#but now he has broken up and I haven’t seen him in months and I just wanna curl up and cry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moraxsthrone · 1 year

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✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ TITLE — something precious in return

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ PAIRING — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WC — 5.7k

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WARNINGS/NOTES — nsfw. mdni. virgin!diluc. virgin!reader. mutual pining. childhood friends to lovers. light angst to comfort to smut to fluff. outdoor sex at night. flashbacks in italics. SLOW BURN, just how diluc likes it. from his very first time, he's always been such a naturally passionate lover.

here on your stargazing hill, the night breeze is colder than you had anticipated when you opted to bring the thin blanket upon which you presently sit. you’d worn long sleeves, but hadn’t accounted for how much cooler the air would feel against your face once the tears began to flow.

normally you’d be at angel’s share right about now, sitting at the bar and shooting the shit with your best friend while he works. but under the current circumstances, diluc’s presence would only serve to drive the knife deeper: a cruel reminder of the love you could have had if only he returned your affection. then perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting here all alone, holding the broken shards of your heart in your hands because you never even would’ve looked twice at the other guy. instead, now it’s doubly broken - first by the guy who just broke up with you, then by the knowledge that the one you really want - your first choice - would always be just out of reach. you almost resent diluc because he has no idea that every time he smiles at you, your heart skips a beat even as it bleeds for him.

you shiver and pull your knees in close to your chest, arms hugging your legs as you look out at the stars.

“you’ll catch your death sitting out here like this.”

you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin before putting your hand over your heart and breathing a sigh of relief.

“you scared the shit out of me, luc!” you chide as he snickers and drapes his coat over your shoulders. you playfully slap his arm as he sits down beside you. “it’s not funny! don’t sneak up on me like that!”

you quickly wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, turning his smile upside down as his eyebrows knit. you were hoping he wouldn’t notice you’d been crying, but it’s diluc. he notices things. especially when it comes to you.

“what’s wrong, y/n?”

his body heat feels nice, his warmth enveloping you as you pull his coat tighter around yourself. “shouldn’t you be at the tavern?” you scoff, wishing he would just go away but scooting over to give him more room in spite of yourself. this would all be so much easier if he didn’t care about you so much.

“not when my friend doesn’t show up there on a friday night.” a new hairline crack snakes through your heart at the word ‘friend’. “i haven’t seen hair nor hide of you all week. now, talk to me. why are you crying? do i need to go kick someone’s ass?”

you fight the smile that threatens to betray you, and he notices…of course.

“i feel passed over, luc,” you mutter, looking down at your hands, “like i’ll only ever be second best. i want to be someone’s first choice, every time. forever, not just for a few months.”

your words tug at his heart. if you only knew. “so would it be safe to assume things didn’t work out between you and what’s-his-name?”

you chuckle. even though you dated “what’s-his-name” for almost a year, diluc has always “forgotten” his name no matter how many times you’ve reminded him. clearly he's never thought much of the guy. and for good reason, it turns out.

“seeing as how he dumped me for another girl, your assumption would be safe indeed,” you answer, choking on your last word as fresh tears begin to well up.

“hey now,” diluc says softly, pulling you in, “come here.”

leaning into him, you lay your head against his chest where his voice sounds so much closer, deeper. balling his shirt in your fist, you tuck your head under his chin just like you’ve done since you were both little, and you cry.

outside of family, diluc has always been your most reliable source of comfort. generally speaking, he’s never really been the most affectionate person. but when it comes to you he’s made a lot of exceptions. since his father died last year, not many people get to see diluc’s smile or hear his laugh, but you do. the two of you have pretty much been inseparable since you were 7 and he was 8.

you'd gotten stuck in a tree after climbing it, too scared to climb back down. you sat there and cried for about half an hour when another little girl with long, bright red hair and pretty, big carmine eyes came along and helped you down. you had a couple of scrapes on your knees and elbows and were too shaken up to walk home. so your new friend carried you on her back.

you’ll never forget the way her thick hair tickled your face and made you giggle every time there was a breeze. it was only when you got back home and introduced your new friend to your mom as “she” that diluc’s face turned a shade that rivaled the color of his hair and he said, a little indignantly you might add, “he! i’m a boy!”

to this day you still tease him about what a pretty girl he could pass for, albeit one with a very deep voice. he does not find it funny.

however, at the present moment, neither of you are laughing. with his strong arms wrapped around you, you hear his heartbeat quicken.

“i happen to have it on good authority that you are someone’s first choice.”

“you do? i am?” you sniff and look up at him, your watery eyes following the strong line of his jaw as he trains his gaze on the starry canopy above.

his affirmative hum vibrates against your ear, which is still pressed to his chest. why is his heart beating so fast?

with your curiosity piqued, you lift your head. “who?”

“not telling.”

“how mature.”

a breathy laugh escapes his scrunched-up nose as he looks down at you again. “shut up.”

“c’mon, luc, at least give me a hint! is it someone i know?”

“yes.”

“really?” diluc’s hold on you loosens when you straighten up again. “is it someone i know from the tavern or the winery?”

“both.”

that doesn’t narrow it down much. “is it a guy or a girl?” you press.

“definitely a guy,” he says pointedly.

“what color is his hair?”

“i’ll only answer yes or no questions…”

“why can’t you just tell me?”

“because i’m not so sure he wants you to know.”

you scoff. “that’s stupid. why wouldn’t he want me to know?”

“maybe he’s afraid you won’t want to be friends with him anym-” shit, he thinks, too far. the brief flash of panic in his eyes isn’t lost on you. “in any case,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’re nursing a broken heart so it’s too soon to-”

“diluc,” you interrupt him. “is it you?”

he scoffs, eyebrows knitting. “pfssh…no!” he instantly turns away from you lest you see the blush that he can feel rushing to his face.

“aww, luc! you’re blushing!” you tease, leaning around him to try and see his face. you believed him when he said it’s not him (thinking otherwise would’ve been wishful indeed), but tormenting him a little because of how cute it is that he gets so easily flustered. giggling, you bring a hand to his jaw in an effort to turn his face towards you again. “you’re totally blushing, i can see how red your face-“

before you can finish your taunt, your senses are suddenly filled with diluc ragnvindr. his bottom lip is pressed between yours as he kisses you, the scent of wine-stained oak barrels filling your nostrils. you’re so stunned that you forget to kiss him back and he pulls away, unable to make eye contact.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, moving to get up and leave to avoid making things any worse, but you grab his hand. he stops, but doesn’t turn around. he’s still too embarrassed to face you.

“how long?” your voice is soft, almost a whisper, afraid if you speak too loudly you’ll wake up to find this has all been a dream.

“since that night in the water…”

archons, that long? you were barely teenagers that summer.

you’d snuck out of your respective homes to go night swimming. you met at the beach south of dawn winery, near the waterfall, before removing all but your swimwear that you’d each worn under your clothes.

you both stood on one of the boulders and agreed to jump in on the count of three, but when the moment of truth came you chickened out, letting diluc jump in by himself. when he surfaced you were still standing on the rock, looking down and laughing at him. he swam to the shore and by the time you realized what he was doing, it was too late. he was coming right for you but the only escape was jumping into the water.

you put your hands out, still giggling. “n-no! diluc, no don’t do it!”

a dark grin spread across his face as he grabbed your bare waist. you screamed as he tossed you into the water before jumping in behind you.

you surfaced and as soon as you could touch the bottom you pushed your wet hair out of your face and turned towards the laughing boy. you called him a few choice names while splashing water towards his face, but he just ended up tackling you. you’re still not sure how it happened, but you found yourself in waist-deep water, still laughing with diluc’s hands perched on your hips to steady you when he suddenly leaned down and kissed you.

the feeling of lips - his lips - pressed against your own made you feel like you were floating even as your toes curled into the sediment beneath them. you were both inexperienced, neither of you having kissed anyone before. it only lasted a few seconds, but to the two of you it felt like forever, each rapid beat of your hearts lasting lifetimes. but when you placed your palm flat against his bare chest, diluc pulled away and trudged out of the water.

you watched him, confused and still in shock by what just happened. with his back turned to you, he started getting dressed.

you were still anchored in the water, suddenly feeling cold. “luc?”

he balled his hair into his fists to wring the excess water out before looking back at you, but only with a glance. “i uh- i have to go.”

“diluc, what-”

“just…get dressed and let’s go.” he sounded angry. “i’m not leaving you out here alone. it's too dangerous.”

you frowned, hugging yourself as you walked out of the water. your head was swimming, reeling as you slowly made your way towards your own pile of clothes.

he walked you home that night and neither of you have spoken a word of it since.

until now.

“i thought you hated it,” you say, collecting the excess length of his coat sleeves in your fidgeting hands.

“i didn’t hate it!” he corrects you a little too quickly, then lowers his voice. “i…i liked it.”

“then why the hell did you act so weird about it and want to leave?”

he averts his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

“diluc, why?” you plead, new tears - different tears - pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“i…” he knows the question has been burning at the back of your mind for years. an explanation is long overdue. he lowers his gaze from the stars overhead and mumbles something that you can’t quite understand.

“i didn’t hear you.”

“i got hard,” he repeats.

“you-” did you just hear him correctly? “you got hard?”

he has mixed feelings about hearing you say those words. it’s embarrassing, but also…it sounds sexy when you say it.

“so you’ve been breaking my heart for the past 5 years because you popped a boner?”

his eyes shift to yours before quickly looking away again. “i’m sorry.”

“you’re sorry?” you ask incredulously. “diluc, do you have any idea how confused i was? that was my first kiss and i’ve always wanted to cherish it, but you robbed me of that! you took something so precious to me and turned it into something shameful! all because your dick got hard?”

“i didn’t want you to see it, or worse, feel it. we- our bodies were so close. i didn’t want you to think i was a creep.” his apologetic eyes meet yours. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

you hazard a glance at his lap, but his leg is bent such that it makes it impossible to tell. “are you hard now?” your voice is quieter, conveying genuine curiosity.

his eyes snap to yours. “no!” do you really think a peck on the lips is enough to arouse him? “it was just a quick kiss…tch!”

“don’t act so offended! that’s all it took back then!”

“i was 14 for fuck’s sake!”

thing is though, you want to make him hard again. the thought that you’d had that effect on him back then - with just a simple kiss - sends a pang of desire coursing through your core. you get to your knees and inch closer to his side, diluc’s crimson eyes following your every move. putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you lean in and place the softest kiss on his parted lips.

he doesn’t even feel like he deserves to kiss you again. aren’t you mad at him? why would you reward him with such a sweet gift after what he’d put you through?

you pull back just enough to look at him and whisper, “kiss me, diluc. like you mean it this time.”

he tilts his head, slotting his lips with yours once again as you both close your eyes. your mouths begin to move and diluc’s hand comes to rest on the back of your neck, his warm thumb ghosting over your ear.

your mouths open, breathing each other’s air before slowly sealing your lips together again. you drag your thumbs down the sides of his neck as he cranes it to get closer, kissing you a bit harder. as if reading each other’s desires, the tips of your tongues brush together the next time your lips part and pretty soon they’re swirling in a slow, sensual dance.

diluc’s hands drift down to your waist, pulling you closer to straddle his lap. you settle down, the tiniest of whines leaving your mouth when you feel his semi-hard bulge press into the back of your thigh. your kisses grow increasingly passionate by the second as though trying to make up for lost time.

changing the tilt of his head to deepen the kiss, diluc wraps you into his arms completely. this time, there is no sign of him backing out. his confidence is sexy, his tongue intoxicating. your hands are in his hair where they’ve wanted to be for so long. he grips your back and pulls you flush against him. you roll your hips against him, making him moan in your mouth as you feel his building erection jump against the back of your thigh.

diluc huffs and you find yourself on your back, legs still straddling his hips. your tongues push over and around each other, quickened breaths mixing together when he reaches down momentarily and adjusts himself. in this position his cock is now pressing firmly against your moistening center, making you keenly aware of how close your bodies are, how ready you are for one another.

the sweet, breathy mewl diluc pulls from you when he grinds his clothed erection against your clit goes straight to his dick, making it throb for you in his pants. he ruts again, slowly, willing you to feel him, no longer shy and too far gone to pretend he isn’t aroused. he wants you to know he’s hard for you; needs you to know how badly he’s wanted you and for how long. you have no idea how many times he has whispered your name while lying in his own bed, eyes closed with his hands in his boxers wishing they were yours. more than that, though, he needs you to know how much he cares for you.

diluc ragnvindr has never been a man of many words. but perhaps now, here on this grassy knoll, with your hands in his hair, his lip between your teeth, your hearts pressed together and pounding for one another - diluc can finally show you all the things he’s wanted to say.

one of his hands wanders the length of your waist, gripping your side as he massages his way down to your hip. he squeezes you there, making you sigh and roll your hips up to meet his when his thumb presses into the crease of your leg. you’re both panting into your open-mouthed kiss, lips red and swollen, impatiently trying to get closer and closer as though you can will your clothing out of the way.

but you’re too needy to wait until the fabric barriers can be worn down with time, so you take matters into your own shaky hands and start unbuttoning the collar of diluc’s shirt. with a grunt, he lifts himself up to help things along, quickly removing his shirt before reaching down to help you out of yours. you’re already working your bra off as your eyes traverse the expanse of his naked chest and sculpted abs.

his skin is pale and smooth save for the dips between his muscles and the thin line of red hair beneath his navel. diluc’s fiery mane is draped over his broad shoulders, tickling your chest when he presses his naked torso to yours and recaptures your lips with his. he’s burning up, his blushing skin so very hot to the touch that you almost flinch. his scorching hand massages its way to your breast, squeezing and kneading it gently while he dips down to take the other into the wet heat of his mouth. you gasp, eyes rolling back as you arch your back off the relatively cool lining of his coat, pushing your chest into his touch. your hands are exploring his back, dragging the impressions of your fingertips across his pale skin, digging and pulling at him as if he could get any closer.

blazing a trail of wet kisses along your neck, diluc’s lips find yours once again only to release a quiet moan inside your mouth when your fingers slide inside the front of his pants. he lifts his hips slightly, encouraging your exploration of his body, shivering as your digits thread through his coarse patch of hair before spreading around the wide base of his hard cock. you wrap your fingers around him, sighing at the feeling of his heavy girth in your hand; his hot, velvety skin sliding over the rock hard length of his shaft as you slowly stroke him.

diluc hums, eyes screwing shut as he presses his forehead to yours, mind buzzing at the sensation of your soft hand pumping him. you work your way closer to his tip, pussy clenching at his deep groan when the edge of his glans catches on the opening of your grip. inside his underwear, you can feel the cool slick of his precum against your knuckles as more begins to coat the inside of your fist. diluc swears under his breath, moving his hips more quickly, unable to resist the sheer pleasure of your tight grip around his slippery cockhead.

“mm-y/n,” he whispers, burying his face against your neck. “hhhh shit…”

a few hurried thrusts later, you feel the rhythmic twitching of his cock and with a low, extended groan, diluc covers your hand with his warm release. you slow your pace but keep your fist tight, milking the last of his orgasm from his cock as his hot breaths come hard and fast against your neck.

when he’s fully spent, he jolts out of your grip and huffs out a small laugh, indicating his sensitivity. you slowly pull your hand from his pants, leaving a trail of his cum along his stomach but neither of you care.

“that was really hot,” you muse with a small smile.

nuzzling your ear, he mumbles, “can i touch you?”

your eyes slide closed, sighing. “i really want you to, yes.”

diluc leaves a couple of kisses on the corner of your mouth before raising up onto his knees. his chest rises and falls, still catching his breath as he unfastens your pants. you lift your hips to aid him when he curls his fingers around your waistband and works your bottoms down the curve of your ass and hips before ridding you of them entirely.

you watch as he unbuckles his belt and removes the rest of his own clothing, biting your lip when his half-hard cock bounces out of his cum-stained underwear. he looks down at you, lips parted as his lust-blown vermillion eyes take in every inch of your naked form. feeling vulnerable and self-conscious, you close your legs and fold your arms over your breasts.

“s-stop staring, diluc,” you mutter, looking away with a bashful smile. “you’re embarrassing me.”

you feel his hands on your closed thighs, not pulling them apart but caressing them in an effort to make you feel less uncomfortable.

“i’m sorry, it’s just-” he begins to stumble on his words but presses on, “...the way you’re glowing in the moonlight. you look like a goddess.” he leans down, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he whispers, “please don’t hide yourself; you’re lovely.”

there’s no fighting the smile that spreads across your face at his words. you willingly open your legs and arms, pulling him close for a kiss. propping himself on his forearm, his other hand touches you, roaming your naked body, claiming every peak and valley, conquering you with his hands inch by scorching inch.

he feels you tremble beneath him as the backs of his fingers rake along your inner thigh. you gasp, interrupting your lazy kissing when the pad of diluc’s thumb grazes your clit. he slides his digit down between your folds before returning to your tiny, engorged tip. he repeats the process a few more times, spreading your slick along your pink slit while driving you out of your mind.

he’s dragging the tip of his thumb in little circles over your clit now, swallowing your whines, his full erection returning as you buck your hips for him. with his thumb still on your clit, he presses the tip of his middle finger against your opening, slowly pushing it in a little before withdrawing, back and forth until he’s knuckle deep inside your slippery heat. you’re gripping his biceps, hanging on for dear life while he drinks your moans and sighs, tasting the sounds of your pleasure on his tongue like a fine wine.

“hhhhnn~ luc…”

he moves to your ear as he works a second finger inside you, a pleased hum escaping him when he hears his name, laced with lust and desire, pour from your lips. there’s a deep ache building inside your lower belly that you’ve never felt before. diluc presses deeper inside you, reveling in the sensation of your slick walls clenching around his fingers. it feels like you’re chasing something but you need more. his fingers are providing a delicious stretch, but it’s just not quite enough.

“diluc, please…” you whisper breathlessly, “...put it in.” he raises his head from your collarbone and meets your lust-filled gaze. “need you, luc. want you inside me~”

“you mean…” if you weren’t so drunk on desire, you’d laugh at the almost comical look on his face when he raises his eyebrows. “...my cock?”

you cup his cheeks in your palms and hum affirmatively with a breathy ‘yes’. “i want you…want you to be my first.”

“wait, you’re still…?”

you nod. “i’ve always wanted you to be my first everything.”

his heart blooms, swelling against his ribcage at your confession. with a furrowed brow, he kisses you. “i’ve always wanted the same; you’ll be my first too.” he slowly pulls his fingers out of you and squares his hips with yours, nestling his readied cock between your slick folds. “i’m sorry it took me so long to-”

you bring your fingers to his lips, shushing him. “better late than never,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you press your lips to his again. your breath stutters when the head of his cock nudges your clit. “claim me, diluc.”

he deepens the kiss with a sigh, his cock leaking to mix with your need, getting slicker with every languid roll of his hips. he reaches between your bodies, his eyes darting to yours, watching for the slightest hint of discomfort or change of mind as he pushes his pink, drooling tip to your opening and begins to push inside you.

you both moan, fingertips curling into one another’s flesh as your tight ring stretches around his thick, virgin cockhead before finally surrendering with a soft pop.

in all his fantasies of this moment, nothing could’ve prepared diluc for the intoxicating texture and heat of your cunt as it spreads around him. “so…” he sucks air between his teeth at your relentless clenching, “...tight.”

meanwhile, you’ve never felt such overwhelming pressure and fullness as his cock invades your virgin pussy. you hold your breath as the young, inexperienced male pushes deeper inside you, digging your nails into the skin of his back. the stretch is too much, too fast.

he halts all movement, crimson eyes widening when he hears the muffled whimper in your throat. “shit. are you okay? does it hurt?”

you wince, trying to soldier through the pain. you’ve heard that if it hurts you have to take deep breaths and try to relax; tensing only makes it worse. “a- a little.”

“maybe we should stop,” he says as he begins to pull out.

“no!” you blurt, hooking your ankles behind diluc’s thighs to impede his withdrawal. “no,” you repeat, more quietly this time, collecting yourself. “just…be still for a moment and i think i’ll be okay.”

“you want me to keep it in?” he’s watching you like a hawk for your reactions. the last thing in the world he wants to do is hurt you.

your eyes slide closed and nod, the pain already starting to give way to a dull, tolerable pressure. diluc waits, holding himself still as he kisses your face, his soft lips grazing your eyelids while he threads his fingers through your hair. your death grip on the flesh of his back subsides as you inwardly remind yourself to breathe. even when you move your hips a little, diluc keeps still, putting your comfort and pleasure ahead of his own feral urges, content to let you guide his pace.

little by little, you work yourself further down his thick length until your clit rubs against the red thatch of hair around his base. the added stimulation sends a surge of pleasure through your core, that new ache returning, making you ready and craving just a little more.

you kiss behind diluc’s jaw, just beneath his ear before murmuring to him, “make love to me, diluc.”

and so, on a cool blanket under the stars and moon, not too far from the vineyard with only the crystalflies to bear witness, you and diluc take something from each other while giving something far more precious in return.

diluc’s hips undulate, rocking back and forth, his butt muscles flexing with each forward thrust. the crimson hair at the base of his dick is shiny with your slick as it rubs your swollen clit. your toes curl, heels digging into his thighs like a jockey spurring on her steed to go faster, faster.

“more- nnhhm- more…”

he’s on his forearms, cradling your back, his hands framing your ears when he opens his eyes to look at you from above. “you sure?”

“please, yes, i need it…” your back arches, eyes closing when you feel your core squeeze him and you’re chasing that unknown something again. “need you to fuck me harder, luc.”

your lover's eyes widen momentarily at your direct, wanton words. he finds it incredibly sexy and briefly wonders how else your mouth might surprise him. he’s pumping his cock into you a little faster now, his hand cradling the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb ghosting along your jawline.

“i need you to tell me if i go too far…”

you nod, and he raises up onto his hands, caging you beneath him to give himself more leverage as he begins to thrust into you faster still. your moans and whimpers travel straight down his spine, urging him to go harder until you can hear the wet claps of skin, sloppy and lewd.

“gods, y/n…” diluc grunts, feeling that familiar coil winding dangerously tight at the base of his spine, searing and ready to snap. “i think i’m going to…” he swears through his moan as his balls tighten.

as new lovers tend to do, he slips out of you unintentionally, his hot seed spurting in long threads over your belly. he’s still rocking his hips, dragging his jerking cock between your folds, smearing his cum along your pussy lips as more of it spills out. he’s sighing, trying so hard to be quiet, but as the last of his sperm dribbles out of his cockhead it catches and slides back inside you. he lets out an open-mouthed groan as your tight heat sucks his sensitive, cum-coated tip back in.

but he doesn’t stop.

his eyes are screwed shut, gritting his teeth to fight the overstim because your warm cunt just feels so damn good, his dick doesn’t soften in the slightest.

you’re keening for him, making his toes curl with how sweet you sound for him, his name passing your lips in broken whimpers. diluc’s inhibitions are almost entirely gone at this point. he’s fucking into you with abandon, sloppy because it’s his first time. threads of his cum connect your bellies, joining you, hot and sticky. traces of it have mixed with your slick, making his thick cock nice and slippery as it drags and pulls at your tightening walls.

that something has been building low, so low in your belly. an ache so dull and so deep, a pressure you’ve never felt before. your squelching walls have been closing in with every delectable tug of diluc’s fat cock.

“ohh…hhnn~diluc?” you keen.

“yeah?” he pants, still thrusting, addicted to the soft, velvety slick of your pussy sucking him in harder.

“h-harder…just a little harder…”

he wants to get on his knees, push your thighs back, and fuck you properly, but this time is special and he would rather stay close to you, even through his haze of wanton lust and unbridled passion. so instead, he bends his knees out beside you, panting with the occasional grunt against the pulsing artery in your neck as he presses hard against your cervix with every pump of his cock.

“gods, y/n,” he whispers, “you feel so…so good.”

he shifts, angling the curve of his cock just right against a spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed until now. the last thing you remember is watching the rich boy’s lean abs flexing, sweat dripping down his sides as he humps his slick shaft in and out, in and out, in and out. he drives you right up to a terrible height until you feel...

weightless.

you’re hanging in the air just before the freefall when a sharp heat courses out from your center to the very ends of your nerves at lightspeed. you barely hear yourself cry out for him as your walls convulse and spasm around his length. he watches, wide-eyed as he fucks you through your first orgasm, slow and deep with full, passionate thrusts. the sound of his name falling desperately from your lips, the sounds of all your shared fluids - sweat, slick, cum, tears - they go right to his head as his hips keep right on snapping into yours.

“gonna~ mmnnhh~ make me cum again~” a strangled groan escapes diluc’s open lips.

shame you’ll never get to see just how tightly his little asshole winks while his cock jerks his cum inside your pussy for the very first time, painting your walls creamy white. his thick seed leaks from your tight opening as you continue to glide on his cock from below. you kiss him, his quick breaths catching in his throat as he rides out his orgasm.

your lips graze as you both come down from your respective highs together, noses nudging between lazy kisses. diluc rolls off of you, some of his warm seed oozing out of you when his softening dick slips out. he rests his hand above your hip and pulls you to him until the side of your face is pressed against his warm chest, his heart still thumping at a fast pace. you place tender butterfly kisses against his flushed skin as he presses his lips to the top of your head. you lie there together, basking in the long-desired feeling of being in each other’s arms, two sweaty bodies shimmering in the moonlight as you mindlessly trace your names on the other’s back until diluc feels you shiver.

“come on,” he says, sitting up. “let’s get dressed and go back to my place for a hot bath.”

slipping your shirt on, you hesitate. “but…adelinde and the others…they’ll know.”

zipping his pants before shoving his soiled boxers into his pocket, he says, “they already know. they’ve been hounding me about us for years.”

you look up at him, a wide grin gracing your features. “'us'? really?”

he simply nods with a smirk, holding his coat open as you slip it on again. it’s heavy, but the weight is comforting and familiar, protective like armor. “i think nothing would make them happier.”

you help him fold your blanket before wrapping your arms around his waist. “will you carry me on your back?” you ask, standing on your tiptoes to punctuate your request with a kiss.

“of course,” he chuckles softly, kissing you back before turning around and crouching. “hop on.”

with your legs hooked over his arms, he carries you back to the winery. you prop your chin on his shoulder, catching your scent on him and giggling every time his hair tickles your face in the breeze.

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ diluc m.list

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ happy birthday to diluc! it's after midnight where i am, but it's still his bday somewhere! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed reading this. thank you, loves! 💋

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gisele0127 · 1 year

Text

Being Kunigami’s girlfriend after the wildcard :(

Warnings: Spoilers!, angst to fluff, grammar mistakes, not proof read, kind of rushed.

2 posts in one day😉☺️

You miss your boy. You miss how rensuke would look at you. You miss all the nicknames he’d call you. You miss how affectionate he used to be. You miss all the the dates he would take you on. You just miss your old boy.

Rensuke misses you too. He hates himself for what he has become. He’s afraid.

Rensuke has gotten buffer, his hair longer and messier. But most importantly his face. He looks so sad, so defeated. His eyes starting to have bags his whole demeanor has changed.

Rensuke remembers when he lost and got kicked out of blue lock. He hates himself. He hates how he let you down, how he let his sisters down, and how he let himself down. He doesn’t know how to face you when he goes back home. He knows you’ll be sad, he knows that he will cry in your arms when he finally sees you. But then the wild card happened. He thought he didn’t have to face you just yet. Maybe he can redeem himself one last time.

You don’t know what happened exactly during the wildcard. But when blue lock got their 2 weeks off so did Rensuke. You didn’t even know he was back until his little sister texted you. “Hey y/n, can you come over please Rensuke is acting super weird” your heart dropped. Why didn’t he text you the second he got out? You got so anxious thinking about it, you were nervous the whole walk to his house. You knocked on the door and Mrs. Kunigami opened it. “Oh y/n I missed you so much. Ren has been acting super weird and looks so…different. Do you know what’s going on?” Your heart drops again. “Uh no I’m sorry. I didn’t even know he was back until you guys texted me”

The walk to his room was nerve wracking. Why were you so nervous? You’re finally seeing your boyfriend after months. You walk in and you’re surprised to see your boyfriend who takes care of his appearance look like total shit. He didn’t notice you come in until you whispered “Ren baby, are you okay?” He looks startled to see you in his room. “What are you doing here I didn’t tell you to come over? What do you want?” You’re surprised by his reaction, because you expected your boyfriend to spring on to you and kiss you. You’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks and this is how it turns out? You turn visibly upset.

“What the fuck Ren? This is how you greet me? What’s wrong with you? I came because my own boyfriend is back and I haven’t seen him In months. I thought you’d be happy to see me. I missed you so much.” Your eyes start to turn glossy, you’re frustrated. He looks at you then scoffs. “Get out. I don’t want to see you right now” Now you’re extra pissed, why does he have an attitude? Ren never has an attitude he’s always so patient. Your anger gets to you and now you’re the one yelling “are you seriously kicking me out?! I want to spend time with you before you have to go back why are you acting so different. Why do you look so different?! You look like total shit and you’re acting like a total fucking douche!” Okay maybe you’re acting a little over dramatic but this better knock some sense into him.

“Get the fuck out. I don’t wanna see you right now, not tomorrow, not ever again. Don’t talk to me again. We’re over.”

Woah. Did he just break up with you? This is the last thing you expected. You turn pale your heart is beating fast. “Wait Ren! No you can’t mean that. Hey just talk to me babe! I’m your girlfriend that’s what you’re supposed to do!” He looks at you and with such disgust he says “ex girlfriend”. That’s when you walk out, into the living room where his family is sitting on the couch. Yup they definitely heard your argument. You can’t see the looks on their faces because you’re tearing up but you walk out.

You get back home, mascara ruined and your dad asks you, “where’ve you been?” You don’t answer him. You don’t want to because what are you supposed to say? You just got broken up with? Hell no it’s embarrassing enough that his family heard yalls argument. You go into your room and scream and cry. The last thing you expected just happened to you.

3 days pass by. Not a single text from Kunigami. To be quite honest, now you’re the one looking like shit. You haven’t gone to school, you can’t show your face anywhere. Your dad is worried but he’s on a work trip right now so he can’t comfort you. “Ask Kunigami to come over, he can always cheer you up.” Right. You still haven’t told your dad.

You hear a knock on the door. You don’t bother getting it, it’s probably just a package arriving. Another knock, harder and faster. By this time you’re annoyed. You go to the door yelling “coming!!” You swing the door open ready to tell someone off but right in front of the entrance to you house is your newly ex boyfriend. Kunigami Rensuke.

You’re flustered, not expecting him. Even more flustered because of what you’re wearing. Spandex and Kunigami’s old shirt. “Uh hey, is there something I can help you with?” You ask awkwardly. “I need to get all my stuff back” he says with no emotion. “Oh sure come in, uh lemme go grab some of your stuff from my room” Kunigami waits patiently on the couch, truth be told you had none of his stuff packed. You wanted to keep all of it.

After about 10 minutes you’re about to finish getting all of his stuff ( he had a lot, it was practically his second home ). Just as you stand up you feel big muscular arms wrap around your waist. You’re startled and mad. Who does he think he is? “Kunigami let me fucking go” you say with so much venom. “What happened to Ren?” He asks. “I’m not going to call you that anymore, we’re not dating remember?” At that he perks up, and lets you go. This time y’all are both facing eachother you get a good look at him and see his puffy eyes. Has he been crying?

You send him off his way and after 5 minutes since he’s been gone you hear another knock on the door. Ugh what does he want? You open the door and before you could say something he comes running in hugging you. “I miss you so much I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry. Please just let me explain myself please.” You know you should’ve said no, but you can’t this is the man you love. The man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

You let him in. You both are sitting on the couch awkwardly. “Uh what did you have to say” Kunigami stands up and sits closer to you, looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting. I’m so sorry. You know I love you right? I’ve loved you ever since I laid eyes on you. I love everything about you. I messed up. I should’ve told you what’s been going on, I should’ve told you everything from the start. Baby, I lost. I got kicked out of blue lock. I’m sorry. I let you down. But they gave me another chance, I could redeem myself. I took it obviously, my dream couldn’t just end there. But baby it was so hard. So fucking hard. I had to train till my body gave out. They wouldn’t let me talk to anyone. I was so lonely and isolated. I struggled for others people entertainment. I’m sorry. There’s so much more I wish I could tell you but that’s not the point. I can’t use that as an excuse for how I treated you. I was a shitty boyfriend. I’m sorry. I regret everything that I said. Every single thing. I was just ashamed of myself. Embarrassed. Baby I should’ve never broken up with you. I’m so scared right now. I just broke up with the girl I want to marry, the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with, the girl who I love most. I’m sorry. Please just take me back.”

He looks back at you because you haven’t said anything. You’re crying. Shit did he say the wrong thing? “Babe?” “Fuck you ren” you stand up and go to your room. So this is it? Kunigami will never forgive himself. Just as he’s about to open the front door, you come running and you jump on his back.

“HEY where are you going??!!” Kunigami looks back, and sees you carrying tissues. Oh. You left to get tissues. He didn’t notice he was crying until you force his face down kissing his tears away. You lean your forehead into his. “We will talk about this in the morning okay? I’m too tired to think” Kunigami is speechless. What? “You’re not mad?” “Im absolutely pissed right now, but I know you’ve been through a lot so I’m letting you go easy just this one time”

He smiles just as he’s about to say something you kiss him. The kiss is passionate and hungry leaving both of you off of breath. “What was that for?” “Just missed my beautiful boy. Come give me cuddles we haven’t cuddled in months”

He smiles thinking about how lucky he got.

#rensuke kunigami fluff #kunigami x y/n #kunigami x reader #kunigami x you #kunigami fluff #bllk kunigami #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock angst #rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami smut #kunigami rensuke #bllk scenarios #bllk fluff #bllk headcanons #bllk x reader

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its-time-to-write · 1 year

Note

This may be a bit of a strange idea (Feel free to ignore this request)

But since your about Jaime Tartt baby fic. I had the thought of Jaime trying to give reader a break takes the baby in a stroller to training with Roy and Roy is just kind of like WTF and other hijinks ensue like maybe someone flirts with Jamie with the baby or roy gets left with the baby at somepoint or Reader is freaken out cause the baby is gone. IDK just an idea that has been stuck in my head since I read your baby fic

Dude this request was not strange AT ALL. It was actually nice because it was similar to something I wanted to write, and I haven’t been able to do that because I’ve been doing requests. THANK YOU.

i’ll still be right next to you my dear

Your daughter Bea is five months old. You’re still sleep-deprived, but less than you were a month ago. Jamie does his absolute best as her dad and your husband, but the weight of it still falls to you. Things have gotten considerably less tense, too, since you moved out of the flat and back into your house. It was weird at first, both you and Jamie walking on little eggshells around each other.

The tension was broken with an all-hands-on-deck moment at 1am, when Bea had a stomach bug or something, and you two had no choice but to just laugh in resignation at the sheer enormity of the mess she made. There go the beginnings of sleep training.

Bea had her own schedule, one that involved being an early bird like her dad. She would wake up five to ten minutes before his 3:30 alarm went off, and it got to the point where he barely even set it anymore.

Jamie would get out of bed, throw on some pants, change her, and then zip through his morning routine. He’d put her back to bed, give you a half-awake kiss, then be out the door before Roy could knock.

(Roy made that mistake early on, waking Bea. You thoroughly chewed him out in an exhausted rage. Jamie says it’s the closest thing he’s ever seen to Roy crying).

Anyway, at 3:55 this Saturday morning, Jamie kisses you, says, “I’ve got Bea, so sleep in,” and is gone before you even know what’s happening.

You flop back on the pillow and are out in seconds.

—

“The fuck is this?” Roy says the moment Jamie steps out the door, pushing a happy Bea in her jogging stroller.

“The fuck does it look like?” Jamie replies. “Her mum needed sleep, so Bea’s joining us for training.” He leans over the stroller to look at his daughter and coos, “Isn’t that right, angel?”

Bea makes a delighted gurgle and Roy grunts.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me the great Uncle Roy is daunted by a silly wee baby?” Jamie says, grinning. “You are Bea’s favorite.”

Roy glares at Jamie. “Don’t fucking lie to me, everyone knows Sam’s her fucking favorite. She even likes fucking Isaac better than me.”

Jamie pouts. “Don’t listen to him, Bea. We know you love Uncle Roy, even though he’s being a twat.”

Roy just grunts and looks at Bea. “You know how I feel about you, kid,” he says. She babbles. She knows.

“Alright, come on. Suppose the stroller gives your dad some extra weight while he runs.”

Jamie grins, and starts jogging down the street.

—

You wake up to the sound of silence. No Bea, no Jamie. Just birds chirping and the sun shining. You squint at the clock. 8:37am. You reach for your phone and see a selfie from Jamie of him, Bea, and Roy marked 7:02am with the caption, headed to breakfast!

You now have a hazy recollection of Jamie saying something about taking Bea when he left, but it felt like a dream at the time. The silence makes more sense now.

You smile and send heart emojis. I love you! you type.

love u 2, Jamie replies. Then: I hope that was for me not Roy?

You shake your head. That boy. He thinks he’s a comedian.

You roll out of bed and stretch. Time for a nice, long shower, then a good coffee from Jamie’s complementary espresso machine. You’re not gonna lie, there are certain perks to being married to a footballer.

—

Meanwhile, Jamie and Roy have stopped for breakfast at a café that Roy says fits in with Jamie’s diet. He says no coffee and Jamie makes a disgusted face and replies you’re not the boss of me, which is why they’re letting Bea decide if Jamie gets coffee or not by seeing who will get her to smile first.

Jamie wins, of course. It’s part of being a dad.

They’re sitting at a table outside till 9am, Bea out of her stroller and in Jamie’s arms. They’re on their third cups of coffee and Bea’s draining her bottle of formula like there’s no tomorrow. Jamie is in the middle of stroking Bea’s nose (a miniature version of yours) and watching her eyes blink slow, when two girls walk up to their table.

“Ohmygod, no way, is that your baby?” one girl asks.

Jamie looks up and gives a polite, perfunctory, “yeah,” and turns back to Bea. Roy’s sitting back in his seat, ready to watch this unfold.

“It is like, so totally adorable. There’s something so sweet about a baby, don’t you think?” the other girl says, putting her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. He shifts away as politely as he can.

“I just think that like, men with babies are so much hotter than men without babies,” girl 1 continues, oblivious to Jamie, who has shifted Bea onto his chest and is displaying his left hand as conspicuously as possible. He taps Bea’s back with his ring finger in what he hopes is an absentminded manner.

Roy holds back a snort.

“Especially single dads,” says girl 2. “Soo hot. I’ll give you my number if you ever need a babysitter.”

She’s barely done speaking when Jamie blurts out, “I’m married.” He looks so harried that this time Roy can’t hold back a laugh. The girls turn to him with a glare, then back to Jamie.

“She doesn’t have to know,” says one of them.

“Pretty sure she does,” Jamie replies. “And anyway, I ain’t interested. Have a good morning.”

Bea, the angel that she is chooses that exact moment to start burping.

The girls give her a disgusted look and turn away.

Roy looks at Jamie, eyebrows raised and a ghost of a smile on his face. “Nice fucking move with the ring finger,” he says. “If it were me, I’d’ve fucking given them a different fucking finger.”

“That’s where you and me differ, granddad,” Jamie replies, wiping spit up off his vest (waterproof, thank god), “I’m a gentleman.”

Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

—

The windows are open, the laundry is spinning, and you’re dancing around the house. You love Bea, but god you also love good rest. And a clean house. And Jamie Tartt. Man, you love him. You can’t believe he took Bea out for the whole morning and knowing him and Roy, they’ll be out until at least 11am. You smile. That gives you time to head to the shops and pick up some flowers, which will make you feel like a civilized human being, one who has her life together and can take care of her child and her husband and maybe, just maybe, one who is in the mood to get laid tonight.

—

Jamie and Roy are strolling through Richmond, passing by shops and enjoying what feels like the first lovely day in ages. Jamie hasn’t heard from you since you asked is this shirt clean or dirty? with a picture near the washing machine. He knows Saturday cleaning is like a ritual to you, one you picked up in high school and carried on through college. You have a system and you take your time, windows open and music playing. He can picture you spinning around the house putting things away, and that mental image is enough to make his face split into a smile. He remembers the Saturdays you spent before Bea, you cleaning and dancing, and him, well, not helping but certainly dancing with you and promising that he’ll give you more dirty sheets to wash if you’d just take a tiny little break? In the bedroom? With no clothes on because they need to be washed, wink wink?

It usually worked.

You’d lay in bed for precisely ten minutes afterward, take a no-nonsense shower, then kick him out of the house. He’d be gone for an hour, buying you that chocolate you liked and whatever flowers he thought suited the day. There’s a good thought. He should get you flowers, a reminder of their early days of romance. And maybe, just maybe, Bea can sleep soundly enough that they can revive other traditions, too.

“Roy,” Jamie begins.

“No.”

“Oi, you didn’t even let me finish!” he says indignantly.

“Fine. What do you fucking want.”

“It ain’t for me,” Jamie says, “it’s for Bea. And my wife. I want to get her flowers, but it ain’t easy to push the stroller and look. Can you take Bea around the green? I’ll come find ya when I’m done.”

Roy stares at Jamie, and Jamie is sure he’s going to say no. But then Roy walks around to the front of the stroller and crouches down in front of Bea.

“If your dad fucking goes and gets flowers for your mum, do you promise to be alright for twenty minutes? I know I’m not fucking Sam or Isaac, but Phoebe thinks I’m a good uncle. She’s a proper fucking dweeb, but a good judge of character.”

Bea just stares at him. Roy slaps his thighs and stands up. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Jamie grins and says, “Bye, Beatrice. Be good for Uncle Roy.” He gives her a kiss on her forehead, a boop on the nose, and is gone, weaving through Richmond, man on a mission.

“Your mum’s a fucking saint for putting up with him,” Roy says to Bea. Bea says nothing. She’s fallen asleep. Roy shrugs and starts pushing her in the direction of the green. Better asleep than crying.

—

You’re showered, dressed, with just a touch of makeup, and you’re on your way to the flower shop. There’s this little one you and Jamie used to go to. You know the owner a little, but you suppose Jamie knows her better because he’s been in more. She’s about the age of his mum, and has a soft spot for him. He overpays and always leaves one flower for her. He hasn’t had the time to be over since Bea, so you say hello and show her some baby pictures, and then some of Bea and Jamie. You both laugh over your favorite, Jamie passed out on the couch, mouth open, wearing gray sweatpants and a single sock, with Bea on his stomach in a gray onesie and a single sock. She’s drooling on him and his hair’s a mess, but you think it’s adorably hilarious. Like father, like daughter.

Now, you’re perusing the flowers. It smells wonderful, the warm weather diffusing the fragrances through the shop. You turn a corner and bonk straight into a man with his back turned to you. You open your mouth to apologize and he turns, and out comes, “Jamie?”

He smiles and you peer behind him. “Where’s Bea? Oh my god Jamie, did you lose our daughter? She had better be close by, I swear to god, Jamie Tartt, how do you lose an entire baby, especially one as noisy as Bea?!”

You’re oblivious to Jamie’s attempts to interrupt your rant, so when you pause for a breath he says, “love.”

You turn to face him, from where you were trying to stand on your tiptoes hoping for a glimpse of Bea’s stroller.

“I didn’t lose her. She’s with Roy. D’you really think I’m that irresponsible?”

He looks so hurt that you realize what you’ve been saying. Your hands fly up to your mouth. Of course Jamie wouldn’t lose Bea. He loves her. He looks at her as though she makes the stars shine.

“Babe. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wasn’t expecting to see you, and then I wasn’t expecting to see you without Bea, and I thought I’d surprise you by getting flowers before you both got back, and-” you stop. Jamie is gently holding your face and smiling, no longer hurt.

“Babe,” he says, “love of me life and best mum around, it’s ok. I know whatcha mean.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Bit funny we had the same idea, innit?”

You smile. You’d been so caught up in your split-second worry about Bea, you didn’t even realize what was happening.

“Guess some things don’t change,” you reply. “You pick out any good ones?”

Jamie places his hand over his heart. “Love. I only pick out good ones. I picked you, didn’t I?” You laugh at his sparkling eyes, and put your hands on his waist, pulling him close.

“Pretty sure I picked you,” you reply.

Jamie hums. “That’s a fuckin lie, and you know it.”

Your feeble retort is cut off by his lips on yours.

—

You and Jamie walk toward the green, hand in hand. He’s holding bright yellow daffodils in the other.

Jamie spots Roy first. “Oi!” he yells, “look who I found!”

You wave, jog over to Bea, and crouch down. “Hi baby! I missed you! Did you have fun with Uncle Roy?” Bea babbles at the sound of your voice.

“Oh good,” you reply, “he is your third-favorite uncle, after all.”

Roy nods. “You fucking get it. Jamie tried to feed me this fucking bullshit that I was fucking number one.”

“Jamie!” you say. “Everyone knows it goes Sam, then Isaac, then Roy.”

Jamie puts his hands up defensively.

“Honesty,” Roy says, “Such an admirable quality. Remind me again why you’re with this fucking prick?”

You pretend to think for a moment then say, “For his money.”

Jamie says “Oi!” so you quickly amend, “And his smokin’ hot body.”

Jamie nods, satisfied. “That’s better.”

Roy is looking at Jamie in disgust. “You two are so fucking adorable, it’s fucking disgusting. C’mon Bea. I see Sam over by that bench. Let’s give these fucking idiots some time alone.”

You and Jamie turn to each other.

“He said we’re adorable,” you say, grinning.

“He said we get alone time,” Jamie says, grinning back.

“Roy!” you call, “how much time do we have?”

“Three hours!” Sam yells back. “I want to walk Bea to my restaurant!”

You and Jamie turn back to each other, giddy.

“You know what that means,” you say.

“Sex,” he replies immediately.

You laugh and grab his hand. “C’mon, babe. Let’s enjoy our alone time.”

As you walk away, Jamie says, “Oi, need to tell you about these girls who were trying to flirt with me. But don’t worry, I gave them the finger.” He holds up his ring finger and you slap his arm.

“This is why I love you.”

“Really? And here I only thought you were with me for my money,” he replies.

“And your hot body. Don’t forget that one,” you say.

“How could I forget?” he says. “When we get home, let’s put it to some good use.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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pedroshotwifey · 2 months

Text

Without Words

This can be seen as a stand-alone but I count it as a part to two this fic

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Tags/Warnings: Oral (m), cock worship, piv sex, rough sex, choking, semi-public sex, sprinkles of feelings, age gap, face fucking, degrading names (affectionate), cum eating, stuff I'm forgetting

Summary: You want to show Joel how much he means to you...but maybe in a less classy way.

A/N: Hey, babes! I hope you enjoy this part! I know a lot of people wanted to see an update, so here we are <3

*****

It’s been another long ass day. You and Joel were able to pick up the same shift, but there was enough work for four people—which is not the norm for the job you’d picked today. It took you three hours too long, but you’d gotten it done. Now that you and Joel aren’t glaring daggers at each other anymore, you’re actually able to be productive.

You walk hand-in-hand with him now toward your shared apartment. It’s been about a year since the two of you had caved into each other, and things honestly couldn’t be better. You’d had your fair share of fights—which is only to be expected with the attitude you both possess—but things have been good.

You moved into his apartment a couple of months ago, since he kept having to sneak out of yours too close to curfew. He practically lived at your apartment, even though his was bigger, because he didn’t want to risk you walking home late at night. It was an effortless change for you.

There was the issue at first about your age difference, and about how people might react when they realize what the two of you had become, but neither of you wanted to let that affect you. It’s the end of the fucking world, as Joel had put it, you both deserve to spend it with whoever you want.

You look up at him, admiring the way he walks so confidently with you on his arm. Like it’s no big deal at all. It took a little while for people to stop giving the two of you strange looks, but even from the start, he had embraced your relationship with no shame.

You haven’t even told him you love him yet.

It’s more of an unspoken thing, you think. Something you show with gifts and actions and physical affection, because deep down, you’re both still broken people in the apocalypse, and you don’t want to admit that you have a weakness. That’s what love is, after all. Just another thing for you to lose.

“Joel?”

It’s only now that you finally lose your composure. All damn day, you’ve been distracted, and you can tell he knew that much, but maybe not exactly what the problem was. Maybe it’s that thought—that you haven’t told him how you feel. But you know that you won’t even now. So you’ve been caught up in other ways to show him, to tell him.

You’ve been thinking about it all night. Ever since the two of you got home from your shift and he shucked his pants off to change. It’s not your fault, really. Not your fault the man has a massive fucking cock that makes a sizable, mouthwatering—and extremely daydream-able—bulge in his boxers.

You’re not usually a weak woman, but. Shit. Nobody would be blaming you for what you’re about to do if they were in the position to do it.

“Let me suck your dick,” you whisper up at him, watching his eyes go wide as he snaps his head left and right to make sure nobody heard that.

The two of you had gone to the last dinner offered at the hall, so it’s pretty dark out, and it’s also been raining for the last hour or so. There are only a few people out other than you since it’s so close to curfew, but Joel’s face still goes a little red at your request. You can’t help but bite your lip to contain your smile.

It really is funny how flustered he gets about you saying something like that when he’s the one who loves to talk about railing you in public. There’s not a single person under the canopy that you stopped under, but he still lowers his voice as he speaks.

“Yes fuckin’ please,” he says through a scoff. “But you couldn’t wait to run that filthy little mouth until we got home?”

You shake your head, smirking at him. You swear you can feel your heart beating against your ribs as you wait for him to understand your request. Your body is going hot from the pure want coursing through your veins.

“I want it now,” you practically whine as you pull on his arm like a petulant child. His eyes go wide again.

“Now?” he asks, obviously a bit shocked at your sudden desperation.

You nod at him, licking your lips.

This time, you catch a small twitch from between his legs before you give him your best doe eyes. You glance at the dark, empty alley a few feet away from you, and his eyes harden. He glances around one more time, clutches your upper arm, and drags you into the concealed space.

“Shit, baby, just be fuckin’ quick about it,” he mutters as he shoves you down to your knees. You smile devilishly up at him as your hands immediately fly to his zipper.

You frantically pull them down, the zip getting stuck halfway due to the massive bulge pushing against the denim. Joel hisses and you whimper as you snag it down quickly, not caring if it breaks or not.

The first time you saw him, you’d had a hard time admitting to yourself that it was the most gorgeous cock you’ve ever laid eyes on. It took a minute for you to understand that he wasn’t a threat, and only then did you allow yourself to appreciate the appendage to the degree that you do now. Since then, you’ve been sure to let Joel know just how much you love it.

It makes your mouth water as you pull it out from his pants. Girthy and long enough to still almost scare you even at half-mast. You know how it fits inside you though, how good it makes you feel when he’s pummeling it into your sore, stretched cunt at full force.

You want it to feel as good as you do, to feel the way your wet, hot mouth can wrap around it and slobber on it until Joel’s thick thighs are shaking with need to spill his seed down your welcoming throat.

The feeling of one of Joel’s hands threading your hair between his fingers and pushing you toward his crotch pulls you out of your daze.

“You gonna suck it or fuckin’ stare at it?”

You shoot Joel an annoyed glance and squeeze him lightly in warning. You give in anyway, however. It really doesn’t take much.

He makes a grunting sound as you take the fat tip of him between your lips, suckling the head and tonguing at his slit as your hand pumps the rest of him. You love the taste of his salty pre-cum on your tongue as you eagerly lap him, trying to get more.

Joel pushes harder on the back of your head and bucks his hips forward—though you’re not sure if that part is voluntary. Your hand moves back to the root of him, holding tightly and pushing him so that he can’t shove himself into your mouth.

You pop your mouth off of him, ignoring the string of spit that keeps you connected to his soaked tip. With heavy lids, you glance up at him to find that he’s staring back at you with a look in his eyes that can only be described as fiery.

“Be patient, old man, I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

Joel scowls at you. “The fuck you mean enjoy yourself? You’re suckin’ my cock,” he snaps.

“Okay, well I happen to really fucking like sucking your cock, Joel, so be. patient.”

He rolls his eyes at you and leans his head back against the brick wall behind him. Satisfied that he’s stopped arguing, you go back to his dick, grabbing it so that the underside of it is facing you.

You lean forward to lick up the entirety of it, coming down to suck and kiss at his balls every couple of strokes. Your head is going a bit fuzzy and your core is throbbing almost painfully with need.

You can’t stop though, you love the feel of his silky skin on your tongue, the way it moves slightly with each pass of your mouth. You moan loudly against him, enough so that it reaches Joel’s ears through the sound of the heavy raindrops pelting the ground and buildings around you.

He pulls sharply on your hair, but is unable to pull you away with how tightly you latch on to his thighs. You squeeze your eyes shut and just about double your efforts to ensure he won’t make you stop.

“Gotta hush, baby. Sound like a fuckin’ whore, moanin’ on my cock like that,” Joel squeezes out at you through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, but you love it,” you pull away just enough to retort.

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Joel smirks back at you as you get back to work. “Little s-slut just for me.”

When you lean forward this time, you take him fully between your lips, swallowing as much as you can to get him as deep as possible. You know you’re drooling, but you can’t find it in you to care, you’re far too drunk on his taste, his scent, the feel of his cock inside your greedy mouth.

Joel groans as you suck harshly, resisting the urge to gag as you hold him in your hot mouth and fondle his balls. God, you can’t fucking get enough. You pull back again once you literally can’t breathe, but not before taking his balls into your mouth once a piece.

“Fucking love your cock, Joel,” you tell him as you stroke him lazily.

“I know you fuckin’ do, darlin’. Why don’t you show him how much? Make him feel good, hm?”

You nod eagerly at him and put your mouth back on him, bobbing your head and using your hand to tightly pump what you’re not able to reach. Joel makes a choked sound and grips your hair so tight that tears spring to your eyes.

The sounds reverberating through the alley are nasty, but it only turns you on more. Between Joel’s bitten-down moans and the sound coming from his dick being slammed down your throat, it’s a fucking symphony in your ears.

“Shit,” Joel breathes from above you. “Want to be inside you, baby.”

You shake your head as much as you’re able. You want his cum down your throat, that’s the whole point of this. Twin tears trail down your messed cheeks with the movement, but you keep going at a quick but steady pace.

He grunts and pulls on you again, and this time, you’re forced to let go.

“Joooel,” you whine, hands going out to grab at him, only for him to squeeze again and hold you firmly in place.

“You fuckin’ quit that, now,” he commands, and you do. Albeit reluctantly and with a furious pout. His cock bobs tauntingly in front of you, throbbing and glistening with your saliva.

“C’mon, princess. Up.”

You continue pouting but do as he says, letting him haul you up so he can pull your pants and underwear down. You yelp, not expecting that part so quickly. The cool, moist air hits your heated core and you clench your thighs, making it more difficult for Joel to spin you around and shove you against the wall.

He’s behind you again in a heartbeat, the tip of his cock breaching your tight hole as he presses his entire front to your back. You keen as he slides into you, the stretch making your toes curl in your boots.

“See?” Joel mutters into your ear. “Shut you up quick, didn’t it?”

You can only nod as he starts to move inside of you, your slick making it easy for him to build up a quick pace. Your fingers spread out on the brick wall as he grips your hips and thrusts harshly up into you, a sheen of sweat starting to cover your body at the force in which he’s using you with.

He hits your g-spot each time, making you huff out weak little moans to mingle with his grunts. His heavy balls slap against you with each thrust, making a lewd sound against your soaked seam and sending shocks atop your swollen clit.

You mewl as your orgasm starts to build, a warmth starting to spread throughout your entire body. And when Joel brings one hand to wrap around your throat, you just about lose it. He squeezes the sides, cutting off your airflow and making your head spin.

You close your eyes and your senses hone in only on the feeling of his cock spearing into you, the way his grip is so hard on your hip that there are sure to be bruises in the morning. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder and he uses the opportunity to nuzzle your jaw.

“So s-soft ‘n’ wet for me, ain't ya? Like soaked fuckin’ silk.”

You whimper as much as you’re able, your body starting to shake as you get closer to the edge. Joel lets his fingers ease up from the grip he has on your throat, allowing air to sweep back into your lungs, and you explode.

You moan obscenely as you cream on his cock, his hand moving to your clit to thumb tight circles and prolong your pleasure. Your hands move from the wall to grip hard onto his forearms.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls into your ear.

“M–Please, Joel,” you whine. “Let me swallow–I–”

Joel’s dark laugh startles you, but he moves to give you what you want. He pulls his cock out of you, and you suddenly feel empty. You whine despite yourself, but are quickly distracted again by the way he spins you around and shoves you back to your knees, your pants still pulled down around your ankles.

You watch him dazedly as he fists his drenched cock and then guides it back to your swollen lips. You taste yourself on him as he pumps his hips and glides onto your tongue. He places a hand on the back of your head again, helping you take him.

“There you go, you fuckin’ cum-hungry little slut.”

You moan, and you can tell that’s his undoing as the vibrations travel through his length. He shudders and groans into the empty alley as his balls tug up and he spills into your mouth. You greedily drink him down, gripping his thighs and closing your eyes as you focus on not spilling a single drop.

He pushes your head down until he hits the back of your throat, waiting for you to gag before he slowly pulls all the way back out. You’re both sweaty and panting but you still open your mouth and tilt your head up for approval that you swallowed every bit of his cum. Joel watches you with parted lips and nods.

“Good job, princess,” he tells you, and you smile.

“Alright, baby, I gotta get you home before curfew,” he says after a moment. “Let’s get you cleaned up so it doesn’t look like we just fucked in a damn alley.”

You grin at him and lift your arms for him to help you up again. You don’t tell him that it’s pointless to clean you up since you’ll just end up in the same state once you get home. If there’s one thing that will never dwindle in your relationship, it’s the insatiable hunger that the two of you harbor for one another—and all the messes and mischief that comes with it.

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maddogofshimano · 7 months

Text

The Fist of Reason: Majima Boss Rush

Happy 5th anniversary to rggo! hard to believe it’s been this long already

look at our festival boys! anyways lets get into this because I’m very excited

summary:

sometime after the events of Y1, Kiryu gets a call that Haruka has a fever. On his way to pick her up, he bumps into someone familiar...

[One day, some time after the strife caused by the Tojo Clan's stolen 10 billion yen was settled...]

Kiryu: Hello. ...Thank you for calling.

Kiryu: ...Huh? Haruka's got a fever? ...I understand, I'll be there right away. <scene change to outside> Kiryu: .....

<he bumps into someone> Kiryu: Oh, sorry. ???: Sorry? If sorry was enough to cut it, there wouldn't be yakuza! Majima: Ain't that right? Kiryu-chaaan!

Kiryu: Majima no nii-san!? What are you doing at a place like this... Majima: What's so weird about that? If Kiryu-chan's somewhere, then Majima is too! Majima: Outside of that, the spot where ya just rammed into me hurts like hell... Majima: Shit, ya probably broke the bone... Hehe, what're ya gonna do? Kiryu: People with broken bones don't laugh about it. Sorry, but I'm in a rush right now. Majima: Why ya bein' so cold~? We ain't seen each other in ages.

Kiryu: We can talk more next time. Like I said, I'm in a rush. Majima: Too bad! No matter what ya say, ya gotta beat me if ya wanna go!! Hehehe! Kiryu: Tch...! Kiryu: Give it a damn rest already! Haruka has a fever! Majima: ! ........ Majima: What the hell... I didn't know that. Majima: I'm sorry for this. Go on, hurry up 'n' get gone.

Kiryu: .....Damn. <he runs off>

[And then, 3 months later...]

Kiryu: ...I haven't seen Majima no nii-san around here since then.

Kiryu: (I thought he was the kind of person to come back the next day for a fight, but...) Kiryu: ........... Kiryu: (Even if I was in a rush at the time, did I speak too harshly to him...?) Kiryu: (Of course I don't think a guy like him would be dejected from that... Well, it is possible...) ???: Kiryu no ojiki (tl note: ojiki is an honorific that's literally "dad's younger brother" which is used for patriarchs less senior than your own. Nishida usually uses it) Kiryu: ...Hm? Kiryu: You're that Majima Family guy...

Nishida: About that... My boss is going to be put in jail. Kiryu: What...!? Nishida: It happened yesterday... Our family is supposed to be running a festival... Nishida: In the middle of it some thugs started acting up, and they got into a fight with our family members. Nishida: So now they've issued a warrant for my boss, since he was the one in charge... Kiryu: What is Majima no nii-san going to do? Nishida: He thinks it would be futile to resist, so he's waiting at the festival site for the police to arrive. Kiryu: What? Nishida: My boss has been acting oddly for the past 3 months or so. He doesn't have any energy, and seems pretty depressed. Kiryu: 3 months... it can't be. Nishida: And so, my boss really wants to see you before he goes to jail... Kiryu: Me...? Nishida: Yes. He said he has something to tell you, so... Kiryu: ...Got it. Lead the way. Nishida: Y-Yes sir! <they leave> Majima: ......... (tl note: I'm sorry the image of him just holding that pose in that outfit while waiting for the cops to show is so funny to me)

Kiryu: ...Majima no nii-san. Majima: ...Oh, Kiryu-chan, ya showed.

Majima: Excuse my appearance. I was up on a float till now. Kiryu: ...I just spoke with Nishida. Are you really going to jail? Majima: ...Yeah. Orders from on high, can't be helped. I'll be awfully lonely during those years... Majima: That said, I won't be botherin' ya any more, Kiryu-chan. Kiryu: ...... Majima: I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused ya. ...I wanted to at least say that, before I went to jail. Kiryu: ...That's not like you. Kiryu: Are you really going to let your underlings see you leave the outside world with such a pathetic display? Majima: ...I don't really care either way. Kiryu: ........... Kiryu: ...Good grief. You acting this way is completely infuriating to me. Kiryu: It can't be helped, this is a big favor. ...I'll get you all fired up again.

Majima: Hah...? Kiryu: You know the best way I can cheer you up? ...Come at me, Majima. Majima: ...!

Majima: Is this... are you pickin' a fight with me?

Kiryu: Heh, isn't that what I just said? Majima: ........Hee, hehehe! Majima: Kiryu-chan, you're always the best! Majima: Let's get started...! Kiryu-chan!!!!

Majima: Hehe... As always, Kiryu-chan... you're tough as nails...

Kiryu: Heh... You are too. (tl note: RARE KIRYU SMILING SPRITE)

Majima: Oi oi, you're sayin' somethin' nice? Kiryu: Majima no nii-san... I'm sorry. Majima: Ah? Kiryu: For what happened 3 months ago. Kiryu: I was flustered, and I snapped at you. Majima: ........As always, Kiryu-chan, you're soft as a marshmallow~. I'm astounded. Kiryu: ....? Nishida: E-Excuse me! Kiryu no ojiki!

Nishida: The truth is... My boss going to jail was a lie in order to get you to show up... Kiryu: What? Then... was him being depressed also a lie... Majima: It was aaaaall an act! Majima: I was pretendin' to be put off by how ya talked to me so ya'd feel sympathetic, then after worryin' ya for long enough-- Majima: I'd reveal it was all a ruse, 'n' you'd get pissed off enough to throw down! That was the plan! Majima: It played out a little differently than intended, but, we still had a fight so it's all good. Kiryu: .....Heh, you're such an ass. (tl note: TWO smiles!! unprecedented.)

Majima: What, you're not mad? Kiryu: I had a feeling that something like this was going on. Majima: Then why'd'ya fight me? Kiryu: ...When it's with you, I can go all out in a fight. Kiryu: ...If I really think on it, I guess I enjoy fighting with you. Just a bit. (tl note: THIRD smile!!!)

Majima: !!..... Hehehehehe!! Heeey~! I knew it!!

Majima: C'mon, let's go another round! Hearin' ya say that's gotten me all worked up again! Kiryu: ...Heh, sure. It's a festival, after all. It's a good excuse to really cut loose. Majima: Hell yes!! Let's do this... Kiryu-chaaaaaa~n!!!! Nishida: A-Ah... This won't end until the sun comes up...

<END>

bonus stuff:

oh wow. oh man. that was pretty gay. between this and like a dragon: gaiden: the man who erased his name (lad gai man) thank you ryu ga gotoku studios for sending me birthday presents

obligatory boss rush pic

also a bonus shot of Kiryu’s apartment

the two new cards for this are “Mad Dog of the Festival Stage” and “Dragon of the Festival Band”

and since it was a festival I also put together a very special team to repeatedly kick Majima’s ass

#rggo #Ryu ga Gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #yakuza online #yakuza #like a dragon #Majima #Kiryu #Nishida #Majima Goro #Kiryu Kazuma

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imaginesforeons · 5 months

Note

Hello first timer here, May I please request for Yandere Nanami with a Frail reader wherein reader is trying to hide and escape,but their sickly coughing gave them away

Yes! Thank your for your patience <333

Yandere!Nanami x Sickly!Reader

~You try to hide from him, lost in clouds of gold~

CW: Past kidnapping. Reader has a coughing fit and it gets a little intense.

WC: 940(ish)

Buy me a coffee?

.-.-.

You pushed against the iron door with all your strength, yet it stayed still, frozen on its rusted hinges and fixed as any mountain.

Wheezing, you slid down the door’s front, collapsing on your knees, trying - and failing - to catch your breath. Each gasp was a struggle, and there was a familiar burn rising from the bottom of your chest that meant nothing good. Your sickness had chosen now to act up. It felt like everything was against you.

Fruitlessy, you pushed at the door again, fingers scrabbling against it. Suddenly, you jerked back with a hiss, cradling your hand. Wincing, you saw one of your nails, broken and twisted and leaving a small trail of blood coursing its way down your palm.

Cursing and biting back tears, you forced yourself to stand, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. Leaning against the door, you allowed yourself a few seconds to catch your breath, casting your eyes around the room.

For the first time in months Nanami had taken you outside. After what had felt like an eternity, he had taken you from the house in the countryside, freeing you from beige walls and padlocked doors. The only reason he did it was because you had finally earned a bit of his trust through weeks of fawning and keeping your head down. It had lasted long enough for you to bolt at the first opportunity you got, disappearing into an almost endless warehouse, forgotten and left at the edge of the sea for nature to take over.

Now you were here, breath rattling in your lungs like skeleton trees, sequestered away in some far-off corner that knew only dust and dirt.

You still hadn’t seen Nanami since you ran. You haven’t even heard him, and when every noise you made echoed across the walls like gunfire, not even catching the sound of your captor’s footsteps had to be a very, very bad sign.

Shifting, you brought a shaking hand to your nose, covering it with your sleeve and breathing through the fabric. Motes of dust were floating everywhere. Above you, part of the ceiling had fallen in, allowing sunlight to cleave its way through, hitting the dust motes and lighting them up into glittering clouds of gold.

At first glance it was very pretty, but you were stuck in the miasma, surrounded by microscopic particles of dirt, grime, and ash. You took another pained breath through your sleeve, but it did little to filter the air. You choked on a cough, and you quickly slapped your hands over your mouth, body shaking with the effort of trying to keep it in. There was a moment where you thought you’d be able to keep silent through sheer force of will, but then your lungs spasmed, leaving you hacking until blackness spotted the edge of your vision.

Drawing in a rasp of a breath, you stared up at the slivers of sky coming in through the caving roof, blinking tears from your eyes. You rolled to your knees, readying yourself to stand, when you heard something.

Barely there, it was the slightest echo of a footstep. You stiffened, peering around a corner, and saw a flash of gold. To your horror, it wasn’t sunlight or dust floating in the air, but Nanami, stalking through the warehouse with the surety of a leopard on the hunt. Behind his glasses, his eyes roved over every nook and cranny, studying his surroundings with a sharp intelligence.

You gasped. It was your first mistake. Because you were still in the cloud of dust, you pulled in a lungful of it, and because anything other than perfectly crisp air was hell on your lungs, your body was immediately thrown into a fit of terrible spasms. You gagged, trying to keep your coughs in, clasping your hands desperately over your mouth again, but it was no use.

It was all too much; the air, your anxiety, and the threat of Nanami all convalesced, and you broke out into earth-shattering hacking. It echoed through the warehouse, and the last thing you saw was Nanami’s face whipping towards your direction before your eyes fell shut with the effort of your coughs.

You sputtered and choked, and each time you desperately tried to breathe, all you did was inhale more of that foul air. Wheezing, you fell back, scratching at your throat. It felt like you were drowning, and a ringing started to fill your ears. You could feel your heartbeat in your skull, at your fingertips, and when you tried to open your eyes, black swarmed your vision.

A hand found your neck, coursing under it to cup the back of your head, cradling it as something was brought to your face. You pawed at it weakly, but it was fitted over your mouth easily. Suddenly, a rush of crisp, sharp air rushed into your lungs, cool and cleansing and with the slightest taste of mint on your tongue. You took in great, greedy gulps of it, and slowly your vision came back.

Staring down at you, your head in his lap, was Nanami.

When he saw your eyes open, he hummed, shifting your head back to the ground. Before you could speak, a muscled arm found its way behind your back, while the other went under the crooks of your knees. Lifting you effortlessly, he carried you from the warehouse, out into the freshness of the ocean air. When you took your first breath outside, you nearly cried.

“I assume,” he began, looking down at you through his glasses. “That you won’t try that again.”

You could only grunt. Exhaustion pulled at you, and your head lolled against his shoulder. A few seconds later, and you fell into an exhausted, restless sleep.

#jjk imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #imagines #yandere #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #yandere nanami #soft yandere #yandere nanami x reader #yandere nanami kento #nanami x reader

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holylulusworld · 6 months

Text

Shy guy (3) - Past

Summary: You grew up together. Bucky is the one. He’s just too shy to make a move.

Pairing (future): Shy!Bucky Barnes x Fratgirl!Reader

Sidepairing (friendship): Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: sweet Steve, John Walker hate, John Walker being the worst, harassment, fluff, angst, a little time jump

Inspired by this ask: Shy guy ask and @dawn-petrichor-world made me do it…

<;< Shy guy (2) - Past

Shy guy masterlist

Age of 14, …

“Why is Jamie not here?” You sniffle and wipe your eyes. It’s your birthday and your friend Jamie didn’t come to your birthday party.

“His mom wants him to play with other kids too,” Steve softly says. He pats your back and awkwardly tries to soothe you. “I’m sorry. He’s busy with some other boy from his old neighborhood. He moved to town with his mom.”

“A boy?” You are crying now. “But he’s our friend. Jamie is my best friend, and he won’t come to my party for some boy?”

“Hey, we can have fun without him. I’m sure Bucky will apologize for not coming to your party on Monday. He’s…” Steve sighs. “Puberty sucks, okay. Bucky needs some alone time without a girl hanging on to his every word. That other guy told him he can’t be friends with a girl without being…”

“Being what, Stevie?” You whimper. "Tell me!"

“Her boyfriend,” Steve puckers his lips. “Don’t be sad. I will always be your friend. Steve Rogers is a friend for a lifetime.” He grins when you hide your face in his chest.

You are the only girl whose heart he hasn’t broken yet. Steve doesn’t know why, but you are like a sister to him.

“I don’t like Jamie anymore. He’s so mean,” you cry and whimper. “Why did he do this? I invited him and his sister. Rebecca came, but he didn’t. I hate him!”

“Hey,” Steve jogs after you to walk you home from school. “Did he apologize? I haven’t seen Bucky around today.”

“He was talking to that boy John all the time,” you sniff. “I don’t like that boy. He’s mean. When Jamie wasn’t looking he grinned at me and cupped his…”

“He cupped what, Y/N?” Steve's eyes widen when you tell him that John cupped his crotch and made an obscene noise. “That bastard is dead! I’m going to break his nose!”

“Steve,” you grab Steve’s wrist. “He’s not worth it. If Jamie doesn’t see that guy is no good, I don’t want to be his friend anymore.”

You sniffle and runoff, dashing along the street only to stumble and fall.

“Y/N!” Steve chases after you to help you get up. “Did you get hurt? Wait, I’ll help you.”

“Awe, look at this James. The hero in shiny armor helps her up. LOSER!” John smirks at Steve. Your friend squares his jaw, ready to throw a few punches, but he decides against it. He needs to bring you home first.

“You’re an asshole Walker!” Steve bites back. “And you, Bucky!” He sneers. “I can’t believe you let that bastard talk about your friend like this while he’s after Y/N. He only makes you do all this to get Y/N for himself.”

“What?” Bucky watches his friend grab your backpack and help you up. “Is that true John? Do you want her to be your girlfriend?”

“I wouldn’t poke that asshole with a stick,” you grunt as Steve wraps one arm around your waistline to help you walk. “You’re not my friend anymore, James Buchanan Barnes. I hate you!”

Steve slowly walks next to you, soothing you on your way home. You’re crying and he feels helpless. He’s only fourteen years old and has no clue how to help you.

“He’ll apologize. You’ll see…”

Three months later, …

Bucky tried anything to get you to talk to him. It took him three months to convince you that he’s no longer friends with John Walker.

Still, something broke inside of you. You don’t see Bucky like you saw him before all this happened. Your heart still hangs on him, but Steve proved that he’s a better friend than Bucky could ever be.

One wrong friend, a few words and he left you hanging and ignored you.

“I got a belated birthday gift for you,” he shyly hands you a beautifully wrapped gift. “Rebecca helped me with the ribbon.”

“Oh, that’s…nice,” you can’t be happy. The gift only reminds you that Bucky didn’t come to your party because of John Walker. “I’ll unpack it later.”

Bucky sighs. He had hoped you’d like the gift and that you would be all over him like you used to do. “Uh-I hope you like it. I thought of you when I bought it.”

You roll your eyes. “I hope so because it’s a gift for me.”

He flinches at your icy tone. Bucky knows something shifted in your friendship due to his mistake. You talked more to Steve and pulled away from Bucky over the last weeks.

He only hopes you didn’t change your mind about marrying him one day…

Another month later, ...

Bucky stuffs more popcorn into his mouth. He watches you giggle at something Steve said about the stupid movie he chose for movie night.

“Can we—?” Bucky grunts as you shush him. “Can we watch the movie now?” He murmurs, afraid to speak louder with Steve around. His friend is like an overprotective big brother to you since Bucky let you down and Bucky fears he will make his threat come true and rip him a new one.

“Aw, look at him Stevie,” you jump at Bucky to tickle his sides. “He’s jealous because I got the biggest slice of pizza.”

“No-stop!” Bucky laughs and squeals as you won’t stop tickling him.

Steve watches you with his friend, humming as he hopes Bucky won’t mess things up with you again.

He’s already got his hands full with all the girls swooning all over him. He can’t always be around to protect you.

Even though, he loves you like a sister.

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #young!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #Shy guy (3) - Past #angst #bucky barnes x female reader

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tsunami-of-tears · 2 months

Text

Iris

Azriel x Rhys’s Sister Reader

Summary: Reader has been struggling with her inner demons ever since her brother went Under The Mountain.

A/N: This is really dark. Please, please read the warnings before clicking read more.

To preface: I’m okay, just tired and was pre-menstrual when I started this. I haven’t been in this dark of a place in a very long time, but I wanted to write this for 15-year-old Shelby who thought no one saw her. I haven’t talked about my history of self-harm much and it’s hard to reopen those wounds, but it’s therapeutic.

If anyone is struggling, my inbox is always open. I’ve also included a few resources at the end of this fic.

Wordcount: 1.2K

Warnings: ANGST!!; major depression; disordered eating (binging); graphic self-harm; Rhys UTM

Reader

Things were bad.

Really bad.

You had completely withdrawn from your family in the months since Rhys had gone Under The Mountain.

Rhys - your idiot older brother - had sacrificed himself to protect you and your people; leaving you in charge of his court.

Ruling had always come easy to him, he was born to do it whereas you struggled to switch between the required masks.

These days, the only mask you wore was one of cold indifference.

As the shield fell into place around Velaris, trapping you inside, a wall of adamant rose around you, keeping everyone around from seeing the war raging inside your mind.

Most of your time was spent in your bedroom with the curtains drawn, unable to look at the sleeping city below your window.

Velaris, the city of Starlight, had lost its sparkle.

The first week after Rhys left, not a single light could be seen. The once lustrous city had gone into mourning. The Sidra, usually glimmering like liquid night, now reflected only the deepest black.

You only dared to leave your room during the night when you were less likely to be spotted, not wanting anyone to see the ghost you’d become.

You float down the stone hallway, robes billowing as you walk to the kitchen.

You’d taken to eating late at night. Food, usually sweets, was the only comfort you could find.

You’re rummaging in the larder when you feel a familiar sensation around your bare ankles, the cold shadow wisping over your skin.

“Y/N,” you hear a deep voice say behind you.

You turn, blocks of chocolate in hand, to face the one person you love more than your brother.

“Azriel,” you reply, taking in his appearance.

He looked terrible.

His hair was dishevelled, his jet-black curls in dire need of a comb, and his once warm hazel eyes were dull and bloodshot. Beneath them were deep violet bruises, clearly he wasn’t sleeping much.

You can feel his gaze on you, and wonder what he thought of the shadow of life you’d become.

You watch his nostrils flare. “Y/N, are you hurt? I can smell blood.”

You feign a laugh, “I’m on my cycle.” You hold up the chocolate as evidence. “Cravings.”

Azriel narrows his eyes but doesn’t push you. “I… We miss you,” he says.

You turn away from him, unable to voice how broken you feel.

“Please, I can’t lose you too,” he pleads.

“Goodnight Azriel,” you whisper, slipping out the door into the dark hallway.

Neither Azriel nor his shadows follow you.

————

You step out of the shower and stand in front of the bathroom mirror, scrutinising your reflection.

You pinch at the skin on your hips and stomach, scowling at the growing curves, before turning to the side to inspect your full breasts and butt.

Facing forward again, your eyes fall upon the ladders of scars across your thighs and forearms.

Angry red and purple lines jutting between faint silver.

You started again after losing Rhys. You hadn’t done it since losing your mother. It was the only way you knew to reflect your inner turmoil.

The day your mother was killed, you were meant to be with her. You should’ve been taken too.

Rhys had helped you out of the pit of despair that time, but he was no longer here. Once again, you were saved while your loved ones were not.

You towel off your skin before sitting down at your vanity. You pull out an ornate jewellery box and retrieve the ash dagger stashed inside.

You weren’t sure why you harmed yourself. There was a part of you that felt you deserved it, that thought you were a wretch for allowing your brother to endure all that torment for you. Then there was a part that just wanted to feel something other than the numbness that ached to your core.

You press the dagger against your skin. Not even the sting of the blade made you cry anymore. Your tears had long since dried up.

With each slice, your self-hatred rings in your ears.

Stupid – cut.

Useless – cut.

Waste of space – cut.

You set the bloodied dagger down on the counter, feeling nothing but apathy.

Morning starts to creep in when you finally make it to bed. As you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the little voice inside your head sneers at you.

This was the life your brother sacrificed his for? Pathetic.

————

Azriel

If Velaris has become a ghost town, the House of Wind was its crypt – haunted by devastation and grief.

Azriel leaned against the balcony railing, looking out on the once-shining city.

How did it all go so wrong?

Not a day had gone by where he didn’t blame himself for everything. For Rhys. For Y/N.

Y/N. He could see the pain in her eyes. She tried to hide it, but Azriel knew better. He’d always been the one who could see through her masks.

Azriel is pulled from his thoughts by his shadows, swarming around him in distress.

“Y/N. Kitchen. Now.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Azriel tells them.

“She’s hurt.”

Azriel winnows into the hallway, allowing his footsteps to be heard outside the door. He turns into the room and spots Y/N searching through the freezer.

She slams it shut, jumping as she turns towards Azriel.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here,” she says. “We’re out of ice cream.” Y/N tries to step around Azriel but he blocks her path with his wing. He looks her over, not able to see anything visibly wrong.

“I’ll get you some more, just please come to dinner,” Azriel pleads. “Or we can go flying together, anything you want. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

Y/N shakes her head, looking at the floor.

“He wouldn’t want you hiding away like this,” Azriel says.

“I don’t care what he would want. He obviously can’t think clearly or else he wouldn’t have left,” she seethes, pushing past Azriel.

Azriel grabs her by the wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “Please Y/N, you’ve…” he trails off, feeling something lumpy under her sleeve. “What is that?”

Y/N tries to yank her arm back but Azriel’s grip is firm.

“Let me see,” Azriel says quietly. Tears start to fall from her eyes as he gently lifts her sleeve, revealing the bloodied bandages. “Oh darling, what happened?”

Y/N just shakes her head.

“Can I have a look?” he asks.

She bites down on her trembling lip, tears flowing freely

Azriel carefully unwinds the bandages revealing the stark, straight lines. His chest aches for her; as if the scars were etched into his heart.

Azriel always cared deeply for Y/N, offering her a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on whenever she needed it. A small part of him felt hurt that she hadn’t confided in him.

He swallowed his pain, it didn’t matter. He was here now.

“Come here,” Azriel wraps his arms around her, stroking Y/N’s hair softly as she sobs in his arms.

Azriel knew she was struggling, everyone could see it. But no one realised just how much losing Rhys broke her.

Azriel curses himself.

He should’ve known. After her parents, Rhys was all she had.

No that’s not true - she had Cassian. And Mor. And Amren…

And him.

And he wasn’t letting her go.

Mental Health Resources*: If you’re in immediate danger please call your country’s emergency number. Australia: Beyond Blue: https://www.beyondblue.org.au/ Mental Health Hotline: 1800 011 511 Lifeline: 13 11 14 USA: Crisis Line (call or text): 988 UK: Lifeline: 0808 808 8000 *If I have gotten anything wrong or if you have other resources to add, please let me know

#azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar angst

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kimkaelyn · 10 months

Text

Wingspan - k. takami

You are startled awake by the sound of crashing porcelain followed by a loud snarl coming from your living room. You lay in your bed for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling as you process what is happening. You sit up, at a loss for what to do in this situation. You have seen enough horror movies and true crime documentaries to know that getting up to investigate the commotion happening in your living room at two-thirty in the morning is a big no-no. However, the less rational side of your brain is probing at you to investigate.

Slowly, you rise from your covers and carefully tiptoe your way to the door. You slow down your breathing whilst avoiding the squeaky floorboards, not wanting to make a peep. On the other side of the door, you can hear faint muttering and booted footsteps. This intruder isn’t the brightest, you think to yourself when you hear glass cracking and splintering. You grab the metal bat that you keep propped against your dresser, just for good measure. You are right in front of your bedroom door now, the noises emitting from the other side becoming clearer. You take a couple of deep breaths, trying to ground yourself in the current moment. You put on a determined front, and with some sort of muffled battle cry, you throw open the door and sprint out into the dimly lit hallway, bat raised and ready.

You continue to yell your battle cry as you run into the main living area of your apartment, eyes frantically looking side to side, up and down as you search for the intruder.

“Woah there, bluebird,” A voice calls out from the other side of your couch, on your left. You quickly twist around, not hesitating for a second, raising the bat above your head and throwing it with everything you have toward the faint outline of a body. You hear the bat contact something- if the sharp thang is anything to go from, which is quickly followed by the sound of it hitting the floorboards. “What the hell!” The mystery person cries out.

You are momentarily blinded when your apartment is flooded with light. It takes a couple of seconds for you to adjust to the sudden brightness, but you are rendered speechless when you comprehend the sight in front of you.

Your apartment is a mess. Your balcony doors are wide open, and there are leaves covering every surface within ten feet of them. Your love seat is toppled on its side, and as your eyes drag along it, you realize with a gasp that the end table next to is it uncharacteristically bare. There is a sinking feeling in your stomach as you catch sight of the jagged remains of porcelain that once made up a gorgeous vase.

“Wh-what happened?” You ask your boyfriend, who is still slouched on the floor. He looks exhausted. His entire body moves with his ragged breaths, with his crimson wings tucked in tightly to his form. His mouth is pulled into a thin line, and his eyes are apologetic as he regards you.

“I’m sorry, bluebird,” he says. He gestures behind him to the balcony and the toppled furniture. “I came in a little too hot, and I’m not exactly in tune with your apartment yet.” He grimaces and scratches the back of his neck.

You nod in understanding. With how busy Hawks has been lately, you haven’t been able to spend much time together. You have only been able to meet up for lunch at his agency a couple of times over the past four months. Not to mention he has only been inside your apartment twice before, so it’s expected that he wouldn’t know his way around in the dark. You notice that he is holding a broom, and you spot the dustpan on the floor next to the pile of broken porcelain.

“I really am sorry about the mess,” Keigo continues. “I tried to be quiet and not wake you up, but obviously I failed.” He chuckles as he resumes cleaning up the broken ceramic.

“It’s okay, Keigo.” You tell him as you squat down to help, careful not to cut your fingers on the sharp porcelain. “It’s just broken porcelain, I can always buy another one.” You notice his shoulders slouch in relief at your assurance. “However, I am curious. How did you manage to do all of this in such a short amount of time?”

Keigo’s face turns bright red, and he bashfully avoids your gaze, instead opting to look at the floor. “Involuntary reaction to the hard landing,” he says. “I tried to catch myself before I fell, which means my wings splayed outwards, and knocked your vase over.”

“Oh,” Is all you say at first, and then- “I have never put much thought into your wingspan before.” You reply nonchalantly. You don’t notice your boyfriend openly gaping at you until you stand to dispose of the pieces of porcelain. You notice the almost constipated look on his face as he tries not to laugh. “What?”

At your question, the winged hero gives you a dazzling smile. His eyes take on a dark hue as he looks you up and down. “Well, bluebird, you know what they say about wingspan.” You blush as the words sink in.

Indeed, you did know.

Copyright © 2023 by kimkaelyn. All rights reserved. No plagiarizing, re-uploading, translating, or copying of any kind or on any platform of my writing. Please notify me ASAP if you see my work posted on other sites.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #hawks x you #keigo takami x you #takami keigo x reader #mha #bnha

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royboyfanpage · 4 months

Text

Snowbirds Don’t Fly- Drugs TW (Obviously)

Recently, I created this post about Snowbirds Don’t Fly being told from Roy’s perspective in the Green Arrow 80th anniversary special, and I thought I’d make a separate post with some specific panels from the original Snowbirds. I’m well aware that a lot of people haven’t read the full comic and may only know this-

-infamous slap panel, I myself only read the original 1971 comic recently. So, here’s some other panels from the comic.

For starters, when Ollie finds Roy amongst drug users, his immediate reaction is “oh, Speedy must be undercover!” This could be interpreted one of two ways- trust, or denial. Either one makes his reaction to finding out Roy’s addiction understandable*, since if it’s a reaction based on trust then Roy’s essentially betrayed that trust or, more likely, if it’s a reaction based on denial then finding Roy shooting up is an immediate shattering of the illusion. While this comic obviously focuses on drug use, it’s also common for tons of different issues, be it mental health, sexuality, whatever. Parents like to live in denial about their kids’ issues and, particularly in the 1970s when the idea of ‘gentle parenting’ was a rarity at best, when that illusion is broken it can cause parents to lash out when faced with evidence of what they’re denying. Even if you don’t personally see Ollie and Roy’s relationship as father/son, that is very clearly the dynamic portrayed in this comic.

*note the wording; understandable, not justifiable. Are Ollie’s actions justified? No. Are they understandable based on the circumstances and time period? Yes.

I’m putting these two panels together because I think they fit well. A common misinterpretation I see for the circumstances leading up to Roy’s heroin addiction is that Ollie was neglecting him. However, it’s stated in the comic that Ollie’s not seen him in one month, and while Roy’s age isn’t specifically stated, he’s an adult at this point (I don’t have any sources for it, but I believe he was living on his own at this point). A parent not seeing their adult child for one month isn’t neglect. In Ollie’s eyes, he hasn’t done anything wrong. The aspect of neglect comes from Roy. I’ve talked about Roy’s fear of abandonment in my pinned post, so check that out for more. Roy has a need to be surrounded by the people he cares about- he’s very rarely a solo hero, and is the most vocal objector whenever the Titans disband. So what Ollie would have seen as giving Roy space and letting his now-adult son have his independence, Roy saw it as a sign that he was no longer wanted. Is this either of their faults? No. And not to keep bringing up the 70s again, but it was the 70s. Would a young-adult superhero tell his father/mentor that he was scared of being alone? Absolutely not, that would have been seen as emasculating, so he bottled it up meaning Ollie had absolutely no clue as to what Roy was feeling whenever he’d leave.

And then this is the page following the slap panel, which essentially sums up my point in my last snowbirds post. Ollie’s immediate reaction after “kicking Roy out” (another thing I commonly see Ollie haters using- again, Roy lived on his own at this point) is blaming himself, the fear of having failed Roy, and then the stifling of that blame, justifying it to himself mentally. Honestly I think this panel is more significant in art than dialogue in a lot of ways- the way Ollie turns his head away when Roy’s talking to him, he knows he’s in the wrong, but admitting he’s wrong would go against the “father knows best” ideology of that time. And then in the third panel, the conflicting emotions is visible in his eyes. He doesn’t know what to think, the illusion is broken, and he can’t ignore Roy’s issues any longer.

And then there’s Hal, the narrative foil to Ollie in this comic. Unlike Ollie, Hal doesn’t have that illusion, at least not as strongly as Ollie does, since he’s always played the role of a supportive uncle figure, but never a father. He’s able to recognise that Roy was speaking from experience, or at least had a hunch, and actively sought out Roy afterwards. However, he also doesn’t have a saviour complex. He knows that he personally doesn’t have the skillset necessary to help Roy, so he brings him to someone who does, recognising that its more important that Roy gets the help he needs rather than Hal stepping in and doing it himself in typical “hero” fashion.

This panel doesn’t tie into my overarching argument, but I just wanted to take a moment to criticise Roy’s recovery story in the New 52. The idea that Roy was suicidal before Killer Croc (???) dragged him to rehab/AA, and would not have gotten better without being forced, is a major disservice to Roy’s character (then again, what in RHaTO isn’t?) Roy made the decision to get clean himself, and you can feel his resolve even despite him clearly not being in his right state of mind. Roy Harper got clean because he accepted help, and because he himself made that choice. Back to your regularly scheduled programming.

And then, of course, there’s the most significant person in Roy’s recovery; Dinah. Keep in mind Dinah and Roy barely even knew each other at this point, I’m pretty sure in Arsenal #1 it’s shown she didn’t even know his name was Roy until Snowbirds (though there may be other sources that contradict this). Dinah was 100% Roy’s biggest supporter in his recovery- she took him in when he was at his lowest, and as a result they developed such a strong bond and relationship. While I disagree with the concept of Dinah as the ‘Arrowmum’, mostly because A) she didn’t even know Roy until he was already in adulthood and B) it’s a gross oversimplification and diminishment of her character, there are undeniable aspects of their relationship which are mother/son-coded, and I believe she has referred to Roy as “my boy” in later comics, though again I don’t have sources to back this up. Either way, Dinah and Roy’s relationship started with Roy’s lowest and has continued as mutual care and respect and I love them a lot.

And finally, the ending page. Ollie *listens* to Roy at the end of Snowbirds. Now that the illusion’s already lifted, that there aren’t lies and rose tinted glasses separating them, Ollie’s able to actually listen to what Roy’s saying without immediately shrugging it off because it conflicts with his own perception. And he feels *proud* of Roy, proud of his recovery, and proud of his beliefs. If Ollie were truly the neglectful, abusive guy some fans paint him out to be, he wouldn’t be proud. Hell, he wouldn’t even be there. Keep in mind this final scene takes place at the funeral of one of Roy’s addict friends who overdosed earlier in the issue, a funeral Ollie attended.

Snowbirds Don’t Fly was written to show the audience addiction through someone they’re familiar with- Green Arrow’s sidekick, Speedy, someone we know is a hero and one of the good guys. It’s made to contradict the belief that addiction is a moral failing, that anyone could develop an addiction under certain circumstances. And what it shows the readers, it also shows Ollie. Ollie sees someone he cares about going through addiction, and it causes him to reevaluate his own biases and beliefs.

In conclusion, while the slap was definitely not justified, it was also not the part of the comic readers should focus on. The story of Snowbirds Don’t Fly, at least for Ollie, is one of a hero being forced to face one of his own beliefs, to struggle to reconcile said beliefs with new information, and eventually to change his beliefs as a result of new experiences. It’s called character growth, and that’s what Snowbird’s about. So stop calling Oliver Queen an abuser.

#tw drugs #roy harper #arsenal #red arrow #speedy #dc comics #green arrow #oliver queen #snowbirds don't fly #dinah lance #black canary #hal jordan #green lantern

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hockeyboysimagines · 7 months

Note

(forgot to write in the prompts before) but smut prompts 18 & 21 for Dunner?? like a jealous make-up sex scenario??

Hope you enjoy this!!!

“So what’s with you and Vince? Did you guys finally call it quits?”

You flinched a little at the mention of his name but nodded “Yeah we’re done. For real this time.”

It had been just over 2 months since you’d officially broken up and it was still a sensitive subject. You’d broken up over the phone just before he came home and now going into early July, you still hadn’t seen him.

And you were glad.

The last thing you wanted to do was see his stupid face, especially after the bitter breakup and the way things went down because you definitely were not over him. If anything, the last two months had been especially hard for you, but you were finally coming out of it the last week or so. You’d even started casually dating someone new, more as a distraction than anything but the guy was okay. He was no Vince, but he was decent and he’d been successfully keeping your mind off things.

Until 5 minutes ago.

There he was fucking up your night at the party you kind of knew he’d be at, but you still couldn’t believe he was 10 feet away.

“Ech” you downed your drink and tossed the cup in the trash turning to your friends “I’m leaving.”

“No come on-“

“No seriously. I don’t wanna see him.” You waved goodbye to your friends and made your way out of the house and outside, down the front walk to where you had parked.

“Hey.” You stopped and turned, annoyed to find Vince coming up behind you, half in shadow.

“What do you want?”

He chuckled and came to a stop in front of you “I miss you too.”

“Ha ha.” You sneered taking a step backwards towards your car “I don’t miss you. Do you need something or can I go?” You turned away from him but he caught your wrist.

“What’s your hurry? Off to see your new boyfriend?” You froze and turned slowly back to him as he nodded “Don’t play dumb. You had to know I was gonna find out about that. Since when?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a guy.”

“Yeah just a guy.” He looked a little mad “We break up for a few months and already you’re fucking someone else? Guess I know where I stand.”

“You don’t know anything, and I’m not fucking anyone okay Vince?” You yanked your hand away, eyes blazing with anger “That’s your thing.”

“What did you say?” He leaned forward and frowned.

“I said, that’s your thing. I hear you’ve been in bed with every girl in town since you came home.”

“I haven’t been with any girls since I-“

“You know what Vince.” You said waving your hand to cut him off “Fucking save it okay. We’re done, it’s over now I’m leaving.”

You turned to your car but he spun you around, pressing you up against it. Your brain was screaming at you to push him away but you just couldn’t as he leaned in and pulled you into a very long heated kiss.

Stop stop stop stop

Your brain continued to yell, but it was no use. Before you knew it you were tangled up in the backseat of your SUV, with no pants on.

You reached out to grab on to something so Vince could pull your underwear down and missed the handle, fingers streaking down the foggy window. You fell forward catching yourself on the headrest instead as he pulled them over your ankles, pulling you down so you were on your back and ya king his own jeans down. He pulled one of your legs and pushed the other one away from it, stopping just before he pushed inside you. You picked up your head.

“What-what are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget that assholes name” he said lowly.

“Vince I-ahhhhhhhhh.”

You gasped out as he pushed in without warning before pulling out and doing it again “I’m going to ruin you” he whispered in your ear, tongue sliding over the skin of your neck.

You felt like you were going to explode as his pushes became almost too much but you never wanted him to stop. He was breathing heavily in your ear, breath hot on your skin, and a thin sheen of sweat had appeared on both of you as you started to feel a warm sensation between your legs and you closed your eyes. A blinding orgasm hit you both at the same time and you cried out as it surged through your body, nails gripping the skin of his shoulders.

“Jesus Christ.” He breathed out, breath ragged as he leaned his forehead against your chest. It was quiet a few moments as he pulled out and handed you your underwear. You sat there staring at him, clearing your throat before you spoke “As nice as this was I have a date later soooo….”

Vince whipped his head towards you and looked mad until you smiled and giggled a little.

“That’s not funny.” He said shaking his head.

“It was a little funny.”

“So about that guy anyways-“

“What guy?”

“The guy your dating. What’s his name?”

“No idea.” He was looking at you, small smile spreading across his face and leaned back a little smugly.

“Mission accomplished.”

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princessmisery666 · 4 months

Text

The Right Guy On Paper

Summary: Dean receives unexpected news, and his chosen coping mechanism leads him straight back to you. Part 2 of 3. Part 1 - Just Don't Say You Love Me.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, mentions of cheating.

W/C: 4,315.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Mentioned: Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: A bar - An Arrest - Loyalty

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own.

A/N: I finally figured out part 3 so here's part 2.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

How did he not see this coming? Well, he did, maybe, but not this soon. But still, how could he have not seen it coming, especially after his last encounter with you? It had been written all over your face; you didn’t want a full-blown commitment or declaration of love, but the hope of some kind of promise was there. He’d shot it down immediately, made a hasty retreat, and hadn’t spoken to you in over a month.

It doesn’t make it sting any less. But that’s all it is, a sting, a scratch. It will scab over, and he’ll ignore the itch. At least, that’s what he tries to convince himself of as he pulls up at Jody’s.

The door opens as he steps onto the porch. It’s Jody, phone to her ear, and an incredulous look turned in his direction.

“Yeah, he’s here,” she says into the phone. So Dean assumes it’s you checking up on him. “Yeah, will do. Okay. Bye, honey.”

Dean kisses her cheek, perhaps a little too hard, as he crosses the threshold, heading straight for the liquor.

“Dean…” she starts.

He ends it immediately, holding a hand up so she can see it over his shoulder. “Don’t.”

He doesn’t see her surrendering gesture, but he hears it in the sigh she releases over the clink of the bottle hitting the glass. He shoots back the whiskey; it's the cheap stuff and burns more than it should.

He pours another shot, back still turned, but he can feel Jody’s eyes on him, the worry radiating off her. He won’t tell her he’s fine. She’d see right through it.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He laughs, humorless but amused because Jody knows the answer, yet she always asks on the off chance he’ll give her a glimpse of what’s going on in his head. If only he knew himself, maybe he’d share it.

Another blazing shot warms him from the inside.

He pours another and takes a breath, waiting for the flame in his gut to simmer. But it doesn't, and it’s not because of the cheap liquor, so he concedes, taking the bottle and the glass to the chair. “Who is he?”

Jody sits opposite him, smiling softly. “His name’s Luke, nice guy.”

“Luke,” he tests out the name before washing it away, swilling the liquid around his mouth. This time, he lets the wince show, accepting that it's more than the booze. “He’s a cop, right?”

“Yeah,” Jody confirms.

He smiles, even feels the fondness in it, but the sentiment dies before he finishes his sentence. “She has a type.”

Jody reciprocates the gesture, reaching over to take the glass from him. “Don’t push her out because of this,” she says, “she’s good for you. Some of those broken pieces didn’t seem so broken when you’d been around her. That doesn’t change because you're not sharing a bed anymore. Let her be your friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “maybe.”

But he knows he will push you away because he doesn’t know how to be your friend. After all, you’ve never been just friends.

It’s too easy and not as entertaining as Dean hoped. He’s been on a bender for a few days now. He told Sam he was just stir-crazy, the monsters haven’t been monster-ing lately, and he needs an outlet. It’s partly true. It’s the lack of killing, plus the news Jody delivered a week ago. More so the latter.

You and Luke are engaged.

Dean thinks it's too soon; it’s only been two months. But then again, what does he know? Maybe when you know, you know. You're no fool. And you didn’t suffer fools. You wouldn’t commit to something unless you knew it was right for you.

So Dean’s been doing what Dean does best, finding distractions to bury his tumultuous emotions. He was looking for a warm body, but when no one caught his eye, he settled for ridding some suckers of their hard-earned cash.

He’s up three hundred dollars with double or nothing on the line. Though part of the hustle is to appear drunk, as he finishes his seventh, or maybe it’s his eighth beer - he lost count after shot number four and around bottle five - he thinks he really should slow down. If only for the fact Sam will have to come collect him and Dean doesn’t want to hear the ‘your-not-twenty-six-anymore’ lecture.

His opponent, David, walks around the table, looking for the best angle to take his shot. It doesn’t matter. Regardless of what he does, Dean’s got him in three moves. Or at least he would if his earlier victim, Jason, wasn’t striding up behind him with a furious look that Dean sees in the mirror hanging on the wall behind the table.

“Hey,” Jason calls, a tenth of a second before he throws a punch that Dean ducks.

Dean spins to face him, standing his ground. He can’t back up out of reach cause he’ll hit the wall and box himself in. “C’mon man,” Dean tries, “don’t be a sore loser.”

Jason is already swinging a second punch that Dean recognizes the poor form would likely break his hand had Dean not sidestepped to avoid it.

Two of Jason’s friends are close by but seem reluctant to back up their buddy, so Dean tries to reason with them as he pivots so Jason has his back to the wall, and Dean can back away. “Come get your friend before he gets hurt.”

That’s enough to convince them to intervene, but instead of doing the smart thing and removing their friend from further embarrassment, they descend on Dean, and he’s left with no choice.

He smashes the pool cue into the stomach of the first one. The dude doubles over and falls to his knees. The second man narrowly avoids tripping over him, stumbling towards Dean’s perfectly formed fist, and goes down after a crack of bone and a scream of pain.

Jason looks down at his fallen comrades, and Dean lifts his brow, challenging him.

“Walk away,” Dean advises.

He doesn’t.

Dean has to give credit where credit is due. Jason is tougher than his withering friends. He takes three shots to the face and manages to land a good right hook to Dean’s mouth before he drops to the floor, rolling into the fetal position when Dean takes a step forward.

He can’t be sure whether he was going to kick the man while he was down. But he’ll never know because two sets of hands grab his arms.

Dean doesn’t think. He reacts. Twisting his right arm free, he throws a punch as he turns.

“Okay, you're under arrest…” but it’s too late. His fist connects with the jaw of his captor - a blond cop who still has a hold of him.

Dean’s brain finally registers the uniform and star pinned to his chest, and now he’s really in trouble. “Shit!” He grumbles, holding his hands up as the blood trickles from the cop’s nose.

Dean tells Deputy Callaghan he’s making a mistake and wasting his time hauling Dean to the station. But his suggestion to call Sheriff Mills to get this mess straightened out falls on the deaf ears of the cops in the front of the squad car.

Dean gives up. Jody will have his back, and hopefully, she’s got some leftovers for him at the house.

“You're gonna feel really stupid when we get in there,” Dean says as Callaghan roughly pulls him from the car. “I’m telling you, Sheriff Mills will have your ass for wasting her time.”

“That’d be scary,” Callaghan smirks, smug in whatever knowledge he has that Dean doesn’t. “If she wasn’t on a retreat in Milwaukee until Monday.”

“Crap.”

“Looks like you're our guest until we can get a hold of her, which could be days.”

“Crap.”

Despite Dean’s lack of resistance, Callaghan makes a point of manhandling him through the station doors. He must want to look tough in front of his buddies and make the dried blood on his shirt look like Dean put up a fight that Callaghan won on account of his being detained.

Dean accepts his fate - for now. He doesn’t want to cause more trouble for Jody to clean up.

But maybe he should have because slipping the cuffs and making a run for it would have been easier than facing you. As soon as the door swings shut, like some kind of magnetic pull, your eyes find him, and you're frozen in place staring at him while some newbie who looks about twelve talks at you.

You hand the clipboard back to the young deputy and march with such purpose toward him he’s expecting a Sam-level lecture, but instead, you look around him.

Dean’s seen the sneer you unleash on Callaghan before, but there’s an extra layer to it, a venom that spits out with your command, “Uncuff him now.”

Dean is glad he’s not on the receiving end of your ire, and the station falls quiet. All activity ceases while they watch the show.

The softness of Callaghan’s voice doesn’t match his words or reasoning tone. Dean can tell this dude knows he’s on thin ice with you and trying to make it right. “You don’t even know what he did.”

“Bar fight at Lloyds. Heard all about it.”

“He hit me.”

“You're still standing, so it obviously wasn’t hard enough,” you counter, and Dean sniggers, as do some of the other people watching.

“Y/N,” Callaghan tries again.

You purse your lips, stubbornness settling in tight. “Release him and get out of my station.”

Technically, it's not your station, but Dean assumes Jody’s left you in charge while she’s away. He really wants Callaghan to point that out because Dean can see your one smart comment away from adding to the bloody nose Dean gave him.

But you don’t give him a chance to make the mistake of correcting you. “You owe me, Luke, now and forever, so I’m calling in a chip. Release him!”

Silence prevails for a loaded second. Dean turns slightly to look at Luke, jiggling his hands behind his back. “You heard the boss,” he smirks, “I’m a free man.”

Luke shakes his head and looks back at you. “Whoever he is,” he says, pointing a finger dangerously close to Dean’s face, “he’s trouble.”

“She can handle it,” Dean counters and winks when Luke finally breaks the stare-down with you.

That’s enough to deflate his bravado a few notches, and he finally turns and leaves, slamming the door open as he goes.

Dean mumbles a thanks while you unlock his new jewelry, suddenly feeling some embarrassment for being arrested. He turns to face you, rubbing at his wrists now that the metal is gone. “Sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble.”

“It’s fine,” you wave him off, “no trouble.”

You stare at one another for a short moment, and he sees how tired you look. He opens his mouth to say it's good to see you despite the circumstances, but before he can utter a syllable, you hold up a finger.

Leaning around him, you announce, “Shows over,” and the station springs to life again.

“I should get out of your way,” he says, giving a tight smile.

“Can I give you a ride back to your car?”

He shakes his head, “No, thanks. I’m good. I could use the walk.”

“You got a motel?”

“Nah, just passing through.”

“You’re too drunk to drive back to Lebanon.”

He shrugs, “I’ll find a motel.”

“Here,” you say, fishing in your pocket for a set of keys. “These are for Jody’s. No one’s there. Jody is in Milwaukee, Alex is on vacation with friends, and Clare is hunting in Michigan.”

He makes no move to take them, so you grab his hand and place them on his palm, closing his fingers around them. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the place, but I’m finishing up here and heading up to her cabin. Jody will be back about three tomorrow.”

“Deputy Dick said she wasn’t back until Monday.”

You roll your eyes, “he lied. He does that.”

You don’t elaborate, and Dean doesn’t push, but he knows there's a story to be told.

“There’s beer and leftover lasagne in the fridge,” you layer on top of the perks, “and it's closer than the bar. Just sleep it off, please. For me.”

He nods, “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Take care, Dean.”

“You too,” he says. He wants to hug you or kiss your cheek or something, but instead, he stares at his fidgeting hands. “Um…maybe we can grab a drink soon,” he suggests, “it’d be nice to catch up.”

“I’d like that,” you say, and your smile is genuine and kind when he meets your eyes again. “You know where to find me, Winchester. You never needed an invitation. That hasn’t changed.”

He laughs just as someone calls your name, and you excuse yourself. He watches you cross the room to the same deputy you were speaking with earlier. He really has missed you, but the open invitation dulls the ache a little. He’s definitely going to take you up on it.

You haven’t been sleeping well lately. It’s understandable; you’ve been through a lot, so you're surprised that you wake just after eleven to the cheerful, chirping bird song.

It must be the peacefulness of the forest that surrounds Jody’s cabin that allowed the much-needed rest to extend later than usual. You're grateful that she practically forced the mini-break on you - “You need to get away. Get your head straight. Take a few days.” As you step onto the porch with a steaming mug of coffee and the thickest blanket you can find, you realize she was right.

This is definitely what you need: nature and some quiet time. No hustle and bustle of a busy town, no traffic noise or drunks snoring logs in the holding cells.

Wrapping the blanket around you, you get a whiff of the cotton-fresh fabric softener and wrap it snugger around you as you sit on the porch swing.

That’s where you spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon wrapped up in the blanket with a book from Jody’s collection. You brought a healthy supply of food with you, and that's the only decision you need to make today: what to cook for dinner.

You’re two delicious sips into your third coffee of the day when the quiet is disrupted by the unmistakable growl of Baby’s engine. He’s not speeding, and you haven’t missed any calls, so you don’t think it's an emergency.

Dean cuts off the engine as he pulls up behind your truck, returning the forest to its quiet tranquility, and steps out of the car with a bright smile.

“Hey,” he greets as he reaches the bottom step.

“Hey yourself,” you grin, finding his smile endearingly contagious. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy,” he says, “passing through on my way home and wanted to say thanks again.”

He could have called you from the road, so you know the flimsy excuse is the best he could come up with, but you're not upset that he’s there.

You laugh, “You mean Jody asked you to check up on me?”

“That too,” he admits with a slight shrug.

You feel the hurt constrict your chest again. Jody’s concern is a reminder of what happened. “She tell you why she wanted you to check up on me?”

“No,” Dean says, climbing the few stairs to stand on the porch. “Doesn’t take a genius, though.”

“Just a sober hunter.”

“Ow, low blow,” he laughs.

You laugh with him for a second but cut it off with a deep sigh. He will hear the story sooner or later. It may as well come from you. Closing the book and putting it on the table, you ask, “Can you stay for dinner?”

He claps his hands and rubs them together, “What’re we having?”

It shouldn’t be as easy as it is to fall back into the familiarity of working together. Dean chops peppers and onions while you put the chicken breasts in the oven. It’s effortless, moving around without getting in each other's way.

You’ve missed it, and from the slight smile that remains while Dean works, you think he feels the same.

He doesn’t press for information, though you’re sure he’s desperate to know why you're at Jody’s cabin alone and if Luke was/is your Luke owed you big enough to let him go without question.

You wash your hands and move on to making the dough, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean. It’s easier to talk that way without the embarrassment of looking at him face-on. Though you know he won’t judge you, you don’t want his pity. Still, you start with an easier question.

“You have Charlie’s unlimited credit card.” Mixing the ingredients in the bowl, you ask, “So it’s not like you need the money. Why were you hustling people?”

He shrugs. “Needed some entertainment.”

“It work?”

“Yeah, for a minute,” he chuckles, “at least until I got socked in the mouth.”

You see his tongue poke out to lick at the cut on his lip. “Maybe that's what I need.” you wonder, sprinkling flour on the countertop.

“To get clocked in the face?”

You chuckle along with him. “No, smartass. Some mindless entertainment, forget everything for a while.”

“Like why Luke owes you now and forever?” Dean asks.

“Nice transition,” you jest.

“I thought so,” he says, walking to the fridge to grab the cheese along with two beers.

He twists the caps off and tosses them in the trash. He’s started grating the cheese before you decide to tell him what happened.

“It was good for a while, really good, dreamlike even.” you take a long pull on the beer, and he’s nice enough to keep working, piling grated cheese to the side before continuing to work on the remainder of the block. “But obviously, it was too good to be true. His ex showed up. She’d left him to take a promotion a couple of years ago but decided her career wasn’t all she wanted after all. He made a big show of telling her no and asked me to marry him." The dough takes the brunt of your ire, words punctuated with huffs of breath while you knead it into shape. “He took a demotion to be closer to me. I thought I’d bagged a good one, a real devoted guy. But I was wrong. It didn’t take long for him to cheat.”

“Glad I clocked him.”

“Me too.” silence stretches, and you break it by blasting out a long sigh. “I’m such an idiot. I chose the stable guy, the guy that was right on paper. I picked the easy way, and it backfired.”

“That doesn’t make you an idiot.”

“No?” you question, pausing your work to look at him. He halts his task, too, looking at you fully. “When I found out, I did all the tests, holy water, silver, recited an exorcism ‘cause I didn’t believe he was just a bad guy. If that doesn’t spell out desperate idiot, I don’t know what does.”

“It doesn’t!” He argues, frustrated that you're talking down about yourself. “But you know what does spell out ‘idiot’? Cheating on someone as awesome as you.”

You cock a small smile, “Thank you.”

You hold one another's gaze for a long moment. You want to tell him that you would have picked him over Luke, over anyone else, but you know he wouldn’t want to hear it. As if he can read it in your expression, he clears his throat and breaks the loaded stare to turn back to his task.

“C’mon,” Dean says, “Let’s get these pizzas baking and get drunk.”

The late morning rise must have been a fluke because you can’t sleep. Considering the half bottle of whiskey you drank with Dean, you're surprised by your inability to fall asleep.

Maybe that’s the cause of your insomnia, too much alcohol in your system, or the fact that it feels weird knowing Dean is sleeping in the room next door, or perhaps the emotional turmoil of the last few weeks is taking its toll. Whatever the reason, the more you try to force it, the further away it seems to get and the angrier you become. After an hour of tossing and turning, you give up.

You need to do something to occupy your mind and decide to bake some cookies. Once in the kitchen, you realize that using a mixer will most likely disturb Dean, who’s just down the corridor. But now that you’re up, you really want cookies and decide to mix them by hand.

The first batch is just starting to rise in the oven when Dean appears, fully dressed but with messy hair and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Crap, did I wake you?” You ask.

“Nah,” he shakes his head, bleary-eyed, squinting under the brightness of the kitchen lights. “Don’t tell Sam,” he says, “but I’m not twenty-six anymore. Indigestion woke me up.”

You laugh lightly, “There’s Pepto in the bathroom.”

“Found it,” he tells you, clicking the button on the coffee machine. “Then I smelled cookies, so I came to investigate.”

“Well, perfect timing. The first batch should be ready by the time the coffee’s done.”

He doesn’t speak while the coffee brews, but you feel his eyes following you. You wonder what he’s thinking but know better than to ask. Maybe you truly don’t want to know. The thought of him pitying you fills you with embarrassment despite knowing Luke’s actions are not a reflection on you.

Dean pours the fresh coffee and adds sugar and a splash of cream to yours, sliding it closer to you while you pull the first batch of cookies from the oven and onto a cooling rack.

He steals one, “hot, hot, hot,” he hisses, juggling it from one hand to the other. Despite the obvious temperature, he takes a bite, huffing out the heat before it's cool enough to bite down.

He chews three, four times, hesitates, and chews some more. It’s evident from the face he’s trying, unsuccessfully, to not pull that it’s terrible.

“It’s awful, right?” you ask with an apologetic scowl.

He nods, grimacing, “Disgusting,” he confirms but starts chewing again as if the taste will improve.

“Well, don’t eat it!” You scold, laughing, “spit it out!”

He rushes to the trashcan and spits out the chewed-up wad.

“I’m sorry,” he says, swiftly walking back to grab his coffee and taking a big gulp. “I was trying to be polite, but yeah, that was not good.”

You know he’s not being purposefully mean. You’ve never been good at baking, and clearly, eyeballing the ingredients didn’t work, but it still hurts a little. You sigh, watching the cookies slide off the plate and into the trash.

You scoop the second batch of cookie dough onto the spoon and into the trash, “I guess I wouldn’t have made a good wife after all.”

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Dean reprimands. “You’d make an awesome wife.”

Has he really thought about what kind of wife you would be? Why would he? That was never a possibility for the two of you, so it’s purely a reflex, saying something nice to make you feel better.

You don’t respond, continuing to tidy the mess you’ve made while Dean steps out of the way, leaning his shoulder against the fridge to watch you.

While your back is turned, he asks, “Is that really what you wanted? To be his wife?”

You shrug, wiping down the countertop with a damp cloth. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“You were so career-driven, always seemed happy in the moment. I never pegged you for the white picket fence type,” he comments, sipping his coffee again.

“I never was.” You laugh without an ounce of humor because he has you dead to rights. How well he knows you always surprises you, which in turn surprises you more because that’s what he does for a living. He has to read people. The same way you do - checking for tells and body language of victims and suspects. Dean knows when he’s being lied to. You know you’d never sneak one past him. Yet he doesn’t seem to understand that he was the one who changed your perspective. He was the one who made you believe there was more to life than a career.

“So it was him then?” he softly asks, as if he’s expecting you to reveal a secret. “He changed your mind, made you want it all?”

The anger and bitterness swell inside of you. Not just towards Luke for promising you a future and then ripping it away, but at Dean for being oblivious to the fact he’s the reason for the change of perspective.

“It doesn’t matter what changed. It’s over now,” you snap, throwing down the cloth and knocking the neat pile of crumbs you’d made onto the floor. “All of it.”

“Why are you mad at me?” he yells, looking slightly confused and standing straighter.

“I’m not,” you try to backtrack, though your volume increases. “I’m just mad! Mad at Luke for being an unfaithful asshole, mad at myself for falling for it, mad at the universe for giving me something good and taking it away again. And y’know what? Yeah, I am mad at you, Dean! I’m fucking furious ‘cause you changed my mind. You made me realize I could have it all: a career and partner who understood my commitments, someone who was happy to slot into my life when it worked for both of us, and made me see it could be effortless. I didn’t want any of that until we started our thing.”

“Hey!” he shouts back, “I never said never. I said not right now. Or then or whatever.”

“Bullshit! You said you couldn’t make any commitments, even without Chuck pulling the strings.”

“Yeah, I meant I needed a minute to process, figure some stuff out. You said we were good. You didn’t want any ‘awkward conversations’,” he counters with full-on air quotes.

“I didn’t want to scare you off!”

“And I didn’t want you to run off and meet someone new!”

“Yeah, well, that worked out just fucking great, didn’t it!” The anger simmers, and you hold his eyes until he blurs behind your tears.

Dean blasts out a sigh, “Maybe I should go.” He phrases it as a suggestion, but he’s already tipping the remainder of his coffee into the sink, so obviously, he’s made up his mind.

“Yeah, maybe you should,” you say, blinking up at the ceiling to stem the tears. “I’m really not in the headspace for this right now.”

You keep your back turned while he shuffles around, going to the bedroom to grab his duffle.

Why did Jody send him? She was the one who suggested the vacation, and she, of all people, knows how much losing Dean hurt you. You’d confided in Jody about the commitment comment, which had been the catalyst for realizing how deep you’d got with Dean and how much it wasn’t reciprocated.

A chair momentarily teeters as Dean pulls his coat off the back, but the jingle of his car keys is what pulls you out of your own head.

Tears suffocated and stalled, you find the courage to turn around, but he’s already at the door. “Dean,” you call. He stops and half turns to face you, but you don’t know what to say. It’s too soon to let yourself be vulnerable with anyone, but you don’t want him to leave, at least not like this.

You stare at him, hoping he can read the words you can’t find in your expression.

He breaks eye contact, looking down at his feet. “I’ve, er… I’ve missed you.”

It lifts a weight you weren’t aware you were carrying but brings fresh tears to your eyes. “I’ve missed you too.”

He drops his bag at the door, crosses the room, and swiftly tugs you into a tight hug. “Call me when you’ve figured all this out,” he requests, and all you can do is nod into his shoulder. He kisses the side of your head and rushes out like a gust of wind.

Part 3 - Just Say You Love Me

Tags info

/ @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimal87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @pank0w / @kmc1989/ @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

#dean winchester #jacklesversebingo23 #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #female reader #dean winchester angst #spn fanfic #angst #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fandom #dean winchester x you #you x dean winchester

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bisexuallsokka · 9 months

Note

jo. bestie. hi. i’m holding your hands and asking u to please if u want deal us all permanent psychic damage with “you’re just as beautiful as the day i lost you” (the httyd divorced zukka agenda has to continue and nobody can do it as well as u <3)

Sokka had spent the entire journey to the Fire Nation imagining himself being so overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of Zuko that, decorum be damned, he would run into his arms as soon as they made eye contact.

The sting of disappointment he felt when he realized that Zuko wasn't even there to greet him and Katara was enough to extinguish most of the excitement he had felt and make him second-guess everything about this trip. It was odd enough that after over a decade of being broken up they had rekindled their relationship over letters, what would it be like when they saw each other in person for the first time in years? Did they only know how to be in love again in theory? Was Zuko truly ready to leave the throne and his home in a few months and start a life with Sokka?

He's hiding out on some balcony that the two of them frequented in his Ambassador days, and he jumps when he hears the door open behind him. It's probably Katara telling him to stop moping, and he's about to tell her that he just needs a minute when he sees Zuko there, giving him a tentative smile.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," Sokka says, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

"Sorry about," Zuko gestures, and Sokka knows what he means.

"I get it. You're a busy guy," Sokka says.

That makes Zuko frown, and he walks over and takes a seat on the bench next to him. "Not too busy for you," he says. Which, historically, is kind of a lie, but Sokka appreciates the sentiment all the same. Especially since soon, they won't have to worry about the Fire Lord nonsense ever again.

Zuko seems to be thinking the same thing. "For what it's worth, it wasn't 'official business' keeping me away again," he clarifies. "Izumi was getting a little overwhelmed with everything going on to get ready for the party, and I spent longer in the garden with her than I realized. She's with Uncle, now."

Sokka softens at that, his doubts slowly starting to fade away. "That's understandable."

"Thanks for coming all the way here," Zuko says quickly. "It means a lot and it...it's really good to see you."

The sincerity in his tone is a little overwhelming. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," Sokka says, despite having missed the last ten or so of Zuko's birthday celebrations.

It makes Zuko smile, though, which Sokka relaxes at the sight of.

"You look good," Sokka says, smiling back.

"You look..." Zuko trails off, a strange expression on his face as he just keeps staring at Sokka.

"What?" Sokka asks suspiciously. "Is there something on my face?"

"You're just as beautiful as the day I lost you," Zuko says, so softly Sokka might have missed it had he not been hanging onto every word from those lips.

"I..." Sokka says, feeling speechless for once as heat rises in his cheeks. "That's...great, thank you."

As soon as the words leave his mouth he groans, putting his head in his hands as Zuko laughs loudly at him.

"You can't just say things like that," Sokka complains, even if he can't stop smiling.

"I can and I will, especially if that is the kind of reaction I can expect," Zuko teases. Sokka looks over at him and feels his cheeks flushing again at the soft look on Zuko's face.

Sokka takes a shaky breath, calling upon every ounce of bravery he's ever possessed to help him reach for Zuko's hand. "Twelve years?" he asks, giving it a squeeze.

"Twelve years," Zuko confirms, squeezing back. “It’s not that I haven’t seen you that whole time. I just…never let myself really look.”

Sokka nods. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

Zuko raises his eyebrow. "I've started packing."

Sokka rolls his eyes and shoves Zuko's shoulder with his own. "Oh, so romantic, run away with me just because you're already packing."

Zuko laughs again, and Sokka feels lightheaded. He's not going to get used to constantly hearing that sound anytime soon.

“I've had all this time to think about it, and my answer is still the same," Zuko tells him seriously. "This is best for the Fire Nation, best for us. Are you sure, though? Six year olds are pretty crazy.”

“Raising a kid with you?" Sokka asks. "That's all I've ever wanted. Craziness and all."

The way Zuko looks at Sokka erases any of the doubts, the questions, the worries Sokka had about this. About them. After the years of heartbreak and separation, Sokka knows that's behind them, and the future looks much brighter.

#hello ash beloved sorry this took me so long you sent this ask and i blacked out for like five weeks thinking about them #anyway #zukka #divorced zukka #my writing #prompts #ash and starlight #ask me stuff

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ironspiderfics · 4 months

Text

this is supposed to be a vacation

for @meilz

by @iron--spider

Tony loves this kid.

It’s a montage at the beginning of a movie—Tony was crazy about Peter almost immediately, couldn’t accept it, his own damn daddy issues courtesy of Howard Stark, then he had to accept it because the kid kept trying to die, then things settled, they worked together, then they unsettled and the kid dissolved in Tony’s hands, and a year of heavy-drinking and nearly exploding himself in the lab wound up with all the dissolved people undissolved and the kid back and Tony in a hospital bed. Three-week coma. Whole screaming celebration when he woke up loud enough to bust his eardrums and restart his heart.

But Peter was there. Peter was there.

Time slowed to a crawl, sped up and slowed down again, and Tony tried to recover. He knew Peter and his friends went on that European trip—he encouraged it even though Peter was worried about leaving after everything. May and Happy chaperoned, and then everyone nearly died because Quentin fucking Beck decided to roll out of Tony’s past to try and kill off someone he loves. He failed, because Peter is Peter, and Fury and Happy shut down the false allegations Beck tried to put out there before he was arrested, and everybody came home.

It’s been about two months, since then. And Tony had just gotten back on his feet a week or so before Peter left, and he’s even steadier now. Getting steadier by the day.

But he loves this kid. More now, than ever. The son he never had. He loves May, he loves the kids that come along with his kid, he loves everything Peter has to say and everything he doesn’t, he loves keeping an eye on his missions, he loves the way he fits so snug into Tony’s little family.

And he loves him enough to know when he’s crashing. When his eyes are tired and his patrols aren’t as succinct and punchy as they usually are. When he needs a vacation from his recent vacation. As if nearly being killed by some asshole in London is the vacation any of them need.

So, Tony makes a couple decisions.

After all the shit they’ve gone through, what the hell could go wrong with a break?

Peter knew Tony was planning something, because he isn’t secretive when he’s excited, and he found out what he was planning when Tony asked if Ned and MJ’s families would mind if he took them out of the city for a few days.

And about a week later, they were heading upstate to Mohonk Mountain House.

And Peter hasn’t been complaining, at least not to Tony, but his tiredness has been bone-deep since he got back from London. Since before that, really. Coming back from the dead can do that to someone, and he doesn’t even like to call it dead, and apparently they were all tiny particle souls inside that infinity stone but it doesn’t matter because that’s a whole other can of worms and he gets more tired and more weary every time he even thinks about any of that.

He swung right into a wall the other day. Slap right into it. He almost broke his nose again. He feels like that might have been the moment Tony decided on this vacation—Peter could tell by the look on his face when he told him that he’d crossed some kind of line.

They walk inside the main lobby of Mohonk and Peter keeps hearing Ben’s voice in his head. You’re gonna catch flies, Pete. But he can’t stop gaping at everything. Like…he’s been in a Hilton and this is so much better than a Hilton.

“This place looks straight out of a Hitchcock movie,” May says, and she knocks Tony on the arm.

Tony laughs, and Pepper turns around, raising her eyebrows at May. “Let’s just hope we don’t have any Hitchcock-type events happen while we’re here.”

“What would that mean?” Ned asks, catching up to the group and trying to whisper in Peter’s ear. “You’ve seen Hitchcock movies. I remember you watched that weird apartment one a hundred times.”

“I love that movie,” Peter says. Rear Window. He never wants his leg to be broken. He knows he’d go insane just like that.

“You haven’t seen Psycho?” MJ asks Ned, hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulder.

Ned hums a little bit. “No. I know about it though. No crazy Grandmas for me.”

“That’s not what happens.”

Leather couches and tall ceilings and intricate carpeting and columns and everything somehow looks really rich but really comfortable at the same time—

“No,” Tony says, turning around and pointing at them. “No, no, and no.” He points at May too. “No. No Rear Window, no Psycho, no Vertigo—maybe a little bit North by Northwest—no, you know what, no. Not that either. This is going to be the lamest movie you’ve ever—this isn’t even gonna be a movie, there’s no—there’s no plot, this is just—a family video. A home movie. That’s it.”

Family video feels warm, and Peter grins.

“Of course, Mr. Stark—”

“It’s gonna be fine—”

“Absolutely nothing—”

“Listen, I’m hitting that buffet—”

“I’m just gonna sleep,” Peter says, as they approach the huge front desk. “Just the entire time.”

Tony smiles softly at him, and he winks. “You deserve it,” he says, and Peter can tell that he means it.

They hear crashing, something that sounds expensive hitting the ground somewhere behind them, and they all turn around and see a bunch of employees running around to try and take care of it. A whole big production and two guys trying to hold up a big bear statue that’s trying to fall over.

“Okay, step to,” Happy’s voice says, and Peter hears him before he sees him, and then he breezes by, striding out in front of them. “Let’s go, come on, follow me, let’s get this in the books—”

“Oh, there he is,” Tony says, patting him on the shoulders. “There he is.”

Peter and May could never afford a vacation like this. They could never even afford to imagine something like this. Peter feels like they would have charged him if he’d even looked at photos of this place. A big, historic, mountain resort in upstate New York, on the edge of a cliff overlooking a lake?

But now they’re here. They’re here with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Peter was able to bring two friends. Happy drove them all in a big plush rental van. They’ve got a line of suites on the sixth floor and they had steak and lobster for dinner on their first night.

It feels unreal. But things feel unreal a lot. Especially things involving Tony, involving Spider-Man. Any of it. Like he’s having a long, prolonged dream before Ben wakes him up for school.

Peter stands on one of the terrace balconies with Tony while the others are arranging activities for tomorrow, and he stares off at the lake and the way the moon hits it. Light rippling on the water.

“You really think you’re gonna sleep the whole time?” Tony asks, leaning on the railing. “Because nobody would judge you for it. Kayaks can wait. Ballroom dancing can absolutely wait, as can all of May’s Dirty Dancing comparisons, because I can feel them building up, like an aura around her—”

Peter snorts. “No,” he says. “But I probably will mostly just…relax. Take it easy. Just sleeping, no alarms—”

“You deserve it, like I said,” Tony says. “It’s thrilling to me that you’re even giving yourself a break.”

“Look who’s talking,” Peter says, giving him a look. “You were trying to get down to the workshop when your arm was still holding on by one string of muscle.”

Tony’s entire face contorts. “That is a terrible, disgusting image, Mr. Parker—”

Peter snorts again, choking on his laughter.

Tony knocks him on the arm. “You’re awful, a menace, making fun of an injured old man—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but it’s true,” Peter says, swatting him back, and still laughing. “You’re the one who needs—needs this. Like Happy always says, I’m a ‘spring chicken’, I—I can bounce back.”

“I had enough bedrest for the next ten years,” Tony says, and he’s giving Peter that look again. Concern. Like he’s trying to read his mind. “You—I know you like to act like it all doesn’t affect you, but you were going through hell on the daily before that purple asshole snapped his fingers. Then there was all that, and the right after that, and the coming back from that, and me wasting away in front of you—and then Quentin Beck flaunting his dickheaded tendencies on your school trip—that was supposed to be your relaxing time and it got away from you too and I just—like I said, you deserve your time. You need it. Don’t—you’re not selling yourself short if you say you need some rest. You put everybody first all the time, yourself last—you deserve to relax, that’s all.”

Peter blows out a breath. He doesn’t even really try to deny it in his head anymore. He doesn’t try to compare himself to other people who have it worse. He’s tired. He’s beat. He feels older than he is.

Tony clicks his tongue and looks out at the lake. “I know this place is kind of old, kind of dated, rooms kind of look a little bit like grandma was head decorator, but—I, uh—I’ve got fond memories here. Mom used to bring me, when Howard was, uh…in some of his dicier moments. And sometimes we’d just relax, too. Recover from…knowing him.”

Peter is just kind of staring at him, because it always takes him off guard when Tony starts talking about Howard. They’re close enough now that he hears stories about his personal life all the time—his growing up, his insane college years with Rhodey, meeting Pepper meeting Happy and everything in between, but Howard is still…something they don’t really talk about, past flippant comments about Tony striving to be a better father figure than he ever was.

“Then I’m glad you brought us here,” Peter says, his voice cracking a little bit. “I’m glad you brought me here.” And in his head he hears I’m glad you brought me back. Because he thinks about that all the time.

Everyone’s back because of you, Peter. He never gave up on bringing you back. It was about saving you.

Tony looks like he’s about to say something else when there’s a bunch of rustling in the trees below them, and a loud thump, and more rustling. They both peer over the railing, and Peter can see the trees moving, but not anything else.

They share a wary look.

“Probably just a skunk,” Tony says.

“Oh, great.”

“Or maybe a band of feral cats.”

“Okay that’s better. Hopefully not too feral. Like, I hope they’re receptive to petting.”

They keep staring down at the trees, but it all seems quiet again.

Tony and Pepper have one room, Peter, MJ and Ned have the one in the middle, and May and Happy are on the end in a single room together even though Peter is refusing to acknowledge what that means or what might be going on in there. Tony mentioned that the rooms were dated, but they feel more like what a royal castle might look like inside, and for the longest time Peter is worried about wrinkling up the sheets. And then eventually it’s Ned’s snoring keeping him awake.

And then, when he’s finally mostly asleep—

“Peter.”

MJ’s voice. Peter’s in the bed with Ned and she got the other huge bed all to herself, but she sounds like she’s right next to him. He turns over onto his side, towards her voice, and then she’s—

On the ground right next to his face—

He startles a little bit, and she grabs his hand.

“MJ what—”

“There’s someone in the room.”

She’s whispering, and his heart speeds up a little bit. What the hell? There’s no way.

“Are you sure it’s not Happy?” Peter asks, as Ned lets out a rip of a snore. “Sometimes he likes to do perimeter checks—”

“It’s not Happy!” she whisper-yells.

Peter blinks, and she’s already pulling the sheets off him and yanking him out of bed, and he feels like he’d be more paranoid if something was actually happening, like he’d feel it pulsing and burning in his head, and she’s tugging on him and they’re stumbling over to the wall and—

“MJ—MJ—”

She flips on the light—

And Peter only sees him briefly—a man, standing over by the bathroom, and Peter barely gets to see what he looks like before the lights go out again.

But he wasn’t Happy he wasn’t Tony he wasn’t supposed to be here, and Peter’s heart rockets into his throat and he hears MJ gasp and he hears feet moving and Ned is still snoring, and Peter rushes towards where the man was and tries to catch him tries to fight, but he only meets open air.

MJ yanks the door open and she’s already running out into the hallway, yelling Tony’s name, yelling for Peter to follow her. And the hall light is streaming into their room now, and Peter looks around, breathing hard, trying to find the guy—

Nothing. Nothing.

Nobody’s here.

Ned is still snoring.

Tony stands next to Peter while the manager shows them the video footage. He watches their doors, completely still and closed from the hallway cameras, and then he watches MJ race out, and Tony and Happy run in a few minutes later. Followed by Pepper and May a few minutes after that. And then Ned finally looming out into the hallway, still half asleep.

“As you can see,” the manager says. “No one entered the room.”

Peter can feel Tony’s anger simmering beside him, and he takes it as a compliment that Tony is all-in on believing that they saw someone, even though he didn’t see him himself.

“Can I get the outside view again?” Tony asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

They switch to the outside view again, which they’ve already seen about three times. The cameras aren’t great out there, and Happy found out they’re in the process of an upgrade. Peter can see their floor from a distance, he sees a little flash of light that they can’t identify, and then nothing else. No one scaling the building. Not in a way they can see, anyway.

“When will the upgrade be complete?” Tony asks, his tone clipped.

“After your stay, sir, unfortunately.”

Tony huffs, and doesn’t say anything else, and he turns and takes Peter’s arm and leads him to the door. They walk out into the hallway, where MJ and Ned quickly back up.

“Don’t need to listen through the wall,” Tony says.

“Uh, we weren’t,” MJ says. “We were just—”

“Looking at the wallpaper,” Ned says. “It’s—so cool.”

“Uh huh,” Tony says. He moves so they’re in a little circle, and he grips Peter’s shoulder. “Do you want to leave?” he asks, looking around at the three of them. “Because we can leave. We can go somewhere else, figure something else out. Or we can move rooms, we can go down to the Grove Lodge so we can all be closer together—we can do whatever we want.”

Ned’s eyes go wide. “I mean, I didn’t see anything, I was sleeping—”

“It’s fine,” MJ says, fast, glancing at Peter. “I feel like we—Peter and I must have been—I mean, we’re—everything that happened, we’re always thinking about it, and Mysterio was about like—making us think we were seeing things that weren’t there or were there but different—it’s fine. Joint hallucination. Or maybe I made him think he saw something because I was saying I saw something.”

That would normally be a Tony joke cue, but he just looks at her intently. “You don’t have to make excuses,” he says. “I don’t want you guys feeling…unsafe. Despite the presence of, uh—enhanced individuals. Unnamed.”

“It’s okay,” MJ says, and she looks at Peter and nods.

Tony looks at him too. And Peter knows that if he said anything about being worried, Tony would move them in an instant.

What the hell did he see?

Were they really just tired?

Did he think he saw something because MJ thought she saw something?

“It’s okay,” he says, slowly, because…he isn’t entirely sure. But MJ seems sure and Peter doesn’t want to blow up the trip if they were just in a PTSD-addled nightmare. It is their first real vacation since that shit with Beck happened, it still feels like a knife in his gut sometimes.

“You sure?” Tony asks, and he shakes Peter’s shoulder a little bit.

Peter looks at MJ, and she nods at him.

“Yeah,” Peter says. “I’m sure.”

They go back to bed after that without any more incidents, but Peter mostly stays awake, staring off into the darkness. MJ is awake too, through a lot of the night, and they text because Ned is sleeping and snoring like there’s nothing wrong and there’s never been anything wrong, ever.

I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

I wouldn’t let anything happen to you either. Nerd :)

Over breakfast, Tony lets them know that Happy is setting up Friday to do sweeps and is doing his own personal perimeter checks.

“I want him to enjoy his break too though,” Peter says, pushing his waffle around on the plate.

“He’s enjoying it,” May says, through a mouthful of eggs.

Peter frowns at her. “I don’t like that. I don’t—I don’t need—”

She shrugs. “Well.”

“Okay, Miss Kiss and Tell,” Tony says, laughing as Pepper sits down next to him. “But it’s good. He’s on it, and I’m on it too.”

“Here,” MJ says, coming back from the buffet and sitting down next to Peter. She puts a cinnamon bun on his plate, smiling at him. “They just brought them out. Ned is trying to barter for more.”

“They can’t deny him,” Pepper says. “It’s all inclusive.”

“Exactly,” Tony says. “And after last night, we should be getting extra—I still think they sent someone in to check on something and didn’t want to admit it. I’m not gonna go all I’d like to speak to the manager on them, even though I did—do that—but either way—”

Peter hasn’t landed anywhere on it yet. He keeps trying to think back on it, trying to remember exactly what he saw. His spider sense, newly minted, is usually pretty bang on if something isn’t right, if he feels like he’s in danger, but he’d just woken up, he’s foggy in the mornings sometimes—

He figures his mind was just playing tricks on him. But MJ too?

She rubs his leg, like she knows he's agonizing over it, and he reaches down and holds her hand.

“Okay,” Ned says, walking back over holding a plate. “They let me take five of them. They’re all really warm and gooey, I feel like this is a promising start to the day.”

Peter isn’t exactly a spa guy, so he doesn’t join May and Pepper when they decide to go there, even though he feels like it might help him if he ever figured out how to relax. But going there is supposed to help him relax, so how can he ever relax enough to get to the point of going there—either way, he goes out onto the lake with Tony and Ned and MJ.

MJ and Peter both get their own kayaks, and Ned and Tony are in a canoe.

“He wouldn’t get into one of these,” Tony yells. “Honestly, if Happy’s not still doing security shit, he’s probably golfing. He’s terrible at it and he never likes to do it when anybody he knows is around. I’ll message him in a little bit and make sure but that’s probably where he is. Ned. You have to keep that thing on just in case we turn over.”

Peter snorts, looking back at them, and he sees Tony adjusting Ned’s lifejacket on his shoulders.

“Happy’s just afraid of racing,” Peter yells, cutting his oar through the water. “MJ remember when—”

“Yes,” she says, a little out ahead of him, and she’s already laughing. “I don’t even know why he was trying to chase you in New York traffic. While you were swinging in the air above him. You didn’t have any cars in your way, nothing was stopping you—”

Peter snorts again, bending over and laughing a little bit. “He was so mad. He didn’t talk to me for a week. He made me talk to Friday specifically.”

“I gave him shit for that!” Tony yells. “He shouldn’t have been trying to chase you. The gas leak had nothing to do with you. He’s always tossing blame around willy nilly.”

“Yeah he still blames me for the time those columns collapsed on that old garbage building,” Ned says. “A line of code can’t do that, that building was old I didn’t do anything there was no way he should have yelled at me at all let alone for twenty minutes—”

“He’s just dramatic,” Tony says.

“He just gets worried,” Peter says, glancing over his shoulder at their boat. And Ned makes big eyes at him, because yeah, uh, they’ve seen why he gets worried. They’ve dealt with why he gets worried. And now, after last night, Peter feels like he’s making himself worried. He needs to stop, they’ve already moved past it, they’re still here, it’s all fine.

“Yeah, I imbued him with a worrying virus that will never be cured,” Tony says. “And now the next generation has to deal with it. Here we are.”

Peter shakes his head, smiling. He’s gotta relax. The sun is shining on the lake bright and beautiful, and May is actually getting a massage for the first time in years and everything is fine. It’s fine.

He hears Tony chastising Ned again about his life jacket, gently, and Peter starts rowing out and around the outside of the lake. They’re the only ones out here right now, and he wonders how long that’s gonna last. He wonders if that’s something the resort set up, because it’s Tony, because of what happened last night, because Happy’s been intimidating people, and Peter simultaneously appreciates it and balks against the special treatment. But he’s with Tony, he should know it’s gonna happen.

He feels like he’s going a little faster than he should be going based on the way he’s rowing, like he’s really moving along. He glances over at MJ and she’s even further away from him, moving in the direction of the hotel.

“We’re not racing yet!” he yells, and he feels like Happy—constantly worried. But he’s worried about her in a different way and actually starting things with her in Europe made the whole thing worth it in a way, and now they’re together and it’s amazing but he’s just so worried all the time.

And now he’s stopped rowing all together, and he should be slowing down, but he’s still moving. Moving….fast. Maybe even getting faster.

Should that be happening? He doesn’t really kayak. He shifts around a little bit and looks down, and feels a little bit tucked in here.

“Hey!” Tony yells. “You’re moving like you have a motor on you!”

Peter’s brows furrow, because he is, and he’s not rowing, and he should have lost any propulsion at this point, and he looks up and he sees MJ looking back at him, and she’s not moving anymore, and he glances back and both Tony and Ned look concerned—

And he gets the worst feeling in his chest, like an alarm, like his spidey sense but more warped and panicked, and he tries to get up without toppling over, because the kayak is still moving for no reason, speeding along and it’s going faster and faster. He drops his oar, and balances precariously for a few seconds before he leaps into the water.

Bubbles all around him, and muffled calls of his name—

And he’s only submerged for a couple seconds, because of the life jacket pulling him back to the surface, and he comes up just in time to watch the empty kayak lift up into the air, careening into the forest and disappearing into the trees.

And he floats there, treading water, staring.

“What the fuck?” Ned yells. “Peter? Peter?”

“Peter!” MJ yells.

“Pete, we’re coming!” Tony yells. “Hold on!”

But Peter is just sort of. Staring. Staring off, at where the kayak disappeared. He stares over there. He stares.

No thoughts, just. Insane.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Peter asks, his voice squeaking. “Is that—MJ you should probably—you shouldn’t be in there if you’re not, uh, prepared to go—flying—did anybody see it explode? Did it explode? Or did it just shatter, uh, well, wooden—wooden kayak, was it wooden? Or plastic? Either way I bet it’s not a full kayak anymore—”

He feels himself being lifted out of the water, and it’s Tony pulling him into the boat. He doesn’t know how they got here so fast but to be honest a kayak just went full fighter jet on him so he can’t be that confused.

His shock has him gripped and he just sort of lays there like a rag doll as Tony and Ned pull him up, and he sees MJ rowing over to them. Thankfully, she’s still in her kayak, and it’s not—flying through the air.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, once Peter isn’t in the water anymore. He’s got both arms around him, and Peter is laying against his chest, and Tony is patting his cheek and trying to peer around and meet his eyes. Ned has his hands on Peter’s knees and he’s just staring at him.

“I just got a defective one,” Peter says, pointing over at the forest. “It’s okay. It was just—a flying one, we didn’t make sure we didn’t get a flying one. I hope MJ doesn’t have a flying one and it’s just not like. On a time delay I don’t know. MJ, just—hurry over here—” He waves her over. He wants her to hurry up.

“Peter,” Tony says, and he pats Peter’s chest. “Are you alright? Did you twist anything when you jumped out, can you breathe—”

“Are kayaks supposed to do that?” Peter asks, feeling like he can hear his own voice echoing everywhere. “I didn’t think that was, uh, the case—”

“It’s not the case,” Ned says. “No. It’s not. It’s not the case.”

“Peter.”

MJ finally rolls up alongside them—

“I think you should get out of there,” Peter says, pointing at her. “It’s unsafe—”

“Something is going on,” MJ says, and she’s not looking at Peter. She’s looking at Tony.

Tony loves this kid, and this is supposed to be a fucking vacation. Tony loves this kid, and he believed him when he thought someone was in his room, even if the hotel was trying to sway them away from the idea. Tony loves this kid, and he just had to watch him abandon his kayak because said kayak was lifting off and destroying itself somewhere on the property. And kayaks don’t just fucking do that.

Tony stands close to Happy, well into his personal space. He’s got his hands on his hips, like a stern stance is gonna bring him any closer to an answer, and Happy sighs.

“I’ve done ten sweeps,” he says. “There’s nothing going on. There’s nobody here that isn’t supposed to be here. We even looked at the remains of the goddamn kayak and I didn’t find anything wrong with it.”

“There was something wrong with it,” Tony says. “It was flying. It was flying, speed wise, without Pete even rowing, and then it was flying, literally, after he had to abandon ship.”

“I know. It was in a million pieces.”

Tony sighs. They moved down to the Grove Lodge after it happened. Nobody told Pepper and May why, because Peter was insisting on not telling May, and he was also insisting on not leaving even though Tony wanted to leave, because if they left then they were leaving danger behind for the poor unassuming Mohonk guests. And if they leave, danger will probably follow them anyway, and Tony doesn’t know what move to make.

He’s upset, because this was supposed to be a relaxing break for all of them, but especially for Peter, after everything he’s goddamn gone through. He’s upset because this place felt like his place, his haven, a place where he could get away and be secluded and safe, and now something is pursuing them here. Something is trying to hurt them.

“You haven’t found anything?” Tony presses. “Nothing?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Happy says, and he glances back at the front door of the lodge again. “I’m still looking, I’m not giving up, and I think we should be better located down here because we rented out the whole house and I told them not to come in for room service or cleaning or anything. I know we lose the nice high-up view—”

“It’s fine,” Tony says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s afraid to even be discussing this in public. Anybody could be anywhere listening.

He doesn’t like feeling like he can’t protect these kids.

“It looks like they’re targeting Peter,” Tony says, as quietly as he can. “And I can’t tell if that’s because of me, that they think—I mean the whole goddamn world thinks he’s my love child at this point, thinks May is my secret mistress or the sister of his secret mother, God knows, I don’t know what the most recent story is. But I can’t tell if they’re targeting him because of me or because of the other thing—”

“And the other thing is worse—the spider thing—”

“I didn’t specify on purpose, Hap,” Tony says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Right, right—the innocuous other thing—”

“We’re lucky we got out of Europe with the other thing intact—”

“Yeah,” Happy says, shaking his head, and Tony wishes he had been there with him, had been there period. He would have torn Beck in half had he laid eyes on him.

Why do they always target people he loves? Why not him? Blow him up. Kidnap him. But he guesses he’s been there already. He guesses they’ve done all that and it’s old hat to these assholes to go to him directly.

But this could be about Spider-Man too. There could be people that know who he is. People always find out, no matter how hard Tony tries, and Peter has made plenty of his own enemies. His own gallery of rogues looking to take him down.

“Just don’t tell May, if she asks,” Tony says.

“Oh, and don’t tell Pepper either?” Happy asks, in that stupid voice he uses to make fun of Tony. Tony glares, and Happy glares back. “They know by now something’s going on. They’re not dumb. They’re just not saying anything. But May will beat someone to death with anything she can get her hands on and so will Pepper, so maybe we should be sticking close to them.”

Tony sighs. “I just wanted—”

“I know—”

“And now—”

“I know,” Happy says. “We’re on it. We know it’s real, now, even if these people won’t cop to anything. I’m in their walls. Literally. Maybe I’m doing some things I shouldn’t be.”

Tony steps up onto the porch. “Don’t even tell me.”

“I won’t. But maybe I am.”

“Ned, why are you in here while I’m in the bathtub?”

“She’s in here!”

“I’m dating her.”

“Wow, that’s great,” Ned says, not making any move to get up from his spot on the gold lounge chair. “That’s great, I see how things are going. I see what direction we’re heading in.”

Peter scoffs. He warmed up a long time ago, and he’s getting really pruny, but he doesn’t want to get out just yet. He feels like something is gonna happen if he gets out. Like it’s all gonna start up again and maybe the house is gonna explode or their fridge is gonna grow arms and start trying to fight them or something.

And he isn’t lazy. He’s always ready to fight.

Maybe he’s a little lazy. But not usually. He thought Europe was gonna be a Spider-Man free trip and look how that turned out. And he thought this was going to be calm and relaxing but now it’s become suspicious. And worrying. And he’s torn between leaving and staying and telling May and not telling May and he doesn’t know if she’s in danger too and sometimes he feels like everybody would be safer if he lived out in Alaska somewhere and nobody knew him.

Peter sighs, and MJ rubs his shoulder. Ned is still giving him that look and Peter ignores that look. He’s never been in a little claw-foot tub like this before. Tony doesn’t even have these in the compound. And a bubble bath? He hasn’t had a bubble bath since he was a kid and Ben was still alive. It almost distracts him from… whatever the hell is going on here.

“We’ve got two more days,” MJ says. “And we’re sticking it out.”

“We’re sticking it out,” Peter says. “I got my webshooters, I guess I’ll wear them if we go hiking tomorrow.”

“Someone is gonna push you off a cliff,” Ned says, raising his eyebrows.

“We’re all going together, so nobody is gonna push anybody,” MJ says. She leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Okay let’s leave so he can—get out.”

They both get up, and Peter watches as they argue.

“Oh, you’re not gonna help him?” Ned asks.

“Oh, you’re not?” MJ replies, nudging him as they move towards the door. “I thought that was your job, guy in the chair—”

They have dinner in the main building, and Peter watches his back. He only jumps once, when someone drops a tray full of plates, and he winces at the shattering and runs over there to help clean it up before they usher him away. They visit the horses in the stables, and Peter checks every nook and cranny to make sure somebody isn’t hiding in there. They watch May and Happy bust into the late jazz class that’s going on in the ballroom and Peter forgets to do anything because he feels like his face is going to catch on fire from all the blushing.

And he remembers to be paranoid when they get back to the Grove Lodge, and he can tell May is suspicious and they’re all watching him like hawks and he gets worried that Tony is the real target of whatever is happening here and he’s just a distraction.

He can’t let anything happen to Tony. He can’t let anything happen to any of them.

Or maybe nothing is happening. And nobody was in their room. And the kayak was just—Parker luck. Too much strength, or something.

He wakes up around three in the morning because he can’t stay asleep, and he sits down in the ‘great room’ and stares out into the darkness of the night.

“Don’t jump,” Tony’s voice says, but Peter jumps anyway, twisting around and seeing him on the stairs. “You jumped! I said don’t jump! You heard me, I said it—”

Peter snorts, shaking his head. “You can’t just tell me not to jump and expect me not to jump—especially if you’re stepping out of the shadows—”

“There’s no shadows,” Tony says, stepping off the landing. “No shadows. I’m fully illuminated—”

Peter sighs. “You can’t sleep either?”

“Nah,” Tony says, walking over quietly. “Sleep and I, we have a very contemptuous relationship.” He shakes his head. “I just feel like shit because you can’t have a normal vacation. Whatever the hell is or isn’t going on here. You just deserve—Jesus, a full day, at the least, without something happening you have to question.” He sits down next to Peter and lets out a sigh.

“It’s not your fault. At all.”

“I mean—it might be. We’ve seen Europe as an example of very much my fault.”

Peter narrows his eyes at him. “That wasn’t your fault either. You know it wasn’t your fault, idiots blaming you for their own stupidity is not your fault—”

A huge crash outside. It sounds like one of those big weird planters falling over and knocking into the other planters and then it sounds like a bunch of feet shuffling and this isn’t Parker luck, this isn’t a hallucination, this isn’t a kayak doing non-kayak like things—

They both leap out of their chairs. The noises don’t stop and Tony is immediately stepping in front of Peter and holding his arm out, as if to shield him.

“Kid, go back upstairs—”

“No,” Peter whisper-shouts, grabbing his arm as the two of them move forward very, very slowly towards the back porch doors. “You almost died recently—you’re wearing pajamas and a house coat—”

“You don’t even know what a house coat is—”

Another crash, more skittering feet, and Peter focuses—he can hear separate heartbeats from the hearts he loves in this house. Two of them.

“Tony I’ve got my webshooters on—”

“That doesn’t matter you’re wearing pajamas too you’re not prepared—”

And when they’re just close enough to open the door, there’s a flash of bright white light. And Peter closes his eyes against it, and he can feel Tony turning around, trying to block him from it, and it must be more than just light because he hears a loud bang and the windows are shattering and it feels like a cataclysmic boom is pushing them through the air. The two of them fly backwards, and hit the far wall, and the last thing Peter hears before his head snaps back too far is

GOD DAMMIT ALFIE YOU’RE TWO SECONDS TOO EARLY WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS JUMPING THE—

Peter gasps awake. His gasp echoes, and he sits up, and looks around, and he’s…nowhere.

He scrambles to his feet. He’s alone, and he’s nowhere, there’s nothing but blackness and his ears are popping like he’s high up and he sees—

He sees—

A kayak? Flying through the darkness?

He watches it, cascading like a majestic bird, and he stares at it, and then it just—blinks out of existence. Like it was never even there.

Maybe he’s just dreaming. Maybe he never even woke up and went downstairs and talked to Tony. Maybe none of that happened at all. Maybe he’s still asleep and Ned is snoring somewhere and MJ is saying not beets in the salad in her sleep again and maybe—

God dammit, Alfie, I swear. I swear I’m gonna whack you in the head.

Peter spins around, in the complete darkness. He can see himself, his own body and his hands and his pajamas and his webshooters, like he’s got a spotlight on him. “Hello?” he calls. “What the hell is—whoever that is—”

And then the London Bridge appears huge and massive above his head and he starts to duck, nearly collapsing in on himself, and there’s no way this is actually happening this isn’t real and he shoots a web at it and it goes right through it and it hits—somewhere—somewhere in the darkness, it sticks, it—

ALFIE I THINK THEY’RE BOTH—

I KNOW IT I CAN TELL OKAY I’M NOT MORONIC—

It clicks in Peter’s head. This is someone using Beck’s tech. It’s someone using Beck’s tech. That’s what this is. This is some idiots using his tech and not knowing how to use it properly and—

Peter starts yelling. “Whoever you are, you’re—you’re not good at this—this isn’t gonna work out for you—”

The bridge disappears, and Peter starts running. His spidey sense is going berserk, and he can’t tell where the danger is, what direction, how far. He can’t tell what’s underneath his feet, it feels—crunchy, and a little old, maybe? All he knows is he needs to get the hell out of this illusion. It feels unstable.

He starts shooting his webs everywhere, and most of them fly away without hitting anything, and that makes him wonder where the hell he could be with so much space—

STARK IS DOING SOMETHING WITH HIS AI—

Peter’s heart lurches.

“Tony!” Peter yells, still running, and he holds his hands out and tries to find something, anything, and he shoots webs fucking everywhere, and then—

SHIT—

He runs right into someone. And they push him off, and then he gets a brass-knuckled fist to the face before he can get a hit off of his own. He stumbles backwards through the sharp pain, wrestling with the instinct to just fight even though it’s only darkness all around him and he can’t see who the hell he’s fighting with.

Instead, he spits out a line of blood and keeps running.

Pulsing, face pulsing, beating with ripped skin and metal—

A massive kayak blips into the air briefly, and then it disappears.

Peter narrows his eyes, shaking his head, and what the hell is with the kayak—

He runs smack into something, like a train going accordion against a wall, and he stumbles backwards again, clutching at his crushed nose and trying to stay on his feet. The punch and the goddamn running into whatever that was has him dizzy, has him mangled and seeing stars in this manufactured darkness and then he hears Tony hollering his name at the top of his lungs—

“Peter! Peter!”

He sounds like he’s behind him—

“Tony!” Peter yells, all nasally. “Tony! Hey I’m over here—”

He turns around, changing his trajectory. And the darkness blips, breaking in large pixels, and Peter keeps running towards Tony’s voice and the darkness blips again, turns bright white, and then—

The illusion, or lack of one, breaks all at once, and Peter can see—

He’s on the roof of the main Mohonk building—he can see the lake, and the forest, and the mountains, settled in the calm of the night that feels decidedly not calm for him in particular, and he skids to a halt because he’s nearly running off the roof—

And he feels someone grab his arm and tug him back, and he spins around and it’s Tony, thank God it’s Tony—

“Hey!” Tony yells, and Peter looks at him and grabs his arm and they both look up and—

There are just two guys standing there. Two guys, both on the shorter side, definitely unkempt, and they’re holding a little gray box and they’re both just hitting it and hitting it and hitting it—

Peter aims his webs and just starts shooting. He feels like he shoots the most amount of webs he’s ever shot. The two guys fly backwards and get stuck to one of the upraised red parts of the roof, and they’re both gritting their teeth and trying to get out like they’re Scooby Doo villains.

“They must be associated with Beck,” Peter says, trying to catch his breath. His entire mouth tastes like blood. “They’ve gotta be.”

“I figured, with their shitty illusion attempts,” Tony says, and he sounds angrier than Peter’s ever heard him. He glances at Peter, starts to glance away, but then he looks at him again, fast, his brows furrowing severely. “Jesus Christ, you’re—bleeding everywhere—”

“Yeah, it feels—it doesn’t feel good—they didn’t hit you?” Peter asks.

Tony takes Peter’s chin gently, tilting his head and wincing. “No,” he says. “They didn’t goddamn hit me—”

“Well, the nose was from—running into something—I think that, uh, I think that’s a chimney over there, I think I ran into it—you didn’t run into anything—”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Oh, that’s great—”

Tony looks like he’s about to breathe fire, and he lets go of Peter and starts stomping towards the webbed bad guys.

“Why the hell would you be loyal to a moron like him?” Tony asks. “Beck? He couldn’t even keep a job at Stark Industries—”

“Yeah, buddy, because you stole his idea,” one of them hollers. They’re both still wiggling around, trying to get out.

Tony sneers. “He worked for my company executing an idea I designed and commissioned and decided to weaponize it when it was created to help deal with trauma and mental health—have you never had a job, an occupation—you know what, I don’t care, I don’t care—”

“Well he didn’t say that, he didn’t say any of that exactly,” the other guy says, the one with the longer hair. “He just said—”

“Nothing he says is true,” Peter yells, wincing when he touches his nose. “That guy is a liar, and a freak, and you believed him enough to follow us on vacation and—screw up every attempt you made to kill us—it was one of you guys in my room—”

“No, that was just testin’, that was just—we was just testin’, it was—you guys acted really dramatic—”

Peter scoffs. “Dramatic?”

And the two guys start giving each other nasty looks, even though they’re webbed shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe if you hadn’t dropped that dart gun in the lobby when they first got here—”

“Maybe if you hadn’t fallen out of the tree—”

“Maybe if you had made the goddamn kayak explode instead of fly—”

“Stop!” Tony yells, cutting his hands through the air like an angry teacher. “Stop. Stop. I’ve never wanted to hear Boston accents less. Stop. You’re arrested. We’ve arrested you.”

“You can’t do that, the Avengers aren’t cops,” the shorter one says. He’s got a tattoo on his neck that says GOLDBARES with a Haribo bear icon and Peter squints at it and he feels like his entire face hurts worse just from seeing it.

“You’ve committed several crimes,” Tony says, still pointing at them. “It’s—my personal security already—”

There’s a click. A very loud click. And both guys clam up real quick.

“What was that?” Tony asks.

Peter’s spidey sense is—ratcheting up, clear into his teeth—

“Tony!” he yells, because it feels like something is coming, and, just like in the Grove Lodge, there’s a big boom and they’re blown backwards by a seismic wave—

And they’re launched off the roof, and it feels like they’re moving in slow motion, through the dead dark of the night and the reflection of the lake, and Peter screams like a moron. He just screams, and then he shoots a web right at Tony and pulls him in with it, and then he shoots a web at the building and swings back around with him.

They don’t land well, because Peter’s brain is on the backburner and there’s nothing on the front, and they roll in a heap, Peter tucking his face into Tony’s shoulder. When they come to a halt Tony pulls back, sitting up and touching Peter’s cheek.

“You in there?”

“I’m in there. Here,” Peter says, and he feels like he’s bleeding worse, somehow. “Did they blow up? Did those guys blow up? It sounded like they blew up.”

“We didn’t blew up we’re still over here but maybe I wish we woulda blew up because—”

And they start shouting at each other, but Peter tries to tune them out.

“Thank God you brought those things,” Tony says, tapping Peter’s wrist. “Thanks, bud.”

Peter blows out a breath, shaking his head and still just. Laying there. “Oh yeah, no problem. All good, just—completely normal.”

Tony sighs, and his eyes cut to the side. “Any other late traps ready to explode?” he yells, over his shoulder.

They stop arguing with each other. There’s a brief silence.

“Uh. I honestly got no idea. We just brought the whole bag of tricks, I don’t know. There’s shit everywhere.”

Tony looks at Peter, slowly shaking his head.

“Fantastic,” Peter says. “Wonderful.”

“So, you weren’t in there watching us when we were getting our nails done in the spa?” Pepper asks. “I thought it was weird. I told May it was weird. That was these guys—”

Tony scoffs, and he feels like he instantly gets a headache, a migraine—

“Of course I wasn’t—of course—you thought I was just standing there? Staring at you in the spa? You didn’t think that was out of the ordinary—”

Pepper gives him a look, and Peter laughs from the hammock behind them.

“Yeah, when I went to get my nails done later you kept walking in and out,” Happy says. “But I thought you were just—I don’t know what I thought. But then you told me about the kayak thing later and I thought—well—I attributed it to that.”

“Happy went and got his nails done,” Ned whispers, somewhere behind Tony, too. “We could do that?”

“Who’s stopping you?” MJ says, quiet.

“Well, the whole—the whole situation stopped me, I guess, but I didn’t really think about it—”

“I’m glad it wasn’t you staring at us,” May says, standing near the railing and peering out into her binoculars. “Pepper said it was normal, but it was concerning me.”

Tony glares at Pepper, but she just bats her eyes at him like the picture of innocence.

“Sometimes Peter does that to me,” May says. “Just stares at me from behind a Lucky Charms box in the kitchen. That’s how I know something’s wrong.”

Tony snorts, and he turns around as soon as Peter starts protesting.

“I do not!” Peter says, shifting around in the hammock. “I do not do that.”

“It sounds like something you’d do,” Ned says.

“You’ve done that to me,” MJ says, clearing her throat.

Peter huffs, and everyone laughs at him, and Tony tries not to laugh too hard, because this started with his own wife acting like she thinks he’s capable of acting like some weirdo who stands around staring at people.

Tony sighs. He turns around, walking over and peering down at Peter. He braces his hand on the tree his hammock is attached to. “How’s the nose?” Tony asks.

“Broken.”

“It’s not broken anymore, we reset it.”

“It knows it was broken. I know too.”

He’s still got the butterfly bandages on the bridge of his nose, and it’s bruised and angry looking. He’s got a burst blood vessel in his eye, and the white part is dipped with red. Tony feels like shit because he got out of the whole ordeal relatively unscathed. Just a few bumps and bruises. Some whiplash. But Peter broke his nose again.

They hiked up to the Sky Top Tower, and the kids wanted to hang out once they got up here. They all thought Peter had earned the hammock. Happy refused to come, and he’s in charge of the security situation, anyway, so he couldn’t exactly abandon it to do a hike he didn’t want to do.

They had to clear the whole damn resort out to get rid of any remaining traps and illusions. Tony had to bring in a whole team. Rhodey made fun of him on the phone when Tony told him, laughing for a good five minutes.

And sure, it’s stupid. Those guys are stupid and they had no idea what the hell they were doing, they couldn’t even attack properly. But that’s what happens when stupid people follow more powerful stupid people. They hold grudges. They make up shit in their heads. They cause problems.

And it’s never really funny when Peter is bloody at the end of it.

“I feel like I’m sinking,” Peter says, his brows furrowing.

He reaches out his hand, and Tony takes it, and he pulls him out of the hammock as MJ and Ned push on his shoulders. Peter groans like he’s a hundred years old, and Tony claps him on the shoulder.

May looks away from her binoculars. “How you doing, honeybunch?”

“Fine,” Peter says, letting go of Tony’s hand. “Incredible. Amazing.”

“Just a normal day for a hero,” Pepper says. “MJ, you’ll get used to it, May, you’ll never get used to it—”

“And Ned,” Ned says to himself. “You will be there every step of the way.”

Tony looks at Peter, and he wants to apologize. For all of it, for being a hero at all, for the goddamn radioactive spider at Oscorp and everything that came after. For stupid morons like Quentin Beck, who know the quickest way to hurt Tony is to attack this kid he’s nearly adopted as his own.

He doesn’t know what the hell to say, because Peter wouldn’t accept his apologies anyway. He never would. Peter is just appreciative of every moment. Even if the moments aren’t ideal.

“We’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” Tony says. “How about we have a pie bar when we head back down there? I can tip the kitchen staff two hundred percent when I ask. I don’t think anybody would be pissed off.”

He sees May smiling softly at him over Peter’s shoulder. Trust in her eyes, even after all this bullshit.

“Can there be…at least four key limes?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Four or five,” Tony says, ruffling his hair. “Or six or seven. Depending on the number of ovens in the joint.”

Peter grins at him, still bright and lively, despite everything.

Maybe they can salvage this vacation yet.

#iron dad #iron man #irondad #irondad fic #marvel fic #peter parker #spider-man #tony stark #iron dad fic #works by iron_spider

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lacontroller1991 · 3 months

Text

Come Back To You (Danny Walker x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Link to AO3

Summary: Danny lives, but now he has to make some choices.

Warnings: 18+ Near Character Death, Language, Period Accurate Diction, Semi-Graphic description of injuries, Evelyn isn't pregnant but still has her heart set on Rafe and Danny and Danny has his heart set on her and reader

Author's Note: I had to guys, I just had to and I'm honestly thinking about doing a whole ass multi chapter story revolving around the movie. It's an itch in my brain and it's not getting out. Again... Darn you Josh Hartnett

Word Count: 1.9k

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The sun is bright in the blue sky by the time the plane lands on the asphalt and comes to a stop. You feel your breath hitch in your throat as your heart pounds. It’s been months since you’ve seen Danny and you feel like you haven’t been able to breathe normally since. Evelyn moves from beside you, nails shortened by her nervous biting. What’s going to happen now that Rafe and Danny are back? If they are back? Did Danny change his mind after he’s been away and wants Evelyn or is he still keeping his word and coming back to you?

“I feel like I’m going to faint,” her words are hushed as she tries to poke her head through the crowd of people and you try not to make a snarky comment. You and her were best friends, practically sisters, but she had broken your trust in a way you never thought she would. Since then, your relationship with the nurse has never been the same.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Despite your harsh words and harsh exterior, inside you are panicking. What if he died? Then what? What if he chooses her?

“I love him, you know? I love both of them so much.” If there was one thing you loved about Evelyn it’s that she’s a romantic like you, but not as much when she’s talking about the person who you’ve dreamt about for months on end.

“I love him too. More than you can know.” You grab her hand and lead her through the group of people toward the front as the door to the plane drops open. Doolittle comes out first and you watch as his wife rushes towards him, gripping onto him as others slowly start to trickle out. Most you’ve met before, Gooz, Red, Earl, Rafe. Rafe. At the sight of him, Evelyn bolts forward, running straight into his arms and your heart beats a little faster. Maybe it’s the sun beating down on you or maybe it’s the fact that you have yet to see his face, but you feel sick to your stomach.

Slowly walking towards the plane, you wait in high hopes as the remaining men come out, but still no Danny. Your heart sinks. Oh Danny, you stupid boy. Tears begin to swell in your eyes as your brain jumps to the worst possible situation. Evelyn takes note too, her hand reaching up to her mouth to hold back sobs, gaining Rafe’s attention. Noticing that Danny is nowhere to be seen, Rafe gently removes Evelyn from his arms and makes his way back to the plane. “Danny get your ass out here.”

“Boy s-s-sure knows how to make an entrance,” Red mutters, walking towards the group of people with a solemn look on his face, wishing Betty was amongst the crowd.

A boot steps onto the stairs from the shadow and into the light, causing your heart to drop for the second time. “Danny,” you whisper softly, wiping the tears from your eyes as you rush past the group and up the stairs of the plane, grabbing onto him and pushing him back into the shadow causing him to let out a groan of pain. “I thought I lost you.”

Danny lets out a choked sob as he wraps one arm around you and buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. God he’s missed you. You’re the only thing he could think about for those months. The way your skin lights up in the sun. The way your eyes twinkle from the lights. The way the wind moves your hair. Everything about you is what kept him going, even when he crashed. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he chuckles as you pull away, looking over him as realization crashes over you.

“Oh my God, what happened? We need to get you to a hospital,” you wince as you look over the extent of his injuries. His arm is in a sling, his leg has a long metal brace on it, and he has a big bandage over his neck.

“Wasn’t one of my better landings. The Chinese took good care of me and got me to this point,” he takes a step forward, pulling you back into him as he bumps his nose against yours. “They got me back to you.” He places a feather soft kiss to your lips before pulling back. “You’re as beautiful as the day I left you.”

“Don’t ever leave me again,” you comment, taking his good side and hoisting his arm over your shoulders, helping him down the stairs as people cheer.

“I don’t plan on it.”

“Danny!” Evelyn rushes to his other side, being careful to avoid hurting him further and a lump forms in your throat. The moment you and him just shared was intimate, loving. There should be no confusion about who he chose, but still, there’s always that probability.

“Evelyn. It’s good to see you,” he wears a smile on his face but he knows that the only woman he’ll ever love is the one on his good side.

“Yeah,” she pushes a piece of hair behind her ear, “you too.”

“Alright, let’s get Danny some proper treatment. Those Chinese nurses did a temp job, but he needs some actual medical care.” Rafe steps in, aware of your thankful gaze before the four of you walk off and get some medical help.

-----------

The hospital room is warm with a slight breeze coming in from the window as Danny lays on the bed, arm and leg in a proper cast. The tension in the room is visibly thick with you and Evelyn sitting on either side of Rafe, no one dares talking as the doctor and nurses work to make Danny comfortable.

Turning to the three of you, the doctor gestures for all to step out of the room before eyeing you and Evelyn in confusion. “Which one of you is the wife?”

“Neither of them are, sir. Whatever you need to say, you can say to all three of us,” Rafe comments as the doctor shrugs his shoulders in response.

“Captain Walker’s injuries were very severe. The doctors overseas did a good job of stitching his neck, but with the extent of his injuries to his arm and leg, he will have to be under watch for several months with several more months of physical training. We speculate that he will never be medically cleared to fly again.” Rafe’s head hangs in pity for Danny, but you see the look of relief that comes across Evelyn’s features and you feel the same way. “It was an act of God that he survived how he did. He should feel very blessed, but the pain is going to be tough. We will monitor it and give pain medicine as needed, but there is only so much we can do.”

“We understand,” you chime in, fingers picking at your cuticles. “Thank you Doctor.” He nods before walking away, leaving the three of you in the hall. “Now what?”

“We gotta be there for him. He’s not going to take this news well.” Evelyn nods along with Rafe’s words as a nurse steps out of the room and faces them.

“Is one of you Evelyn?” Evelyn’s eyes widen as she nods her head, stepping forward.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“He’s asked to speak with you.” The nurse holds open the door for Evelyn to go inside and sit down at his side, taking his hand. You can’t deny the feeling of hurt that encompasses you and Rafe notices. Taking your hand in his, he gives you a series of light squeezes

“He loves you. Don’t worry.”

“How do you know he won’t choose her?” The question is genuine and Rafe looks to you with exasperation.

“All he talked about was coming back home to you. Even in the thick of it, when we were surrounded by Japs, he kept praying to whoever to let him come home to you. I don’t think he once mentioned her.” Rafe gestures to where Danny lays and Evelyn sits, crying into her hands. “Believe me, he fucked up big time kissing my girl when he was going steady with you, but you’re the one he wants. The one he’s always wanted.” You let out a sigh of relief, giving his hand a reaffirming squeeze before letting go and letting your heart slowly mend. It’s true that Danny did kiss Evelyn while the two of you were seeing each other, but he had assured you that it was a one time deal and it would never happen again as long as he lives. She, on the other hand, made him her everything.

Evelyn storms out of the room and faces you, tears rolling down her face. “If you ever hurt him…” It’s an empty threat and you know it. Evelyn couldn’t harm a fly, much less one of her former closest friends. Seeking solace in Rafe, she buries her head into his chest as he wraps his arms around her, still not sure what to make of the entire situation. Taking that as a cue, you walk into the room, closing the door behind you and making your way to his bedside.

“Hey there,” his voice is raspy and you instinctively reach for the cup of water, bringing the straw to his lips for him to drink.

“Hey to you too. The doctor said you’ll be here for some months. Said your injuries were more severe than you let on.” He nods his head, pushing away the water and laying his brown eyes on yours.

“Did they say if I can fly again?” Hanging your head, you reach for his hand and grasp it into yours.

“I’m sorry honey, but probably not. The army won’t clear you after something like this. They said it’s a miracle you’re even alive.” Danny smirks and internally feels relief. Yes, he wants to continue and work for the war effort, but he also just wants to leave the world behind and move to a small house with you to live out a domesticated life.

“You’re the only thing that kept me going. When I was out there,” he pauses, looking away and trying to bat the tears away. He does not want to look weak, not when he’s already looking weak as is. “When I was out there, I thought I was going to die. I was bleeding profusely, losing consciousness by the second and the only thing I could think of was you. You’re my world, (Y/N), and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you the way I thought Rafe left me. And I’m sorry that I kissed Evelyn. We were both mourning and needing comfort and she was the only one that could understand, not that it doesn’t excuse it. But I love you and I will make it up to you for the rest of my life if I have to.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He chose me. It’s me who he wants. “Danny, what are you trying to say?”

Mustering the strength, Danny brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your soft knuckles. “What I'm trying to say is, will you marry me?”

“Oh Danny!” You surge forward, pressing your lips against his as tears roll down your cheeks. Breaking away from the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, his breath and your breath mingling together. “Yes, a thousand times, yes!”

“Yes?”

“Yes!” Your lips connect with his again and for the first time in a while, you feel that everything is just right.

people who had an interest: @phoenixhalliwell @waywardtigersandwich

#josh hartnett #Pearl Harbor 2001 #Pearl Harbor movie #Danny Walker x reader #Danny Walker x you #Evelyn johnson #rafe mccawley #ben affleck #lacontroller1991

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