what had happened, you felt a hand tightly squeeze your shoulder. A gasp left your lips as Bucky pulled you away from your newfound friend.

“What the fuck!” you glared at him as the man that just had his hands all over you grew visibly nervous. Bucky grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close, “Bucky!”

“Keep your filthy fuckin’ hands off of her, you understand?” he growled at the man as he just nodded, “I ever see you near her again and you’re dead. You leave my girl alone.”

Bucky shoved him away and the man practically skittered across the bar and out the door without so much as a single glance back. Breathing angrily, he turned around to find you staring at him in awe, arms over your chest. You were suddenly incredibly sober, “what the hell was that? I’m not your fucking girl, Bucky.”

“We’re going home. Now,” he reached for your hand and held your wrist in a tight grip as he dragged you without another word. You wanted to argue with him and fight back, but there was something about his possessive nature that had sent a shiver down your spine and a rush of warmth to your core as you let him pull you along like a ragdoll.

Maybe your dangerous little plan was finally going to turn into reality.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you going to finally tell me what’s going on?” you asked as you walked back into your apartment, trailing after Bucky and slamming the door shut, “you chased off my only chance of-”

Before you could say anything else, Bucky’s hands found your waist and he crashed his lips onto yours in a bruising tangle of tongue and teeth. You responded with a surprised moan as he backed you up against the wall, making sure you didn’t hit your head.

“He’s a fuckin’ boy,” he insisted as he lightly gripped your throat, causing you to part your lips as you fought back a moan, “he wouldn’t have made you cum. Probably doesn’t even know where your pretty little clit is.”

“And you would?” you challenged, already knowing exactly where this was leading. Something in your mind told you that this was wrong and you should have stopped it, but the larger part of you really just wanted him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it for weeks and weeks now, touching yourself late at night to the thought of him. Bucky smiled at you - a dangerous, toothy, wicked thing causing you to swallow thickly, “I don’t think you could. You’re all talk, Bucky. Probably haven’t even been laid since the 40s.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want this too, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear before trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin, making it a point to mark you up. That way everyone would know you were his. He rutted his lips lightly against yours, and you could already feel how hard he was, “I see the way you look at me - I know you’ve thought about me. Probably touched that pretty pussy of yours and wished it was my cock, huh little girl?”

“Bucky,” his name was nothing more than a whimper of your lips as you tried to reach down and touch yourself. He was quick to grab your hand and pull it away. You whimpered as he just chuckled darkly. Oh, how easily he could break you down with just a few words, “please. Need you.”

“I’ll give you what you need,” he swore as he watched you with hungry eyes. He shimmied up your dress and moved to touch you. His smirk only grew when he noticed you’d forgone panties, “look at you, such a little slut. You didn’t even put on panties? You really wanted this, didn’t you? Were you just hoping I’d touch you? I bet you had this whole thing planned out - just wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?”

You looked at him with wide doe eyes but remained silent as you tried to play coy. But he was having none of it, and grabbing your jaw, “answer me.”

“Mhmm..,just want you,” you admitted as he slowly let go before grabbing both of your wrists in his vibranium hand and pinning them above your head, “just touch me.”

And he did - slowly, he dragged his fingers through your folds, smirking at how wet you already were, “oh honey, you’re practically dripping. So wet already, and I’ve barely even touched you. Such a good little slut.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him circling your clit slowly before feeling your soaked folds and sliding a thick finger inside. A small sound of surprise reached his ears as you almost rutted into his hand and he easily slid another finger in. The stretch from his fingers was enough to spark the warmth in your belly as you bit your lip to keep from whining.

“Look at you, such a needy little thing,” you could hear the smirk in his voice as he fucked with his fingers, “but you’re not going to cum on my fingers. I’m going to see if you taste as sweet as you look. Gonna make ruin that pussy for anyone else. You’re mine - you understand?”

“‘m yours,” you whimpered as he let go of your hands and slowly sank to his knees in front of you. His large hands, a contrast of warm and cool, splayed on your thighs before slowly traveling up to your hips and grabbing them in a bruising grasp. This man was really working to make sure he would remain all over you. He pressed a few kisses to your thighs before stopping at your mound, and you could feel his warm breath fanning across on your pussy, “please.”

“That’s right, you can be a good girl,” he didn’t even hesitate for a moment before diving in and licking a stripe up your folds, causing sparks to shoot throughout your spine. You could feel him smirking against you at the immediate effect he had as he ate you out like a man starving.

Bucky Barnes was not a shy man when it came to eating pussy. He licked and suckled on your clit as he let two of his cool vibranium fingers slide into your pussy. He crooked them just right, effortlessly finding your g-spot as your knees threatened to buckle. No one man had ever made you feel this good before, nor so easily.

“F-fuck,” you hissed as he pulled back and look at the blissed out expression on your face, “more please.”

“Look at you pretty little thing,” he grinned as he pressed a few wet, sloppy kisses to your mound. He pulled his fingers from you before reaching up and practically ripping your dress off. If you’d hadn’t been so close to cumming, you would have yelled at him, but in the moment you didn’t care. Especially not as his hands found your breasts and massaged them before he played with your pert nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, “not wearing a bra either. You are bad.”

“‘m so close,” you whined as he just smirked at you. Before you could say anything else he slapped your pussy, causing you to jump slightly before you keened into his touch, silently asking for more.

“You like that, honey?” he teased as you nodded with closed eyes, your mouth forming a small o. He repeated the motion before he grabbed your ass and buried his face back into your pussy. You moaned into his touch, bucking your hips against his mouth as he made all the most sinful noises as he ate you out like his life depended it on. He worked pure magic with only his tongue and he soon had you seeing stars as your legs started to shake around him. He anchored you to him and kept you from falling down as he brought on your orgasm, “that’s it honey. You’re going to cum all over my face, going to taste all that pretty pussy has to offer.”

“F-f-fuck,” you reached down and carded a hand through his dark hair as you held him against you, “jesus.”

“Cum for me,” he commanded and you did just as you were told, crying out his name like a prayer as you felt your release wash over you. Bucky stayed between your legs as you came all over him, cleaning up every little bit you had, not stopping until you were begging him to stop from the over stimulation, “tastes like fuckin’ candy. Best pussy I ever tasted.”

“Jesus,” your chest was heaving as he kissed his way up your body. He stopped at your lips and offered you a victorious little smirk, “you’re an asshole but at least you know how to eat pussy.”

He grabbed your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him, “you’re mine - this pussy is mine and no one else’s, you understand, little brat?”

“Ruin me then,” you raised your eyebrows before you kissed him again, trying to beat him at his own little game. But it was no use - he was easily more dominant and held control over you, “make me yours.”

“Turn around,” he growled as he flipped you in his arms and pressed you against the wall. You moaned as his hands mapped out every curve of your body before you felt the sharp sting of his hand on your ass. Just to spur him on a little more, you bounced your ass and he slapped you a few more times before massaging your skin to soothe the pain, “you like it when it hurts. God, you’re perfect. My little slut.”

“Please fuck me. Need you so bad,” you practically whined but quickly grinned when you heard him undo his belt and pants before he pulled his cock out. He groaned in your ear as you heard him stroke himself a few times.

“‘m so fucking hard, baby,” he ran the tip of his cock through your folds and you could already feel how big he was, “got me leakin’ already. Thought about you and that smart little mouth so many times. Always cum so hard when I think about you. Can’t wait to see how good this pussy feels squeezing my cock. You’re going to take all of me, little thing.”

He coated his length with your arousal - you were already so wet again - before slapping his cock against your ass. You tried to reach around so you could touch him but he slapped your hand out of the way.

“Put your cock in me,” you practically begged and before you could say anything else, he plunged into you, causing you to practically scream in surprise. He didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed inside of you, feeling like he was practically splitting you apart. The burn quickly faded away as you moaned and clenched your walls around him, “fuck, you’re so big.”

“Did you expect anything else, pretty baby?” he whispered in your ear before grabbing your hips again. He slowly pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back into you with no warning. You clawed at the wall as he set a brutal pace, slamming his hips into yours over and over again, letting you have almost no room to breath. The only sounds that left your lips were small whimpers and mewls he fucked you to an inch of your life.

You felt the coolness of the vibranium snake around your body before he found your clit. You let him press you against the wall as he pounded into you, and you quickly left your second orgasm start to bubble up in your tummy.

“Taking my cock so well,” he praised as he slowly played with your clit. He was not shy about being loud and moaning, all while murmuring filthy praise into your ear, “so tight - so perfect. This pussy was made for me.”

“More,” you begged in between breaths, “harder, please.”

“You want it harder, pretty baby? You’re not gonna be walkin’ after this,” he smirked before he picked the pace and fucked you even harder than before, which you hadn’t even thought possible, “good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Mhmm,” you agreed with a wistful smile, a fucked out expression on your face as you felt his cock twitch inside of you as your walls started to clench around him, “please, please, please.”

“Gonna fill you up,” he said through gritted teeth as he slowed his thrusts, making them slower and deeper than before, “gonna make sure you know who you belong to.”

It was a few more thrusts before you came again, crying out as the pleasure rippled through your body. Bucky came quickly after, grunting as he came inside of you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum. He fucked you through it all, not stopping until you were feeling boneless and he had filled you with every last drop.

He easily caught you just as you were about to collapse in his arms and pulled you against his chest as he pressed a few kisses to your shoulder. You reached behind you and carded a hand through his arm, scratched at his scalp as he continued to kiss your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you said as you tried to catch your breath, “that was incredible.”

“I told you I’d ruin every other man for you,” he slowly pulled out and turned you around so you were facing him. You put a hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “you’re mine.”

“I’m your girl,” it was like music to his ears as you reached between your thighs and swiped his cum mixed with your arousal up and sucked it clean off your finger, “my pussy is yours and your cock is mine.”

“Good girl, “ he praised with a wicked smile, “now get on your knees and put that pretty mouth to use.”

“Yes sir.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Marvel Taglist (add yourself to a taglist here!)(strike-through means I couldn’t tag you - please check your settings)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @hrtsgetbrkn @ironicfoxes @iilwjbb @cc13723things @thenormreedus @gooddaykate @natthebattygeologist @sociallyantisocialbutterfly @n3ssm0nique @daughterofthenight117 @riddikulus-obsessions @imaginelover88 @saint-bvcky @banana-cheese-cake @sleep-tight1 @missstef23 @moonlacebeam @asylummara @wakandabiitch2 @hoodedbirdie @mysweetlittledesire

@lunaserenade @reallyloudstarlight @jettia

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

1K notes · View notes

jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 3 years

Text

I can’t betray you - Hoseok mafia au Drabble

Part 1 of 2 | angst, guns, mentions of crime and murder but nothing graphic

“I’m telling you this isn’t a good idea,” you say again as the female detective tapes the wire to your skin underneath your dress.

“You don’t have much of a choice but to cooperate Miss L/n,” Detective Lee answers with a gruff uncaring voice, he could potentially sending you into your coffin but he didn’t give a shit, you weren’t a human being in his eyes, you couldn’t have been, what type of person dates Jung Hoseok? Correction, dated.

“I haven’t seen him for 2 years and you’re sending me in as if he won’t put a bullet through my head,” you grit your teeth, the detective’s demeanour pissing you off, you didn’t want to do this. “He isn’t going to tell me anything.”

Lee Wooyoung sighs as if you were a migraine in human form, taking an envelope out of his pocket before handing it to you. You look at it confused as you take it, it didn’t feel like money, and if it were you’d throw it in his face. He watches you in such a way that makes you feel like he could see into your very soul and you hated it, you didn’t want this prick anywhere near you.

You sigh back with just as much hate as you open the stupid envelope, refusing to break the stare match you both have going on until it’s contents are out. Your heart drops to the floor, and you force yourself to bite back tears so you don’t cry in front of this fucking insensitive jerk. He doesn’t miss the glint of light in them when your gaze comes back to him with nothing but unfiltered hate.

“I think we know what we’re doing Miss L/n,” is all he says before he leaves, and only when he’s out of the room do you let a single tear drop.

You don’t notice the female detective’s concerned look as she finishes fixing your dress, you only stare at the photograph that bastard gave you. The one of you sitting on Hoseok’s lap laughing with him, you remember that night at the bar, the two of you carefree, happy, feelings you haven’t felt since you left him. The hurt shouldn’t feel so raw after two years, but you felt the bandage open to reveal nothing healed with time.

“Are you okay?” Krystal asks, genuinely. You decide you like her despite her partner from hell, but you can only nod numbly.

——————————————————————————

He’s in the same bar, you can see him in front of you, sitting on the barstool nursing his drink. You don’t hear the loud music, the drumming of your heart was beating louder than anything that surrounded you.

His right hand man and bodyguard notices you first, you can see his jaw drop in your peripherals but your gaze is fixed on the man you loved two years back. You can see Zelo’s lips move as he calls for his boss, you watch as Hoseok looks at him with a frown and your anxiety grows as time slows down and he finally looks at you.

You beg your eyes not to water as you take in the sight of your ex lover, the man you ran away from when things got too hard. You’ll never forget that night, you’ll never forget how much your stubborn words hurt him, and it seemed neither would he.

You don’t miss his jaw clench after the initial wave of shock, the hard set of his eyes that pinned you where you stood. You’re breathing heavily, unable to move. You wanted to turn around, you wanted to leave, but a new body behind you let you know you had no choice but to move forward. You gulp as his one of his men pushes you gently towards his Boss, not a glimpse of his hard stare faltering as you take a step.

He doesn’t say a word when the distance closes, and you find your own voice gone. You can’t hold his gaze, you let yours fall to the floor. Why was your bottom lip trembling like this, in front of the man you wanted to look strong in front of, the one man that could break you with just his eyes.

He turns away from you back to the bar, his hand grips his glass so strong Zelo winces as if it’s about to break. He takes a swing, ignoring you as the whiskey only fuels his rage rather than soothe it. His stern demeanour doesn’t change, he needed a moment that was it. He was fighting with the part of himself that wanted to take you into his arms, tensing his muscles to stop himself until he knew what you wanted, but even still, he wasn’t sure he could let you leave again, no matter what the reason was you were here. He spent the last two years as a ghost of who he was without you, his men havent seen him crack a smile since you left, they thought you took his essence with you, and now his closest men hoped you brought it back.

Their gazes flicker between you and their boss, anticipating your next step. They used to be close to you too, a big dysfunctional family until you found out Hoseok’s real occupation.

They watch you let out a big breath, the telltale signs of you gathering your strength and bracing yourself. You take the seat beside Hoseok, placing your bag on the counter as you make eye contact with John, the owner/bartender and offer him a small smile. He looks between you and the man beside you with worry as he dried a glass, ignoring the customer who called his name.

You hold your hand in the air pinching your thumb and finger and swishing it subtly, you watch his eyes narrow in question, before you put your index finger against your lips. Thank goodness for John and his quick brain, you can see the understanding in his eyes as his face returns to worry.

You turn to the man who’s jaw had yet to relax in your presence, he refused to look at you, nostrils flaring with every angry breath he took. He can’t even tell you why he’s angry, why his entire body is consumed with rage, but you know the reason, it’s obvious to you. It’s the same reason you had the exact response when you found out who he really was, he hurt you, and when you left him, you hurt him too. Pain caused by love causes an angry shield to grow so you don’t get hurt again, you knew that, so you tried not to take his harsh demeanour to heart.

Tried to and failed, it shouldn’t pierce you like this, but it did. You realise you would have to be the first to speak, you were both as stubborn as each other, but you were the one that needed to fold this time. His hand is still gripping the now empty glass on the bar, your eyes flicker to it for a moment, noticing the white of his knuckles.

“H-hoseok,” the second the sound of his name leaves your lips the glass shatters in his hand, startling you and his men as blood poured out of each cut the way paint drips from a brush, but he doesn’t flinch.

He ignores the cries of worry from his men, waving them away as his stare turns back to you. He watches the way your tears drop silently as you glance at his hand before coming back to meet his eyes. He doesn’t miss your sniffle, doesn’t miss the way you clench your jaw to mirror his as you try to ground your emotions.

You had to keep on track, the police were outside and listening to everything, if they didn’t think you could handle it… Well, detective dumbass made it clear what would happen.

John sighs as he brings the first aid box, he was used to things turning bloody with Jung Hoseok as his best customer, he was always prepared. Instead of giving it to the scary mafia boss though, he gives it to you expectedly, finally returning the small smile you graced him with earlier. John was there from the beginning of your budding relationship, he watched every fight and every make up and every date you idiots had in this place. He can’t remember the countless times he told Hoseok to tell you the truth, knowing you were going to react badly if you heard it from elsewhere… well, John didn’t say ‘I told you so’ out loud, he let his eyes do it instead.

You hesitate as you slide the box closer to you, opening it to retrieve the medical forceps, looking up at the bleeding man as he raised his eyebrow at you. He knows what you want, the corner of his lips twitching as they tried to smirk but he fights it, you weren’t going to break through his defences this easily, no matter how much his heart wanted it. He grants you your silent wish, bringing his wounded hand closer to you as he turned on the barstool to face you too.

You ignore the way your thighs touch, ignore the electricity that ran from him to you, the tingling warmth that worked its way up from your skin, you pretended you felt none of it, and so did he.

He doesn’t wince once as you take out the glass, eyes boring a hole into your skull as he fought the urge to pull you closer like he used to when he came home with some injury he had to lie about when you were together.

“Why are you here y/n?” He finally speaks, voice deep and calm as the rage in him started to settle. He hears your sharp intake of breath at the sound of his voice, the way you falter for a moment as you worked on his cuts.

“I wanted to see you,” you exhale, the words feel bitter in your mouth.

“After two years?” he scoffs, and you can’t find it in you to respond, nodding silently instead. “I looked for you every-”

He finally winces, sucking air between gritted teeth as you clean his cuts with the antiseptic solution on a cotton ball. His features soften as he watches you bend down to blow gently on his hand, not wanting to cause him any more pain than you already had, despite all the pain he caused you. Your breath on his skin sends shivers down his spine, the ghost of your touch igniting memories he’s been replaying in his mind for years, now so close within reach and yet out of his grasp. You were the only thing that made him feel powerless, he didn’t think he was capable of the emotion until you left.

“I didn’t want to be found,” you don’t expect your voice to sound so hoarse as it does. He doesn’t say anything to that as he takes in the weight of your words, the obvious elephant in the room remains unaddressed, and you’re surprised he’s not demanding an explanation. He frowns at you instead, and the way you’re avoiding his gaze. He knew you like the back of his hand, some things don’t change even after a couple of years away.

When you’re done bandaging him up you finally notice the pen John had bought you after your impromptu charade session earlier, sighing in relief that he understood your strange gesture. You pull the napkin between you both, eyes finally meeting his after you write on it, sliding it closer to him wordlessly.

I’ve got a wire

His eye brows go up as does his anger again, those fucking bastards, using his Angel against him. The thought dissipates as it rises, you weren’t his anymore, which meant the only reason you were here was because of them and not because you wanted him back.

He nods at you once, understanding what you wanted, what you needed from that pleading look in your eyes. He takes your hand in his uninjured one, not missing the way your heart rate accelerated as his fingers brushed against your pulse point. Some things truly didn’t change.

“Well as happy as I am about this reunion, I unfortunately have work to do, we have a shipment in gangnam in an hour,” he says to the confusion of his men that still surrounded you with their backs to you both. He clears his throat before he speaks again, and this time you know his words aren’t for show, “will I see you again?”

His every defence came down in front of you as he asked that, you could see it in the way his gaze met yours with an ache and longing you felt too. A glimpse of the man you fell in love with, the man who’s heart you tore out. You shake your head no, as your bottom lip quivered, you hadn’t forgiven him yet. You didn’t think you could.

His hope was minuscule to start with and yet your answer still broke it further. The problem was now you were back, he didn’t think he could let you go.

“Where are you staying?” He asks instead. “Zelo can drop you off.”

You can see through it straight away, shaking your head again to tell him he wouldn’t win this one. After you ripped off this stupid wire you’d be running again, this time away from two groups of people.

You stand up to leave, ignoring the voice in your head that begged you to stay, berating that part of your brain that loved him regardless of everything. He pulls you to stand in between his legs, you hate how your body feels so comfortable so close to him, that ache you’ve been fighting for two years resurfacing into a tsunami.

You can’t meet his gaze until he makes you, fingers gentle on your chin. You can feel your heart in your throat with the way he looks up at you, still so full of love two years later, and you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t feel the same.

“Don’t you think we should talk this out properly Angel?” he whispers, hands caressing your cheek and you close your eyes against him. Your hands itched to hold onto him, touch him, close the distance completely between you both. This is why you avoided him completely, your defences reduced to nothing with him near. “There are still so many wounds open baby, talk to me.”

You shake your head, no, you didn’t want to talk about this. You were fine with not healing, you didn’t want to revisit the topic of why you walked out.

“Is there someone else?” You don’t know which emotion fills his voice more, the utter heart break of the thought of you and someone else, or that possessive tilt that was pissed that someone else had the audacity to touch you when you were always his.

He didn’t care you weren’t together, the bond you both made was not to be cut easily, even now two years later look at the state of you both. He could see how you were fighting the way you wanted to melt into his touch, into him. That frown of your eyebrows when he mentioned another, that subtle clench of your jaw. He could see your thoughts, he didn’t need to hear them.

“We broke up two years ago Hoseok,” you reply, refusing to open your eyes, and he knew why. “So what if I do?”

That physical distance you’ve been keeping or your sake of mind disappears the second he grips your hip and pulls you against him. The sudden action makes you open your eyes in shock, your own hand clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself as you fall into him. You think he can feel your heart pounding on his chest with how hard it’s beating.

“You’re the only one for me Y/n,” he says sincerely, “it’s always been you.”

You try to scoff as you push away from him, turning to look away before he can see the tears, but he doesn’t let you go.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be the type of man you wanted,” he continues but his words make your blood boil.

“I didn’t give a shit about that,” you pierce him with your eyes, no one would get away with the way you were looking at him, they’d have a bullet in their head if they tried. “You lied to me for years Hobi, for years you played me for a dumb fucking fool, do you even understand how that made me feel? All that trust we built gone in a second because you didn’t love me enough to tell me, and I had to find out by being dragged to the police station to get interrogated about your crimes.”

Yes, you’re crying, but they’re angry tears. All those emotions you’ve kept at bay for two years bursting like a fire as you relive that moment the detective at the time put Hoseok’s photo in front of you, a stone face of a man you thought you knew holding a gun to someone’s head.

“And I looked at them like an idiot,” you don’t know whether you were laughing or sobbing. “At least I didn’t have to lie, they asked me if I knew you, and I never knew you at all.”

“Baby-” he tries but you cut him off.

“Stop it,” firm tone, firm resolve, you needed to leave. You try to push his arms off you but he doesn’t let go. He moves closer instead, burying his head into you neck. “You don’t get to do this, you lied to me, you deal with the consequences, I am not coming back.”

You freeze when you feel something wet on your shoulder, the heat of your anger fading with each drop you felt. You shouldn’t feel guilty, why were you feeling guilty? You could shake the feeling that now sat heavy in the middle of your chest, sinking slowly.

“I don’t think I can let you go,” he mumbles low against your skin, but you hear every word. “You’ve punished me for two years Y/n, let me fix it.”

——————————————————————————-

Taglist : @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld

#bts drabble #bts scenario #bts mafia!au #bts fanfiction #bts gang au #bts imagines #bts mafia #bts au #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok au #hoseok angst #hoseok mafia au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic

669 notes · View notes