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karajaynetoday · 3 months

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nothing's going right, and everything's a mess, and no one likes to be alone | jack hughes

author's note: don't ask me how the university semester timeline in this works. i have simply given reader a three week break in march bc why not. this is fanfiction okay, anything can happen 😂 no one proofread this for me so soz for any typos!

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: none that i can think of? but lmk if i've missed anything. soz if the ending makes you mad LOL i do love a cliffhanger

read part one here

read part two here

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

Somehow, the ill feeling of waiting until summer to see Jack again began to fade with each passing day. The itch to text him every time something exciting or infuriating happened to you began to lessen. The thoughts of him when you saw a funny meme he’d like, or your shared favourite foods on special at the grocery store, quietly stopped happening as frequently.

But then there were the things that didn’t stop. The sharp pain in your chest whenever Jack’s smiling face popped up on your social media feed. The butterflies in your stomach whenever your parents brought him up in conversation, fuelled by whatever the latest updates were from their group message thread with Jim and Ellen. The joy that would wash over you when you heard about a Devils win or a Jack Hughes goal, followed almost always by a wave of sadness that you were hearing about it second or third hand, rather than from Jack himself.

You were the one who’d asked for space. You needed time, you’d said. Given the blow up of All-Star weekend, all Jack was doing was respecting your wishes; but a huge part of you not so secretly wished he’d be a bit more disrespectful and reach out. Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and your heart wasn’t sure which emotion to feel or where to go next.

Since kindergarten, you’d barely gone more than a few days without seeing or communicating with Jack in some way. Now you were nearly a month without a word, and even though you were still mad at how he’d treated you, you were craving a return to the friendship you’d become so accustomed to. Jack knew you better than anyone, could basically read your mind with a single look, and although you had plenty of friends at college and still around in Toronto from high school, none came close to the camaraderie you shared with Jack. He was someone you could talk to for hours, or sit next to in silence for the same amount of time, it didn’t matter. With Jack, you could be utterly and entirely yourself, no complications. Now it felt like you were always pretending. And it was exhausting.

It was about 9pm on a Thursday night when you found yourself pushing through that exhaustion to try and complete yet another university assignment. For motherfucking economics. You couldn’t wait until you’d completed all of your compulsory economics credits because it was the absolute opposite of your cup of tea, when it came to academic subjects. This assignment was your last one, and you weren’t sure whether to cheer or cry at the idea of hitting the submit button on the online portal. Maybe you should’ve bought a confetti cannon to celebrate. Or a box of wine. Or booked yourself a flight somewhere fun, given you had a break from classes soon.

As soon as the thought of a trip crossed your mind, your phone began to buzz with an incoming video call. A video call from… Luke. Luke Hughes.

Your face scrunched in confusion, as you swiped to answer the call, met with Luke’s smiling face and messy curls.

“Hey sunshine! Long time no see. How have you been?” Luke spoke cheerily. Almost too cheerily.

You were immediately suspicious and narrowed your eyes at the youngest Hughes.

Luke was 3 years old when you met for the first time; he could barely remember a life without you in it. Given how inseparable you and Jack were, Luke became your de facto little brother, always tagging along where he could and joining in your adventures. Later on, when he became a teenager, you were the one Luke would come to when he was having issues with his friends, or trying to build up the courage to ask out the cute girl in his math class, or missing his brothers when they moved away. You were his second call after Ellen when he felt homesick at Michigan, and you were his first call when he had fucked up something that he felt his brothers would never let him live down. Emotional support and damage control, with a healthy dose of teasing and laughs thrown in. That was the dynamic between you and Luke. It also meant you could read him to filth when he was lying to you, and your honesty radar was through the roof at this sudden video call.

“I’m fine, Moose. Just trying to wrap up my final assignment before the break without losing my entire mind.” You offered weakly, half-expecting Luke to make a joke about your mind having been lost years ago, but the joke never came.

Instead, you saw the concern flicker across Luke’s face, just for a moment, before he forced a smile.

“How long is your break for? Any plans?”

“Three weeks, and not really. I promised my mother I’d spend a few days helping her with planning for their anniversary party in June, but that probably won’t happen until right before I go back to school.” You chatted absently, hitting save on your essay and standing up from the couch, bringing your phone with you as you moved into the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

You propped the phone up against the vase on your kitchen bench, reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a glass.

“Well, you should come visit. We’ve got like 5 home games in a row or something ridiculous coming up. It’d be fun!” Luke’s tone was cheerful, but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to react.

You hummed in response, moving slightly out of view of your phone to get some ice cubes from your freezer and a soda from the fridge.

“Besides, I heard a rumour that you’ve got an airline voucher to use. I’d hate for it to expire or something.”

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster. Luke knew about the voucher. Did that mean Jack had told him about your fight?

“The voucher won’t expire for three years. I’m sure I’ll manage to use it before then.” You deadpanned, stepping back into frame to see Luke rolling his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sure, but will I survive that long without seeing you? Absolutely not. Come on, sugar. Please? Even if it’s just a weekend?” Luke had moved into full begging mode, with puppy dog eyes and everything.

You sighed, fidgeting with the straw in your drink and avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t… we haven’t talked at all, Luke. I don’t know what he’ll do if I just show up there.” You half-whispered, feeling that all-too-familiar wave of sadness coursing through your veins.

“He talked about you tonight at dinner. Says he misses you. But he doesn’t want to push, or not give you the space you wanted. But right now, he’s on the couch watching Gossip Girl, so…” Luke stated matter-of-factly, staring you down with a knowing look on your face.

Gossip Girl was something you’d insisted Jack get into when you were teenagers, as long as he “wanted to be called your official best friend”. And The OC. And Gilmore Girls. And One Tree Hill. And basically any other teen drama series you could think of. Collectively, those shows had thousands of episodes, and you always found yourself settling down to watch them whenever you were missing Jack more than usual. You’d never realised before that he did the same.

“Should… should we tell him I’m coming? I don’t want him to get upset by a bad surprise.”

“Not at all, sugar. Book the flight and send me the details, I’ll sort out the rest.” Luke’s beaming smile made a smile of your own creep onto your face, as you nodded at him and went to retrieve your laptop from the couch to log onto the airline website.

“Now that that’s sorted, I was wondering, what does it mean when a girl asks me what my sun, moon and rising are? Should I be worried? Or is it a good thing?”

–

Two days later, you were done with your semester and on your way to the airport. Luke had suggested you book a one-way flight, “That way, you can go home whenever you like!”, but you were starting to feel like the whole thing was a mistake.

Nonetheless, you pushed through those feelings and boarded your flight. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, and soon enough you found yourself navigating the arrivals area at Newark airport. You spotted Luke’s lanky figure, clad in a Michigan sweatshirt, with his back to you. You couldn’t help but creep up on him and poke his side, cracking up with laughter as Luke jumped at least three feet into the air. He’d always been the easiest to scare, ever since you were kids.

Luke cussed you out, and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Missed your face, sugarplum.” Luke murmured, as you pulled away from each other and he rested his hands on your shoulders, studying you.

“Aw, Lukey. I’d say I’d missed yours too, but we really gotta do something about that hair.” You poked your tongue out as the youngest Hughes brother’s jaw dropped in mock offense.

You retrieved your bag from the luggage carousel, and headed out to where Luke had parked. The two of you fell into easy conversation as Luke navigated through the New Jersey streets back to the apartment he shared with Jack.

You managed to bury most of the nerves, but they came bubbling back to the surface when Luke pulled into the parking garage at the bottom of his building.

“Is… um… Is Jack home? Alone?” You managed to squeak out, and Luke looked at you like you were crazy.

Ever since All-Star weekend, you’d been having a recurring nightmare about Jack and the girl from the messages you’d accidentally become privy to. In particular, it was a scenario where you would come home from wherever you’d been out, and opened the apartment door to find them… entangled, on every possible surface you could think of. You felt yourself starting to feel ill as the images from your nightmares started to flash back into your mind.

“He’s alone. Ever since… ever since he came home early from All-Star, he’s been alone. None of the… usual visitors have been over. And he hasn’t been going to theirs, either. Not even when we’re on a roadie.” Luke said carefully, and you could tell he was trying not to upset you.

You could also tell that he was being honest. Because you could always tell when he was lying. But your mind was running a million miles a minute. Jack hadn’t… for a month? Because of his fight with you? You loved Jack, but you also knew (despite wishing that you didn’t know at all) that it had been years since he’d gone that long without intimacy. In fact, it was probably the longest since losing his virginity that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his desires.

Your mind was starting to wander into the gutter, and you pressed your eyes closed to bring yourself back to Earth. All you could do was nod at Luke, before you both hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Luke insisted on carrying your luggage, so you found yourself fidgeting incessantly with your hands as the elevator climbed to the correct floor.

You trailed behind Luke as he strode towards the apartment door and unlocked it, stepping inside and putting your bag down. He looked back and waved you into the apartment, pressing a finger to his lips. You tiptoed across the doorway, and your heart softened at the scene before you.

You could see the back of Jack’s head leaned up against the couch, and an episode of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV mounted on the wall. In fact, it was one of your favourite episodes; where Jess comes back and shows Rory the book he wrote, and calls her out for dropping out of Yale. You smiled ruefully as you thought about the parallels between that episode and your current situation with Jack, as the argument between Jess and Rory played out on the screen.

What do you mean?

You know what I mean! I know you. I know you better than anyone! This isn't you!

…

This isn't you! This! You going out with this jerk, with the Porsche! We made fun of guys like this!

You caught him on a bad night.

This isn't about him! Okay? Screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

I don't know. I don't know…

“Are we Team Jess or Team Rory this time, Jacky?” Luke called out, making you jump.

“Team Jess all the way, obviously. Where have you bee-” Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face his brother, and instead saw you in the middle of his living room.

Jack’s face was a revelation. Confusion, at first. Then the briefest flash of hurt and anguish. Then a smile. Then caution and uncertainty, as he slowly stepped towards you.

You let a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and quickly moved across the room, clumsily throwing your arms around your best friend. You felt Jack freeze momentarily, almost as if he was shocked at your touch, but that soon passed and you felt his hands slide around your waist and squeeze, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

You nestled your head on Jack’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His thumbs softly rubbed up and down your side, and you felt him press a soft kiss into your hair. You stayed like that for a minute, or maybe longer, relaxing into the embrace.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut made you jolt, and you rolled your eyes as you realised that Luke had tried to sneak way unnoticed and failed miserably.

“Hi.” Jack whispered, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands locked around you.

“Hi.” You whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Is it still shit hair? Or better now it’s longer?” Jack teased, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

“Better. But only slightly.” You teased back, your hands slipping down to the back of his neck comfortably.

The warmth of the surprise arrival was starting to fade. The dread you’d felt over addressing your fight with Jack was starting to set in, fast. The guilt you felt for being the catalyst for over a month for not speaking to your best friend was washing over you. Your heart rate was through the roof, and your palms were beginning to sweat.

Jack sensed your change in mood, and pulled away from you to look you up and down.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to shower? Or take a nap?” He was nervous, too.

“I ate before my flight. And showered this morning. And it’s 11am, so I think I’m good on the nap front. But I do think we should… we should talk. About everything.” You were basically tripping over your words at this point, but Jack’s reassuring nod helped to calm your nerves.

Wordlessly, Jack took your hand and led you over to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. You sat down and faced him, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knees, still fidgeting with your hoodie sleeves.

“I’m sorry - “ You both said unanimously, a gentle laughter filling the room.

“I’m sorry I needed so much time apart, J. It fucking sucked, and it was my fault, and I just didn’t -” You began to ramble, only stopping when Jack leaned over and squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“You only needed that time because I was an asshole, sugar. It’s on me, really. I had no right to treat you like an occasional friend, or something that I shouldn’t prioritise -” Jack paused as you cringed, remembering the text messages that referred to his time with you as “boring family bullshit”.

“I was thinking with my dick, not with my head, and that’s not fair on anyone.” You shot Jack a weird look, and he looked sheepish in return.

“Quinn… Quinn said that to me. After you told him to tell me about the messages. He’s right, thought. It wasn’t fair.” Jack continued, pausing to take a deep breath.

“This whole… thing, this life -” Jack gestured broadly at the apartment around you, and you glanced around properly for the first time. Framed jerseys of Luke and Jack’s adorned the walls.Various photos of the Hughes family scattered about the place. The fridge, with a gas bill stuck to it, along with a polaroid of you and Jack from last Christmas. And a photo from your senior prom. And a group photo of everyone from last summer at the lake house, Jack’s mouth open in laughter with his arm slung over your bikini-clad shoulders.

“It’s all I thought I ever wanted. And it’s amazing, and I’m so grateful. But it’s worth nothing to me, the money, the girls -” You felt yourself involuntarily cringe again. “The fame, the accolades, it’s worth nothing to me without the people that I love by my side. And if those people don’t know how much I love and appreciate them, because I treat them like shit, then that’s on me. No one else. Me.”

You sat quietly, taking in Jack’s emphatic statement. You weren’t quite sure what to say. So instead, you gently reached over and took Jack’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing softly, for a moment while you gathered your thoughts.

“I know the life you live, Jack. You don’t have to be sorry for it. Playing hockey was all you ever dreamed of, and I honestly can’t blame you for… enjoying… all the perks it comes with.” You swallowed the wave of nausea that hit you, before continuing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what life looks like without you in it. The last month was such a bizarre experience, and not one that I ever want to repeat, but I also… I need to… Can I be honest?” You spoke softly, glancing up from your hands to meet Jack’s gaze, and he nodded encouragingly at you.

“I wasn’t just upset because you made me feel like I was inconveniencing you, or cock-blocking you -” It was Jack’s turn to cringe. “I think I was upset because I was jealous. Because that will never, ever be me. And I think… I think I want it to be? Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know!” You dropped Jack’s hand and stood up from the couch, and started to pace the room.

“Sugar, please sit down.” Jack pleaded, and you paused, looking back at him on the couch. One look was all you needed, and you narrowed your eyes at the smirk on his dumb face.

“Why are you smirking? I am experiencing emotional distress, you asshole.” You seethed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

“Tell me more about this jealousy thing. I’m intrigued.” Jack’s tone was light and teasing, and washed over you like sour milk. Your head whipped in his direction and your face must’ve said a thousand words, because Jack’s smirk soon disappeared and he hurriedly stood up and walked over, reaching out to touch you.

“See, this -” You jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “This is why I have avoided this conversation for almost my entire life. Because you think it’s hilarious that we could ever go down that path. That we could ever be something more than what we are. Because I’m not good enough,or pretty enough, or just enough and I never will be, and I hate it. I hate it so much.” Your voice cracked on the last few words, and you felt the hot tears start to bubble out of your eyes and stream down your face.

Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He pulled you into a hug, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Breathe, sugar. You need to calm down.” Jack said quietly, willing you to calm. That just made you cry harder.

You were about to pull away, when you felt Jack cup your face with both hands, before leaning in to kiss you.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #new jersey devils #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #my writing #nhl fanfiction

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gffa · 4 months

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It has been about eight months since I came back to BATFAMILY fic and this will be my ninth set of recs, which means I'm at about 500 or so for this one fandom, which is kind of blowing my mind a little, but also tracks pretty well, given how amazing the fic in the fandom can be. There's just so much that's scratching the itch of softer Batfam content or really digging into the angsty possibilities or exploring the characters in ways the source material won't/can't or just finding a dozen different ways to hit my id straight on and make it such a fun, exciting experience to be swimming through all this amazing fic. And, in that vein, yeah I may have a Dick Grayson Is The Most Important Guy In The World Problem, but I also have Dick Grayson Is The Most Important Guy In The World Solutions which is basically a metric truckload of fic by incredible authors and trying to lure more people into crying about these characters with me because I AM CRYING A LOT ABOUT THEM because fandom has PROVIDED ME WITH THE TOOLS TO DRAG YOU IN AND I AM GOING TO USE THEM. And, okay, I've got some good Jason, Tim, Damian, Babs, Steph, and Bruce stuff in there, too. Fandom is great at helping me get some really great variety in, too! Basically ALL THE BATS ARE MY LOVES AND I WANT TO DRAG OTHERS IN WITH ME.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ Robin is Looking for a Sidekick by Writer_loves_tropes, dick & bruce, 4k Eight year old Dick Grayson is already a crime fighting Robin and he needs a sidekick. Batman seems like he would be a good choice. Robin and Batman has a nice ring to it. Bruce has thoughts about that. aka, How could Bruce resist adopting this tiny child? ✦ The Pancake Predicament by Lightsider, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.1k On his second Father's Day at Wayne Manor, Dick decides to make pancakes. -or- The reason Dick's not allowed unsupervised kitchen use, which isn't fair. The pancakes were delicious, and he was 10! ✦ Counting Elephants by PrincessMariana, bruce & dick & alfred, 3k When kidnappers break into the manor, Dick runs straight to Alfred. Alfred will do anything to protect his family. Or, Dick gets scared, and Alfred is a badass. ✦ World's Finest: Christmas Morning by WingFeathers, dick & bruce/clark & ma kent & alfred & cast, 9k Twelve hours of a Christmas morning in Gotham: Bruce foregoes sleep and grapples with change, Clark navigates Christmas at Wayne Manor and his boyfriend's emotional distance, and Dick gets the best presents. Also: Ma and Pa Kent and Alfred are the greatest. ✦ There is a Monster at the End of This Book by Trekkele, dick & bruce & cast, vampires, 2.6k There was something deeply wrong with Bruce Wayne. This wasn’t exactly news, of course. Opening any one of the local Gotham tabloids would give you plenty of evidence to back his claims up, but Tyler liked to think his profession gave him an edge, an added insight into the strangeness that was Gotham’s ‘beloved billionaire’. ✦ Safe by Jinmukang, dick & bruce, 2.5k Or, a baby Robin wakes up very lost and very alone in the middle of Gotham. ✦ Stars, Hide Your Fires by FidotheFinch, dick & bruce, 10.8k Dick Grayson doesn't want to leave the circus he's called home his entire life. When he overhears Pop Haly talking to a strange man about sending Dick away for 'training,' he decides he'll do whatever he can to stop it. Even if he has to make a deal with a demon. ✦ It's who I am by Tiredteengaer, dick & bruce & wally & artemis & conner & kaldur & m'gann & cast, 44k how each member of the team found out Robin's real identity. ✦ Drowning, Headaches, and being beaten by Penguin by PandasandDucks1, dick & bruce & wally & artemis, 1.7k He couldn’t breathe. ✦ The Eldest Wayne's by Remarcely, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 3k ‘With all their talks about how to behave, Bruce had the upmost faith in Dick to talk to the other Gala-attenders with respect under his supervision. When Dick grew bored and wandered off, entirely unnoticed by a Bruce deep in conversation, he’d be lying if he pretended that faith didn’t waver’ Or Bruce and Dick throughout the years as they slowly learn how to be a family.

BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Rebalancing by SirenAlpha, dick & bruce & damian, 2.5k Bruce was back from his trip through time. Dick expected to heal up from surgery, head back to Blüdhaven, and be Nightwing again. He did not expect Bruce to have a discussion on the nature of Batman, Nightwing, and if Robin really only needed one of them. ✦ Capitulate by Antiquity, dick & bruce, 5k After Wally's death, Bruce tries to hold Dick together before he shakes himself apart. ✦ No Good Deed by I_Have_To_Get_Off_This_Planet, dick & bruce, 1.2k While trying to stop a robber, Dick breaks two ribs. It's not a good time. ✦ Superficial Wounds by fleetfoot1, dick & bruce, ~1k Bruce swore softly as he tilted Dick’s face to the side, his gaze flicking down the bruises covering his cheekbone. Dick swallowed, before opening his mouth. “I--” his voice cracked on the syllable. God, he was just so tired of arguing. ✦ fabric (frayed but holding) by Tevya, dick & bruce & cast, 5.1k A few months after Dick returns to speaking terms with Bruce, he gets stuck in Gotham with the flu. ✦ aristocracy by brandywine421, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred, 2.4k "I really wish it was for a different reason. I - need a favor." "There are no favors between us, Dick, you know that," Bruce said, moving around the desk to take the seat beside him. "Tell me." "God, it's so stupid, I - could handle it myself, but - I don't want to. I just want - I just want to forget it ever happened," Dick said. That didn't sound like Dick. "Tell me," he repeated. ✦ Memories Fade by Lady_of_Lorule, dick & bruce & cast, 2.2k “Miss Gordon sent in her daily report and Master Tim called to inform you that he will be in San Francisco for a few days. Also, Master Dick is upstairs.” Bruce froze. “Dick is here?” “Yes, sir.” “I thought he was in Central City visiting Wally West.” Alfred raised an eyebrow, pale eyes piercing. “It seems that he is back, then. I believe he is waiting for you.” ✦ On-Call by motleyfam, dick & bruce & jason & oc & cast, 1.6k Kiran Devabhaktuni, medical doctor and close family friend of the Waynes, agreed to join them for one more Thanksgiving at the Kent Farm. It's a good thing he did, too. ✦ a day before midnight by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader), dick & bruce, 2.1k After you lose pieces of yourself, they don't always fit back the same. - Post-Ric Grayson.

BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ the more i look inside (the more you're real to me) by starsonthewalls, dick & bruce & john/mary & tim, 2.8k Dick tensed defensively. “It’s not like I can do anything about that, Dad,” he grumbled, accepting the glass to clear his throat. “You know how B is about patrols.” “And who is ‘B’ supposed to be?” his mom asked. “One of your video game friends?” Dick froze- what did mom mean, who is B? ✦ You Won't Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, 5.2k Dick's captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ Jason's Gift by Neoinean, dick & bruce & jason & tim & barbara & cast, 17.3k As Dick’s birthday goes from mediocre to bad to worse, he finds himself so wrapped up in the chain of events that he fails to correctly piece together the clues. Will he discover the truth before its too late? ✦ they don't know me and you by konan_konan, dick & bruce & jason & tim & barbara & zatanna & cast, de-aged!dick, 4.5k "The cold helps neutralize him," says Bruce, talking about Dick like he's a threat. "It'll keep him from hurting himself," says Barbara, talking about Dick like he's a child. They're both correct right now, and Jason hates it. ✦ If You Don't Know by TylerM, dick & bruce & jason, 10.2k An exploration of Sick!Dick Grayson from little and big Jason's point of view. Because I honestly don't believe in there ever being too many of the same damn fic.

BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I'M GONNA THROW HIM AT THE OTHER BATS BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY: ✦ bury me softly by Nokomis, jason & steph, 4k After a tunnel collapse, Stephanie and Jason bond while trapped together.

BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I'M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ ties bind none by eryndew, dick & damian & bruce, 2k Bruce discovers a son. Repercussions and choices follow. ✦ restless heart by emavee, dick & damian, 2.3k It’s ridiculous to act like this one weekend really means anything in the grand scheme of things, but he can’t help it. It isn’t fair. He only gets these few days, and now Grayson is up in space fighting aliens or whatever and Damian is alone on the couch watching Jeopardy by himself. Or: Dick goes off world and Damian misses him ✦ Need To Know Basis by WordsAblaze, dick & damian, 1.1k day sixteen, where damian has zero tolerance for dick hiding injuries from him… ✦ a killer time by konan_konan, dick & damian & alfred & bruce, 4.1k The vent cover clatters to the floor, and Dick flings the knife at Croc, trusting that he's going to be a more of a threat than his goons. Croc roars in pain, or maybe just rage, and Dick scrambles toward the vent, Damian already inside, and - And Killer Croc grabs him by the ankle, slams him into the wood. He feels something break, and he gasps, hardly able to catch his breath. Some sort of metallic clang echoes from behind, and he thinks if Damian comes out of the vent and gets us both killed… ✦ as love carries its strength, but not its labels by AlterHarpia, dick & damian, 2.7k Bruce is on a trip beyond Earth’s Solar System for longer than he intended, making Dick and Damian fall into an old pattern. “I'm not Batman.” A mere reminder, perhaps, but when said to Damian it always sounds like an apology.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ a study by bernard dowd by cv_angels, tim/bernard & conner & cassie & bart, 4.8k Bernard opens the laptop, spinning it to face Tim with a flourish. It’s a powerpoint with a truly hideous red background, and Tim feels a moment of relief that Bernard isn’t breaking up with him before he registers the words on the slide. REASONS WHY TIMOTHY DRAKE-WAYNE IS A SUPERHERO, A STUDY BY BERNARD DOWD. ✦ princess carry by CreamofTomatoSoup, tim/bernard & duke & tam & damian, 3.1k Tim almost gets shot during a public speech, which is a pretty average Tuesday. Being rescued by his civilian boyfriend, however, is not. ✦ beep beep!! by CreamofTomatoSoup, tim/bernard & bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & duke, 6.1k Bernard learned to drive from his henchman uncle. The last place he expects to use this skill is at a dinner with his boyfriend's family. ✦ little menace by InkpotSprite, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred, de-aged!tim, 16.2k wip "Did a two year old just outrun you?" Jason asked, wanting to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Bruce clenched his jaw. "I didn't want to hurt him." He growled. "Liar!" Tim piped up from under the desk. Jason was starting to like this version of his successor. ✦ It Wasn't Supposed to Be Like This: I wouldn't Change a Thing by Grayson1996, bruce & dick & steph, 4.1k She smiled tightly at him and stiffly beckoned him forward. If Bruce had to guess they weren’t close in the future, or perhaps she just didn’t know him. Regardless he stepped forward, though he didn’t turn to look at the figure on the bed just yet. For a moment the two simply stared at one another before Stephanie rolled her eyes at him. “Here’s where you apologize for pushing me against the wall.” Bruce felt guilt stir at the words despite the fact that she was clearly joking. ✦ in the lungs by hellsreluctantheir, tim & steph & cast, 2.8k It went bad the way things always went bad. All at once. Steph had taken out two thugs (and maybe picked up a sprained wrist though she wasn’t counting her chickens before they hatched) and Tim was almost finished up with his third, when she saw him get launched backwards, head hitting the railing at the side with a resounding clang. She saw him slump to the deck, saw him struggle weakly as the thug pulled him up by his cape and looked at him for a moment, before tossing him directly into the Gotham River.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I SAY THIS IS A BATFAM REC LIST BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA SHOVE THOSE ASSHOLES OUT OF THE WAY AND READ SOME SUPERFIC: ✦ Troublemakers by Kannika, clark & lois & conner, ~1k Introducing Conner and Lois is the worst mistake Clark has made in a long time. Because they're getting along. ✦ oh brother by corvidspectre, conner & lois & jon, 1.2k “So what are you being for Halloween?” Kon had asked when he got to the Kent's place. “Superboy!” Jon smiled, making Lois chuckle under her breath. ✦ Gut Feeling by Ao3time, lois & conner, 18.7k wip Lois Lane rescues a teenager who looks a lot like someone she knows...

BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ my threads are coming loose by dizarys, dick & talia & cast, ~1k “Oh good, I see both you and Bruce are on the same page about unrealistic expectations for grieving,” muttered Dick. Talia sucked her teeth and turned back to the grave, long hair swinging. The sound was so much like Damian’s iconic tut that fresh tears welled in Dick’s eyes. ✦ Fatherhood; a Knife that Never Stops Cutting by minnow_doodle_doo, bruce & dick & alfred, no powers au, 2.1k There always seemed to be a thread that tied all their histories, from Alfred to Bruce back to Dick. Repeated over and over. And now it seemed that Dick found that the thread had been longer than he first thought. ✦ Tap Out by withthekeyisking, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian, read the tags, 4.8k Dick knows the importance of tapping out in training, so your partner doesn't accidentally hurt you. It becomes instinct, so heavily ingrained in him. He doesn't understand why his brothers don't do it, too. (Until they do, and it's too late.) ✦ A Death in the Family by PrincessMariana, bruce & dick & jason, yandere!bruce (?), read the tags, 12.4k The Joker has killed Jason Todd. Bruce tells Dick immediately, and Dick returns to the manor. Bruce will do anything to keep his remaining son safe and close. Dick thinks it's the grief that's keeping him exhausted. ✦ Car Crashes and Hot Chocolate by PrincessMariana, bruce & dick, yandere!bruce (?), read the tags, 2.3k Dick almost dies trying to escape Bruce. Neither of them are happy about the outcome, and so they talk about it. This is a follow-up oneshot for A Death in the Family and is set before Into the Gilded Cage. This can technically be read alone, though it does have spoilers for A Death in the Family. ✦ Into the Gilded Cage by PrincessMariana , bruce & dick & tim, yandere!bruce (?), read the tags, 17.5k Tim investigates if Dick Grayson is being held against his will by Bruce Wayne. He somehow ends up spending the summer with the two at Wayne Manor. It might be a prison for Dick, but the more Tim stays, the less he wants to leave. This follows A Death in the Family, but you don't need to read that to read this. It might be useful, though. ✦ The Third Robin's Flight by PrincessMariana, bruce & dick & tim, yandere!bruce (?), read the tags, 13.7k wip Tim accepts his place as Bruce' third - and most loyal - son. When his mother dies and his father returns to Gotham, Tim once again must pick a side, but Bruce never lets go of his children easily. Meanwhile, Dick struggles with the ramifications of finding the Joker, and Bruce remembers why Batman needs a Robin. This follows Into the Gilded Cage. ✦ Family Crisis by librarylexicon, bruce & dick & tim & cass & steph & leslie & barbara & selina & amy & cast, read the tags, 78.1k wip At the close of the gang war, Batman uncovers an attempted deception concerning the life of his former protégé Stephanie Brown, and suddenly nothing is as important as his family. While Dick seeks absolution, Tim struggles with grief, Cassandra searches for belonging and Steph rebuilds her sense of self, Bruce faces the return of ghosts from his own past and psyche. (War Games AU) ✦ New Again by dustorange, dick & bruce & thomas wayne jr., 10.1k wip “I’m not a good man,” says Thomas. “No," Dick hesitates, then comes closer, "but you're not an old man either." (a.k.a. Earth 3's Thomas Wayne Jr. "helps" Batman and Robin get back to their world, only for Bruce alone to be sent back, leaving Dick stranded in Earth 3—with Thomas.) ✦ not anything, anymore by emavee, dick & bruce, 2k Bruce kicked him out four months ago. Apparently these particular kidnappers didn't get the memo.

✦ dreamer by day by justbeyondstars, dick & bruce & jason & tim, 5.3k In the next room over, Jason and Tim are laughing, and it startles Dick back into his body to remember he’s not alone. He feels impossibly empty, unmovable, untouchable. He almost forgets he's still on the phone until a voice says, “Is there anything I can do for you, Dick? Anything you need to make this easier?” Or: Dick is a lot of things to a lot of people. After getting some bad news, he has to grapple with the fact it might not always be enough. ✦ watching the world go dark by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 3.5k It wasn’t that Dick was suicidal exactly, but if an opportunity came about where he would have to actively save himself from death, he might just let go. He might not be suicidal, but he's not self-preserving either, and it’s becoming a real problem. Luckily, Bruce is a worried parent with a few detective skills. ✦ hold me like water (or hold me like a knife) by dizarys, bruce & dick & tim, 2k Dick's recovery after a amnesiac year as Ric Grayson is taking longer than expected. And has some difficult side effects.

BATFAM FIC RECS - SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED TO TAKE ALL THE SERIOUSNESS OUT OF THE ROOM AND STAY SOFT FOR AWHILE: ✦ And There Was Only One Bed: Family Edition by RandomReader13, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass, 1.7k “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Dick stood on his toes to peek over Jason’s shoulder into the hotel room and grimaced. “Uh, Bruce…” “There was a mix-up with the reservation,” Bruce grunted. ✦ so everyone's just a fucking scalie huh by destiny919, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass, 1.1k "Birds are animals, Jay." "What the fuck? No. Aren't they basically reptiles?" Jason demands. "First of all, no, you're thinking of dinosaurs, which is what they actually are in the Flintstones. Second of all, reptiles are animals." "Bullshit." "Okay, I..." Tim pinches his nose. "Okay. I think I see the problem here." "Yes, Todd sustained a traumatic brain injury the other night and didn't see fit to inform anyone before we left on this inane trip." ✦ The Batmobile (and other Bat things) by JeanjacketCarf, bruce & dick & clark & justice league, 2k “Batmobile?!” Barry looked incredulous. It was clear he was missing the point of the story. “He called it the Batmobile? Out loud? In front of you?” Clark shrugged. “Yeah, twice. I’m sure I heard it right.” “Batmobile, my god,” Barry said shaking his head. “I can’t believe it.” Or Apparently, the Bat-Man is not a cryptid, he's a guy who gives his stuff silly names ✦ Vampire Bats by Sohotthateveryonedied, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke & cast, 4.1k Despite the many, many obstacles, having his kids turn into vampires isn’t as tragic as Bruce anticipated it would be. Whenever one of them is grounded, all Bruce has to do is hang a cross on their door and they’re sufficiently contained. And the energy boost has been incredibly helpful on patrols. ✦ Adventures in Batsitting by raven_of_hydecastle, bruce & dick & clark & lois & justice league, 10k wip "What, you're telling me the great Batman couldn't stop a nine-year-old from sneaking out?" Green Lantern scoffed. "At least come up with a believable excuse." It was Batman's turn to scoff. "Like anyone else could do better. If you can keep Robin off the streets for a week, I'll buy you a Porsche." *** AKA The JLA stages an intervention with Batman to get Robin off the streets. it goes downhill from there.

BATFAM FIC RECS - THROW BABY DICK AT BATTISON, C'MON DO IT, IT'LL BE HILARIOUS: ✦ though the sun and sky may fade (all shall be remade) by queenofthestarrrs, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.8k Dick Grayson asks a lot of questions. ✦ My Little Robin by tyrianzzz, jim & dick & bruce, 1.6k After being Partners with the Bat for so long Gordon tries not to question his life choices. Until Robin comes along. ✦ I Wish My Father Had More Sons by shipNslash, bruce & dick & jason & alfred, 9.4k Jason Todd and Dick Grayson, from strangers to brothers to enemies and back again.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #conner kent #battison #fic recs #batman fic recs #long post

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zanarkandskylines · 3 months

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Hollow Heart { chapter 1 - hurricane }

『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | friends to lovers ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡

summary: The dynamic duo of Dynamight and Deku are unstoppable, climbing the hero charts like they always dreamed of as kids. Their journeys were tough, but offered them the world - fame, fortune, protection of their family and friends, a comfortable hero life. The recent increase in crime around Tokyo kept their entire sector busy, sending heroes out non-stop, desperate to keep the statistics as low as possible to maintain a clean reputation. When a nearby sector is requesting assistance, the boys are tasked with a mission to inspect a villain’s lair in a deserted area outside of the city. Reports have noted people going missing, specifically with rare quirks. With plenty of other heroes being unavailable, you’re chosen to tag along with the duo for the night operation. Everything is going according to plan until the villain lands a surprise attack, resulting in the your kidnapping and whisking you away through a mysterious portal. It’s been a month since your disappearance with no help of the hero agency. Bakugo and Midoriya take it into their own hands and are determined to get you back - no matter how long or what it takes. tags & warnings: mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance a/n: Prepare for the heartbreaking journey of Bakugo battling with his feelings when it’s too late…or is it? :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; ~20.6k as of ch.4 ꒱ Chapter 1 | Hurricane [5,092k] Chapter 2 | The Ghost of You [4,799k] Chapter 3 | Choke [3,995k] Chapter 4 | The Grey [6,756k] Chapter 5 | The Good Left Undone Chapter 6 | Tourniquet Chapter 7 | There is Fear in Letting Go 『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩

CHAPTER ONE: HURRICANE

A beautiful summer morning, rays of tangerine light poured into the living room of your apartment as you sleepily make your way to the kitchen, desperate for that first cup of coffee. The clock on the stove read 8:35AM - the latest you’ve overslept in the last month. It was another long night in the office, writing reports for your previous week’s hero patrols that you’d put off for far too long. You'd think someone else would be responsible for inputting notes into the agency's system, but no - anyone below rank 10 was tasked with entering in their own data.

Criminal activity in the area had increased significantly within the last 3 months, calling heroes of all ranks out nonstop, especially lower ranked heroes. Was it annoying? Sure, being awoken in the middle of the night out of a dead sleep to go stop a small robbery at the local late-night supermarket wasn't ideal. Especially when you dreamed of dealing with bigger threats, akin to crime syndicates and large scale villain organizations. As a hero, you’re taught to tune out the small details and focus on what’s in front of you - keeping the citizens of your ward safe and sound, even if it's helping a granny cross the street in the middle of the afternoon.

The agency accepted you with open arms right out of UA High, over the moon to have a hero with a quirk like yours in their roster. Psionic energy manipulation was shockingly uncommon amongst the 80% of the population of quirk users. The kinetic hero, Y/H/N, ranked number 37 - high enough to earn respect from your peers and low enough to not have to worry about being followed by paparazzi and negotiating brand deals. Cities were full of billboards with ads sponsored by heroes, heavily focused on those in the top 10 for allure to their product. Deku and Dynamight’s athletic wear collaboration, Uravity’s mochi bites, Shouto’s fire and ice energy drinks - it was impossible to avoid. Did you wish you had the smallest bit of spotlight? Sometimes, but being able to walk the streets off-duty and not be bothered was a luxury you'd like to keep. On the counter, your phone buzzed and flashed awake, shaking you out of the sleepy stupor.

Incoming Call: Katsuki Bakugo

A picture of you and Bakugo appeared on to the caller ID screen - one of your favorite pictures with him. It was from a concert in Shibuya you'd attended a few months back. His arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he flipped off the camera, wearing his infamous toothy smirk as you leaned against him with a small peace sign and a warm smile.

It's unfair how effortlessly attractive he was. Admittedly, you'd had a crush on him since high school and drank up every ounce of affection he threw your way over the years. Even though you've known him and Midoriya since childhood, your friendship didn't truly blossom until your first year in UA. Thanks to your tenacity and fighting spirit, he respected you after a long six months. That broke down his walls just enough to tolerate you and continue to be friends ever since.

You, Midoriya, and Bakugo became three peas in pod, a strong bond established to last a lifetime. Post-UA life wasn’t as easy to see each other, but you made it work - trainings, missions, conflicting work schedules, and general life couldn’t get in between the three of you, even if it was just over texts, phone calls and late-night movie marathons. It helped that you all lived in Tokyo, at least. Midoriya, of course, was extremely special and essential to your life. He’s like the little brother you always wanted and a constant ray of sunshine, always there for whatever you need. There was just something different and special about your bond with Bakugo - a spark, without sounding cliche. And after all these years later, he's still your favorite person and one of your best friends.

You wouldn't trade it for the world. Oh shit, I forgot we planned to go for a run this morning. You answer hesitantly, knowing full well you’re about to get an earful about being late.

“Yo, Y/N, you plan on showin' up anytime soon?” There was shockingly no annoyance in his tone. “It’s almost 9.”

“Sorry Kat! I overslept. Had a long night writing reports in the office. I’ll be there in 10,” you say, not making any excuses. You hear a loud tch in response - ah, there’s the annoyance.

“I was about to bust down your door and give you a personal wake up call,” he teases, laughing to himself. “Get your ass to the park. See ya, lite-brite.” The line ended with a click.

He'd never let that nickname go, one that followed you all the way back from high school. You'd grown used to it as he typically reserved it to get under your skin or light a fire under your ass. Most of the time? It worked - and you liked it.

Setting the coffee cup in the sink, you jog back into your room down the hallway and change into a clean set of workout clothes. You'd just gotten the PR package from Midoriya last week with his new sports wear collaboration with Bakugo, saving you time by not having to dig through your laundry pile. He would have scolded you for slacking on chores if he were to have woken you up in person, and then folded it himself to prove a point. He’d often harp on you for not keeping up with basic shit around your place, but in the same breath, start cleaning up for you - it was one of his love languages.

The company they collaborated with nailed the designs perfectly. It was minimalistic, but still paid homage to their hero costumes. You grab Bakugo's set - a cropped black sleeveless hoodie with an orange 'X' across the front, a forest green band with a drawstring around the midsection, and an orange hood. The matching shorts were all black with a simple orange stripe down the sides. The neoprene material allowed for the set to breathe in any weather condition.

Thankfully, the park you were meeting him at was only a couple minute walk from your apartment building. Not long after pulling your hair into a ponytail, splashing your face with water and brushing your teeth, you're kicking on your sneakers by the door and shuffling out of the apartment. A few minutes to spare, you duck into the convenience store along the way, grabbing two sports drinks and a bag of his favorite spicy-flavored chips. God, you hated the taste of them and never understood why he liked them so much. Some part of you jokingly thought it fueled his already explosive personality, literally heating him up from the inside.

───

"You wear that on purpose?" Bakugo snickers over his phone as you skip toward him, pointing to your workout gear.

"What can I say? It's comfortable. Happy to be a walking ad for the number four hero," you say, elbowing him in the arm. He rolls his eyes, snatching the sports drink you've outstretched to him and mutters a thanks.

"You should model our next set," he pats you on the back. "You're the perfect fit."

You scoff, waving a hand at him. "Yeah, like I'm model material."

"I literally just said you were, dumbass. Take a damn compliment!"

He peers over your shoulder to see the chips in your bag. "Damn, you're really kissing up to me today. What's the occasion?" He's beaming over the attention you're showering him with - he'd never admit how much he loved it.

You shake your head playfully. "What, I can't spoil my favorite person?"

Bakugo barks out a laugh while opening the sports drink and chugging half of it in one go. Again, it was stupid how attractive he was, no matter what he did. The summer breeze made his blonde locks dance lazily in the morning sun, a sheen on his flawless skin as some of the liquid spilled out of the corner of his mouth, trickling down his jawline. A sadistic part of you thought he did this shit on purpose to rile you up, testing the boundaries of your friendship.

If only you had the nerve to just scream from the rooftops - Katsuki, I fucking love you.

“You good, Y/N?” He's waving a hand in front of your face. “Space case much?”

“Yeah! Sorry, apparently still waking up,” you apologize while stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s go!”

───

An hour later, you and Bakugo finish your run in the park, completely drenched in sweat. The two of you plop under a nearby tree in the shade, the humidity adding a layer of exhaustion to your depleted stamina. Lazily slouching over onto your shoulder, he steals the sports drink out of your hand and downs the rest of it himself with a satisfied hah. Somehow, you always forget that he smells like caramel and burnt sugar after a run, invading your senses with that sweet essence that you loved. His bangs stuck to the sweat on his forehead as he dropped his head back against the tree, eyes closed as he caught his breath.

God, he’s so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, almost afraid he'd somehow hear you.

"I'm free the rest of the day," he comments between shallow breaths, lazily opening one eye and elbowing your side. "Down for a movie day? Been awhile."

"Hell yeah. Junk food, too?" Your eyes light up with excitement.

"Like you gotta ask. I didn't run three fuckin' miles just to look good," he quips. "Cool if I shower at your place?"

That catches you off guard, sending a flutter of butterflies off in your stomach. Why the hell are you so riled up today? Sure, you've had a massive crush on your best friend for ages, but its usually not this intense. Must be the scent of his sweat deluding your thoughts...or maybe it’s the potential scene of watching him walk out into your living room, shirtless - excess water cascading down his hourglass figure, tracing his abs and settling into the hem of his sweatpants.

Stop it! Calm the fuck down.

"S-sure. I have a pair of your sweats, I think…maybe Izuku’s? It’s like you guys leave your shit at my place so I do your laundry for free."

He shoves you jokingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Hah! Knew it was you who stole my favorite pair. I’ve got shit with me, no worries.”

Bakugo climbs to his feet, extending a hand back to you. “C’mon, I’m fucking starving and dying to do nothing the rest of the day.”

───

The sunset’s sorbet-colored afterglow flooded the living room as the fourth movie’s credits rolled on the TV screen, a faint warm breeze coming through the open balcony door. The two of you had settled in after your run, marathoning through a collection of films you'd be wanting to watch, surrounded by a buffet of comfort food - taiyaki, meat buns, spicy fried chicken bites, mabo tofu, yakitori, and a box full of various flavors of dango. The cashier at the convenience store must have thought you two were hosting an insane party with how much food you bought, cleaning out their entire hot foods section in minutes.

Bakugo stretched out like a cat, his abs flexing as his black tank top moved up his midsection. It was impossible not to stare, especially when he wore cropped shirts, showing off his hard earned muscles. You found it ironic how you mentioned once - and only once - how crop tops on guys are attractive as hell, and a few weeks later? He had a handful of them that he’d rotate wearing during the summer, claiming he only wears them for “regulating his temperature for his quirk.” You knew that was a bold-faced lie, but never called him on it. Why would you risk making him change his mind when they looked so good on him?

He let out a satisfactory groan, putting his feet up on the coffee table and hands behind his head. You stretch as well, throwing your feet in his lap like always. Bakugo looked comfortable, like he was at home. You were home to him.

“I got somethin’ on my face?” He jokes, lolling his head to face you.

Lost in thought, you have no time to stop the words falling from your mouth.

“No, just admiring you.”

Bakugo quirks an eyebrow, surprised by your flattery. You see a faint pink blush begin to make it’s way across his cheeks, an extremely rare sight.

“Th-thanks,” is all he can muster to say in a low voice.

“Is that so weird to say? You’re gorgeous, Katsuki,” you blurt out, shocked by your own words. Where the hell is this coming from? You normally weren't so...forward. Not that you were lying in any capacity. You've complimented him plenty times before, why is now different?

Right?

You pause, realizing you could be overwhelming him. He'd always been adamant on how much he hates when "fans" view him as just a sex object rather than respect him as a heroic figure.

“I know you hate being objectified. I’m sorry -,”

“Don’t be, y’didn't.”

The static of the TV hummed through the lull in your conversation, the credits of the last movie approaching the end of its sequence. You nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Thank fuck he can't hear your thoughts.

Bakugo notices your nervous tick and grins. That damn shit-eating grin.

"Relax, Y/N. I didn't say I didn't like it. Big difference between you and a fan girl sayin' shit like that."

As he’s about to continue the conversation, both of your phones ring simultaneously. That’s weird…it’s 8:30PM on a Tuesday night. Neither of you were scheduled for patrol and all sectors had coverage from the last e-mail update. You pull your phone out to check the caller ID and sigh in annoyance.

Incoming Call: AGENCY - EMERGENCY LINE

“The fuck?” Bakugo huffs, his brow furrowed in confusion.

───

After 15 minutes, you're debriefed with a new mission, and strangely, you’re assigned with none other than Bakugo and Midoriya. This was extremely uncommon for heroes of top 10 rank to work with those below rank 25 and only happened when other top 10 heroes are too busy. Emergency calls were normally automated messages, but this was a personal conference call from the board of directors.

We are in need of Y/H/N to assist Dynamight and Deku’s mission to stake out a villain’s laboratory tonight in Sector 42. We’ve received reports of civilians going missing near the area over the last few weeks, specifically those with uncommon and rare quirks. There is a probability that hostages are being using for the development of a secret serum, to which is unknown at this time. Report to the agency by 11:30PM for further instruction.

Man, you were really looking forward to more time with Bakugo. Granted, you’ll still be with him, but now you’ll be stalking around for work, not stuffing your face on the couch together.

“Kat, I don’t know what it is, but I…I have a really weird feeling about this stake out,” you admit, unsure of where this anxiety is coming from. This isn’t the first time you’ve been assigned to a mission like this, and certainly won’t be the last, there was just something odd in the air surrounding this one.

“Yeah. Go grab your suit, I’ll call Izuku to meet us here and we'll go over together,” Bakugo says hesitantly, already dialing Midoriya and bringing his phone to his ear.

“Hey, yeah just got the call. Y/N and I are at her apartment, swing by and we'll go to the agency together.”

───

By 11:45PM, the three of you are suited up and stationed in Sector 42. The area was very…barren? It was confusing to you how people would wander out here and disappear. It was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the city limits, an open field surrounded by a spotty tree line. Something still felt off about this entire set up - a gut feeling, but it was enough to keep you on edge.

“Y/N?” Midoriya called to you, blinking with concern. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

You rub your temple, desperately trying to push the feeling down.

“Sorry, Izu. I’ve had a gut feeling something was wrong since the phone call.”

“What do you mean?” His interest is peaked, both out of curiosity and concern.

“Can’t place it, but I feel it, too. Something’s not right,” Bakugo chimed in, surveying the field for any signs of…whatever the hell it was they’re looking for. An entrance to a lab? Masked minions abducting people? The agency was extremely vague in their details. That didn’t sit well with you, and Bakugo now, too.

“You’re not wrong. This is an open area in the middle of nowhere. Why would anyone wander out here alone?” Midoriya muttered, continuing a conversation with his own thoughts aloud. “It's not a common road for travel, by foot or by vehicle. And how would the agency know what this villain is making without having the location of the lab in question?”

The abrupt sound of creaking metal echoed around you, a sense of danger spiking in your nerves. You place a hand on the shoulder of both Midoriya and Bakugo to halt them in their tracks.

“Did you hear that? It sounded like a door was opening…close by,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Whoosh!

You didn’t register there was another presence amongst you until the dart made contact with your skin. A warming sensation flowed through your right shoulder as you let out a cry, stumbling to your knee. What the fuck? Your hero suit was designed to prevent piercing damage to a degree, but this dart cut right through it. The dart resembled a syringe, automatically activating the injection mechanism as it pierced your skin.

“Y/N!” Midoriya shouted, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist to whisk you away from another potential attack. Bakugo whipped his head around, looking for any sign of where the dart came from. Was someone hiding, or was it a device hidden out of sight? Maybe in a nearby tree? That's not possible, these trees don't have enough leaves for coverage like that.

“Hold still, I’m going to pull it out,” Midoriya warned. You braced for the pain as he yanked the dart from your shoulder, tossing it out of reach. You wince, the sting slowly fading a few seconds later. “Are you feeling okay?”

Things were starting to feel fuzzy, the ache spreading rapidly through the rest of your body. Everything felt warm and cold simultaneously, as if your body was at war over what temperature to settle on.

“I’m alright, just…dizzy,” you mumble, slurring as you attempt to reassure him.

Midoriya helps you to your feet, offering to let you use him as support. You wave a hand, muttering over and over again I’m fine, I’m fine. There’s a pulsing sensation starting to build in your shoulder, creeping its way through your right arm. It’s tingling, crawling - uncomfortable, but not painful. What the hell was in that dart?

A flash of black invades your vision, throwing you off balance as things pixelate and sharpen repeatedly before completely disappearing. Things are spinning and your senses are dulling. You notice that you don’t hear Bakugo or Midoriya anymore…did they wander off? You should be able to hear explosions, gusts of wind, crackling energy - something.

A force knocks you on your back, slamming you to the ground. You don’t feel a damn thing, just a vague numbness as your body, what you presume, hits the ground. You can’t make out whatever, or whoever, it is that is attacking you. I still can’t hear anything! Can you speak? Can anyone hear you even if you could?

…Y…N! …Y/N!

A voice? It’s muffled, but you hear someone calling for you. Was that Midoriya?

“Let her go, jackass!”

Oh no, that’s Bakugo.

His booming voice reverberates through your head, sending your thoughts whirling in a vortex more than they already were. A vision of the battlefield was starting coming into focus, hazy, but a semblance of scenery was making its way back to you. When did I get up from the ground? Didn't I get knocked down?

The field before you was littered with debris.

…Branches and broken stumps of dead trees.

…Craters in the ground.

…are those broken pieces of Bakugo’s gauntlets?

…patchy trails and puddles of blood soaking into the dirt.

The sights sent a chill up your spine - your gut instinct was right.

To your right, Midoriya panted with force as he held onto his thigh, blood seeping through his suit and staining around the wound. He was close enough that you could see the detailing of his tendons exposed from the impact, frayed pieces of skin hanging from the damage. His hair was slicked back, matted with a mix of, what you think, is dirt and blood. The rest of his suit had a variety of slashes and cuts, the material tattered and torn all over his body.

To your left, Bakugo’s on the ground, battered and bruised as he’s struggling to get to his feet. His gauntlets were missing, along with the glove underneath on his right hand. His exposed forearm was beat red, what looked like hand prints blistering the area. Blood trickled from his forehead and pooled under his mask. He’s shouting again…you can’t quite make out what he’s saying as he’s extending his bare arm in your direction.

What the fuck happened?!

Something inside you clicks abruptly, adrenaline surging, urging you to fight. It’s competing with the numbness in your muscles. How much damage have you taken if you can’t feel a damn thing?

Fuck. Come on, dammit. Move, fight - do something! Help them!

In your peripheral vision, a man appears beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn on your heel, ready to activate your quirk and blast this guy into oblivion. Your hand meets his clothed chest with a thump.

Nothing happens.

Your quirk doesn’t activate.

Another swing, focusing all the energy you have into a concentrated blast.

Nothing.

Panic sets in as you study your hand, mortified that you’ve been rendered useless. Your mind is racing faster than you can keep up with. Is this the serum they talked about earlier? How long was I unconscious...was I even unconscious?

And then it dawns on you - it’s a quirk suppressant.

The serum they’re using to abduct people nullifies their quirks to make them a willing target.

The mystery man cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your vision tunnels on his face, the rest of your body shutting back down. You feel your arms flop to their sides as your knees begin to buckle - the adrenaline being zapped from your muscles at his touch.

“Good, it’s setting in. You’ll be a decent specimen. We’ve been waiting for a psionics user like you to add to our roster.”

A giant swirl of matter begins to manifest in front of you, a gentle force sucking you closer to it’s entry point. You can't help but think about how helpless you look in this moment, confused as hell that this scrawny man could take down three heroes with ease. You fucking hated the feeling, never wanting to be the damsel in distress. It pissed you off beyond belief.

“It’s time.” The man, in what you can now see is a white lab coat, turns you around to face the boys sprawled on the battlefield. “We’ll be going now.”

Every inch of your body is screaming run. But you can’t. You can’t move, paralyzed by all the conflicting effects of the serum running rampant through your veins. Your vision is dimming once more, your eyes threaten to close as Bakugo’s voice drags you back to reality. Your eyes snap open as he appears in front of you, digging his heels into the dirt.

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!”

He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, pleading for you to hear him as he clutches your forearm, attempting to pull you to him. You can’t feel it, but by the strain shown in his bicep, he’s using all of his strength to hold onto you. His eyes are full of panic, wide and bloodshot, crimson irises aflame.

"Let her fucking go!" he roars a second time. His hand is slipping down your forearm, now desperately gripping onto your hand. You attempt to grasp it to no avail, your strength failing you. You hear him let out an anxious grunt, struggling against the force of whatever is pulling you away behind you.

Time seems to slow as you lock eyes, an exchange of unspoken words between you two. A sense of dread begins to flood through your body as you see tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

He's terrified.

You remember a thought from earlier in the day, if only I could scream "I love you."

There will never be a perfect moment, never a time and place for you to say it. You have to create the moment yourself.

A steady breath escapes you, softly gazing at Bakugo as you see his fingers slipping through your own.

"Katsuki," you mouth, barely able to hear the sound of your own voice.

"I love you."

The last thing you see is Bakugo frantically scrambling toward you before darkness envelops your sight.

- - - BAKUGO POV - - -

Everything happened in the blink of a fucking eye.

Ambushed, both him and Midoriya were hazed with a mysterious smoke, rendering their quirks useless. His explosions fizzled out as he fought the onslaught of henchmen surrounding them, armed with various weapons. The two of them blitzed through a good number of them before quickly becoming overwhelmed - 25 on 2 wasn't ideal odds.

Their hero suits were ripped, equipment shattered as they were punched, kicked, stabbed at, battered, and thrown around.

"I don't need my fuckin' quirk to kick your asses!" Bakugo threatened as he swiped at a nameless henchmen, nailing a right hook to his jaw. Midoriya was holding his own behind him until he let out an agonizing yelp, falling to the ground audibly.

"Deku!" Bakugo called out, spinning in the direction of his cry as someone socked him from the left side. He skid onto the ground, particles of dirt trailing behind him.

Regaining his composure, he looked around to see that all of the henchmen had swiftly disappeared without a trace, as if they were never there in the first place. What the fuck?

He saw her body standing still, some man in a lab coat behind her. She resembled a lifeless puppet, the light from her eyes dim and limbs loosely at her sides. It looked as though she could collapse at any moment.

"Let her go, jackass!" Bakugo shouted, unable to get to his feet.

The unknown man gripped her shoulder as a large black mass appeared behind them.

Is that a portal? That looks like Kurogiri's quirk from years ago, he thought to himself, willing every fiber of his being to get to his fucking feet.

He's able to muster enough strength get one knee off the ground, enough to launch in range of her and wildly grasp for her hand.

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!”

Bakugo doesn't realize he's screaming, he's acting on impulse and adrenaline - desperation to save her. His hand is slipping at an agonizingly slow pace, moving from forearm to her hand, hardly able to keep his hand clasped with hers. He's cursing internally, hoping that she can't see the terror in his eyes, the anxiety filling him to the brim. That's when he hears her speak, her voice hauntingly quiet.

"Katsuki, I love you."

His hand slips away, watching her disappear into the portal. It closes in an instant as he's hopelessly dashing to it, not noticing that Midoriya is charging from behind him. They briefly collide, stumbling from the impact before they both steady themselves.

The silence surrounding them is deafening.

"Kacchan," Midoriya snivels, head hung low. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to help." His voice was breaking, clenching his fists at his side.

Bakugo stares at his hand, collapsing to his knees. He felt nauseous, the crippling realization churning in his stomach.

I love you.

Her voice ricocheted through his head, bouncing around as it tugged hard at his heartstrings. An overwhelming sensation of loss fills his heart, refusing to come to terms with the current reality.

A brief memory flooded into Bakugo's mind, reminding him of a feeling he'd long shoved away. One night - years ago - at his brand new apartment in Tokyo, they'd been up all night talking after the long day of moving his shit into the place. It was 3AM, boxes piled everywhere as they laid in his bed, bullshitting the night away with random talks of life. She started a vulnerable conversation of mental health amongst heroes, ranging from her own family issues and medicated struggles as examples of not knowing what people deal with beneath the surface. He'd been listening, watching as she poured her heart out next to him, able to smile through it all. It was in that moment that struck him like lightning - he'd fallen madly and irrevocably in love with her. He had convinced himself there was no way she would have felt the same, forcing himself to suffocate that feeling for years.

And he was wrong.

Midoriya crouched down beside him as he's lost in the memory, a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find her, Kacchan, don't worry," he attempts to declare confidently as his own tears are staining his cheeks. "She's strong, she'll be -,"

"She said she loved me." Bakugo's facade was shattering before his eyes as he watched his best friend crumble onto the ground, clutching his chest. He couldn't control the wail that escaped him, tears pouring from his eyes like the downpour of a rainstorm.

Midoriya pulled him close, Bakugo falling limply into him, curling into a ball as they sobbed together.

and thus begins the traumatic story of bakugo and midoriya losing their best friend to a mystery portal to nowhere!

Divider by : @/saradika

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo angst #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #dynamight #☆.rei writes #✩.hollowheart

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undercoverpena · 8 months

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epilogue. she might just be my everything and beyond

javier peña x f!reader | epilogue of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: here's the epilogue. two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. mention of olivia (steve's and connie's child) ✨ wordcount: 2.7k.

an: at the end.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

you keep flirting with me and ill drive myself over

Oh will you now?

use my key and everything

You have had very little reason to use it lately.

thats cause youre so desperate youre already at the door

Desperate or welcoming?

both

I can be less desperate next time, if you prefer.

dont you fucking dare baby

So when you coming over?

already putting my shoes on

It flies by, time.

One minute, he’s clutching your hands until your fingers slide from his. A promise in the air, one he knows you’ll keep because it's all temporary. Knowing that you’ll be right back, suitcase—and possessions following behind—as you move across the country.

Within a blink, Javi is asking you where you want things to go, in the little place you chose with so much ease. Spotting you unpack a photo frame, the photo strip from Houston front and centre, sitting on a bed of receipts.

The next, he’s sweating for reasons he’d rather not be.

His back twinging, protesting as he carries another box to the van. Your smile rises at the sight of him approaching, gesturing to pass it to you—still standing on the edge of the truck.

“Cariño. You’ve lived here six months. How have you amassed so much sh–tuff?”

Narrowing your eyes, taking the box and placing it on top of another, “Nice save.”

Sending you a sink, he smiles as you slide your hand in his to get down. Knowing he doesn’t ever need to feel them slide from his again—hopefully, no emotional goodbyes at the airport. Not ones that don’t involve you visiting someone for a long weekend here or there.

“Are you forgetting that I packed an entire suitcase the first time I saw you? Because knowing that information, I am surprised you’re confused that I’ve doubled my possessions since living here?”

Pulling you close, he focuses on how you feel warm against him—fitting against him perfectly. A feeling he’s had plenty of time to grow used to but finds he never does. How you slot with him, face turned upwards, looking at him like he moves mountains and walks across fire.

If you asked him, he would.

But you never do. You just look at him as though you know he would. Knowing he does.

He supposes it’s why you’re all set to move in with him. Into his home. His room.

This place—as lovely as it has been—will no longer be yours. The little home in the centre of town is tucked away above a video store that you’ve become a frequent customer of, whether he has plans with you or not.

From tomorrow morning, though, you’ll be waking up with him officially. The two of you have had months of it, where you’re there but not entirely with him. Even if, over time, your things have been left amongst his, some even finding themselves hanging alongside his. To the point a drawer was needed—and hangers. Still, for a while, when you said home, you had meant yours.

That was until the last few weeks. Your eyes shimmering, twinkling with the stars in the night sky, curled into his side. His green jacket, the one with the brown collar, wrapped around your shoulders, no longer smelled of old cigarette smoke and desperation but rather sweetness and hope. Your hand entwined with his:

Can we go home, baby?

Yeah, I can take you now.

No, to yours.

You poke him. Light, but purposeful. A little jab to bring him back, and the way you’re smiling at him—fuck. He can’t imagine a look that could make his heart double in size quicker. His thumb strokes alongside your cheek. His pink shirt—the one you had commandeered as your own—rolled up at the sleeves and tied at your waist.

Javi’s noticed you steal his clothes a lot. Fashion them into something that suits you better. He doesn’t moan. If anything, he makes it a purposeful thing to show you how much it means to him—how much he likes it, craves it.

“C’mon, only a few more boxes...”

Groaning, he buries his lips against yours, feeling your smile widen, grinning widely against him as you hold him close.

Your teeth pull at his bottom lip before releasing it with a pop, a twinkle to your eyes. “… think of it like this: once the van is packed, we get more time to say goodbye before I have to return the keys.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles, keeping you in place with two fingers under your chin. “And how do you plan on us saying goodbye, baby?”

Sliding your nose against his cheek. “Loudly. I plan on saying it loud, baby.”

You packed me a note in my lunch?

I did

It wasn’t very safe for work.

you said you eat your lunch at your desk

Yes but I’m not a loner, Javi. I do eat lunch with people.

lesson learned then baby

But yes.

yeah?

I don’t think the porch table will cope though, may have to think of a more stable surface.

I think I can think of something

No wood! I am not having you pick splinters out of my ass again, baby.

that was on you

I think it was on you and your speech about how beautiful I looked being a ranch-hand.

Do you fancy coming to my office Halloween party?

do I have to dress up

Yes. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll be dressed up too.

before I decide what are you dressing up as

That’s the incentive to come, if you say yes I’ll tell you.

do you want me there

Yes! Want to show you off

then ill be there baby

Because you like being showed off?

yes. but also because you want me there

While outwardly, he’d protested the trip to Miami from the moment you booked it off work up until he was sat beside you on the place, he does see the beauty in it.

Although, Javi primarily suspects that it is down to you. You with your legs out, you in a bikini on the beach, robbing his shades until he buys you your own—a matching pair, something that makes Steve chuckle and Connie aww.

The lazy mornings that remind him of Houston are nice, too. The ones where neither of you are woken by an alarm or his Pop’s awful singing. The backdrop of the airy hotel room and a warm, gentle breeze blowing the sheer curtains as his thumbs dig into the back of your thighs and make you chant, is a bonus.

Because Javi can make your skin glisten, and your body sing, whenever and wherever he gets the chance.

What he can’t have at home with you is the sight of you fitting in so easily with the two people who have become a second family. The ones who have seen him go to lengths he hadn't known was possible, him and his old partner seeing things that only appear in occasional nightmares now.

Connie and Steve welcomed you in with ease and with them, you smiled so effortlessly. Blending in like you were always there—laughter bursting out of you when you’re playing with Olivia.

It's there, ever-present on the beach, as you chase Olivia around in the sand. The castles the two of you had been making long since trodden on, as the little girl squeals and squeals until she’s caught.

“You should marry her.”

Turning his head, Steve nods towards the three of you. Connie snapping photos as you roll in the sand. The yellow tinge from his aviators adds an additional glow to the world as he eyes up his former partner-turned-friend—a friend who apparently now gives unwarranted marriage advice.

Scratching his chin, he rolls his jaw. “You giving me permission, Murph?”

“C’mon, Jav. She’s nice, good to you. Clearly makes you very fuckin’ happy.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe I’m already planning it.”

“Yeah? Fuck. Can’t wait to tell Connie. She told me I needed to convince you.”

Javi shrugs, pushing the glasses up his nose. “It so hard to believe I’d have come to that conclusion on my own?”

“Before you met her? Yeah. Since her? No. Could tell you were smitten—”

Snorting, Javi runs his hand across his chin. “I was not fucking smitten.”

“Yeah, you fucking was. No shame in that, Jav. No shame in enjoying one good woman.”

Groaning, he turns back to the laughter. The corner of his lips twitched, wishing to slide into his cheeks as he watches you throw your head back, neck exposed, as Olivia tries to do a handstand.

“I got the ring last month.”

“Shit.”

Turning his head, he narrows his eyes, watching Steve put his hands up in defence.

“You just said—“

“Yeah, well. Forgot how determined y’can be about things. Surprised me. S’not a bad thing,” Steve says. “Just, y’know. Years ago, I knew you as the man who fucked his way through—“

Elbowing him, Javi smirks as he hears Steve splutter. A sharp look added as Steve holds his hand up.

“I’m not that person anymore, Murphy.”

His friend nods, apology falling. The evidence that he means it stitching into his expression—that he was just joking, teasing. An explanation coming, that he knows how he’s changed—all words he would have once craved hearing. But since meeting you, he’d found even the teasing didn’t upset him as much.

Clapping his hand on his shoulder, Javi looks over his shades. “I know. Alright. Just, I don’t like the reminder, that's all. Feels like… feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Y’telling me.”

Snorting, Javi slides his hand off. Moving his eyes back to the sight of Olivia grinning at the two of them. Her small hand trying to cover her mouth as she whispers something to you, something which Javi suspects involves him from the way she’s running full speed towards him.

“She’s grown up so quickly.”

He’s about to reply, but Olivia interrupts—skidding to a stop in the sand, kicking it across his feet. Swiftly, her hand—all small and delicate—wraps around and tugs on his hand.

“Uncle Javi, can you come play?”

Over the top of her, he spots you. Leaning your weight on one side, hand covering your brows to watch his expression.

And fuck, how can he say no to either of you.

hows pops?

He’s good. In fact, enough to be getting your Mom’s cookbooks down from the shelf for me.

I hope you know thats him saying he loves you

He has told me how much it means to him that I wanted these. Also keeps telling me that he’s happy they’ll be staying in the family.

bet that made you cry didn’t it

Yes! Obviously.

youre so cute baby

In my defence he caught me off guard with the comment, I was busy staring and deciphering the handwritten notes.

not gonna be able to read them now if youve cried all over them

As always, you’re hilarious. I obviously didn’t cry into the book! I cried in the bathroom.

you turn the tap on to try and hide it again

Shut up, Javi.

i should be back soon, just grabbing the parts now

Don’t rush, he’s fine. Promise. He even says his back is barely giving him any problems since I told him I’d cook from the book.

what you cooking?

Come home safe and find out.

youre such a tease

Learned it from you baby.

At one stage, Javi had been good with people.

Persuasive.

Now, he’s unsure if he even knows how to ask for a favour without giving something up or flirting.

He’s still charismatic, or so you tell him. But, he's pretty sure his tact has gone, impatience bubbling as he tries to pretend to give enough of a shit to be able to ask for the favour he wants.

For you, he decides to push through. To not walk back through the door he came through. He does stuff his hands into his jacket, the man staring at him, still wearing the same confused expression he had when Javi first stepped through the door.

Because even if he’s explained three fucking times, the man still doesn’t understand why he asked him to create the crossword he’s got clutched in his hands.

The one that would never even go to print—just a single request. A favour. All personal, just for him. Not to be published in every newspaper, but just one.

The one for him, and him alone.

It didn't matter how many ways he explained it, the man remained confused. Only reluctantly accepting, he's sure, to get him to leave.

That had been days ago. Now, you're ahead of him. Your fingers brushing over the tops of long stands, occasionally looking over your shoulder at him, making him feel like he's stepped into one of the movies you've made him watch.

Even when you look ahead, he can tell you’re grinning from behind—taking the view in. It's 'one of your favourites', something you’d told him the first time he brought you here.

It’s why he brought you here, now.

Second to you, of course, baby.

You stop some distance ahead, beginning to place down a blanket, all chequered and soft, as he comes to join you. Placing the basket in his hand down on the edge of it, before your fingers are swatting at him and undoing the ties before you grasp the bottle, food and other bits.

Not that he can eat, needing more than what the wine you’d grabbed would do.

Nerves bubbling, dancing and fluttering like the flies further down the hill. You don't notice. You're focused on the newspaper, the crossword he's not let you see for the last few hours, taunting you, making you wait.

He almost wishes he hadn't when it adds to the knot in his stomach, it tightening more when you become irritated at his coyness as he's reading out the clues—

Javi, what are you up to? You always do down, across, down. Always.

You’d have made a good detective or DEA agent.

Likely given him and Murphy a run for their money—something Steve had even said to you both when the two of you were in Miami. Sand in your toes, sea air in your hair—grin brighter than the sun.

“Give it here,” you say, not sharply, but not playfully either.

His hand wipes his lower mouth, hiding his smirk, having wanted you to do that for the past fifteen minutes.

When you take the crossword, you’re chewing.

Distracted, barely able to spot him sliding the remainder of your punnet from reach. Because Javi remembers how you feel about being asked any critical questions when you are eating.

He supposes it's the one benefit of you making him watch so many romcoms. It allowed him to do market research and ask questions without raising your suspicion, such as where wouldn't you like to be asked and if you want him down on one knee.

Mainly, I don’t want to have food in my teeth when I’m being asked. Don't want to spit any leftovers at you in my shock.

“Hey,” he whispers, stealing your attention—watching you smile, glancing at your clean teeth. “Eres preciosa.”

Your lips slide, curling up into your cheek. “You’re such a flirt, Peña.”

Kissing your cheek, he keeps his arm around you. Fingers playing with the fabric on your hip—balling it up before smoothing it out. Thumb and index brushing, calming, soothing him as your eyes glance over the page.

Occasionally, asking him things, avoiding the clues he desperately wants you to solve.

Until.

Fuck, until.

“Javi.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles, pretending indifference, head tilted down, resting his chin on your shoulder—knowing from the high-pitched way you said this name that you’ve already cracked it.

Your fingers slide over the paper, smothering the white and black boxes from view. “Javi?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I think that’s my reply, isn’t it?”

Lips curling, he wraps his fingers around your chin, turning you to face him. Watching it happen in slow motion, how you smile before you grin—tears all but filling your eyes as you clearly try not to get ahead of yourself.

“You wanna make me less lonely, cariño?”

Swallowing, you drop the paper. Let it fall to the blanket, twisting your body until your knees are between his thighs as you take both sides of his cheeks.

“Sí.”

“Sí?”

Nodding, a tear falls. It's one shimmering with joy and happiness, his thumb swiping it, spreading it across your skin.

“I don’t know… I don’t know the translation,” you laugh, it spluttering, fingers stroking his skin. “But I’ll marry you. I love you. Yes, Javi.”

And he whispers it.

The translation. Pressing it, as well as I love you, to your lips as his arms snake further around your waist. Hearing you, all quiet, it almost buried in kisses, repeating the translation back.

Before he falls backwards into the grass, with you on top of him—his fiancé. His world.

you fancy coming to laredo in autumn

Any particular reason?

been told I need a best man and I only know you

an: gosh, here we are. i began writing late night texts one night after a chaotic chat with @guyfieriii because i was manic/sad/anxious all at once and it was the only logical thing i could focus on. as much as javi and reader saved one another, they saved me too. thank you to you lovely lot. not only did you welcome this in with open arms, but you cheered me on every single week (also, btw, how cool is it we didn't miss a single week omg). i owe you so much, and i cannot believe we made it here together. to the old followers, i see you. to the new ones who just discovered me, hey, welcome. to all of the friends I've harrassed over the last few months, i love you. to the new ones I've made, i also love you omg. i'm already missing this pair so much, and i cannot wait until we get to hang out with them sporadically. i'm going to go cry in a corner, but just know my heart is so full and so happy and it's all down to you all 🩷

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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alchely · 25 days

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My Top Gallavich fics

So, under the advice of the lovely @iangallagherisadeadman I've decided to compile a favorites Gallavich fic list along with a brief rec of each, this won't be a strict top 10 cause I'm not gonna torture myself into excluding some of these stories on some made-up self imposed arbitrary rules.

A bunch of disclaimers: most of these fics are long fics, going from 30k words up, I'm not purposefully excluding shorter fics, I have read plenty of them, but they do have a harder time sticking in my head months after reading.

Most of these fics will be explicit, just read the tags on the fic itself if you want to find out more.

Some of these fics don't have links because the authors chose to lock them and as such make them unlinkable, in order to read them you will need to go through the author's page while you're logged in your AO3 account.

This ended up ballooning out of control and is A LOT longer than ten fics, I apologize in advance :p.

YOU'LL NEVER SEE US AGAIN – spoonfulstar - 231k words

Mickey and Ian have been students at Marceline boarding school their whole lives, as their time at the institute draws toward the end they will start to discover many things, about themselves, about each other and about the world they live in.

THIS FIC! I CRIED! The number of fanfiction that are able to make me cry can be counted on a singular hand, the emotional stakes get higher and higher as the story goes on, leading to a beautiful and bittersweet climax.

This story will make you think and feel deeply about topics you'd never think a shameless fic would delve into.

I am obsessed with Mickey in this fic, he and Ian grow up in an environment that could not be more removed from South Side Chicago and yet his personality is still so recognizably and distinctly Mickey.

The story goes very dark at times, and the fic itself could be considered lengthy, but I assure you the author has made sure to not make you feel it. Those 200k words flowed so well the story did not feel long at all.

HELP ME (TEAR DOWN MY REASON) – wehangout - 34k words

Mickey is a detective and Ian becomes a suspect in an investigation except Mickey already knows him because he's his favorite dancer.

This fic falls under the umbrella of fics where “Mickey is so in love with Ian he does something unbelievably crazy”.

Oooh boy, this fic, it's written in second person (yes you've read that right), tbh out of all fics I've read from this author I think this one was the easiest to adjust mentally to the change in perspective.

I loved Mickey’s “love” in this, just… This raw connection to Ian, the perfect cocktail of feelings, I could read that all day long.

IN ANOTHER WORLD – Roryonic - 249k words

Mickey does not get sent to prison at the end of S5, what happens after and how his presence influences future events (mostly Ian, but also every other Gallagher as well as his own family).

As far as I'm concerned this fic is the closest to a perfect S6 and beyond fix-it. The dialogue writing in this story is so close to canon Shameless that I could picture entire scenes in my head with the actors playing the characters, with their body and personality quirks.

Sometimes I find myself describing this fic like it's the actual show's deleted scenes, “Look, Mickey has his own storyline! And Mandy is here! And the existence of Yevgeni does not become a plot hole!”

There are some Mickey lines in this fic that to me are as canon as if they'd been in the show. Absolutely iconic writing.

I love this author so here's a rec of some of their other longfics, however I highly suggest a lot of their other much shorter stuff as well:

BATTLESHIPS AND LOVE BOATS: Ian and Mickey start their “no strings attached” kind of sex relationship a little later than canon but their attraction and love is just as strong. This is a sort of High School AU that turns into a Prison AU that turns into something else and every shift is just as lovely as the next.

YOU SMELL LIKE LOVE: Ian and Mickey are childhood friends, to the point that the rest of the Gallaghers might as well consider Mickey a seventh brother, mmmh, I sure wonder how things will start to change. Look, I never thought I'd love a childhood friends AU for Gallavich yet here I am, if it's good it's good.

ME AND THE DEVIL: Mickey unconsciously calls for a vengeance demon and Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, because Mickey is a stubborn dumbass they fall in love instead. This story has a lot of twists and turns and the premise is only the very beginning of the story. I LOVED it!

THE INCREASINGLY POOR DECISIONS OF IAN GALLAGHER – Shamelessquestions - 309k words

Ian is a dancer in a club, he accidentally gets involved in the affair of a dangerous mafia don, but the true danger is the attraction he and the mafioso’s right hand Mickey feel for each other as soon as they meet.

What. A. Classic. Truly, an unforgettable story, and I don't mean this in hyperbole, I read this story around… 2016/2017 during my second round in the Shameless fandom, then I read countless other fics in a lot of other fandom and yet this story was the only one that my mind retained from back then, to the point that I could still remember some of the finer details as well as the final plot twists when I came back to reread it.

The plot is constructed beautifully and the original characters (part of the Shamelessquestions fanfiction universe, as they come back time and time again in every one of their AU to fulfill their role in the story) are just as vibrant.

What a story, truly.

Favorite original character in this AU: Sal, his downfall is so satisfying and yet so pitiful to read.

TEENAGERS SCARE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME – Mellow_Yellow - 221k words

Ian finds something scary and calls Mickey for help, even though they had only reconnected that very day after two years of not seeing each other. Together, they get sucked into a situation they weren't at all prepared for. Can they even admit that they're in over their head?

The very beginning of this fic is SO cinematic it grabbed my interest from the very first scene and didn't let go until the end, DO NOT search for spoilers.

The only warning I'll give is that it does deal with a bit of gore and what I'm personally gonna define as slight psychological horror. That's it. Enjoy!

BROKE STRAIGHT BOYS – dancermk - 66k words

Mickey becomes a porn actor for a site where he has to pretend he's straight and not enjoying the copious amount of gay sex he's having on camera, enter Ian, another actor under the same agency and their off the chart physical chemistry.

This story has, needless to say, some really, really good smut. I especially loved their first time together, but every sex scene in this story is seared in my mind.

ETHERIZED AGAINST THE SKY – Snarfle - 213k words

So, I debated whether I should add this fic or not, but I think if there is one fic that will stay in my mind long after this Shameless binge of the past couple of months it's this one, and it should absolutely become one of those fic that everyone in the fandom should read.

After Mickey gets shot by Kash his life takes a completely different direction and he ends up in a group home where, through many difficult times, he turns his life around.

So many iconic moments in this fic, some funny as fuck, some sad, some so absurd that I'm surprised they weren't lifted straight from Shameless, one so gruesome in the very first chapter that I was surprised to have such a visceral feeling from just words on a screen. Yeah, this story will stay with me for a long time.

OLD RULES FOR NEW SIDE PIECES – Shamelessquestions - 217k words

Ian is a Fed and he spots Mickey looking suspicious in an art museum, the mutual attraction is overwhelming, Mickey is not what he seems and Ian is already with someone else, but that's not gonna stop him from pursuing what he and Mickey have.

Putting it as bluntly as I can, this fic made me face the realization that I love cheating fics (if the cheating happens to someone else to bring together the endgame couple). I have already reread this fic twice and I could probably go for another one and not get tired of it, it's that good, and out of all this author's fics it's probably my favorite.

Favorite original characters in this AU: It's a three way tie between Dre, Ivan and Carrie, they're all very captivating in this story.

Other fic from this author I'd recommend cause I really love their style:

LOST IN TRANSLATION: Ian meets a very attractive man while he's in Ukraine who doesn't speak English, a mere language barrier won't stop him from flirting for hours. (adorable)

YOU MAKE ME FEEL HUMAN – Dragona - 66k words

Ian is an assassin, he meets Mickey and thus begins a very sick love story.

To say I'm obsessed with this fic is an understatement, I suggest to everyone to just go read the original author’s own description of the fic, it sets the tone of the story magnificently.

This is an Ian Gallagher that almost resembles Jerome (also played by Cameron in Gotham) but like… a slightly more subdued and saner S1/S2 version of him. I love the layers that get peeled right in front of my eyes, the madness that creeps in a bit more every chapter. I LOVE this story.

DRIED INK - 87k words

This fic combines my two favorite Gallavich-specific tropes, one being ‘Mickey comes back from prison after s6, Ian is with someone else’ and ‘Ian cheats on that someone else for Mickey’

I love the Gallaghers in this and how unsurprised they are at Ian going back to Mickey right away. It's a little jewel of a fic.

Mickey tries SO hard to stop himself and Ian in this but their love is too magnetic, they're irresistible to each other.

THE QUESTION OF NORMAL – blue_newman - 92k words

Ian is a prison counselor, Mickey is in prison, they fall in love and it's beautiful and Ian is incredibly devoted to Mickey in this fic and I fell in love with them both in this.

KINDA RAW – catgrassplantdad - 6k

Quite simply this is my favorite short pwp fic.

Illustrating those “five times” in one night that Mickey references in 11x01.

This fic is so hot, I love it <3

QUATERVOIS – DodgerBear - 51k words

Soldier Mickey gets stationed in the middle of nowhere and meets a farmer called Ian who makes him question everything.

Falling under the same umbrella of “Mickey does something crazy for Ian” fics and this is why it stuck in my mind even if it's been a while since I've read it.

I LOVE this story, their dialogues and everything that happens in it. The setting is lovely and you will fall in love with the description of Ian’s farm.

Other fic by the same author that I also loved:

BURDEN OF PROOF: Cop Mickey gets caught in a legal battle between the two oldest Gallagher brothers, something doesn't feel right though…

THE WORDS HE DOESN'T SAY: Mickey is released before Ian in s10 and has to meet a court-mandated therapist. The story is from the therapist POV and goes AU from the beginning of s10 in that Mickey gets involved back into Yev and Svetlana’s life, the dialogue is, quite obviously, the main attraction of the story and it's really well done. (Also, written in first person).

THE MENAGERIE – CrossMyDNA - 147k words

Ian decides to re-explore his bdsm preferences at The Menagerie where he meets sub extraordinaire Mickey on his very first visit.

Shameless is undoubtedly the fandom that opened my eyes to what bdsm could be back in… approx 2016? When that other popular bdsm fic was still around *ahem*.

So it definitely feels like a sign that coming back into the fandom this fic now exists and is SO GOOD.

Obviously it's very explicit, the smut in this fic is one of the best I've ever read.

The chemistry between Ian and Mickey sizzles off the screen and can absolutely be felt even in moments not of the nsfw variety, absolutely recommended!

MICKEY MILKOVICH’S GUIDE TO FLIRTING – whatwouldmickeydo - 40k words

An s2 “missing moments” between Gallavich, completely canon compliant, all under the pretense that Mickey is following a step by step guide to flirting.

I wish this fic was describing canon moments, not kidding a single bit, I wish I could somehow magically manifest these scenes into existence they're that good and fit that well into canon.

M8TE – gallawitch - 53k words

Omegaverse fic where Ian and Mickey both start using an app and end up matching with each other, even though a connection is made almost instinctively, coming to terms with it with a sound mind will take a bit longer…

Hey,had to have at least one of these on here lol

I love omegaverse and this was everything I wanted from it, couldn't have asked for anything better really <3.

SHACKLED – MyRelapse - 19k words

Ian has a change of heart and he decides that Mickey IS the one he wants, even if he's still in prison, so he keeps in contact and goes through every hoop imaginable to have him back as soon as possible.

Reading this made me so happy like I could burst, love it.

WAITING ON MY OWN TOO LONG – Ride4812 - 266k words

This rec more than any other on this list is what I'm gonna consider self indulgent because it covers the trope I always craved to read in such a satisfying way: Canon AU where Mickey comes back from prison after 8 years, Ian has found someone else but the moment the two meet again they fall back into each other right away.

The series is made up of 4 smaller fics:

One more night

Something more this time

No more lonely nights

Ain't this life so sweet

(I will point out here and nowhere else that the last installment of this series has some segment that probably needed to be re-read a couple more times, but by that point I was too invested, and the quality fluctuates a lot only in certain parts)

The writing style is very direct and to the point, which I love, the smut is very present and written beautifully and most importantly never boring.

Ian is a MESS in this fic and had me Stressed™, mostly cause for some reason I can't handle too much casual depiction of drug abuse and addiction (I know, ironic considering the fandom).

Conflicts and resolutions are never clean cut, they don't necessarily resolve quickly or definitely or the way you probably imagine they should and I find this level of realism very satisfying.

Taking a bit of space here at the end to also rec a couple other Ride4812 fics that I also loved:

COUP DE FOUDRE - A model/photographer AU where Ian and Mickey fall in love the instant they meet and do some crazy things because of that.

HOPE HE MIGHT - A lawyer AU where Ian and Mickey are on opposing sides for the same client, an interesting murder mystery steeped in a religious cult.

Generally I feel like this author is really good at depicting just how unapproachable Mickey can be to anyone that isn't called Ian Gallagher and I eat it up every time.

WHAT THE NIGHT DOES TO THE DAY – andchaos - 9k words

A Gallavich childhood friends AU with a quite original arrangement for the story and the various segments of their lives. Very satisfying read.

RANSOM – BeckyHarvey29 - 112k words

Terry sends his sons to kidnap a Gallagher child to force Frank into paying back the money he owes, unfortunately for him Mickey and his brothers kidnap Ian, and a whole other kind of story unfolds.

Mickey and Ian falling in love in this fic is such a good read. I don't wanna spoil anything of how that or the kidnapping plot goes, since the two are so intertwined. Just know that it will be worth it.

UNDER LOCK AND KEY – Suzy_Queue - 106k words

Ian is assigned the night shift at his new job where he provides spare keys to his fellow college students stuck outside their dorm rooms. To make matters worse his shift coworker is the oh so infamous Mickey Milkovich.

I am magnetized by the way this author writes their pining for each other, their attraction and obsession, how it blooms and unfolds. This fic in particular had me develop a very bad case of tunnel vision, couldn't really turn away until I finished reading it all.

I still haven't read everything this author has to offer, but so far I also loved:

INHUMAN: A mysterious force starts attacking people close to Mickey and it all seems to lead to a mysterious redhead Mickey is oh so coincidentally obsessed with. Very cool paranormal story.

THESE FOOLISH GAMES: Mickey takes over as the boss of the local branch of a trampoline park, where Ian is one of the employees, they annoy each other to no end but what they don't know is that they're secretly texting each other.

IS THERE SOMEWHERE – andchaos - 48k words

Mickey is born with no words on his skin, convinced he's going to live a life of misery cause no one will ever say the words he's destined to hear, he's not a very happy guy. Here comes mute boy Ian who crashes into his life and won't let go.

A classic Soulmate AU, I love that like in a lot of other Gallavich fics their physical connection and compatibility usually comes before their emotional one, it is one aspect that I feel distinguishes their relationship to many other fandom’s ships.

LAST NIGHT AT THE VERONA GRAND HOTEL – the_rat_wins - 27k words

Mickey starts working at an ancient hotel who's supposedly haunted. Mickey doesn't believe in ghost stories, he is much more interested in this one guest he meets at night during his shift.

What a cinematic experience this fic is! Absolutely recommended, the length of it makes it so you can read it in the same time it would take to watch the same story in movie format.

Other fics by the same authors that have impressed me:

FADE THIS ONE TO BLACK: Ian dies of overdose in a pile of snow outside the club, when Mickey finds him there he vows to do anything to get him back.

I don't know why but this fic in particular gives off the vibes of being a pilot for a ya urban fantasy TV series, except we gotta imagine everything that comes after the first episode lol

NO LIE: Ian and Mickey are Soulmates and as such they can't lie to each other. This series is short and sweet and full of feelings, perfect

PARAGRAPHS – pink_ink - 100k words

Ian becomes a reading tutor for ex-convicts, Mickey is among them and Ian starts paying him more and more attention.

This is a story where they meet under very different circumstances and where they've lived slightly different lives compared to canon and yet they're still able to find each other in the end.

Also, sign me up for every fic where Ian has to work just as hard to help Mickey and care for him as the opposite, where Ian's brand of stubbornness is the only way to get through to Mickey.

I'm also adding a couple of ongoing fics, just two to not overwhelm too much.

NONE THE WISER – Loftec - ~218k words

Ian starts visiting Mickey’s diner, it takes a while and yet no time at all to warm up to each other.

I'm captivated by the author's writing style. I love Ian's and Mickey’s relationship. I love how they sort of take their time and yet pine helplessly for each other.

I'm obsessed with the fact that the whole point of the fic doesn't appear until two thirds of the way in cause the diner scenes were just too good to pass up on lol (and I 100% agree with them).

INTRO TO QUANTUM DATING – spoonfulstar - ~563k words

Canon Mickey and Ian meet in University. A college slice of life but drenched in the casual (and not so casual) darkness of canon shameless.

The dark humor in this is fenomenal and left me gasping laughing so many times.

Unexpectedly Ian in this fic is pursuing a linguistics oriented degree, which was what I studied when I tried university, the topics are explained in such an accurate way I have to assume the author studied them themselves and that this story is somewhat a reimagining of their own college experience because if not this would be an absurd amount of accurate research to make.

Reading this fic feels like living through the American college experience from the comfort of my home lol.

As I said before, this author's way of writing does not weight you down even with its length, the story flows perfectly from one scene to the next and before you realize it you've reached the end and you have to accept that 500k words weren't even enough.

Let's end this list with some quick recommendations

WHILE WE'RE MAKING OTHER (PEOPLE'S) PLANS - kyasticlikestea

Mickey is volunteered to organize someone's else's wedding after he managed to salvage his own so well, he'll do it, but his own Southside way.

THIS IS THE ROAD TO RUIN - bricoleur10

Ian and Mickey never go to rob Ned, the story unfolds differently from there. A fix-it with a lot of Gallavich longing , very good smut and some really good dialogue.

HEY, HONEY MINE (I WAS THERE ALL THE TIME) - serveteas

Mickey talks about his crush with Iggy and accidentally pronoun-slips. Short, to the point, funny af and I just really love it. Takes place after their fight at Kash’n Grab in s2.

AGAINST GLASS - AllThatMatters

Ian gets traded from one club to another as a dancer (and more) and ends up in the Milkovich family's club. This is a Mafia!Mickey story with some pretty tight sub-plots, I love his brothers in this.

ONE OF A KIND - fckyeahgallavich

Mickey breaks his finger and it has to be set in the hospital, chaos - of the homophobic kind - ensues. Protective!Ian, I wanna hug Mickey in this.

IAN THE FRIENDLY GHOST - Ravenheart

Ian is haunting an apartment and Mickey starts living in it, Ian is maybe starting to have a crush on him. This isn't angsty!

BLOOD IN, BLEED OUT - brewrosemilk, Whatsastory

Historical AU. Perfectly innocent bystander Ian Gallagher is thrown into the affairs of the Ukrainian Mafia back in 1954, his relationship with Mickey will span decades and he won't remain innocent for long, the mafia can corrupt anyone.

TEENAGE RUNAWAY - sadwhales

Ian comes to live and finish high school with his half siblings on the South Side, he's immediately captivated by a boy sitting under the bleachers, maybe his North Side naivety will catch his attention too.

GARDEN SONG - melwrtiesthings

A glimpse into their lives in their West Side apartment, a lot of initial angst due to a manic episode and then a lot of recovery and healing and learning more about themselves.

#gallavich #shameless #Gallavich fic rec #fic rec #ao3 #fic rec taken wayyy too seriously #jesus what is wrong with me #f*ck it I'll just tag this now and deal with the links later #if anyone wants to contribute to the list through tags or comments you are WELCOME ❤️#my post

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miracleonice87 · 9 months

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new heights, new news, new baby

part of the kissing kelce universe

a/n: I've come to the conclusion that I will never be organized enough to make this a well-planned, thought-out, sequential series, so I've decided I'm just gonna post things hella outta order and then reorganize them into a chronological masterlist. deal? deal. 🤝 enjoy more daddy-to-be trav and, introducing, supportive uncle jason. takes place the day travis leaves for chiefs training camp.

warnings: mention of pregnancy / babies, mention of anxiety / sadness / loneliness, plenty of crying both happy and sad teras, swearing, I think that's it

word count: ~4,400+

___

July 22, 2023

“Now, before we get into our training camp preview and talk about some expectations for the season, Travis, you had a little something you wanted to say to the good folks at home?” Jason prompted, teeing up his brother on this week’s New Heights episode – the last they’d record before they both left for their respective camps.

Travis nodded, his blue eyes sparkling. “A little something, indeed, my brother,” he teased. “We have an announcement today, y’all! Alright nah!”

“Some new news, one might say!” Jason added, referencing the beloved segment of their podcast.

“NEW NEWS!” Travis shouted excitedly. “Yo, can I get a drumroll please?”

Jason immediately started rolling his tongue, pretending like he had drumsticks in his hand. Travis continued, speaking over the sound.

“This is like, the biggest announcement of my whole entire life. There were points where I never thought I’d be sharing news like this. It’s so crazy that I even get to do this right now. Gah dang. But, uh, anyway, I know we joke around here a lot, but this is a big one, folks, and I-”

Jason interrupted his brother’s emotional rambling, as well as his own sound effects. “Get to the point, please, my mouth is getting tired!” Jason picked his drumroll back up seamlessly as Travis giggled like a schoolboy.

“Alright, y’all… here we go,” Travis said, rubbing his hands together mischievously. “Mrs. Kelce, would you please come over here, sweetness?” he requested, his voice syrupy smooth as he extended a hand, inviting you into the camera shot.

Instead of crouching to put your face into frame as you normally would for your occasional brief pop-ins to the podcast, you stood next to Travis’s chair so that only your middle was showing, your stance perpendicular to the camera so the now-round profile of your belly was clearly visible. Jason gasped as if he hadn’t already known the news for months. You rested a hand on the top of your stomach, making it unmistakable what you and Travis were announcing, and he reached his own hand out to palm your bump, which at this point he could still easily do thanks to his impossibly big hands.

He held your free hand in his, beaming up at you, then looked back to the camera.

“We’re havin’ a baby, y’all!” he shouted, before letting out a “wooooo-eee!”

On the other end of the Zoom, Jason was clapping and whooping excitedly, matching his brother’s energy.

Travis then patted his lap, inviting you to sit down to, one, get you off your feet and, two, make it so your face was also visible in frame.

“This is the moment we’ve been waiting for, folks!” you heard Jason boom theatrically as you put on the AirPods Max that Travis had set aside for you ahead of the recording. “Wyatt and Elliotte have been asking every day since they found out what a ‘cousin’ was when they were gonna get one, asking why Uncle Travvy and Auntie don’t have babies like me and mommy, telling them they can take Bennett home with them if they wanted…”

Travis cackled, throwing his head back. “That is a true statement,” he said as he held your hips firmly.

“1000%, can confirm,” you added, wrapping your own hands around your husband’s. He squeezed your fingers a few times, and you threw him an adoring smile over your shoulder as his brother continued.

“And we all know Mama Kelce has been hoping for this for years now. So this is obviously something the whole extended Kelce family has been anticipating for a long time, and it’s finally here, and we couldn’t be happier for you guys,” Jason said, tone more serious now.

“Aww, thank you, my brother,” Travis said fondly, pressing a reverent kiss to your shoulder.

“Yeah, thank you, Jase, so much. We’re so excited to finally give the girls a cousin!” you said.

“Now, tell us how this happened,” Jason began.

Travis cleared his throat. “Well, you see, Jason, when two people love each other very much-”

The older brother rolled his eyes and interrupted.

“You know what I mean!” he insisted. “Just tell the people however much you wanna tell ‘em.”

Travis looked to you as if silently asking for permission, and you simply gestured toward the camera.

“Go ahead, Trav,” you said, a jesting tone to your voice. “I know it’s something you’re very proud of, so please share with the class.”

With that, Travis turned back toward the camera and waggled his eyebrows, getting as close to the mic as possible.

“Well, folks… we made us a Super Bowl baby,” he said dramatically before letting out his signature cackle. You simply deadpanned to the camera, Jim Halpert-style, and shrugged.

Jason nodded emphatically. “You suuure did,” he said with a knowing laugh. “You knew I was having a kid right after the Super Bowl and you wanted to jump on the train.”

You and Travis exchanged a devilish glance.

“Yeah, something like that,” you joked, knowing that jumping on Jason and Kylie’s train by conceiving a baby mere days before she gave birth to their third was certainly not your original plan. “I mean, what better Super Bowl souvenir could you ask for than a baby?!” you said wryly, causing Travis to look into the camera haughtily.

“A Lombardi, a ring, and a kid,” he said, counting off on his fingers. “Alright nah,” he repeated, far too pleased with himself.

“That’s awesome,” Jason said, still smiling. “Now, how are you feeling? I know it was a tough road there at first.”

You nodded, and you felt Travis’s hold on your waist tighten protectively, maybe even subconsciously. “Yeah, I was pretty sick there for a few months, couldn’t get ‘out of the house’ a whole lot, much to this podcast’s dismay, but thankfully, that mostly passed when my first trimester ended,” you explained. “We don’t wanna necessarily share our exact due date, but I’ll say I’m well into my second trimester now and I’m feeling good. I’ve gotten to enjoy not only just the relief of feeling better but also the excitement of sharing this with friends and family – obviously, Mama and Papa Kelce, you and Kylie, all my family, and we just started telling the team, too, which has been really fun.”

“Aww, that’s the best,” Jason remarked. “What was Big Red’s reaction?”

Travis piped up at the mention of his head coach. “Uh, to no one’s surprise, he looked me dead in the eye with the most serious fucking look on his face and said, ‘surprised it took ya this long, son,’” he revealed in his best Andy Reid voice, making you shake your head in amusement.

“Yep, nope, does not surprise me one bit,” Jason said, giggling. “And what about your boy Mahomes?”

“Aw, man, Pat was so pumped up, and Brittany, too,” Travis replied. “Pat just started runnin’ laps around his kitchen yellin’ ‘let’s go! let’s fucking go!’ He ‘bout knocked me over!”

“Yeah, those two have tagged us with babysitting duty on the regular for a couple years now, ever since Sterling was born, hoping that we would catch that baby fever and give her a playmate,” you added, laughing as you looked down at Travis. “I can’t say that’s necessarily what happened, but, um, either way, Sterling and Bronze will have another little team buddy to play with here soon which will be so fun to see. Brittany and Patrick have both been so great for both of us, just letting us know kind of what to expect, things that you might not learn in all the books or from your parents who did this a few decades ago. Especially with us all being on the same team, even just getting the lowdown on the logistical stuff, those two are just the best. They’re super excited for us which is just a really great feeling.”

“No doubt – I’ve got a feeling this will bring you guys even closer,” Jason mused.

“Absolutely – already has,” Travis said. “So, yeah! That’s the big ‘New News’ for today, everybody. We’ve been keeping this on the DL for quite some time, and we just wanted to be able to share this ourselves in the way we choose, because obviously with camp starting tomorrow and the season just right around the corner, cameras might catch some footage of Mrs. Kelce visiting camp, in the stands, whatever, and we didn’t want people to be weird, so… y’all heard it here first!”

“Damn straight,” Jason asserted. “And just one more thing… I wanted to say, before our mom-to-be hops off here. I, uh… aw, fuck, I swore to Kylie I wasn’t gonna cry,” he said, sniffling as he fixed his eyes toward the ceiling, blinking repeatedly.

“Aww, Jase!” you murmured as you watched him tear up.

“I’m good, I’m good,” he assured, still sniffling as he continued. In the corner of the screen, you could see your husband beginning to well up, too, and you caressed his thigh soothingly as he sat in poignant silence. “I just wanted to say that when Travis told us the news, that was truly the happiest I have ever seen my brother – and this dude has been drafted to the NFL, he’s been a Pro Bowler, All-Pro, broken so many records, won two Super Bowls. But by far, the happiest and most excited I’ve ever seen this guy is telling us that you’re having a baby. And as his big brother, that just makes me so fuckin’ proud.”

You and Travis were both pawing at fallen tears by now, and Travis could only manage a quiet “thank you.” You patted his knee and, after a deep breath, shared your own thoughts.

“Thank you, Jase, and while we’re making each other cry–” both brothers chuckled at that, “–I’ll say that I know Travis is going to be the best dad, not only because of the incredible man and husband that already he is, and the way you both were raised by your own amazing parents, but also because of the example you have set for him, Jason, by being such an awesome dad to your three girls.” You paused and took a deep, shuddering breath, and Travis rubbed your back to calm you. Jason was nodding, tears streaking his face. “So thank you for that, and for all your love and support through everything, and Kylie’s, too. You guys are gonna be the greatest aunt and uncle this kid could ever ask for, and Travis and I can’t wait to watch that.”

Travis let out a whistle, cheeks, nose, and eyes pink from crying. “Uh, I will never make it through this episode if I add anything more to that, so I will just say, here here, baby girl,” he offered with a laugh. “We love you, brother.”

“I love you guys, too,” Jason said as he finally regained his composure. “Whew! Yeah, how the fuck are we supposed to keep recording after all that?! Can we just be done? I am emotionally exhausted. I need a nap.”

As Travis giggled boyishly, you agreed, “I do, too, so I’m gonna leave you guys to it. Thanks for having me, guys; thanks for giving me a baby, Trav; and good luck at camp, Jase. We’ll talk soon.”

Travis tapped the outside of your thigh pointedly, his frequent way of silently requesting a kiss. You grasped his chin to peck his lips as Jason thanked you and said a final goodbye.

“Have a good nap, mama,” Travis cooed as you took off your headphones and returned them to their original spot. “Daddy’ll be up as soon as we’re done,” he added playfully.

You laughed and rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder as you stood up and exited the frame.

“Oh, Jesus, he’s already calling himself ‘Daddy,’” Jason complained with a weary sigh.

___

Normally, after wrapping an episode, Travis would bound up the stairs and infuse your home with all the leftover energy he had built up during the podcast recording with his brother. One of your favorite things about him co-hosting the podcast, in addition to loving the scheduled opportunity it created for him to connect with his brother, was how buoyant of a mood he was always in after a recording.

But today, the feeling that settled over your household when he wrapped the episode about an hour after your surprise guest appearance was much less chipper.

Today, Travis trudged upstairs to do the one thing he’d been dreading all summer – say his goodbyes to you before leaving for training camp. Though camp at Missouri Western State University was only about an hour from your home in the outskirts of Kansas City, he wouldn’t be home again for five days; instead, he’d be staying on campus with the team and bunking in a dorm. Normally, departing for camp and knowing he’d be spending days on end with his teammates focusing on making themselves better football players excited him, save for a hint of sadness about being away from you, but this particular camp, having to leave his five months pregnant wife at home, he was not looking forward to by any stretch of the imagination.

When Travis pushed open the basement door, he found you lounging on the couch with your back to him, legs outstretched on the plush cushions as you cradled your bump, some version of the Housewives franchise playing on the TV in front of you. You tipped your head back onto the arm of the couch in order to see him and asked, “how’d it go?”

He took advantage of your position to rest his thumbs on your cheekbones and give you an upside-down “Spider-Man kiss.”

“Went great,” he answered curtly, a vastly different response than the pumped-up recap you normally received. “That was the easy part of today,” he added, gazing down at you with his brow furrowed. Even upside-down, he was struck by your captivating beauty, which only tightened the lump already forming in his throat.

Did he really have to fucking do this?

You groaned, drowning in your own feelings of dread, and sat up, signaling the dogs at your feet to follow your lead. You reached out your hands in order to allow Travis to help you up from the couch and gave him your bravest face as he did so.

“I’ll walk you out,” you said, feigning confidence. But the crack in your voice when you added “can’t have you showing up late” revealed the crack in your armor, and you watched Travis’s chin drop to his chest, his eyes fixed on his shoes as he forced himself to take one… step… at a time closer to the front door.

One foot in front of the other, Travis.

You led the way, fluttering your eyelashes repeatedly in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. The dogs circled your feet as you attempted to walk out the front door, and Travis, fearing a fall, whistled and called them back into the house, patting both their heads as he passed.

When the two of you reached Travis’s Range Rover, already packed with all he needed for camp – duffels full of clothes and shoes, an array of video game consoles, deck of cards and set of pong balls for the inevitable team drinking games, and all his favorite snacks, along with a secret handwritten note you’d tucked into his toiletry kit in order to surprise him upon his unpacking – you stood a couple of feet apart, quiet, your husband shuffling his feet beneath him as you shifted your weight uncomfortably from side to side. You gazed up at him helplessly, a rigid, lips-only smile fixed on your face, and he took this moment for yet another reveal, sifting through his shorts pockets to find what he’d grabbed on the way out the door.

“I know this sucks, sweetness, but… I do have a surprise for you…” He dangled a set of keys in front of you which you noticed were not his.

“New car?” you teased halfheartedly, recognizing the worn key fob to your Porsche after a moment.

“Mm, not quite, we got a baby on the way, ya know? Gotta save that coin,” Travis teased right back. “I think it’s better than a new car.”

You raised your eyebrows, staring at him expectantly. He let it marinate in your brain for a few more moments, finally breaking when you threw your arms around his waist, pressing your baby bump to his torso, and whined his name. He beamed.

“Alright, alright, you know that’s gonna work every time now,” he admitted, giggling. He caressed your jaw with his knuckles and you noticed the glimmer in his eyes. “Listen, I know you’re sad because I’m leavin’, but you gotta get on the road, too… because you gotta go pick up your mama from the airport.”

You gasped, covering your mouth with both hands.

“Really?” you whispered after a stunned pause.

“Really,” he confirmed, nodding.

You’d only seen your mom once since finding out you were having a baby, and Travis had noticed that your pregnancy had you feeling more homesick than usual. Especially with so many of the Chiefs better halves, who would best understand this phase of your life, having scattered for the offseason, and with Travis’s own mom and sister-in-law living halfway across the country, he felt awful that you didn’t have your mom nearby during this exciting, but unsettling, time. Knowing, too, that you always struggled being apart from him in those first few days of training camp, he had preemptively arranged for his mother-in-law to arrive in Kansas City just as he departed for St. Joseph, hoping that that would alleviate at least some of your loneliness at this delicate time when you were already feeling unusually vulnerable.

Travis melted when you threw your arms around him again, this time desperately, not jokingly. He rubbed your back, beaming when he heard you whimper, “thank you.”

“Of course, sweetness,” he replied warmly, burying a kiss in your hair. “Anything to keep baby mama happy.”

You giggled, resting your chin on his sternum and tipping your head up to look at him.

“Yeah, you’re pretty good at that,” you praised, fondness thick in your tone as you rested a hand against his neck. “When does she land?”

Travis glanced at his watch. “Just over an hour,” he informed you. “So don’t rush. You got plenty of time.” A proud smile slowly stretched across his face as he added, “I got a lot of fun stuff planned for y’all this week.”

Your eyebrows lifted, your excitement building by the minute, and Travis watched your face light up with each word as he continued.

“You guys are gonna do a spa day tomorrow, got you a suite at the Royals game the next night, then you’re gonna come see me at camp, obviously, because I wanna see Mama, too. And then you’re gonna go run around and do your registry for your baby shower, because she knows all the stuff we’re gonna need, and weeee… do not,” he admitted, laughing.

The corners of your mouth pulled down as your face contorted, eyes welling with tears, and Travis could see that you were overwhelmed with emotion, humming a laugh as he guided the side of your head to rest against his chest.

“And that’s why I waited to tell you – because I knew you’d cry every other hour ‘til she got here,” he told you, only half joking, as he hugged you tight.

A giggle bubbled forth from your lips. “You were right, like always,” you said, voice tight, so appreciative of how well this man knew and cared for you. “You’re so thoughtful, Trav, thank you so much.”

“I mean it when I say literally an-y-thing for you,” he repeated, emphasizing each syllable. “I love you so much,” he said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. And after a deep sigh, he regretfully mumbled, “And now I gotta go.”

You pushed away from him slowly, your left hand lingering on his broad chest as he looked down at you with what had to be the saddest expression you’d ever seen him wear. He gathered your hand in his and pressed a lengthy kiss to your wedding rings, then the skin around them.

“Go be great,” you whispered, smoothing your other hand over his stubbly cheek.

Travis’s eyes closed and he drew a deep breath, committing the feeling of your touch to his memory. With a final squeeze of your fingers, he forced himself to back away and open his driver’s side door.

As he climbed into the seat, he pointed at you and said firmly, “You and that baby stay safe while I’m gone, alright?”

You nodded weakly, trailing a hand from the top of your bump to the underside. “We’ll do our best, Daddy,” you promised as he shut his door, the window rolled down.

At that, Travis’s eyes filled with tears – he had known it was only a matter of time until it would hit him, leaving you for the first time for more than a day since you’d found out you were expecting. And seeing you, hand on your belly, standing in the driveway alone as he started his car and prepared to pull away for the better part of a week… yeah, that did it.

He blew out a controlled breath through pursed lips, putting every ounce of his will into putting the car in drive and coasting toward the front gate to leave.

He could see your lower lip quivering even from afar, and it sent a zing of anxiety through his entire being — though he’d never enjoyed saying goodbye, he’d never once felt anxious leaving you for camp. Until today.

“I love you, Mama,” he called out the window, inching slowly toward the gate. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

You nodded. “Okay,” came out in a croak. “I love you, too.”

“Be good,” he forced out.

You nodded again, but didn’t trust your voice to allow you to respond with words. You simply waved one last goodbye as he did the same, forcing a signature Travis Kelce smile and wink while simultaneously trying to keep his shit together in front of you.

But as he passed through the gate and down the drive, watching you shrink into the rearview mirror and finally disappear as he turned toward the freeway, his breath caught in his throat and he broke down, tears blurring his vision as he pressed ahead down the familiar route. For a minute or two, he simply let the sobs wrack his body as he swiped at the ever-flowing tears with the back of his hand, letting out the occasional frustrated growl, usually saved for a missed ball in the end zone. As he attempted to calm himself down, he glanced at the recent calls list on his car’s hands-free device.

And, moments later, in suburban Philadelphia…

Jason hadn’t been off Zoom for more than twenty minutes when his phone rang with a call from his kid brother. Smirking knowingly at the screen, he situated five-month-old baby Bennett in her bouncy seat and tapped the green button.

“Figured I might be hearing from ya,” Jason answered the call.

Sniffling and confused, Travis blinked a few times.

“You did?”

Jason let out a chuckle. “Yeah, you just said goodbye to her and now you’re, what, three miles down the road to camp?”

Travis was quiet and rubbed a heavy hand over his face.

“Five, but… yeah,” Travis mumbled.

Jason hummed as if impressed, gazing at his oldest two daughters who he swore just yesterday could barely hold their own heads up and were now talking animatedly amongst themselves as they dressed and posed Barbie dolls in their prized pink Dreamhouse. “Well, then, you made it two miles further than I did before I called Mom my first training camp when Kylie was pregnant with Wy, so, props.”

“Really?” Travis inquired.

“Hell yeah, dude. It’s the worst fuckin’ feeling,” Jason responded, the sensation still visceral. “Leaving your wife and unborn baby to go live in a dorm with a bunch of sweaty dudes… it goes against every instinct in your body.”

“Yeah, for real… And I used to love camp, too,” Travis sighed. “I just feel so guilty, man.”

“I know. But you’re doing it to provide a sick ass life for her and that baby — you’re making sure they’re set for life,” Jason reminded him. “You just gotta focus on that as best you can.”

The smallest of smiles pulled at Travis’s lips. “That what Mom said to you?”

“Of course — you think I came up with that on my own?”

Travis giggled at that — the way only a big brother could make you do, even in the midst of misery.

“It’s gonna be okay, Trav. I promise you,” Jason told him firmly. “You did the right thing flying her mom in; she knows who to call in the off-chance something does go wrong; and… uh… and she knows she’s got our support because she’s calling Kylie right now,” Jason finished, handing his wife’s phone to her as she approached the coffee table where she’d heard it ringing.

“Is she really?” Travis asked, both relieved and more upset knowing that you, too, were seeking comfort from his brother’s experience with Kylie.

Jason and Kylie shared a sympathetic glance before she answered your call, and as he walked down the hall out of her earshot to allow you both privacy, Jason replied, “Sure is. And as you know, she couldn’t have picked a more perfect person to lean on right now. This isn’t easy by any means, but we’re here for you guys. So are Mom and Dad, Brittany and Pat, so many others. Remember, this is day one — it does get easier from here.”

Travis trilled his lips as he exhaled, his body already relaxing thanks to his brother’s encouraging words.

“As much as I hate to admit it, that’s a great point,” Travis conceded. “Thank you, bro. I appreciate you more than you know.”

“Anytime, Trav. Always in your corner. Love you, brother. I’ll check in when I’m back at camp too.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Love you, Jase. Bye.”

#kissing kelce #travis kelce #jason kelce #travis kelce fic #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce fanfiction

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thefrogdalorian · 3 months

Note

hi spud! i remembered u did requests & was wondering if maybe u could do like a first kiss scenario w din? 🥺 something soft & yearn-y? aha. no worries if u can't but thanks anyways. 🩷

Hello Senna! Thank you so much for your request! Thinking about a first kiss with Din really inspired me (how does he hide his face from you and still kiss you? What leads up to the moment?? so many questions!!) and this was the result. There is plenty of yearning and some softness sprinkled in but a little angst too (very happy ending though aghhhdkgj). Thanks again and really hope you like it!! 🤍

A New Dawn

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 5107

Rating: General

Summary: Travelling through the galaxy with a mysterious nameless and faceless Mandalorian with a reputation as the best bounty hunter in the parsec would probably terrify most people. Instead, over the months you have known Mando, you have discovered his gentler, more affectionate side. Living in such proximity to the man you have an enormous crush on threatens to suffocate you as you determine that he must never find out. But after a job seemingly goes badly wrong on a forest planet, the fear of losing him will perhaps finally be the tipping point for a new dawn in your relationship...

Content Warnings: Kissing, bit of angst when there's brief panic for Din/reader's safety (happy ending though!), allusions to violence (canon-typical, nothing descriptive/graphic).

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Upon that fateful day on which you had entered an agreement with a bounty hunter, you had been under no illusions that there would be much unpredictability given his line of work. That there would be periods of isolation when he left you behind in his ship while he went in search of his latest bounty. You could be alone on that ship for weeks; well, save for the big-eared, bug-eyed green baby, whose care you had been entrusted with, by the mysterious man who was your employer. When agreeing to travel with The Mandalorian, you had expected the randomness of the path that you cut through the galaxy, journeying from planet to planet depending on his latest jobs. The anguish that came with wondering where he was and whether the jobs were going well as you sat in the Razor Crest and cared for his child. Despite how much it had bothered you at first, you had gradually become used to such emotions. You expected them.

What you had never expected was the fondness you had developed for the man.

The first few times that Mando had headed off the ship for a job, you had been almost nonchalant about his absence, barely noticing the passage of time. You passed your days playing with The Child when you were not fast asleep in your bunk. But slowly and surely, he had begun to mean something more to you. You noticed it in his absence most of all. The ship felt empty without his deep voice and you missed his calm, reassuring presence.

It was strange really, considering that you had never laid eyes upon him. In fact, you had rarely seen him dressed in anything less than his full armour, complete with all the weapons he attached to himself almost ritualistically, without fail, every single day. Even if you were merely hurtling through hyperspace, he was still armed to the teeth. Mando had explained that weapons were part of his religion and his armour was like a second skin to him. You were curious, but not judgmental, about his way of life. It was vastly different to your own and entirely contradictory to anything you had ever heard about Mandalorians before. Even the scant information you had overheard about the formidable warriors in the miserable Cantina where you had once been employed had never included anything about Mandalorians being forbidden from removing their helmets in the presence of others.

Mando had made it abundantly clear, before you ever stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest, that wearing his helmet was a definitive boundary, never to be questioned or pushed. It was his ultimate line in the sand that you were never to cross. You were respectful of his Creed, asking questions with a curious rather than invasive intention which he seemed to appreciate. In fact, rather than driving a wedge between you, his Way had provoked many thoughtful conversations between the two of you.

There were nights you would sit in the cockpit as the brilliant blue trails of hyperspace surrounded you, bonding over your similar pasts. Sometimes, you would wake up in the bunk underneath the tiny hammock that belonged to The Child with no memory of clambering in the previous night. He never admitted it, but you were almost certain that Mando had carried you there himself, putting his impressive physique to use for something other than hauling bounties back to the Razor Crest.

Amongst it all, you had learned his habits and quirks. You learned the way he liked his caf in the morning. How meticulous he was with polishing his armour until it gleamed so brightly, even in the dark of hyperspace, that you could see every detail of your reflection, right down to your pores. You discovered that he cleaned his weapons, taking them apart and checking every inch of them when he was particularly stressed or his bounties were not as straightforward as he had hoped.

Most of all, you discovered how incredibly kind and caring the man beneath the hard, intimidating armour truly was.

Although he had weapons strapped to every inch of his body, Mando could be impossibly gentle. You had witnessed evidence of his ruthless efficiency when he returned to the ship laden with several bounties. Sometimes alive, sometimes dead, though he usually prevented you from seeing the more grisly sights. Yet the man you saw most often of all, moving around the Razor Crest with you as you hurtled around the galaxy, amongst the stars was different to reconcile with the violent nature of his profession.

It was difficult to believe that the hands that had earned him the reputation as the most formidable bounty hunter in the parsec due to their proficiency in neutralising even elusive targets were the very same hands that were impossibly gentle when placing The Child in his hammock. The same hands that had extinguished countless lives had been used to rock the little one after he awoke from the nightmares that frequently plagued him. Nightmares that plagued Mando, too. But you had never been bold enough to bring up the tossing and turning you had heard from his bunk pretty much every night since you had started travelling with him. Despite the relatively personal conversations and information you had gleaned from him, it still felt a step too far. You didn’t want to cause him to shut down by prying, especially not after he had seemed to become genuinely comfortable in your presence and show you the gentler side of his nature.

You felt so privileged to see such a side to him. It was a side that you had never expected to witness. After all, you had been utterly terrified the first time you encountered him, when he strutted into the run-down Cantina you worked in. He was impossible not to stare at, clad in that unpainted armour that glinted when the light hit it in just the right spot. You had never seen a Mandalorian in the flesh before, but you had heard plenty of legends about them. Mandalorians were famed across the galaxy for their ruthless, lethal accuracy and formidable fighting skills.

That feeling of gratitude had soon developed into something else, though. A feeling that you would class as affection, albeit affection that was veering dangerously close into the territory of a four-letter word that your mind could not even contemplate. A feeling that would be all too dangerous to harbour for a man who you still felt you knew so little about.

You were certain that your feelings for Mando were doing untold damage to your health. Living in such proximity to a man you harboured a devastatingly intense crush towards would one day succeed in suffocating you. Your chest ached whenever he was near, knowing that there was no possibility he could ever reciprocate your feelings. You knew that your love would remain unrequited. Above all, you knew that he must never, ever discover the depths of your affection towards him.

There were more than a few times you had dissolved into tears during a few moments of solitude in the ‘fresher; your salty tears mixing with the hot jets of water from the Razor Crest’s shower. One particular occasion, when your feelings had left you particularly devastated, was the evening when Mando had returned from his latest job, during which he had to terminate the asset after one escape attempt too many. The asset’s termination would result in a lower fee and you knew that was partially the reason for Mando’s frustration. Yet, despite his reputation, you also knew that he did not relish killing bounties, much preferring to lure them back to the ship and freeze them in carbonite. In everything you knew about him, it appeared that Mando did not get a particular thrill from killing people that he, personally, had no qualms with. Although you knew that if anyone ever threatened even one white hair on the wrinkled little head of The Child, Mando would not hesitate to cut them down where they stood.

That evening, The Mandalorian’s exasperation had been evident from the second he had returned to the Razor Crest, ordering you and The Child to hide in the cockpit while he stored the remains so you would not have to witness such a gruesome sight. You knew immediately that the job had not been easy and your heart ached for him. When Mando had given you the all-clear, you had descended the ladder down to the main hull of the ship with shaky hands and legs. Your trembling limbs did not come from the fact you were descending the rungs one-handed and carefully cradling The Child in your other arm, you were well used to that. No, you were dreading seeing Mando so frustrated… because of the way it made you feel. Seeing him so wound up, knowing that you were the one to put his pieces back together in your own subtle way thrilled you. It was a dangerous prospect.

“I take it the job wasn’t successful?” You questioned, tone neutral. You attempted to appear as nonchalant as possible as you handed The Child to him. You hoped that taking the little one in his arms would go some way to calming him down.

“No,” Mando responded, definitively. His tone of voice made it abundantly clear that he did not want to discuss the matter further with you.

“Perhaps I could put The Child to bed, while you take a shower?” You offered, wanting to do anything to soothe his frayed nerves.

Mando shook his head.

“I’ll do it, thanks,” he added gruffly.

You nodded before turning your back and climbing the ladder back up to the cockpit to give them their space. There was hardly any privacy in a ship so compact. Sometimes it could feel slightly claustrophobic aboard the Razor Crest, but you and Mando had worked a pretty good system out by now so you did not feel as though you were constantly on top of each other. You learned that he was a surprisingly patient man and did not express his anger in the way one might have expected from one capable of so much violence.

It was no surprise when you descended the rungs a while later to find him standing in front of the weapons cabinet, broad shoulders tensed as he examined his impressively-stocked armoury. You didn’t say a word, wondering whether he was about to tell you to return to the cockpit and leave him alone. Though you hoped that he would interpret your presence as a comforting one, not an invasive one.

“Could you pass me the cleaning cloth, please?” Mando asked.

“Of course,” you replied, opening the crate where he kept his cleaning equipment. You selected the cloth that you knew he favoured and handed it to him, the corners of your lips curving upwards in a slight, shy smile.

“Thank you,” Mando said appreciatively as his gloved hand rested on your upper arm and squeezed it gently. You sensed that he was thanking you for much more than passing him the cloth. Something about his touch and the way he said it had sickened you to your core.

“I‘m gonna take a shower,” was all you managed to say, before you turned away from him.

You had practically sprinted to the ‘fresher then, needing privacy more than anything as you crumbled. As tears streamed down your cheeks, you tortured yourself over and over asking the same question:

How could a man capable of such violence be so gentle with you?

Your soul was truly tortured by the feelings that you held for this man.

It was that moment you thought of now. A moment amongst many others, as you sat and waited for Mando to return from his latest assignment. You were accustomed to days turning to weeks and weeks even turning to months on the rare occasion. It was a solitary experience, just you and The Child in the Razor Crest. You would not see another life form for weeks. Nor would you speak to anyone other than The Child. You weren't always certain whether he understood you. Mando always left a comlink with you, but it was reachable only by him. It was strictly for emergencies. In all the months that you had travelled with him, it had never once sounded when he was off on a mission. It had led you to wonder whether it even worked at all.

Occasionally, Mando would permit you to leave the ship but on particularly hostile planets, you were confined to the silver hull of his home, with just your ration packs and the mysterious green child for company.

This particular planet was one of such peril. Thus, Mando had forbidden you from leaving the ship. Although you always respected his demands, for The Child’s as much as your own sake, you adored the little guy, the loneliness was beginning to eat into your gut and make you feel grouchy after such a long period of isolation. Mando had told you that he expected the job to last no more than three days, but it was ten since he had crept out in the dead of night, armed to the teeth in pursuit of a crime lord who had made one enemy too many.

As you lay back on the bunk, thinking of the man who had unexpectedly left such a deep impression on your heart, The Child began mewling. You instantly sat up, sighing softly as you reached into his hammock and stroked the end of one of his large green ears between your thumb and forefinger.

“What’s up, buddy?” You questioned, rocking him gently and hoping that you had prevented him from dissolving into gut-wrenching sobs.

The Child just gazed at you with his big brown eyes, expression unreadable.

“Do you want something to eat?” You asked, often knowing that the way to soothe his heart was through his stomach.

The Child finally gave some indication of what was wrong with a small nod and you opened the door to the bunk and made your way towards the fortunately still well-stocked cupboards. Fortunately, Mando was fastidious in always ensuring there was enough food for the two of you. You appreciated that all the more as you gave The Child a bar which he wolfed down in only a couple of bites, despite his tiny frame. He had been fed barely an hour ago, but the little guy had a voracious appetite.

With a newly full stomach, you hoped that the little womp rat would finally get some sleep when you returned him to his hammock. Yet, as you lay back on your own bunk, you found that you could not settle.

Time became an illusion after so many days cooped up in the Razor Crest and despite the late hour, according to your chrono, you found that you were wide awake. There was nothing to do except pace around the Crest.

You must have paced around the Crest enough times to cover the circumference of the planet when you were finally on when a sound caused you to stop in your tracks. It sounded like a faint crackle from where your comlink rested on some crates, forgotten and discarded. Until now. You barely had time to react before it chirped into life, with the sound of a familiar deep voice crackling slightly suddenly blaring from it.

Mando was calling your name.

You darted across the hull and scooped up the comlink from its position on top of the very crate from which you had fished out cleaning supplies. You were startled by the fact that Mando was actually using it.

“It’s Mando,” he panted, tone desperate. “Listen, things aren’t looking good. If I’m not back by sunrise, take The Child and run. Promise me, you’ll get out of there. Promise m–”

Before Mando could finish and much less, could you even respond, the line went dead.

You stood there, startled by the turn of events. Your mind racing with thoughts. Where would you go? Which supplies should you pack? How far away was sunrise from now? Could you even use a blaster to shoot an enemy down, if needed? What were you going to do without Mando? How would you take care of The Child alone?

You wanted to sink to your knees, shout and scream. That was not an option. You knew that you had to keep going. Mando had wanted you to vow to him, which you would have done in a heartbeat had the line not first been cruelly cut. Even if he could not hear you, you still wanted to pledge your word to him.

“I promise I’ll protect The Child, Mando,” you whispered, clutching the comlink to your chest as tears streamed down your cheeks silently and the realisation that you could find yourself alone in the galaxy once more dawned upon you.

You spent the next couple of hours packing and then repacking as many bags as you could manage to carry and pathetically practising gripping a blaster. Mando had demonstrated once or twice, in case you ever found yourself in a bind. You were certainly in one now, but the adrenaline coursing through your body made it near impossible to remember such careful, deliberate instructions. You contemplated the fact that he had chosen you for a reason, to care for The Child. Whatever such a reason was, it seemed futile now. You were in no fit state to care for anyone.

The guilt threatened to overwhelm you as you spent a few precious minutes watching The Child sleep, blissfully unaware of the anguished state his caregiver was currently in. Your heart ached for him. The bond he shared with Mando was something beyond words and you knew he would be devastated. How could you manage to take care of a distraught child and keep him safe from the same evil forces that had taken his father?

You checked your chrono, heart sinking as you realised how close sunrise now was. Your heart thundered in your ears as you ascended the ladder for what was almost certainly the last time, your head peeking over the floor of the cockpit as you saw the pitch blackness of night gradually giving way to the lighter shade of blue that indicated that sunrise was imminent. As soon as the sky was flecked with oranges and pinks, you knew you had to obey Mando’s command and leave.

You imagined him, frightened and injured, stumbling his way through the thick trees you could just about see from the cockpit, desperately fighting to return to you. You willed him on, hoping against all odds that he would make it back to you, safe and sound. You would berate him for putting himself into such a dangerous position. Then, you would piece him back together and prepare him to do it all over again. You were hopelessly devoted to him. Now, such devotion had placed you in this position. Alone, once again.

Alas, despite a valiant effort, Mando's return was not to be. He had tried his best, but it was not good enough. When the sky blazed brilliant bronze, you knew it was time to go.

You descended the rungs for the last time, bidding a silent farewell to the ship where you had found so much happiness with such an unlikely companion and his even unlikelier son. You felt a lump in your throat, your eyes filling with tears as the finality of the moment dawned on you. Then, you exhaled and pushed your shoulders back, imagining yourself wearing armour like Mando. You had to do it, for him. You had to grant his dying wish. You had to be brave for The Child.

You were only two paces from the bunk when you heard it. The unmistakable whirring of the Razor Crest’s door opening. It was a sound that usually signified Mando's return. This time, though, it signified your imminent demise.

You were frozen to the spot, then. You were certain that the forces that had gotten to Mando were now here to finish you and The Child off, too. You contemplated reaching for the blaster that was in the bags just a few steps away, but you knew it was futile, given your inexperience. The forces that had murdered your Mandalorian would make short work of someone as inept as you. The best you could do was give yourself up, so that The Child may live. Hopefully, he would be undetected in his bunk, sleeping soundly despite the bloodshed just a few paces away.

You shut your eyes and thought of Mando, wondering if you were about to join him. You braced yourself for a blaster shot that never came. For it was not the alien sounds of a mysterious, threatening entity that your ears detected emanating approaching your position. No, it was not that at all.

Instead, you stood there, aghast as the familiar heavy, even thuds and slight clinking of armour echoed with every step up the ramp of the Razor Crest. The reassuring sound finally reached through your frayed nerves and your eyes flew open as you spun around in disbelief. This was not the end. There was no threat. Instead, there was an instantly familiar sound, one that you had feared you would never hear again. The noise signalled to you that somehow, against all odds, he had returned to you.

“Mando?” You questioned, momentarily terrified that an enemy holding a blaster would appear into view behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Mando huffed and you realised that particular fear was unfounded. “Job got a bit messier than I anticipated.”

The only indication of the gravity of his situation that had necessitated his desperate message was the evidence of numerous blaster shots that his armour had clearly taken, given the black marks on its otherwise pristine surface. The corners of your lips curled up in a knowing smirk. You knew he would spend most of your journey to the next planet cleaning every single plate with painstaking attention to detail.

“But th-the you used the comlink?” You stuttered, aghast at his sudden appearance in the Razor Crest.

“I did,” he confirmed. “And were you about to leave?” Mando asked as he entered the ship and approached you. You were unable to reply with words, suddenly feeling incredibly choked up. You nodded and gestured towards the bags you had hurriedly packed.

“Good,” Mando nodded approvingly.

“I thought you were…” you shook your head, unable to finish that sentence and vocalise the dark places your mind had travelled.

“Dead.” Mando finished for you.

You nodded again. You would almost be amused by his familiar bluntness were you not still so shocked by his presence.

“I had sharper reflexes,” he shrugged cockily, a simple explanation for events that you were sure were far more complex than he was letting on.

“I thought I was alone. I thought I… I thought I’d have to leave here and never see you again,” you stammered, voice cracking at the thought. “Did you at least complete the job?”

“Yes,” Mando nodded. “Proof of termination was sufficient and I acquired it,” he explained, deep voice slightly hoarse thanks to the force that he had undoubtedly exerted in completing such a perilous job.

“I don’t know if I want to kill you, or kiss you right now,” you sighed, shaking your head in disbelief at his accomplishment. Then, the realisation that you had finally given voice to your most intimate thoughts dawned on you. You clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes widening in horror. You were utterly mortified.

Mando was unmoving, which only added to your panic. You noticed the way his hands clenched into fists briefly and he sighed deeply. Then he tilted his head slightly and unclenched his fists.

“Close your eyes,” Mando commanded.

Although his voice was quiet, something about the way he said it struck fear into your heart. There was a darkness to his voice, to his tone that terrified you. You were certain that he was going to punish you for such a remark. You had always been slightly afraid of him despite the gentleness he had shown you. Now, it appeared that those lingering fears were well-founded. He was probably disgusted by you. He had taken you in when you were at your lowest, given you a job, a bunk and a purpose.

Yet, he had unknowingly given you so much more than that. It didn’t matter anymore, though. Especially not now that you had let your feelings get the better of you. You were convinced that he was going to kick you out, convinced that there was absolutely no possibility that he reciprocated your feelings for him. Mando hated you. You were certain of that.

“Mando, I’m sorry. I didn’t mea–” you stammered, eyes still widened in horror.

The presence of soft leather against your skin abruptly cut your frantic apologies off, mid-utterance. His glove was warm across your forehead, nose and cheeks as his hand dwarfed your features. The loss of vision that came with his gloved hand covering your eyes stopped all coherent thoughts in your brain. The hiss of his helmet depressurising, a sound you had previously heard only through the door of the ‘fresher, made your heart quicken until it was beating with alarming speed. Then, the feeling of his soft lips moving gently against yours caused it to stop completely.

You were struck by two things. Firstly, the fact that the man you had been certain was dead, was not only very much alive but was presently moving his lips against yours. Secondly, underneath his helmet, Mando apparently kept a moustache. You could feel the bristles of his facial hair tickling slightly as his lips claimed yours in a tender kiss.

You were certain that your heart was going to give out if your knees did not first, momentarily fearful that you would send the pair of you crashing in a tangle of limbs to the hard, metallic surface of the Razor Crest’s floor with a thud. Fortunately, you happened to be kissing the most formidable bounty hunter in the parsec, who soon wrapped his spare arm around your waist and demonstrated, in the way that he held you, all the strength and certainty that had gained him such a reputation. You smirked against his lips as the hand that was not currently covering your eyes trailed up your back, travelling across your body over the coat that you had pulled on in preparation for your imminent departure from the Razor Crest.

The movement of your lips together was electrifying. It confirmed that the connection you were certain had been building between the two of you was real. It felt so natural, as though you had always been destined to be pulled into each other’s orbits in this way. You felt chills traverse your skin as your brain perceived the scent of his glove, given its proximity to your nose. At once, you could smell the story of his perilous brush with death. There was the distinctive smoky scent of explosions, the sharp metallic smell from his ever-steady grip on his blaster, the earthy undertones – no doubt thanks to days of traipsing through undergrowth, – the musky smell that was unmistakably masculine, unmistakably him and finally, the faint hints of leather. As you registered each scent, you were reminded, once again, of the lethality this man was capable of. A man who was currently kissing you with such fondness and affection.

When your lungs started to burn – from the exhilaration or oxygen deprivation, you weren’t sure – Mando finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and dizzy from the events which had just transpired between the two of you. You smiled and bit your lip in glee, as the realisation of the monumental shift in your relationship that had just occurred hit you. You hoped it had not been a one-off, a fleeting moment of carelessness on his part that he would come to regret.

“You couldn’t kill me anyway,” Mando whispered, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. You were stunned. Clearly, that was not the case. This had been a deliberate, measured action on his part.

Then, the tell-tale hissing sound indicated that Mando had replaced his helmet. You couldn’t help the fact that your heart dropped a little at the sound. After all, despite how much you respected his devotion to The Way, there was always a simmering curiosity about his appearance. Especially having just kissed him. You could still feel the slight scratchiness that lingered on your skin from the bristles of his facial hair, a ghost of the kiss you had just shared; a reminder that it had happened.

Mando removed his hand from your eyes and you mourned the loss of contact, having relished the way that his hand had engulfed your face with its enormous size as it drowned your features. He always seemed to be everywhere, a looming presence over you.

“Mando, I –” you began, but he raised the same gloved hand that had just rested against your forehead, cutting you off once again.

“My name is Din,” he said quietly before he lowered his hand again.

“Oh,” you breathed, stunned that he had entrusted you with such a precious piece of information.

Although, given the fact that he had just kissed you, perhaps it was a logical step. Nevertheless, you appreciated the fact that you finally had a name to put to the deep voice you adored. Din, not Mando, was the man who had just stolen all rational thought from your mind with the gentle touch of his lips.

You smiled then, the first genuine smile that had graced your features since Din had left the Razor Crest ten days previously. Only a few minutes ago, you had feared that he would never return. Now, just when you had been certain your life with him was over, it appeared that it was just beginning.

As the sun rose over the Razor Crest, still surrounded by the trees of the forest planet you had been certain would be the location of an ending, it was clear that a new dawn was here for you and Din. A beginning was upon you, the start of something beautiful.

It was the first kiss you had shared with Din. But you were certain that it would not be your last.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal characters #my fics #inbox #request #suresnips

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gococogo · 1 month

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Hello would it be ok to have a destiel fanfic with prompts "Just like we promised" and "I've missed your touch" i love ur work <3

Prompt 1 | Destiel

Synopsis: Dean has been out on a hunt for over a month and hasn't called Cas at all. He's still getting use to this whole fucking an angel thing.

Word Count: 2.9K

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Warnings: Angst. Sappy. Smutty.

Notes: It's more than okay to want this. This was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy what i created! Enjoy!

The pacing became a constant thing on the fourth week. On the fifth, the nail biting had started. A bad habit he’s picked up from Sam out of all people, a nasty human habit. But the satisfaction behind it to relieve stress almost calms Cas’s nerves. He had paced from the main foyer to the kitchen to Dean’s room. Dean’s room is one of the main places that Castiel had resided.

When the sixth week came around, Cas’s nails were all chewed off and he had began picking at the skin around them. Dean was meant to call an entire week ago. No SMS either. No even a single prayer. Complete radio silence.

Sam had given Castiel Charlie’s number in case he got bored. Dean had made a comment about Charlie’s Angels. Something Cas didn’t understand until he had looked it up on his own phone later that day. But Sam had insisted yet Castiel declined saying he would be perfectly fine, for angel’s cannot feel human depths of boredom, just passing time.

One thousand and eight hours and six minutes to be exact. So, the angel isn’t bored per say, just very, deathly worried about Dean. And Sam.

The fourth day of the sixth week, the chunk and click of the bunker door snaps Castiel out of his trance in the main foyer. He stands up from where he sits at the table as laughter and voices burst into the bunker. By God is it good to hear their voices but at the same time it brings out so many bad emotions that vibrate his being and make him grind his teeth.

Sam is first to walk down the stairs, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a grin upon his face. When he spots the angel, his smile faulters. He tries his best to play it off but Cas sees the uncertainty.

“Oh, Castiel!” Sam says more surprised than anything, “I didn’t expect you to still be here!” He speaks as if the conversation they had over a month ago never happened. Which only -what’s that word Dean uses- pisses him off even more.

“I’ve been here this entire time,” Cas grumbles.

Which is below an angel of the lord like himself but the frustration flickering around inside of him is something that he hasn’t felt in a good while. Probably since apocalypse days.

“Cas!”

All eyes go to the older brother making his way down the stairs. Unlike Sam, Dean isn’t unscathed. His lip is busted, and his entire right eye is blackened. His eyebrow is split, and three gauze strips hold it together.

As soon as Dean comes down the last set of stairs, Cas is already across the room pushing past Sam to press two fingers to his forehead. The hunter straightens up at the sudden wellness that comes over him. His bruising disappears and fades into yellow and the cuts and scrapes heal without a scar. He goes to thank the angel but all he sees is a very frustrated one in front of him.

“You were suppose to contact me,” Castiel speaks firmly. Like angel of the lord firm. “But I received none of the sort.”

Sam goes deathly quiet behind them. He places his duffle bag of guns and knives on the table which make a louder noise than he originally intended. As if the sound is cutting through the thick tension in the room.

Dean sucks in air through teeth as he tries to avoid eye contact with the angel. But it doesn’t matter where he looks because Cas is only a few inches from him. So those deep blue eyes is all he sees.

“The hunt got very busy, Cas you know how it gets,” Dean argues poorly as he shrugs his shoulders. “We didn’t have time.”

“We had plenty of time,” Sam comments from the table.

Castiel slowly turns his attention towards Sam with a frown. All while Dean looks to his brother with a look of betrayal mixed with disgust. Sam swallows thickly and picks up his duffle bag.

“I’ll go put these away in the stash,” Sam grins sheepishly as he scoots himself across the room.

Blue returns back to green who looks more like a hurt child than anything. And all that anger and frustration is slow to wash away as Cas brings a hand to Dean’s cheek. The hunter flinches away slightly at first but stays in the warm touch of the angel.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing, Cas,” Dean murmurs.

The angel lets out a deep sigh that has his shoulders drooping. Oh Dean.

“I’m…” The hunter clears his throat, readjusting his tone to something more manlier. “I’m still very new to this. To us.”

Cas holds Dean’s face in both his hands, almost engulfing his face but the hunter stays so still. Why still keep up this façade that doesn’t work on the angel? He’s seen him break and cry and become soft so many times. Why still keep up daddy’s good lil soldier in front of him?

A soft kiss is planted on Dean’s forehead over his once black eye. Then, like all the other times Cas has kissed Dean, he kisses the hunter gently and warmly. The heat that the angel radiates is like a furnace yet so inviting.

Dean grabs onto Castiel’s trench coat as he leans forward, deepening the kiss a little. In this moment, Cas can put his own irritation aside for this. He holds Dean, taste the hint of jerky on his mouth from the trip here. It isn’t the most pleasant of tastes, but Dean has kissed him with worst. Much worse.

Calloused hands make their way under Cas’s coat to his waist. This, this is something the angel has missed. Even if it has been a month and two weeks. Too long for his own good.

Unlike Cas, Dean pulls away to inhale a breath of air. The hunter smiles something wicked and Cas’s eyes slightly widen. Dean’s fingers loop into Cas’s belt and flips the buckle open a little too swiftly and a little too eagerly. A soft grip latches onto his wrist, stopping him in his movements. Dean raises a brow at the angel.

“I don’t think Sam will be too impressed if he catches us out here,” Castiel points out sternly, “Like last time.”

Dean barks out a fit of laughter, the memory coming to mind of Sam’s horrified face at the sight of the two. Dean splayed out on the table with the angel over him, his blue eyes as wide as saucepans. Both stark ass naked with the angel’s white butt out on full display.

“Why not?” Dean chuckles out.

Cas can’t help but roll his eyes. With his grip still on Dean’s wrist he begins backing up slowly across the foyer, dragging Dean along.

“You worry too much,” Dean grins.

“I don’t think I worry enough,” Cas bites back playfully.

Dean stops the angel and draws him into for another deep kiss. One that has him gripping the back of Cas’s hair and looping his fingers back into his belt. Dean pulls away but only mere millimetres, not wanting to stay away for too long.

Those green eyes lock onto the angel and Cas won’t lie, he’s missed those emeralds. He runs a thumb over Dean’s freckled cheek and smiles softly when he sees that everything is the same. No more bruises or cuts. Dean follows the notion with a side eye, almost wanting to pull away but staying still and stiffens under the touch.

It takes both of them a good while to get back to Dean’s room. Having to push the hunter there rather than drag him along since he kept stopping Cas. He isn’t vocal about it but he can tell that the hunter can’t keep his hands off of Cas.

Clothes come off a little too easily and Cas can’t help but frown when he spots more cuts and bruises on Dean’s frame. With soft touches, Cas heals them without a second thought. Dean shivers under the touch, his eyes tracking every movement. With a warm glow, Cas heals a deep purple bruise on Dean’s chest that has the hunter breathing a little easier. But with that he pushes Dean back onto the bed. The springs creak under his weight and he disrupts the perfectly made blankets. Cas’s work.

Dean tries to sit up on the bed but is pushed down again when Cas straddles his lap. He runs his hands over Dean’s body once more, making sure that he hasn’t missed any nicks and cuts. He could heal Dean in one go, but where’s the fun in that?

“I’ve…” Dean hesitates, adverting his gaze downwards to the angel’s hands. “I’ve missed your touch.”

“Hmm,” Cas hums at that with a smile.

“I wish I had called,” Dean continues. “Or sent a text. But I’m scared alright. As stupid as that sounds.”

The angel’s smile falls at that. To respond to that, he clasps the hunter’s face in his hands and kisses him softly unlike before. He moves his hips down on Dean as well, making the hunter squirm under his weight. Maybe he can forgive Dean after all.

In between the kisses, the angel mumbles out, “It’s not stupid at all.”

The result of watching Dean’s face go beet red is a reward in it’s own. Cas kisses him again, humming into his mouth with satisfaction. Such a human thing to do. How much he’s changed since being around Dean. He’s changed him so much. Does Dean realize just how much he’s done for the angel? Or is he blind to that fact? Maybe he might have to ask him one day. But not now.

Not when he feels Dean’s grip tighten on his hips, wanting him to grind down harder into him. The friction is something that the hunter craves at this moment. He grows hard and his dick rubs in between the angel’s cheeks. Precum leaks from Dean’s dick, making the glide easier.

Cas sits up slowly and as if out of nowhere, he holds Dean’s bottle of lube in hand. Dean’s stares at it bug eyed for a moment but doesn’t question it because he knows he left that in the bottom draw of his dresser. Where it normally stays. Either Cas miraculously brought the bottle to his hand or it was always on the bed and he just didn’t see it. Either either, both make sense for the angel.

“Let me,” Dean says as he takes the bottle from him.

Lathering his fingers up generously, Dean a little too eagerly brings his hand around Cas’s ass and inserts two fingers. The angel grunts at the sudden penetration, his eyes fluttering shut. With Dean’s other hand as he sets a quick pace to open up Cas, he kneads his thumb into the angel’s hips. Holding on as if he’s going to fly away with those wings of his.

Cas towers over Dean, scrunching up the blankets into his fists next to the hunter’s head. More lube is added and then a third finger is fitted right to the next others. Cas’s breathing becomes heavy, every nerve in his body buzzing and every inch of his grace humming. He can feel everything a little too well for his own good. The stretch of the three fingers, the way his hard cock rubs up against Dean’s, the way that he’s been wanting to feel Dean’s touch once more. Too much.

Deeming the angel ready, Dean brings his lubed fingers to slick his own dick up. He exhales shakily, holding himself together by a thread. The entire hunt, the Angel of Thursday was on his mind yet he was too coward to send a simple prayer. Next time. Next time we won’t be so stupid.

Cas exhales shakily, opening his eyes to meet a lustful green graze. The angel looks into those eyes fondly with a smile coming upon his reddened lips. He kisses Dean again, this time deepening it and grinding down on the hunter again. Dean grunts under him and digs that thumb into his hip a little more.

Dean guides the head of his dick to Cas’s ass, rubbing himself between his cheeks a few times. He pushes the tip of his dick in, humming in the kiss at the warmth he feels. He pushes in a little deeper and breaks the kiss, his face scrunching up into something needy. Cas continues lining Dean’s exposed neck though with small kisses, sucking and biting lightly. Dean groans as he grabs onto the angel’s hips with both hands to help guide him down.

Cas winces but moans something whiny into the hunter’s skin. He still smells like the hunt. Gun powder, cheap pharmacy cologne and musk. Dean grunts with every push. He fucks into Cas eagerly, but the angel isn’t going to stop him. He’s enjoying this too much. He’s missed Dean too much to let this pass. His body buzzes and constricts with pleasure that he can’t help the noises that comes his mouth. He can feel himself shaking in the hunter’s hold, his grace vibrating within.

Dean pushes Cas down onto him until he’s flush against his hips. The angel groans and breathes heavily as Dean only gives him a few seconds of adjustment before he begins a quick pace again. Each time he thrusts into Cas, he brings the angel down just as hard that gets a satisfying grunt from him.

The hunter sits up suddenly, still holding onto Cas so that they’re flush against each other. With each movement, Cas’s dick rubs up against their stomachs. The angel holds onto him as he lets the hunter fucks out everything from the hunt. Dean groans deep within his throat as he keeps moving at a constant pace, thrusting into Cas on his lap. It’s more of an awkward bob at this point, both being too desperate to do much more. But both are satisfied right now.

But Dean wants more. Suddenly, he flips and throws Cas onto the bed with little effort. He grabs onto the back of the angel’s knees and pushes his legs up so that he’s almost folded in half. He lines himself up again, this time slipping in easier than the last.

The new angle has Cas shivering and grunting with each thrust into him. He digs his fingernails into Dean’s shoulder, unable to gain control of the delicious noises coming from his throat.

Through shaky pants, Dean is able to grumble out a deep, “I’ve missed you.”

Another shiver runs down Cas’s back, earning a whimper like sound from him. The hunter’s cock passes by that sweet bundle of nerves inside of Cas that has him grunting with each movement. Cas wraps his legs around Dean, holding him close as the hunter’s thrust become short and shallow. Dean comes down for a sloppy kiss, mostly broken by breaths of shaky inhales.

“I’ve-“ Dean pecks Cas on the mouth, cutting him off. “missed you-“ another kiss, “…too.”

Dean brings a hand down to wrap about the angel’s leaking cock, flicking a thumb over his tip with every stroke. Cas arches his back the best he can in the position he’s in and startles out a cry. By God, he can feel himself getting close. His body buzzes and feels like tv static with just a simple touch. He doesn’t want this to be over already, but with Dean abusing that sweet part inside of him he can’t hold on at all.

Cas chokes out a strangled cry as his whole body and grace feels like it’s going to explode. He releases hot strips into Dean’s hand as he digs his bitten nails deeper into the hunter’s shoulders. He heals the bruising before it even comes about, even in his stare of high. Dean keeps fucking through his orgasm, making it ten times more intense.

“Dean,” Cas grits out.

With a few couple of more hard thrusts, Dean drives his cock deeper into Cas as he reaches his own orgasm. Dean stiffens up, unmoving as he cums hot and deep within the angel. Who would have thought. Fucking an angel of the lord.

Cas shivers at the new sensation of the warmth inside of him. He grits his teeth, holding Dean in place. He doesn’t think he can handle the hunter moving at this given moment. Both stay still for a good few minutes, a panting and sweaty mess. Cas can’t help but shake faintly, his breathing ragged and uneven. He can feel his grace is all over the place and he tries his best to collect himself.

But it’s very hard when Dean lands on top of the angel with an audible, “Oof,” slipping out of the angel in the process. Cas places a hand on his back and gives him a light pat on the shoulder. But Dean doesn’t move and inch, his face flat against the nape of his neck.

“I’m coming with you next time,” Cas grumbles out.

Whatever Dean says next, it’s lost into a mumble and jumble of words in the angel’s neck. This earns a short chuff from the angel, knowing full well that the hunter can’t stop him in doing so. What he says goes. But right now, he’s fully content in laying in for a few minutes. He’s fine in letting time pass by when it’s with Dean Winchester.

Have an amazing day/night ;)

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chrollosbm · 6 months

Text

Sunflower Fields: a Choso Love Story Chapter Three

art cr: einfvji on x

You're broken from a past relationship, thinking you only deserve the worst. Choso comes along, making you realize you deserve the world and more. Will your ex-boyfriend let you go without a fight? (Choso x black!reader, yandere Choso)

previous chapters

pls support me on ao3, it would mean the world to me

Choso missed you.

You had only met him one time and he fucking missed you. He missed the way you looked him directly in his eyes when you spoke, those beautiful brown eyes twinkling like the brightest star in the sky. He missed the smell of your perfume and your hair. You smelled like honey and something floral. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, you just smelled damn good.

He missed how bold and unapologetic you were. You seemed to never care if anything you said offended him. You just said it, without a care in the world. He also missed how you would roll your eyes when he made a terrible joke, very obviously just trying to cover up the fact that you liked it.

He missed how your beautiful brown skin shone with the strobing lights in the club and when the bright light would get into your eyes, you would frown and suck your teeth. He loved when you looked him in his eyes with very obvious attraction in those beautiful brown orbs. You wore your emotions on your sleeve and he loved it.

He knew you were attracted to him. He knew by the way you were rubbing your ass on him the entire night, dangerously close to his very hard cock. You thought you were being slick with the way you were eye fucking him the entire night, but he knew. He had to be a gentleman, though.

Choso wanted nothing more than to take you home and fuck you senseless, but he had better plans for you. You weren’t just going to be someone he banged occasionally and tossed to the side when he got bored of you. He had plenty of those. He didn’t want to sound cocky, but there were many women who threw themselves at him that he entertained every now and then when he really needed to get his nut off. But they were women he simply just fucked. He would put their faces into the pillow as he plowed them from behind or would close his eyes when the woman insisted on being fucked missionary. He hated that shit. It was way too intimate for some random chick he met on a dating app.

He was saving that for you. He didn’t want to just fuck you, he wanted to learn every part of your body. He wanted to know every curve, every mole, every stretch mark, and memorize them by heart. He wanted to know what you liked and didn’t like, what made you squirm and what made you cry from pleasure.

So that’s what he was going to do. He had been waiting entirely too long.

That night at the club wasn’t the first time he’d seen you. It was just the first time he’d met you. For a woman so intelligent, you weren't very aware of your surroundings. You walked around this world without a care, your nose always in your phone or headphones blasting in your ear as you walked down the busy streets of the city. Choso had known your everyday schedule for months now. He knew your name, all your social media accounts, where you liked to get food, where you shopped, where you worked, etc.

It was way too easy.

Nanami was partially to blame. He was the one who let your name slip during a night of drinks as he was talking about what his wife and her friend were up to. Choso’s posture corrected, and his eyes were now on the man who was currently spilling the beans about how the two of you were at your biweekly nail appointment. Noted. Choso remembers Nanami being particularly drunk that night, whining about not being able to have dinner with his wife or something.

Whatever.

Choso didn’t care about that. He was just fucking obssessed with you.

It all started when you showed up to his workplace with Andrea, who was dropping off her husband’s lunch. Choso was heading down to get lunch at his favorite burger spot when you were there on the sidelines, looking bored as your friend was giggling like a teenage girl at something her husband said. The office lobby was busy during this time of day, with most people taking their lunch breaks at this time, so Choso could get a closer look at you without being noticed.

Your hair was down in tight coils, shiny, moisturized, and beautiful. You had on the cutest yellow sun dress that made your ass look like a perfect peach and your brown skin was glowing. You were looking around the empty lobby with a scowl on your face, indicating you obviously did not want to be there. So fucking pretty and so damn unaware. As if the sight couldn’t get any better, the clouds opened up and the sun began to shine directly on you. You looked like an angel, his angel. Your reaction to the sun's rays was so adorable, your face scrunched up in the most dramatic way possible, your full, glossed lips turned into a bigger frown and you put your perfectly manicured hand over your face to block the sun. He wished he could’ve gotten a photo of that moment, it was something he had thought about for a long time after.

He knew from that moment on, you were going to be his. No matter how long it took or how hard it would be, you were going to be his girlfriend, his wife, the mother of his children. Nobody was going to get in the way of that, not even that shit-for-brains boyfriend you had. In all honesty, when Choso found out you had a boyfriend, he didn’t care, not even in the slightest. He had no problem sliding in on you and making his move. He had some morals, but when it came to you, morals be damned.

The only problem was, you seemed to be completely in love with this dude. Your entire Instagram feed was full of photos of the two of you, looking all fake happy and shit. It made Choso sick, literally. Seeing photos of you two, where you were obviously enamored with this guy, while he barely even looked like he wanted to be there made his stomach hurt. For fuck’s sake, he didn’t even comment on any of the photos. To make matters worse, when Choso looked at your ex-boyfriend’s page, you were nowhere to be found. If you were Choso’s, no, when you are Choso’s, he’ll let the entire world know you’re his woman. There would be no doubt to anyone that you belonged to him and he belonged to you. As Choso scrolled further down Suguru’s account, all that was posted were photos of himself and random photos of the moon.

What a loser.

Choso’s heart ached for you. You deserved so much better. You deserved to be loved, spoiled, and fucking worshipped. And he was going to be the man to give you all of that and more. He would make sure you never longed for anything, never questioned where the two of you stood, and never felt unwanted.

One day, while doing his daily social media stalk on you, all of your photos with Suguru were gone. All that remained were photos of yourself which Choso had stared at and analyzed for at least ten minutes per photo, some with Andrea, and some with what seemed to be old friends from college. You were also posting very obvious thirst traps on your Instagram story he used a burner account to keep tabs on you seeming to let everyone know you were back on the market again. This made Choso’s blood boil thinking about the possibility of you posting these videos and photos of yourself, looking absolutely gorgeous, for other men.

You belonged to him. No one else.

He wanted to take your phone and remove every male follower you had, knowing they were all scrambling in your DMs, begging for your attention. You didn’t seem like the type to entertain every guy you came across, but still, the thought of other men pining for you, yearning for you, made him absolutely irate. That was okay, though, in the end, Choso knew he would win the race. He wasn’t afraid of competition, he was just pissed that other men longed for you the same way he did.

The thought of you finally being single made Choso’s heart strings pull. He could finally start making his move. He wasn’t sure how he was going to go about it, but he knew Nanami had to be involved. He was your closest point of contact anyways.

Now, Choso liked Nanami. It wasn’t like he was using him, he was just warming up to the man a little more so he could meet you, is all. The two of them had hung out plenty of times after hours, drinking with other coworkers. They weren’t close, but they’d had multiple conversations, quickly learning they had a few common interests. Choso decided he was going to “subtly” ask Nanami about you in a way that didn’t seem creepy, but it wasn’t going to be easy. How would he ask about you in a way that didn’t seem weird? He wasn’t even supposed to know your name for fuck’s sake.

Then one day, he struck the jackpot. Another night of drinks with his coworkers led to Nanami talking about his wife again (surprise, surprise,) and how she was currently upset because her best friend was heartbroken. He said something about how you had been cheated on and Choso has to physically restrain himself from slamming his fists on the bar. He hated the thought of you broken and sad, probably crying because of that asshole that didn’t deserve you in the first place. Choso had already way too many rounds of shots, and his emotions were hard to keep in check at the moment. He had to play it cool, though. He couldn’t show much he cared about you, already.

So, Choso calmed his breathing and fixed the face of disgust he knew he was sporting. His eyes snapped up to the man speaking and was now fully attentive as Nanami began talking about how you needed to get out the house and discover someone new, how it would be the only way for her to realize there were other fish in the sea. This was the perfect time, he had to slide in before the conversation topic inevitably changed again.

“I’ll help.” Choso had said, way too eagerly. He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself down. “With your wife’s friend, I mean. I’ve been itching to get out of the house this weekend.” He played it off, bringing his demeanor back to the usual disinterest everyone had gotten used to.

Nanami’s ears perked up at that, not suspecting a thing. “That would be great, actually. You seem like her type.” Choso had to bite his tongue. He was hoping he wasn’t being compared to your sorry excuse for an ex-boyfriend. He was absolutely nothing like that cheating, good-for-nothing jackass. Nanami pulled out his phone and began scrolling. “Would you like to see a photo of her?”

Choso almost laughed. He knew exactly what you looked like. He could probably draw you from memory at this point. He had to sell it, though. “Sure, I probably should have asked that before I offered myself up.” He gave a fake chuckle, playing the part all too well.

Nanami laughed along with him and showed a photo of you he had never seen. It was a picture of you with his wife. “She’s this one right here.” He pointed to you and Choso smiled as he saw you in the flick with a flour covered apron, obviously failing at attempting to bake something. Your hair was in a large curly fro’, not a hair out of place, and there was a small speck of white flour on the brown skin of your cheek. You had a huge, goofy smile on your face, eyes half closed and you were giving the camera a peace sign. You were so fucking pretty. So perfect. Made just for him.

Nanami snapped him out of his thoughts.“Don’t get any ideas about the other pretty lady. She’s mine!” He joked and Choso gave another fake laugh. He wouldn’t have to worry about that. There was no one in the world who was more gorgeous than you.

“No worries, my man. My eyes are only on the other woman. She’s absolutely stunning.” Choso said, all truth and adoration in his words. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

Nanami smiled and put his phone away, then proceeded to tell Choso all about you, your name, your age, and parts of your “complex” personality, as he put it all things he already knew about you.

That was how Choso set up your first meeting together. The two of you were having an amazing time together that night. He was so infatuated by you, the way you spoke with such authority and confidence intrigued him. Even the way you didn’t care for him the first few minutes of your meeting, quickly scrambling to the bathroom quickly after you met. You came back with some BS lie about how your friend was too drunk, and while Choso agreed that Andrea was off her ass, he knew it was because you were disinterested in him. All good though, Choso had time. He would chase you forever, if he had to. It wasn’t ideal, but he would do it for you, you were worth it.

You didn’t seem like you were trying to impress him in any way, you were just being yourself and he was obsessed with it. Obsessed with you. You were funnier than he expected, throwing joke after joke at him the entire night. You kept him laughing the entire, which said a lot, considering Choso rarely smiled, let alone laughed. He noticed the flirty jabs you were throwing at him and how touchy you were being. At some point, you even climbed in his lap, which threw him for a surprise. He welcomed it, struggling to keep his cool at the fact that you were mere inches from his already hard and aching cock.

You looked so sexy that night, wearing that tight red dress that made your ass pop and your hair up, showing all your beautiful features. His eyes instantly flickered to your plump lips that were painted with a clear gloss that Choso wanted to ruin so badly, but he couldn’t do that just yet. He had to take it slow with you. He couldn’t mess this up, he had waited too long and been too patient. He was going to claim what was his, soon enough. He could ruin your lip gloss another day. He imagined your soft, plush, gloss covered lips wrapped tightly around his thick hard cock, on your knees, with dark teary-eyes looking up at him. He wanted nothing more than to fuck your pretty face and hear gags from that pretty little throat of yours.

He could wait, though. He had to be patient, he kept reminding himself.

You were so beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. Inside and out. There was nothing more that Choso wanted to do other than worship you. Worship you like the Goddess you were. You deserved more than what life had thrown at you, and he was going to show you what you deserved and more.

Your night was cut short and Choso was furious. Not with you, of course. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the minute you left had to be because you were thinking about your ex. Choso hadn’t said anything weird or off putting, he was perfectly sober despite the few shots he downed (Thank God for his high tolerance.) He was just glad you made it home safe and sound, according to Andrea. He knew you were okay as days passed from the amount of social media posts you were making, but he hadn’t seen you in the flesh for a few weeks now, being too busy with work trips and paperwork to have any sort of free time. His desire to see you was becoming overwhelming, so he decided to stop letting fate take the wheel and take matters into his own hands.

Choso knew you often frequented a small cafe that was conveniently down the street from his job. He learned this fact from your Instagram story posts. You always posted whenever you got yourself a way-too-sugary drink or treat, with the location attached in sticker form. Silly girl. Someone could track you down like a hound dog. You must be more careful.

It was another day at the office and Choso purposely didn’t pack a lunch or drink any caffeine today. He took his lunch break early, knowing the times you frequented the cafe, and set foot to conveniently “bump into you.” He was ready to see you again and make his move.

When he arrived at the quaint little cafe, he didn’t locate you. He stopped to take in the scenery and was impressed. It was a small coffee shop with a large selection of bakery items. It smelled like freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon. Maybe he would make this his new regular place too. After all, he would see you more frequently if he came more often. When he reached the counter, he ordered a black coffee with a shot of espresso, and a couple bakery items. A cheese danish and a chocolate croissant. He would choose one and take one home to his teenage brother, Yuji, who was living with him until he went off to University in a few months.

When he wasn’t focused on your wellbeing stalking you, Choso worked hard, including taking all the overtime he could get, so he could afford to put his baby brother through college and live comfortably. He hit that goal long ago, thanks to his incredibly high paying job, and was now a homeowner with a hefty savings and disposable income. He worked hard his entire life raising his three younger brothers, even when their parents were still in the picture. He put one through college with the help of scholarships, while the other went straight into the workforce like Choso. They were both well off now and the last one to leave the nest soon was Yuji. Choso was proud of all of his brothers, but he was sad. He spent his entire life taking care of them, and now they were going to be off in the world on their own.

Yuji had always teased his eldest brother about how he’s never had a serious relationship and while that was true, it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He didn’t have relationships for two reasons: one, he was too busy taking care of his bratty younger brothers, two, nobody truly interested him. As stated before, he just entertained women when he wanted a quick fuck, he didn’t really care for the whole feelings and dating bullshit. That was until you, of course. He had never been so obsessed with wanting to know someone until the day you stepped foot in his workplace.

After he paid for his items, he sat down and waited for his name to be called out. He pulled out his phone and began to scroll on random apps, waiting for you with anticipation. It had felt like forever since he’d seen you last, and it was driving him crazy.

The cafe’s front door opened with the ring of a bell and Choso’s head snapped to the front and was pleased to see you. Right on time.

His jaw dropped as he took you in. So fucking pretty. Your hair was different this time. It was in small knotless braids that reached your ass, which looked fantastic in those jeans, he couldn’t help but notice. You had on your signature clear lip gloss, and your outfit consisted of a thin, low cut, long sleeved, black t-shirt that clung to your skin perfectly, and fitted bootcut jeans, paired black and white sneakers. Your ears had diamonds in them, like the ones he sported himself. You had on a pair of oversized glasses that he wasn’t sure were prescription or not, but nevertheless, you still looked beautiful.

Choso’s dick stiffened at the sight of you, and he took a few seconds to think about everything under the sun that would turn him off so that his raging boner would go down. Just as his dick decided to go to sleep, his name was called from the barista, items in hand.

He watched as your head lifted from your phone that you were currently engrossed in and turned to search for him. Your eyes were filled with confusion until they landed on his. Choso grabbed his items from the barista, his eyes never leaving yours until he reached you, waiting in line.

“Hey…” You said, awkwardly, darting your eyes from Choso to the wall behind him.

So fucking cute.

“Hey, gorgeous. It’s been a while.” He said, looking down at you with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah…” You said, in that exact same tone as before, nervous. Choso’s heart strings tugged, he didn’t want you to feel nervous around him, he wanted you to feel comfortable. The line moved until the two of you were at the front counter together.

He watched as you ordered a caramel iced latte, the same one you always posted on your social media, and a blueberry muffin. When you finished ordering, you pulled out your wallet and before you could place your card in the machine, he whipped out his cellphone and quickly mobile paid for your order.

“Hey!” You stared at him, an annoyed look crossing your features. Choso watched as your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your tits, pushing them up, making them unintentionally squeeze together. Fuck. “I could’ve paid. It’s my stuff.” You snapped him out of his thoughts as he ignored you and turned to lead you to the table he was sitting at before you walked in. He placed his things down and turned to face you, still with that adorable scowl on your face.

“I don’t care.” Choso smirked down at you and you somehow gave a deeper scowl. “I wanted to pay for it, so I did.” You raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed, which he returned mockingly, enjoying seeing you riled up. He would buy you the entire world if you wanted him to, coffee and a muffin was nothing.

You were still squinting at him, saying nothing and he was still smirking, looking you in your dark eyes, not going to crack.

You seemed to give up with an eyeroll and Choso grinned at you, gesturing for you to take a seat in the booth as he sat in the chair across from it. You sat down with a huff. “Don’t expect me to say thank you.” You smirked at him sarcastically and he laughed.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms with a smirk on his face and couldn’t help but notice when you checked out his biceps flexing through his white shirt. Your eyes snapped back up to his quickly, noticing you were staring, just as the barista called your name. He observed the look on your face, knowing you had been caught checking him out and almost laughed. You didn’t have to hide the fact that you were eyeing him. He already knew you were attracted to him.

Choso tried to get up when you put your hand up and stood up quickly. “I can at least get my own coffee, Choso. Thank you.” He couldn’t help but hear the sarcasm in your voice as a grin spread on his face. You basically sped to grab your drink, being back within ten seconds.

You settled back into your seat and seemed to immediately start an inquisition on him. “So, what are you doing here? I’ve never seen you in here before. I’m here basically every day.” Oh, he knows. Your beautifully manicured hands were opening the wrapper to your pastry. Clear with mustard yellow tips. He watched as you pulled out the blueberry muffin and brought it to your plush, gloss covered lips. You expertly guided the muffin from your lips, careful not to ruin your perfectly painted lips.

Your eyes snapped back to his, obviously waiting for his answer. Choso quickly cleared his throat, trying to hide the fact that he was staring. “I was tired, basically falling asleep at my desk. I needed some caffeine.” He shrugged, lying easily and playing off the fact that he was distracted by your effortless beauty. He couldn’t let you know he knew you had been coming here everyday for months for your daily fix and just showed, knowing you would be here. He didn’t think you would take that too well.

“Oh, that’s right. You and Nanami don’t work too far from here, right?” You questioned him, curiosity in those pretty eyes.

He simply nodded and watched as you took a sip of your iced latte and moaned in delight. His heart skipped a beat and his dick stiffened again at that. He couldn’t wait to get you into bed so he could have you screaming his…

You cut off his train of thought and he silently thanked the Lord. He couldn’t keep getting distracted by the dirty thoughts you brought to him just by doing normal things like eating. He had to get this sexual frustration out, and quickly. “So, I wanted to apologize for leaving you hanging a few weeks ago. I was in a really bad place and was very overwhelmed that night. There’s no excuse for leaving you hanging like that.” Your face softened and your voice was laced with honesty. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. You had nothing to apologize for, it wasn’t your fault that the Gods of fate set you up with an unfaithful loser. You didn’t need to know he knew all about your ex yet, though. He had to act clueless, even if it meant accepting an apology he didn't want or need.

You took another sip of your coffee, your eyes avoiding his as he answered you. “Don’t worry about it. At least I get to see you now, right?” Choso tilted his head at you, a closed lip smile playing on his lips.

You gave him a quick smile and a nod, before you grabbed your drink and pastry wrapper from the table. “Well.” You said, awkwardly as you stood on your feet. “I have to go to work now. I just stopped here for a quick drink.” Yeah, he knew. He knew you worked a six hour shift Monday-Friday as a receptionist at a doctor’s office. He stood as well and looked down at you into those beautiful brown eyes and long eyelashes that were currently covered by those thick glasses.

He wasn’t going to let you go without knowing when he would see you again, though. There was no way that was happening again.

“Let me take you out.” Choso said to you, confidence in his voice. He wasn’t asking and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He had waited too long for you.

You were looking up at him with a smirk playing on your lips. “Oh yeah? Where you gonna take me?”

Choso smirked back down at your adorable face, knowing he had you, no matter how hard you were trying to play hard to get. “We’re going to the fall carnival this Friday. I’ll be at your place by 8 pm.” He already had everything planned out, that’s exactly how confident he was.

“Hmm…I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule.” You said to him, voice laced with sarcasm, tapping your chin, feigning contemplation. He played along though, entertaining your shenanigans.

“Whatever you have going on won’t be more fun than going to the fair with me. Clear your schedule.” Choso responded back with a serious look on his face and authority in his voice, making sure to leave no room for argument.

It seemed to work because you were left speechless as you pulled out your cellphone to get his number. Choso triumphantly put his phone number into your phone, and you soon had your hand out after, wanting to put your phone number in his phone, as well.

Choso complied and noticed the yellow heart emoji next to your contact name when you handed it back. “That your favorite color or something?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He had an idea based on the fact that he had seen you in yellow more than once now, but wanted to be sure.

You turned on your heels before he could get an answer out of you and gave a wave behind your head. “Let’s save for the small talk for the date, Choso. Bye!” You said as you walked out the cafe, your perfect ass in view as he watched you walk away.

Yeah, it definitely was.

Chapter Four is posted

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esthellar · 1 year

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After watching the new episode of the anime and comparing it to how Twiyor's relationship evolved in the manga after that park moment, I honestly don't think Loid and Yor are in love with each other yet, but they're definitely on their way to it.

Yor truly admired Loid since the very beginning, because of the way he treats her and Anya, and because of how reliable he is. She thinks he's a handsome man, who also has a cute side of himself, and is obviously attracted by his appearance and personality, yet I wouldn't call it love, but something like a crush. Yor never felt this way for another person before (yeah, she loves Yuri and Anya, but this is a completely different case), she has zero experience in this "field" and they've known each other for a very short time, so I don't think such a strong emotion as romantic love would grow in the span of a few months, but a crush is entirely plausible.

Loid, on the other hand, has plenty of experience on honey traps and physical demonstrations of "love", but never had the chance to truly open up to another person, to just be himself instead of this persona that Twilight is, and he's starting to feel that he can do it with Yor. Even though his spy senses sometimes tell him that he should be suspicious of her, he feels guilty when he does so and, at the end of the day, he keeps trusting her and being thrown out of balance whenever he's in her presence. Yor does "things" to him that his spy trained mind still can't comprehend, because he's used to calculate and plan for everything and, for a change, she's the most unpredictable person he has ever met.

In the beginning of the story, both of them were known for being cold and distant, completely detached from the people around them, but now they have each other (and Anya) and it all feels so new, that it's probably very overwhelming. So they're slowly getting closer, relying on one another, and their relationship is starting to bloom, even though it's still very incipient.

In my opinion, the first one to actually fall in love with the other, will be Yor. Like I said before, it already looks like she has a crush on him (and that's one of the reasons why she was so desperate about losing him – and, consequently, their family – to Fiona), so I think this will naturally develop into a stronger feeling as the time passes, but she'll probably keep brushing it off, thinking that it's just her growing admiration for him messing with her heart, and she won't realize it until some major event happens in the story (like Loid getting very injured, for example).

But if Yor will fall first, Loid will fall harder and he'll realize it faster, being the overthinker that he is. He already showed in many instances that he's letting his true feelings seep out from beneath his calculated actions (as Fiona herself noticed, when she went to their house), that he misses Yor when she's absent, that he worries about her well-being (all for the mission! *coughs*), and that he's growing attached to his family, but since Yor has already rejected his "romantic advances", he'll probably think that she doesn't want anything with him and will try to supress his feelings for her as best as he can (with no success, because he'll eventually cave in and admit that he's irremediably in love with her).

I think Twiyor still has a loooong way to go, but this ship will sail, no matter what. I honestly can't picture another ending for them besides the one in wich they fall in love with each other and their fake family becomes a real one (unless Endo decides to take a sad route at the end of this journey, but I don't even want to think about it... ☠️).

#twiyor #loidyor #spy family #spy x family #loid forger #yor briar #yor forger #sxf #anya forger #loid x yor

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i-like-cats-and-stars36 · 7 months

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I made a shellshocked bad future fanchild!

Meet Rio Dai Hamato-Morales! Or Rio Dai Morales.

Why are you seeing two version of her on this post? Well, the one with the Prowler jacket is the version of her if she was raised by shellcrime instead of shellshocked.

Soooo, some general lore about her:

-Rio was born through a mystic accident while Miles and Mikey were practicing mystics together.

-They were very overwhelmed by a eighteen-months-old baby suddenly appearing in their arms, but quickly accepted her as their daughter.

-Being born through mystics, she is not entirely human and posesses a plethora of mystic abilities that used to go haywire when she was small a lot.

Think of Baby Rio suddenly going invisible and everyone freaking out because they can't see her anymore.

Or it getting too cold in the apocalypse and Rio straight up using those turtle DNA parts to hibernate.

-So as soon as she was old enough, Mikey started giving her mystic training, so she can learn to control her mystics better.

-Taking an example in Splinter, Mikey always tries to make the lessons fun for her and it quickly becomes their main bonding time since Mikey can be quite busy through being one of the resistance's strongest fighters.

-Through that training, Rio herself quickly becomes a powerhouse in the resistance.

-Her main attack are flaming mystic webs.

-Some of her other abilities include: invisibility, a strong spidey-sense (she also gets a lot of visions) and mystic healing.

-Personality-wise: She is sweet, fiercely optimistic and quite expressive and emotional, but also tends to be reckless and impulsive. (It's the ADHD.)

-She feels very strongly her emotions and wants to help the resistance and protect her loved ones with all her might.

-Still, it's the apocalypse and Rio knows that every mission could be the last of someone, so that gives her plenty of anxiety as well as the thought of not being strong enough to save them if she could.

-The death of Miles hits her hard and is the final push for her to go on the frontlines and fight the Krang head-on. It's why you see a lot of Miles imagery in her costume.

-On a lighter note, Casey Jr. is her favorite cousin.

-Her favorite uncle/aunt is Raph (It's April, but we can't tell Raph that, he would cry).

-She would like sour candy if that were a thing in the apocalypse.

-She is pretty close with her abuelita Rio.

-If Rio could choose a job other than resistance fighter, she would become a nurse like her grandmother she was named after.

Now, about some differences in shellshocked! Rio and shellcrime! Rio!

-Shellshocked!Rio's full name is Rio Dai Hamato-Morales while shellcrime!Rio's full name is Rio Dai Morales because I headcanon that 42! Mikey was raised by Draxum and therefore doesn't have a sttong connection with the Hamato name.

-Shellcrime! Rio hung out a lot in Donnie's lab when she was younger because Miles G helped Donnie run resistance tech (pushing Miles G & Donnie friendship here) and she learned a lot about tech there. Don't get me wrong, she's still a badass mystic warrior but she can also program a computer.

-Shellcrime! Rio was a lot more sheltered and trained as a child because Miles G was very anxious about her getting hurt in actual fight. It lead to a bit tension when she got older, but Miles G died before they could ever find a solution and Rio got to fight at the frontlines.

-Shellcrime!Rio doesn't posess Spidey-sense, mystic webs or invisibility and instead she fights with mystic lightning.

So that's all I have for now! I probably forgot some stuff, but we can talk about that another time!

I hope you like Rio and feel free to add your own headcanons here, I'd love hearing about them!

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

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VIII ║ Concentric

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

{ << Part 7: Contrary | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: You and Dieter come full circle.

Warnings: Shenanigans, fighting, drinking, swearing, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, safe unprotected sex (be smart kids!), multiple orgasms (f and m), cumshot, cum play, size kink, light spanks, yearning, mentions of food, fluff, feelings, no use of Y/N

Word count: 11.5k (it's only fitting that we break the word count record on the last chapter!)

Note: October 2013. That was the last time I finished a WIP, and that one took me 6.5 years. Years, I kid you not. So please forgive me for being extremely melodramatic and emotional about finishing Consent in just over 5 months.

I thought I was done with fanfiction and writing, and I've never been happier to be proven wrong. I wouldn't have believed it if you told me the next series I'd complete would be about a man called Dieter Bravo. You've all been the most incredibly supportive readers, and I'm so lucky to count many of you as friends. I don't know what I've done to deserve you. Thank you, thank you, thank you - this is for all of my fellow Dieter Bravo hoes (affectionate) ❤️

I had a lot of help for this chapter. To avoid any spoilers, I will be thanking everyone at the end of this chapter.

There’s always a jarring sense of disconnect when you land in a country you’ve never been to before. Even more so after a red-eye, a connecting flight you almost missed and a long drive from the airport to the little seaside town you’ve seen so much of in Ana’s stories.

It doesn’t help that you’ve been wide-eyed the entire journey, your head too loud to switch off.

The sleep deprivation makes it doubly surreal to see the mountains, the Tyrrhenian Sea and picture-perfect towns zoom past the car window. To feel the sunshine on your face as your taxi eases around hairpin turns on the coastal roads, then down narrow streets - barely squeezing past the summer crowds - as your destination draws close.

The car purrs to a halt in front of a charming pink-orange house that looks like something straight out of Under The Tuscan Sun, where Ana is waiting impatiently. She nearly rips off the door handle and throws her arms around you as soon as you clamber out of the car.

‘I missed you!’ you mumble into her hair.

‘You too, bitch!’ she squeals, dragging your suitcase off the sidewalk. ‘Let’s get you unpacked and showered. We’re going on a cast and crew sunset cruise in a couple of hours, so you can finally meet Richard Linklater. I hope you brought something pretty to wear!’

You didn’t pack much summer attire with you to Calgary, but you did bring your trusty yellow dress from that night, which feels like a lifetime ago - if not from another one entirely. The shower perks you up somewhat - at least you don’t smell like an economy plane cabin anymore. You’re putting on your makeup in a futile attempt to cover up the dark circles under your eyes when Ana comes back to the apartment.

She hands you an espresso and a cannoli, which you take gratefully. ‘Thank you so much. My biological clock is so confused, I don’t know when I last ate.’

‘Don’t worry, hon, there will be plenty of food and drink on the boat,’ says Ana. Eyeing you over critically, she runs a makeup brush or two over your cheekbones, and dabs some colour onto your lips. ‘You look great. Shall we?’

The town is absolutely darling, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not actually dreaming this. The weathered cobblestones are slippery beneath your leather sandals as you trail behind Ana. Your tummy rumbles at the smell of sweet tomatoes and baking bread, and you can’t help but run a hand over beautiful summer fruits as you walk by stalls on street corners, brimming with produce. Exuberant Italian conversation surrounds you, and you lose yourself in words that you don’t understand.

Your breath catches when you round a corner and the blue sea comes into view, the fresh scent of salt and summer in the air. With her arm hooked through yours, Ana leads you across the water front, pointing out her favourite restaurants and watering holes, clearly having settled well into her workplace these past months. You’re distracted when you spot a familiar low wall, recognising it as where Dieter and Constance posed for one of their many Instagram stories.

Distracted, you nearly walk into Ana when she stops abruptly in front of an extravagant-looking yacht, spread over two levels, her arms outstretched in a flourish. ‘Ta-da! The perks of the movie being financed by a rich local guy - free boat trip every weekend!’

‘Fancy,’ you remark, suddenly nervous that you’re underdressed for the occasion.

‘He’s newly divorced too,’ she adds with a wink. ‘And stop fussing, you look fantastic. Come on, I see Richard - I’ll introduce you!’

The boat is fairly full, people bustling about with drinks and canapes in hand. Despite being jetlagged and incredibly starstruck, you manage to somewhat hold it together when Ana introduces you to your favourite director. She offers to get you a cold drink and leaves you to chatter with him. You talk about your favourite movies of his, his career, and a bit of yours, before someone shows up at his elbow to whisk him away. You shake his hand and thank him for his time, and he gives you his business card before he takes his leave.

The boat pulled away from the port while you weren’t looking, sailing smoothly towards the calm, open sea. You glance about, trying to look nonchalant and to keep your breathing under control. Now that you’ve met your hero, you have to contend with the fact that you came to Italy for something else.

Someone else.

A voice catches your ear. Familiar and gruff, drawling in a bored monotone.

There’s no dramatic swell of music in your ears, or the fading of the world until it’s just the two of you and no one else. It’s almost anti-climatic, really.

You tilt your face towards the upper deck - and there he is.

One of his signature earth-tone t-shirts (you know he has more than one) hangs comfortably off his broad shoulders, sunglasses hooked at the neck, dragging the ragged neckline low. The sea breeze ruffles his curls, longer than they were on Resurgence, the sun bringing out undertones of gold. He’s chatting to a man - or rather, being chatted at - leaning his weight on his elbows on the bannister, scratching at his beard, wearing his usual air of indifference.

One look and the clocks turn. It takes you right back. You remember exactly what it’s like to be that close to him, to be wrapped up in the broadness of him - the feeling of his body warmth, how soft his t-shirt is when you rest your cheek on his chest.

You haven’t moved a muscle, but somehow, his head turns just a fraction, and he finds you.

If not for the physical distance between you, you’d be convinced that he’s reached inside you and squeezed your heart with the whole of his hand until it stopped pumping, blood roaring inside your ears with nowhere to go. His stare - bewilderment and awe and hunger - pins you to the spot.

And you know. You just do.

They are the same eyes you woke up to so many mornings. First thing when consciousness seeps in and you blink away the last remnants of the night before, his arms around you or yours around him. Through thick lashes and peeking from under heavy eyelids, syrupy-slow with sleep as they sweep over the contours of your profile, lips curling into a warm smile.

Yours.

He’s long stopped listening to the man, and even from where you are, you see him grip the wooden railing tight, disturbing his rings, the same ones he always wears.

Then she appears.

An Aperol Spritz in each hand and a small plate of canapes balanced awkwardly on the sides of her wrists, she nudges his side hurriedly with her elbow, her platonic tone carrying despite the rush of the sea. ‘Oi! Grab your drink, dude. Come on - it’s slipping!’

The naked panic on his face only reaffirms what your intuition tells you.

Ana finally returns to you with chilled champagne, grumbling about the crowds at the bar. Taking a glass, you turn to her and nod towards the upper deck. ‘So - Dieter and Constance.’

‘What about them?’ she asks innocently, taking a big gulp of bubbly.

You watch as Dieter furiously whispers into Constance’s ear. Her eyes widen in obvious excitement, darting everywhere until they settle on you for the briefest second before she schools in her features. You hear Dieter hiss, ‘Don’t be so freaking obvious, Jesus Christ.’

You fight the urge to giggle - and you never giggle. An Oscar winner and an Olivier nominee walk into a china shop and they’re about as subtle as two bulls after a red flag.

You turn to Ana and ask conversationally, ‘They’re not really together, are they?’

She shrugs, poker face firmly on. ‘Don’t know what you mean, hon.’

‘Ana,’ you put on a serious tone.

Never one to stand her ground under pressure, she surrenders far too easily. ‘Fine, they’re not! Before you yell at me, it was all Dieter’s idea. And I’m sorry it upset you, but I’m not sorry that it worked! I’m not going to apologise for helping him get you back.’

The words tumble out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘He wants me back?’

It’s beyond strange to acknowledge aloud what’s between you and him for the first time. You’ve never even articulated it to yourself.

Ana beams, bumping shoulders with you. ‘You better believe it, hon.’

Your head feels like it’s filling up with helium and any second, you’ll be lifted off the wooden deck. You’re so fucking confused - should you be angry that he basically tricked you into coming here? Should you be elated that he went to such lengths to get you here?

There are no answers, but there’s booze. Lots of it.

So you bring the glass of champagne to your lips and tip your head back, draining the flute until there’s nothing left.

‘Whoa! What are you doing?’ squeaks Ana as you plant the empty glass on a cocktail table nailed to the deck.

Crossing your arms, you say, ‘You’re right, his little ploy worked. But if he thinks he can mess with me without paying for it, he’s got another thing coming.’

‘For fuck’s sake, can’t you two just talk to each other like normal people for once?’

‘Ana, I was miserable! For weeks!’

‘Girl, I’m gonna give it to you straight. Even if he didn’t pull this Constance bullshit, you would’ve been miserable anyway because you broke up with him!’ She clasps her palms together in a desperate prayer. ‘I’m begging you, can you two please just make up!’

You hold out stubbornly. ‘Not until I’ve messed with his head at least a little bit.’

‘This is not what I signed up for,’ Ana grumbles.

You laugh and drape an arm over her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. ‘It’ll be fun. I promise. I flew all the way here, I deserve a little restitution.’

She whines. ‘Hon, come on, what am I going to tell Dieter?’

You hold up a stern finger. ‘Nothing. You can’t tell him that I know, you owe me as much. I also need you to distract him while I talk to Constance.’

She frowns. ‘Constance? What are you planning?’

You wink and turn to leave without giving her an answer.

Ana watches you go with a long-suffering sigh. She’s taking a deep glug of champagne when Dieter ambushes her, startling her into a coughing fit.

His usual air of chaos has intensified exponentially, she can almost feel it physically vibrate off of him. He spills Aperol everywhere when he asks with his hands. ‘What the fuck, Ana?’

‘What?’ she shoots back defensively.

‘Why didn’t you tell me she was coming? Are you double crossing me?’

‘Double cross - what does that even mean in this context?’

Dieter’s not interested in her answer though. His eyes are darting about, looking for you. ‘What’s she doing here? Did our plan work or did you tell her?’

Technically, you found out on your own, so Ana is comfortable lying through her teeth. ‘I didn’t! She said she came to see me and to meet Richard, that’s it.’

He’s talking to himself now more than anything. ‘She must suspect something, but I don’t think she knows about the whole set-up.’ Pausing, he pokes her in the side in a warning. ‘You can’t tell her that you know I think she knows.’

Ana’s eyes nearly roll behind her skull in exasperation. ‘Couldn’t if I wanted to. Here’s a bright idea - why don’t you go talk to her?’

Dieter’s frown deepens as his determination hardens. ‘No, fuck that. She broke up with me. I’m not going to be the one giving in.’

Ana waves in a frenzy to get someone’s attention to refill her empty glass, letting out a cry of relief when a server starts making their way over. ‘What do you mean by not giving in?’

Dieter swigs his glass clean and sticks it out to the server to fill it up. ‘Keep doing what Constance and I were doing. Until she cracks.’

‘Just so we’re on the same page, this entire weekend, you’re going to keep pretending to date Constance and throw it in her face, instead of just making up? What could possibly go wrong?’

‘Way to be supportive, Ana.’

She gives him dead eyes in response. If only Pete was here to back her up. Speaking of whom - he’s really missing out big time. She’ll have to call him to fill him in tonight.

Dieter half-turns to leave, but something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. He does a double take, craning his whole body forward and squinting dramatically to take a better look.

‘Ana, why the fuck is my girlfriend talking to my fake girlfriend?’

Constance is not hard to find, with her willowy figure and luscious curls billowing in the wind. She seems to have recovered her composure from when she first spotted you, and when your gazes meet on your approach, they give nothing away.

‘Hi Constance,’ you say casually in greeting.

She plays it cool with a polite smile. ‘Hi there. Have we met?’

‘I know you know who I am, Constance.’

She blinks her doe eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, I really don’t think I do.’

You shuffle in closer and say under your breath, just in case someone overhears. ‘I know you were in it with Dieter - his little plan to get me jealous. Ana told me.’

The mask melts so quickly that you can’t help but find it endearing. Dragging you by the elbow into the privacy of the cabin, a sincere crease in her brow, she confesses, ‘About that, I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t want to do it at first, I swear. But he’s so smitten with you and he was just about ready to try anything to get you back -’

You shush her and grab her free hand. Both of you have just enough alcohol in your systems to feel the pull of the universal, sisterly bond between drunk women, despite having only met thirty seconds ago. You reassure her, ‘No, please don’t apologise. I’m not angry - well, a tiny bit mad at him for messing with me, but not at you.’

‘But I feel so bad,’ insists Constance. ‘You must have felt strongly enough to have flown all this way. Please, if there’s anything I can do.’

‘Listen, if you want to make it up to me - you could do me a favour.’

Constance nods solemnly. ‘Anything.’

You grin mischievously. ‘Will you help me get back at Dieter?’

Dieter mopes in his corner on the upper deck, growling and hissing at anyone who dares approach, drowning himself in Aperol Spritz. He doesn’t particularly like that stuff, but when in Rome and all that shit.

From his perch, he can see and hear you laughing loudly at something Constance says to you, champagne in hand, having a whale of a time.

There’s no two ways around it. His plan failed. Ana’s right. You came to see your friend, not him. If you did and knowing you, you’d be doing something to get his attention. You’d be trying to make him jealous. You’d be mad, spitting flame and venom.

You’re giving him nothing. You haven’t even deigned to glance his way after you locked eyes for that brief moment.

But… you’re wearing that dress. Surely you haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you showed up in his trailer wearing that -

Another peal of laughter pulls him from his thoughts. He slurps on the straw until it gurgles at the empty bottom of his glass.

You didn’t expect to like Constance. It turns out she grew up in the same county as you, just a few towns over, you even share a few distant mutual acquaintances. You chit-chat about everything - your schools, the local beaches, working with Dieter.

The boat has anchored in the middle of the sea for the sunset, and you’re sitting on the deck at the back with your feet dangling in the cool water, sandals by your side. You marvel at the view - the beauty of this place is unreal. Village houses hug the rugged shoreline, stacked one on top of the other in gravity-defying fashion up the steep cliffside, dramatic mountains rising above behind the town. The setting sun throws a rose gold tint over the valley, the sky burning orange.

Even if you don’t go away with what you came for, this could be enough.

Constance giggles drunkenly, looking over your shoulder. ‘He’s watching you again. You’ve really riled him up.’

You resist the very great temptation to take a peek. But you know Dieter - the longer you hold out, the better the payoff later.

There’s a scrape of footsteps and Ana appears with her phone out. ‘Selfie time, bitches!’

‘How’s Dieter?’ asks Constance, shuffling over to make space for Ana.

She sighs. ‘So confused. When will you put him out of his misery, hon?’

You shrug. ‘He can hold out a little longer. Constance, remember, you have to keep up the whole charade for maximum effect, ok?’

She wrinkles her nose. ‘It would be weird doing it in front of you though.’

‘Are you a working actress or not?’ you tease.

Ana chortles, and Constance raises her glass. ‘Alright, alright, I’ll do it - for you. To new friends.’

The three of you clink glasses clumsily, bumping shoulders and cackling at everything and nothing at all.

You’ll drink to that.

When the yacht docks, spontaneous dinner plans are made, with those wanting to prolong the evening revelry wandering down the cobblestone streets to a trattoria frequented by the cast and crew.

The dozen or so of you sit at a long, rickety table under fairy lights, the plentiful food and drink illuminated by candles dripping wax as they burn low. Easy conversation, a mix of English and Italian, ebb and flow over the course of the slow dinner.

You’re sitting in the middle of the table, flanked by Ana and directly opposite Dieter, with Constance to his immediate left.

The actress keeps her promise to you, practically dousing Dieter in PDA. She’s feeding him pasta, handing you her phone to take photos of them kissing and practically sitting in his lap. He’s unresponsive, staring at you openly throughout dinner.

It takes all of your resolve to not give in to meet his eyes.

The street gets rowdier by the hour, and the group thins after dessert and limoncello is served. When an impromptu band shows up and starts playing music right next to your table, Constance tries to pull Dieter to his feet for a dance, but he’s like dead weight, pouting and somehow burrows himself deeper into his wooden chair. Unperturbed, Constance grabs Ana instead, joining the raucous crowd gathering on the sidewalk.

It’s just the two of you left at the table.

You finally let yourself look at him, finding his gaze already trained on you. You took it easy on the wine over dinner, allowing the rich food to soak up all the alcohol you had on the boat. But you still feel buzzed enough to do something bold.

Scooping a generous helping of tiramisu and bringing it to your lips, you lick the underside of the spoon, collecting the cream on your tongue, before pushing it into your mouth. Your eyes flutter close as you moan around the spoonful of smooth mascarpone and coffee-soaked biscuit.

Dieter’s jaw goes slack, and you spot the pink tip of his tongue between his parted lips, his chest rising and falling quickly. Leaning forward, you reach out and trace your index finger up the back of his hand until you reach his ring with the black gemstone. He doesn’t try to hide the shudder that runs like a current through his body.

The power you so easily wield over him is both sweet and heady. You decide to push him further, leaning your elbows on the table and drawing your shoulders together, making the neckline of your dress gape and your cleavage pop.

The way he stares is gasoline to the fire under your skin.

When you speak, he demonstrates that he still remains somewhat in possession over his faculties as he drags his gaze up, with considerable difficulty, to your face.

You wear a bright smile, and your tone is syrupy sweet. ‘You’re one lucky guy - Constance is amazing. Honestly, I think you’re perfect for each other. I’m so happy for you, Dieter.’

He echoes your words, slowly. ‘You’re… you’re happy for me?’

You blink, butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth as you answer, ‘Yes, I am. So happy for you.’

He stutters, before his words peter out. ‘But - but you were meant to be -’

‘Meant to be what?’ you prompt.

When he doesn’t reply, you give him a pat on his hand. ‘Take care of yourself, Dieter.’

He’s so stunned that he doesn’t react as he watches you go.

Dieter thinks for a second, the pasta and pizza and bread having absorbed enough alcohol from his bloodstream for him to dig deep for some clarity within himself. He re-runs your words in his head, a deep frown on his brow.

Hold the fucking phone.

He scrambles onto his feet so hard that his chair hits the pavement, and he runs after you.

He crashes through the crowds half-blind, angry Italian cursing thrown his way, until he leaves the ruckus behind. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, but by some miracle he spots yellow, and with one last push, he throws himself in front of you, wheezing and leaning heavily on one hand against the wall to block your path.

You’re staring at him in genuine concern. ‘What are you doing? Are you ok?’

Finding his voice, he opens with an apparent non-sequitur. ‘You do impulsive things when you’re mad. You know that, sweetheart?’

You brows knit in confusion. ‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

You humour him, arms crossed. He knows that you probably think he’s just drunk. ‘Ok. Like what?’

‘Like flying 6,000 miles to see me.’

‘I’m here to see Ana.’

Dieter shakes his head slowly, a smile unfolding as he begins to find his footing for the first time since you appeared out of thin air and turned his day upside down. ‘She sold me out, didn’t she? Constance too. I should’ve known they’d be on your side.’

You snort. ‘You’re talking crazy, Bravo.’

He crowds you against the wall, meeting no resistance as your back hits the stone, and he coaxes. ‘Admit it, sweetheart, and I’ll give you everything you came for. I just need to hear it from your pretty little mouth.’

You hold your tongue stubbornly, but he sees your pupils dilate and senses a shift in the crisp evening air.

He grins, finally establishing control over the situation, which sobers him up like nothing else. You’ve tortured him all day - it’s time he has some fun.

Leaning down to your ear, he growls in a register that he knows will get you wet for him. ‘Tell me you came for me, sweetheart. And then maybe - I’ll make you cum for me.’

You just about lunge at him, but he holds you in place with hands around your upper arms, crowding you, drunk on the power now that the tables have turned. He wags a condescending finger at you, tapping the tip of your nose. ‘Uh-uh-uh. You heard me, sweetheart. C’mon, four little words. You can do it.’

That does it. You bare your teeth at him, panting as you struggle in his grasp. ‘You’re such an asshole.’

Dieter makes a buzzer noise. ‘That’s four words, but not the right ones.’

‘Over my dead body,’ you spit at him.

He tuts. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, no deal. Well, I guess I better go -’

He lets go of you and spins on his heels, but he doesn’t even get to take two steps when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist and haul him around with surprising force.

He deliberately knocks into your body, hands landing on your waist and his weight holding you in place. You all but snarl at him, ‘Don’t you fucking dare walk out on me again.’

There she is, he thinks to himself, chest swelling with pride at the fire in your eyes.

He runs a finger down the side of your cheek, the gentle touch in direct conflict with the words that come out more affectionately than he intends. ‘You never make things easy, do you? You get off on making my life hell, hmm?’

Your eyes soften, but you still run your mouth brash. ‘You don’t like it easy, Bravo. You’d get bored.’

He chuckles, and leaning in to brush the tip of his nose along yours, he tries again. ‘Did you come all this way to see me, sweetheart?’

He isn’t gloating, or trying to trip you up.

You cup the side of his stubbled cheek, and you decide to let him in. ‘Of course I did, you fucking idiot -’

And then he’s kissing you.

Your hand is tightly wrapped in his as he leads you through a maze of alleyways, as if he’s worried that you would bolt. You won’t though - you’re done running.

The strain in your calves begins to make its presence felt after several flights of stone steps, the long journey earlier today kicking in as the adrenaline fades. You yawn and Dieter notices, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

‘Almost there, sweetheart,’ he promises you, dragging you against his side with a hand on your hip, taking some of your weight.

You watch from under drooping eyelids as he turns the key and opens the door to a two-storey house. A lone lamp glows in the corner of what appears like a comfortable sitting room, but you’re too tired to be curious to look around.

Dieter steers you up cool tiled steps, having helped you out of your sandals. He all but pushes you up to the bedroom, hands firm on your waist so you can focus on just putting one foot in front of the other.

The mattress is soft and welcoming as you flop down nose first, muffling your groan as you give in to the exhaustion that you’ve been putting off all day. He chuckles, rolling you onto one side of the bed.

‘Let’s get this dress off, shall we, sweetheart?’

Even in your prone state, you attempt to put on a coy smile, pushing the straps off your shoulders. ‘You know you want to.’

He chuckles, turning you over to find the zip and pulling it down. He mock admonishes you, ‘Keep it in your pants, woman.’

Dieter feels almost bashful peeling your dress off, baring skin that he hasn’t touched for too long - he has to wait a little longer for that. You never sleep in your bra, so he unhooks that too, averting his gaze, and grabs a comfortable t-shirt from the dresser.

‘Arms up, sweetheart,’ he cajoles, and you comply despite grumbling sleepily. The t-shirt slips easily over your head.

It’s a warm night, so he lets you stretch out above the duvet as he strips down to his boxers. He opens the window to let in a cool breeze to bring down the temperature in the room. It’s been baking in the sun all day.

Dieter shuffles onto the mattress behind you, no hesitation when he tucks your body under the crook of his arm. He breathes you in, nose in your hair, a deep calm settling into his bones as he feels your steady breathing. He tightens his grip on you and lets sleep claim him.

You’re not sure if it’s the church bells or the light streaming through the patio doors, but it’s a clean awakening, your eyes snapping wide open as you take in the bedroom you barely saw last night before passing out.

It’s strangely comforting to see he’s brought with him across the Atlantic the same mess that you became so used to. Inside-out t-shirts and shorts draped on chairs and flung carelessly onto random spots on the floor, where they’ve stayed. A glass of water half empty on his bedside table, his reading glasses and a couple of rings next to it. One slipper at the foot of the bed, the other nowhere to be seen.

You look down at the t-shirt you’re wearing. It’s one that you often borrowed from him for bed, and it makes you smile.

Following the smell of fresh coffee and bread, you pad quietly downstairs, admiring the rustic living space flooded in morning light, the open patio doors leading to a lush garden, letting in a soothing draft.

Dieter is perched on a bar stool at the counter in the open kitchen, already dressed for the day. He looks up from his phone when you approach, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he beams at you, and he breathes out something like relief when you slot into the V of his thighs without any trepidation.

‘What’s this? Dieter Bravo out of bed and dressed before,’ you pause and squint at the clock. ‘Ten in the morning?’

‘Not just that,’ he gestures at the breakfast spread on the table with a proud puff of his chest. ‘I provided.’

You smirk and rest your palms on the top of his thighs. ‘No Deliveroo around here, huh?’

‘It’s sink or swim, baby. Got pretty hairy for a while.’ He grabs a paper cup and pushes it into your hand. ‘Got you a cappuccino from my favourite barista. Try it.’

‘You have a favourite barista? Not just a favourite cafe?’

‘Of course. I have a favourite barista for cappuccino and another one for espresso.’

‘That might be the most obnoxious thing I’ve ever heard.’

He gives you a wink. ‘I’ve put down roots here, baby.’

‘Dieter Bravo has roots?’ you quip. ‘Do you even speak the language yet?’

He replies in an exaggerated Italian accent, complete with hand gestures. ‘A leetle beet, bella signorita.’

You laugh and take a sip of the cappuccino, sighing deeply at the rich, roasted flavour. ‘Thank you, this is delicious.’

Rough palms rest on the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest. His eyes are warm and open as he confides in you, ‘This job’s been really good for me.’

You run your fingers through his curls. ‘I know. I can tell.’

‘And Calgary’s been good for you too?’

You nod, and you hesitate for just a moment before you answer, ‘They’re going to offer me a contract for the second season.’

It’s not that you’re trying to catch him out, but you watch his reaction closely. You see nothing other than excitement before he presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. ‘That’s my girl.’

Suddenly quiet, you go still, and your change in demeanour doesn’t escape him. He pats you playfully on the bottom to get your attention. ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’

It’s hard to meet his stare when you’re trying to find it within yourself to get the words out. You fixate on a small stain on his shirt instead, rubbing your finger over it.

He waits patiently, and to give you an out, replies lightly, ‘Couldn’t get the stain out. It’s ragu from my favourite place in town - I can take you there if you want.’

‘I’d like that,’ you smile gratefully.

But the thing is - you don’t want out. You want in.

You take a deep breath and take the plunge. ‘Dieter - should I sign that contract?’

It’s the longest five seconds of silence, and it takes all of your self-control to not twist around in his grasp and run up the stairs. Finally, he leans in to kiss you deeply, and you’re glad he’s holding you up when your knees give.

He pulls back and runs his thumb over your cheekbone. ‘Can you hold out for another two weeks?’

You wish you didn’t answer so quickly, but you can’t help the breathless yes that slips out. Of course you fucking would.

Dieter holds your gaze. ‘Just so we’re clear - I want to be in the same place as you, sweetheart. Or at least close enough to commute to you. Is that ok?’

You nod, a stupid grin breaking across your features. ‘Yeah, that’s ok.’

‘Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,’ Dieter winks at you and grabs a paper bag from the kitchen counter. ‘You’ve got to try this.’

You peek inside and ask skeptically, ‘Is that… a doughnut?’

‘No, it’s a bombolone.’

‘Out of all the Italian things I haven’t tried, you picked the most American -’

He shoves the sugar-covered pastry into your mouth to shut you up, laughing as an indignant squeal catches in your throat. You bite into the pillowy doughnut, a thick smear of the chocolate filling spilling out and painting your lips, sugar crystals sticking to the mess.

Dieter wrinkles his nose jokingly. ‘You look so hot like this, sweetheart.’

Swiping at the chocolate from the corner of your mouth with your index finger, you push it between his lips. His eyes darken immediately as he sucks on it, the mood in the room swinging instantly into familiar territory.

Running your tongue across your lips, you put the rest of the doughnut in its bag and lick the sugar from your fingers. ‘I hope you haven’t had breakfast yet.’

His big hands dip underneath your shirt again to cup your bottom. He raises an eyebrow at you inquiringly. ‘Oh? Why not?’

Your back arcs and you rub your ass into his touch. ‘Because this pussy hasn’t been eaten in a very long time.’

His eyes snap shut at your words as if they physically pain him, impatient hands now sliding up your front to cup your bare breasts. ‘Fuck, baby. Is this the first thing you think about in the morning, you filthy girl?’

You kiss him sloppily, more tongue and teeth than anything, and Dieter pushes you away to hop off the stool, pulling off your shirt in the one smooth motion. He runs two fingers along the seam of your panties, smirking at the wet spot he finds. ‘Did no one else take care of this pussy while I was away?’

‘You know there’s no one else,’ you whine, letting him walk you into the living room, until the back of your knees hit the sofa.

‘Good,’ he growls into your ear, spinning you around and pushing you onto your knees into the cushions, hands on the spine of the sofa. Possessiveness clouds his mind as he runs his gaze over you every inch of you. ‘All mine.’

Slowly, he drags your panties down your legs, kissing the back of your thighs. You writhe under his touch, the scrape of his beard on your sensitive skin making you shudder. You moan, ‘Dieter. Please.’

Spreading you open, he tells you through clenched teeth, ‘I can see how wet you are, sweetheart. So pretty.’

‘Don’t tease,’ you beg, feeling your pussy flutter around nothing, your ass in the air as you grip the sofa tightly. ‘I need -’

You break off in a moan when Dieter closes his lips around your clit in a wet suckle, dragging the broad of his tongue through your core messily. His nails dig into the swell of your hips to hold you in place as you writhe, dipping into your pussy to taste you. Too long. It’s been too fucking long since he’s had you.

He traces his tongue along your contours patiently. He’s waited so many months, he can hold off the want to fucking devour you just a little bit longer. The tip of his tongue draws insistent circles on your clit, your hips undulating while you chase your pleasure. He feels a tremour run through your body before you bury your head into the sofa, muffling your cries.

Oh no, that won’t do.

He brings his palm down in sharp clap on your pillowy cheek, making it jiggle. You gasp, head snapping up and around to glare at him. ‘What was that for?’

He shoots you a dirty grin, chin already shiny with you. ‘Wanna hear you scream, baby.’

You pin him with an audacious stare. ‘Make me, then, Bravo.’

As if he isn’t already rock hard, he has to bite down on his bottom lip to wrangle himself under control. He groans, ‘Can’t just go around saying shit like that, baby.’

You smirk, knowing exactly what it does to him, enjoying his desperate little whimper. You shift to widen your stance, knees sinking deeper into the sofa, teasing him, ‘What was that about the screaming again?’

For one second, you think you’ve pushed too far when Dieter draws clear from you completely. Before you can protest, there’s a scrape of wood on stone as he pushes away the coffee table clumsily. Leaning on the sofa, his long legs splayed in front of him, you can see the clear outline of his erection through his shorts. He lays the back of his head on the edge of the seat, meeting your panicked eyes when you look down at him between your legs.

You squeak. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

He grins, reaching up to nip your inner thigh with his teeth. ‘You want me to make you scream, right? Come sit on my face, baby.’

Holy fuck. You hear the metallic zing of a zipper being pulled down. Dieter’s eyes squeeze shut, his neck muscles pop, and you feel his hands move, out of sight. ‘I’m so fucking hard for you, baby. Please, ride my face while I stroke myself -’

‘Oh god,’ you grit out when you lower yourself onto his tongue, hips jerking when he grips one of your thighs almost painfully, grunting as you slide wetly on his tongue. Looking down, your lips part when you catch him watching you with a frown of quiet concentration as you grind down on him, too keyed up to find any sort of rhythm. It’s messy and crass, desperate above all else.

You know you’re drenched. Almost embarrassingly so. One of your hands drops to tangle in his hair, curls sticking to his forehead as his hairline beads with sweat.

‘Baby -’ You’re out of breath as you feel your orgasm building. ‘I’m close - oh god, Dieter -’

His fingers close around the plump flesh of your ass, and with a violent shudder, you’re thrown over the edge into a heaving, knee-shattering high, your slick and his spit dribbling down the inside of your thighs as you scrabble for air. Collapsing bonelessly onto the spine of the sofa, you feel Dieter wipe his saturated chin on your skin, leaving a cool trail, and you jump as if it burns you.

His whispers tickle the shell of your ear as he climbs onto the sofa behind you, cradling your smaller frame with his. ‘You came so hard, sweetheart. Such a good girl.’

You groan indulgently as he wraps himself around you. One hand finds your breast, and the other dips between your legs, a growl rattling in his chest when his fingers slip uselessly over your sodden pussy, unable to find any purchase.

‘All this cum for me,’ he hums, crooking two fingers to gather your slick before bringing them onto his cock, which nudges you just above your ass, stroking it languidly. ‘I missed you so much, baby.’

You nearly stumble over your words, too highly strung. ‘I missed you too. So fucking much.’

One hand turning your cheek, he claims your mouth possessively, sliding his tongue in to mark you with your own taste. Heat spreads across your skin as he caresses your lips sensually slow, his hand sliding down to hold your throat gently. He feels rather than hear your breath catch before you swallow thickly, the movement intimately pressed up against the tips of his fingers.

Sliding his cock through your wet folds, he pushes two fingers into your mouth to wet them. He fucking loves the feel of your tongue on him - anywhere on him. Mindful of how sensitive you are after you came, he runs the lightest path from your clit to your entrance, then up again.

‘Have you been touching yourself while I was gone?’ he asks gruffly.

‘Yes,’ you admit without putting up any resistance.

‘Stretch that tight pussy with your fingers?’

At your frantic nod, he retorts with a feral edge to his voice. ‘You pretend it was my cock instead?’

Gasping when you feel him notched at the mouth of your pussy, you cry out, ‘Yes!’

‘Well, you must have one hell of an imagination. How could these little fingers -’ he grabs you by the wrist and sucks on them, one by one, leaving them spit-soaked, before wrapping them around his throbbing cock. ‘- stretch you even a fraction of how my dick does?’

You flush at the filth tumbling out of his mouth, and you’ll be damned if you don’t give as good as you got. You smirk, ‘Why don’t you find out?’

‘Don’t have to ask me twice, baby,’ he grins into your shoulder, and one thick finger slides into you.

You feel his smile falter and his teeth dig into your skin instead. He groans into your ear, ‘Sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but you’ve been doing a pathetic job.’

You squeeze your hand around his cock and he lurches against you, grabbing you in a silent warning. You blink sweetly at him. ‘Stop gloating and do something about it then.’

Your smile falters when he pulls out of you, only to reenter with two fingers, and your chin drops to your chest at the fullness as he fills you. His ribcage vibrates with a satisfied hum against your back, sweat building up where your bodies meet.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he says, mouthing sweet kisses down your spine. ‘You’re doing so well for me. Good girl.’

Taking a deep breath, you do, and he eases in even further, eliciting a sharp gasp when he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. He works into you at a steady pace, sometimes shallow, sometimes knuckle deep, until you start to pant, your hips twisting in pursuit when he draws out of your wet heat.

‘Harder,’ you demand, and he tightens the arm wrapped around your waist, pumping in earnest, teeth bared as he draws increasingly loud squelches from your cunt. He hisses when he feels you begin to clench around him, whimpering, ‘Fuck - fuck I’m gonna come again -’

Dieter wraps his whole body around you as you thrash in his arms, desperate sobs racking your frame as he rambles in your ear. ‘That’s it, let go, baby - this beautiful pussy’s getting my fingers so wet - gonna make you feel even better with my cock -’

Suddenly, the room spins and you’re lying on your back, Dieter’s weight pinning you to the soft cushions. You arch up lazily to kiss him, enjoying the heft of him on your body.

‘You ok?’ he asks almost sheepishly, nuzzling your neck. ‘Too much?’

You don’t skip a beat when you retort with a flippant shrug. ‘Honestly? Not enough cock.’

You grin at his splutter to your response. With a low growl, he grinds the underside of his erection against your folds. ‘That fucking mouth is gonna get you into trouble some day.’

You reply cheekily, ‘Sometime this morning would be preferable.’

Dieter reaches down to wrap your legs around his waist, lips on yours. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone else, but I can wear a condom if you want me to.’

You shake your head adamantly. ‘I want to feel all of you.’

Pushing your legs open wide, Dieter positions himself over you, teasing the head of his cock at your entrance, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

‘Look at me, sweetheart,’ he whispers, and pushes in.

Your noses knock together as he bites out a harsh fuck, rocking into you inch by inch with patient strokes.

‘So big,’ you moan, burying your nose in his shoulder. You feel his arms tremble as he holds himself over you. ‘You feel so good inside me.’

He grunts as he bottoms out, taking a second for you to adjust around him. ‘Are you still on birth control? ‘Cause there’s a very real possibility I’ll blow my load any fucking second -’

You take him by surprise when you bring a palm down onto his ass cheek in a sound slap. ‘Don’t you dare, Dieter Bravo.’

He grits his teeth at the sting that lingers on his skin and goes straight to his cock. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

He doubles down and fucks you hard, dipping his head to draw wet circles around your nipples with his tongue before biting down on the underside of your breasts, making your back arch, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper. You can only take him, hands around his neck, your lips clashing together in a wet tangle of tongue and teeth. You moan when he slides his hands under your ass, lifting your hips to change the angle. He plants his knees and thrusts into you feverishly, making your tits bounce to the rhythm.

Looking up at him, backlit by the soft morning light, you scrape your nails on his scalp, pulling at his curls until his eyes shut with a groan. His beard is scratchy on your fingertips when they draw a line down his strong jaw. You watch the endearing lines on his face crease as he watches you back, a small smile breaking through the intensity for just a moment before it gets too much again.

His knuckles on your hips turn white and the vein in his neck throbs. ‘I can’t hold on. Where do you my cum, sweetheart?’

‘Inside me, please,’ you plead, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips as he ruts recklessly into you.

His last thrusts shove you up the length of the sofa, and you watch as Dieter throws his head back when he comes. His hips crush against yours as he chokes on broken moans, spilling into you. But instead of winding down, he keeps pumping into you even when you feel his cum leak - hot and sticky - out of your cunt.

You look up at him, confused. ‘What - what are you doing?’

‘I’m still hard,’ he pants, eyes screwing shut from overstimulation, his body wound up painfully tight. ‘Oh god, fuck, I think I’m gonna cum again, baby -’

‘My tits - cum on my tits,’ you demand hurriedly.

He pulls out of you, and you feel his spend dribble and pool onto the sofa below. Cock in hand, Dieter clambers upwards, knees on either side of your hips as he strokes himself frantically, his tanned skin flushed with a sheen of sweat.

‘Ready, baby?’ he pants as he braces above you.

You nod and push your tits together, the visual sending him over the edge. He cries out your name, and you watch with your lips wantonly open as lewd, white lashes spurt over your nipples, the swell of your breasts, dripping into the valley of your cleavage.

With one last, strangled whine, Dieter collapses half onto you and half onto the couch, and you beam proudly at how absolutely wrecked he looks. You did that. You stretch languorously, and his gaze follows intently as beads of cum drip from your breasts and down your sides in thick streaks.

‘Look at you and your multiple orgasms,’ you tease, shuffling closer to peck him on the lips.

He grunts. ‘Didn’t wanna get upstaged by you, sweetheart.’

You shiver when he brushes a finger through the mess he made on your tits with a deep groan of satisfaction before pushing himself up with great effort, and settling himself between your thighs. Pinching your folds together gently, he groans as a pearly bead of his cum oozes out of you, feral eyes meeting yours. ‘I love seeing my cum all over you and inside you, baby.’

Glancing down at the wet patches on the cream-coloured sofa, you quip, ‘I don’t think you’re gonna get your rental deposit back, though.’

Sidling up to you, he kisses you and grins. ‘Totally worth it.’

The next time you wake up, it’s definitely the church bells ringing for the evening service that rouse you.

‘C’mon sweetheart, it’s dinner time.’

You turn to Dieter’s voice and pout sleepily. ‘What?’

‘You passed out after we took a shower, and I didn’t want to wake you for lunch,’ he recounts the missing hours to you. ‘Ana brought your suitcase around, by the way.’

You swing your legs off the side of the bed and stretch with a yawn. ‘She’s the best. We need to buy her dinner or something. Constance too.’

Dieter pulls you onto your feet to nuzzle the side of your neck. ‘Nope, sorry - you’re mine this weekend. Especially since you’ve already spent about half of it passed out cold.’

You roll your eyes and wriggle out of his grasp to unzip your suitcase, bending over to rummage through it for something to wear. ‘Hardly my fault that I find jetlag more compelling than your company, Bravo.’

He grins when you yelp at the smack that lands on your ass. ‘Hurry up, sweetheart. I’ll take you around the neighbourhood, and we can get pizza from my favourite place for dinner.’

Your stomach answers for you with a comically loud rumble. ‘Yes please, I’m starving.’

The streets look different in the dying daylight. You bask in the twilight sunshine, senses in overdrive as you take in the surroundings.

Dieter lets you drag him into a gelato shop to get a refreshing frutti di bosco in a cone, which you both take turns licking and biting into as you stroll through the neighbourhood. Then he ducks into a tiny deli to get some burrata and prosciutto in case you get midnight munchies later. As you get closer to town, the crowds start to thicken, and Dieter feels you shrink into yourself.

Brushing a kiss to your temple, he reassures you, ‘There’s no paparazzi here, sweetheart. I’ve been here for three months and no one has recognised me even once.’

Your shoulders relax. ‘And your fragile Hollywood ego lived to tell the tale?’

He pulls a squeal from you when he dives in for the last bite of the cone without warning, sucking melted purple gelato off your hand.

The pizzeria is tucked away on a side street, tiny tables and stools lining either side of the entrance, and there is no sign above the door. Stepping inside the dark interior, it’s piping hot with three men behind the counter, rolling out dough and cooking pizza in a wood fire oven, trading rapid-fire Italian.

A man with grey hair and an impressive handlebar moustache exclaims when his eyes land on the two of you, stepping from behind the counter. ‘Dieter! Amico mio, vieni qui!’ || ‘Dieter! My friend, come here!’

They embrace like life-long friends, the older man babbling Italian at him while he babbles back in English. You’re absolutely certain neither of them knows what the other is going on about.

Dieter gestures at you. ‘Lorenzo, I want you to meet my girl.’

He makes a delighted noise and kisses you flamboyantly on both cheeks. ‘Questa è tua moglie, vero? Buonasera, signora Bravo! Che bella coppia!’ || ‘This is your wife, yes? Good evening, Mrs. Bravo! What a beautiful couple!’

Dieter winds an arm around your waist and tells you proudly, ‘This place makes the best pizza in town, and they don’t even have a name! I found it one night when I was drunk off my ass. The best margherita I’ve ever had. Am I right, Lorenzo?’

The Italian smacks his lips in a chef’s kiss as if in agreement. ‘Voi avrete i bambini bellissimi! Te lo giuro!’ || ‘You two would have the most beautiful babies! I swear!’

‘Lorenzo says it’s something about the flour they use in the dough. Or was it the yeast?’

A wistfulness creeps into the Italian’s tone, and he suddenly leans forward to grip your chin between his thumb and index finger. You suspect he’s not exactly on the same topic of yeast. ‘L'amore è bello. Voi mi ricordate me e mia moglie defunta, pace all’anima sua!’ || ‘Love is beautiful. You remind me of my deceased wife and I, God rest her soul!’

Dieter claps his hands together to wrap up the unilateral, bilingual conversation. ‘Anyway - can we order the margherita and artichoke? Takeaway, please.’

Lorenzo lets your chin go and presses a kiss to his hand, then dispatches it heavenwards. ‘In onore della mia amata moglie, Maria, Includo gratuitamente un regalo speciale! I miei colombini preferiti!!’ || ‘In honour of my beloved Maria, I will include a special treat for free! My favourite lovebirds!’

Dieter pays for the order and a couple of limonata from the fridge, and you retreat outside to wait for your dinner. Sitting down on a low stone wall opposite the shop, you take a sip of the fizzy lemonade and remark, ‘Now, that’s what I call a character.’

He beams and laces his fingers through yours. ‘Isn’t he great? I want to move here someday.’

Your eyebrows reach for your hairline. ‘Really? Dieter Bravo living la dolce vita? Leaving behind the lights and vices of Hollywood?’

Before he can answer you, a piercing screech sends your heads spinning around to see Ana running down the street towards you, shouting and waving, ‘Hey, lovers!’

You laugh as she smothers you in a hug while simultaneously fiddling with her phone. ‘Oh my god, you guys are fucking adorable. One second, one second -’

You shriek when she brings up her phone to show you who’s on the screen. ‘Oh my god, Pete! We miss you!’

He waves at you through Facetime. ‘Babe, I cannot believe I’m not there to witness this first hand. It’s not fair! Let me see you two together!’

Ana grabs the phone and angles it so you and Dieter are both in the shot, and sing-songs, ‘Kiss cam, lovebirds!’

You roll your eyes. ‘Ana, we’re not just going to -’

You’re cut short when Dieter ambushes you with a full-mouthed kiss, and you hear both Pete and Ana squealing excitedly.

‘What are you doing? These two don’t need any more encouragement!’ you chide halfheartedly when he finally draws back, releasing your lips with a wet pop.

Dieter points at Pete through the screen then at Ana. ‘We’re keeping it under the radar for now, okay? No leaks to the papers or any of that shit.’

Ana nods solemnly. ‘Lips are sealed.’

‘I’m totally not screen recording this right now.’

You narrow your eyes at the phone. ‘Pete - ’

‘I’m joking, I swear!’ he protests. ‘Totally not crossing my fingers behind my back.’

Lorenzo appears with three pizza boxes even though you’re sure Dieter only ordered two, and he shepherds you on your way while speaking Italian, presumably saying something to the effect of eat it while it’s hot.

Ana waves, heading in the opposite direction. ‘I’d invite you for drinks with Constance and I later, but I doubt Dieter would let you out of your sight for even a second.’

‘She’s staying in my bed till Monday morning. Naked.’

‘Dieter!’ you admonish.

Ana laughs and winks at you as he impatiently drags you away. ‘Have fun, lovebirds. I’ll see you back stateside!’

And Pete gets the last laugh. ‘Don’t you forget - I called best man!’

A spiral staircase winds up to the rooftop you didn’t know existed, and you gape at the view from the top. The sea laps in the distance, blue and orange, waves rippling as if in slow motion. The rest of the town sitting on lower ground is laid out below your feet like a chaotic streetmap, the dinner-time ruckus a muted buzz in the distance.

The terracotta tiles are sunwarm beneath your bare soles as you set the rustic dinner table under the canopy. Dieter appears at the doorway with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

‘I forgot the water. Do you want some?’ he asks.

You step around him and peck him on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it.’

You hum to yourself as you traipse your way back upstairs with a jug of water and two glasses full of ice from the kitchen. Dieter lines up the three takeaway boxes side by side, and rubs his hands in anticipation for the big reveal. ‘Alright, ready for the best pizza of your life, sweetheart?’

‘Go on, then,’ you grin.

He’s barely cracked open the first box a sliver - you catch a glimpse of a perfectly baked crust - before he snaps it shut with a panicked, ‘What the fuck?’

You frown. ‘What’s wrong?’

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the other hand on his hip. ‘Lorenzo - he pulled a prank on us.’

You reach for the box to see for yourself, but he snatches you by the wrist. You sigh, ‘C’mon, Dieter, I don’t care as long as I can still eat the pizza without getting food poisoning. I’m actually going to faint from hunger.’

He lets you go cautiously, holding his hands up soothingly like he’s trying to talk you off a ledge. ‘Just - promise me you won’t freak out, okay?’

You cross your arms. ‘You’re actually scaring me now.’

‘It’s not a declaration or anything. I didn’t ask them to do it.’

You’re about this close to stamping your foot like a child, but you take a deep breath and reply, ‘Dieter, seriously. I promise I won’t freak out, just -’

You trail off when he opens the box and you stare down at the contents.

It’s a heart-shaped pizza.

Any and all apprehension bleeds out of you as your shoulders quake with laughter. You open the other two boxes, which are identical in shape, with different toppings. Turning to Dieter, you pull him in by the scruff of his shirt to plant a kiss on his lips. ‘I love it.’

The relief is clear in his features. ‘Really? You’re not gonna flip and run off in the middle of the night?’

‘Unless there’s a diamond ring baked into the cheese - no, I won’t,’ you give him your word.

Dieter winks and kisses the centre of your palm. ‘Oh, you should be so lucky, sweetheart.’

Making yourself comfortable on the cushioned bench, you pat the space next to you. Reaching out for a slice of what smells like the best margherita you’re about to have, you sniff, ‘Be quiet and eat your pizza, Bravo.’

Pouring red wine into your glass, Dieter rambles on conversationally, ‘So… since you like heart-shaped pizza, does that mean I can get you heart-shaped cookies? Heart-shaped donuts? Heart-shaped marshmallows -’

Using his own trick on him, you shove the slice that was destined for your plate into his mouth instead to shush him. He spills wine everywhere in his haste to put the bottle down, and you laugh as he sputters.

His mouth full, he shakes a finger at you as he chews and swallows. ‘I’ll get back at you for that, just you wait.’

You smile sweetly and grab another slice. ‘I’d like to see you try, Bravo.’

Pulling you flush against him, he looks down at you playfully, but his eyes are soft. ‘I will always try, sweetheart.’

And you know he will.

Rebecca is enjoying a rare evening alone. Coco is over at a friend’s pool party and won’t be home until after dinner, and Hank is still at the office. She flops heavily onto the outrageously expensive sofa she so rarely gets to enjoy, kicking off her high heels, when her phone buzzes. She arches an eyebrow when she sees the name on the screen.

‘Hello, darling. Long time no speak.’

‘Hey Becks. Listen, do you have any TV roles for me?’

‘Not even a hello, how are you, dear agent?’

She shakes her head fondly as he parrots back word by word, ‘Hello, how are you, dear agent?’

‘TV, you say?’

‘Something that will stick for at least a couple of seasons, in LA. And make sure it’s something edgy.’

‘By edgy, do you mean something that might have an intimacy coordinator role that needs filling?

‘Yes.’

‘And does that mean you want me to take your name out of the hat for the next Spielberg movie?’

There is no trace of doubt in his reply. ‘Yes.’

‘Alright then. I’ll have a scout around and send you some options in the next few days.’

‘Thanks, Becks.’

She smiles into the phone. ‘I’m happy for you, darling. Send her my love, please, and we’ll have you both around for dinner soon.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Will do.’

Two weeks later, a package arrives at your flat in Calgary, and you hand in your one-month notice the next day.

A covering letter to the contract directs you to an address in Sherman Oaks to drop off the documents in person the next weekend. You’re not aware of any studio offices in that particular part of town, but you need to go back Stateside to sort out something at your bank anyway, so it’s not particularly out of the way.

You slow your car down to the crawl when your phone announces that you’ve reached your destination. It’s clearly a residential area, and you double check the address - you’re definitely at the right place. Maybe it’s the HR director’s home address. You’ve been to far stranger places in your career, so you shake it off and walk up to the modern, white-washed house that sits on two floors, with a minimalist garden in the front.

You glance about at the tidy hedges after you press the doorbell, and you hear footsteps approach at a leisurely pace. You put on a professional smile in anticipation.

The door opens, and your jaw drops.

‘Hello, sweetheart.’

Before you can make heads or tails of the situation, the envelope in your hand slips out of your grasp and you launch yourself at him. Dieter staggers backwards with a laugh, his hands full of you and his lips on yours. It’s been three weeks since you said your goodbyes at the airport in Italy, with promises to see each other when filming wraps for the both of you in another month or so.

You can’t resist slapping him on the chest in rebuke for showing up unannounced. ‘What are you doing here?’

He shrugs nonchalantly. ‘Thought you’d appreciate a house tour now that you’ve signed up to the project.’

You look around, taking in the dark wooden floors and high ceilings painted white as he scoops up your abandoned papers and closes the front door. ‘What house tour?’

‘I told the studio you’ll be living with me. It’s the only reason they hired you, by the way, because we’ll be saving them accommodation costs.’

You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, so you don’t give him the satisfaction of a quick-tempered answer. Instead, you cock your head to one side, and purse your lips. ‘How did you know I want to live with you?’

His answer is unexpectedly forthright, and it hits you right in the stomach. ‘I don’t, but I hoped you would. I want to live with you.’

Rocking onto your tippy toes, you reach for him, but before your lips meet, he stops you, brandishing a piece of paper in your nose. ‘One minute, sweetheart. Since we’re now both employees of this show, we should really sign this Relationship Consent Form for HR before we do anything else.’

You blink and take a mental step back, suddenly alert. His smile is perfectly benevolent, which is suspicious in itself. He’s trying to pull something, you just know it.

But you go along with it. ‘Sounds like the responsible thing to do. You got a pen?’

Right on cue, Dieter pulls out a fancy-looking fountain pen and his glasses from his shirt pocket. ‘Voila. This way, sweetheart, we’ll do this in the kitchen.’

The foyer opens up into a large and modern kitchen space, with a marble counter separating it from the dining room. You like it - it’s not as coldly sleek as the apartment you shared while filming on Resurgence. It looks homey and lived-in despite knowing for a fact that the most Dieter’s ever used it for is pouring milk into a bowl of cereal.

He pulls out a chair for you at the dining table, even pushing your seat in before settling opposite you. You keep a watchful eye on him at this show of gallantry. Pointedly ignoring you, he smooths a hand over the consent form sitting in front of him, uncapping his fountain pen dramatically and putting on his reading glasses.

With a clap of his hands, he announces. ‘Ok, here we go. Fill in the name of Party A.’ He spells out yours letter by letter as he scribbles. ‘And Party B: Dieter Bravo.’

From where you’re sitting, his handwriting is barely legible and absolutely not contained to the pre-drawn lines.

‘I can do the writing, if you want,’ you offer, eye twitching at the mess.

Dieter smiles at you. ‘I got it, sweetheart, thanks.’ Clearing his throat, he reads the first question out loud. ‘Are Party A and Party B engaged or intend to engage in sexual intercourse?’

He looks up at you, as if expecting an answer. You frown. ‘What?’

‘You have to say the answers out loud.’

‘What?’

He taps somewhere on the piece of paper. ‘To consent, you have to say the answers out loud. Says right here.’

You sigh heavily and reply, ‘Yes.’

Dieter scrawls the answer with a flourish, and moves on to the next question. ‘Is the frequency or intended frequency of said intercourse between Party A and Party B expected to be equal to or exceed once a week?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are Party A and Party B engaged in or intend to engage in an exclusive sexual relationship?’

Your answer comes out sharper than you intend as your patience wears thin. ‘I fucking hope so.’

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t look up. ‘That’s a yes, then. Are Party A and Party B engaged in or intend to engage in an exclusive romantic relationship?’

You cross your arms suspiciously. ‘An exclusive romantic relationship? That’s an actual question in the form?’

He points somewhere in the middle of the page. ‘Yes, it says right here.’

‘I’m sorry, why does the studio need to know that?’

He sighs. ‘Sweetheart, it’s a simple question - yes or no?’

You shift in your seat, feeling vulnerable, but you answer in the affirmative. ‘Well, I mean, if I’m going to be living with you - yes.’

The smile he gives you nearly reaches his ears, and you smile back, before he looks down at the form and continues, ‘Now, this is an interesting one. Is Party B’s genitalia the most substantial Party A has ever had in terms of length and girth?’

Not even Dieter can keep a straight face.

You growl, reaching across the table to rip the piece of paper from his hands while he howls with laughter, reading glasses coming off. ‘Ugh, Dieter Bravo! You’re so fucking juvenile!’

He’s literally wiping tears from his eyes. ‘You should’ve seen your face, sweetheart. You were taking it so seriously.’

You run a critical eye over the form. It was obviously done in Word and printed out at home since the margins are all off. ‘You used Comic Sans? Comic Sans? You might as well have written this in purple crayon!’

‘Hey! Don’t judge a consent form by its font, sweetheart.’ He rounds the table and grabs it from you, pinning it onto the kitchen counter with his pen.

‘I forgot one last question, it’s an important one,’ he says, and you squeak when he lifts you up onto the cold marble surface of the kitchen counter by the back of your thighs. Close enough to bump noses, his breath hot on your lips, he asks, ‘Does Party A consent to being thoroughly railed on this kitchen counter by Party B right about now?’

Grabbing the pen sitting next to you, you scribble carelessly over the sheet, before tossing it somewhere behind you without looking. It floats languidly, landing feather-light on the kitchen floor, soon joined by hastily half-unbuttoned, half-unzipped clothing and underwear.

Your answer to Dieter’s question - all his questions - is scrawled across the page in a clear, emphatic hand.

Fuck yeah.

[ the end ]

Very long note: This wasn't the easiest chapter to write, but then, I guess finales never are easy! Having said that, I already knew what the last scene was going to be when I decided to make this a series, and it was surreal to finally see it typed out in black and white.

I also made sure the supporting cast - Pete, Ana and Rebecca - each made a cameo in this last part. They've been so important to the plot, and your reaction to these OCs makes me so warm and fuzzy inside. I'm very happy with the way this chapter turned out eventually - I hope you are too!

I've left things fairly open in this finale. I don't feel like Dieter and Reader have to make any grand declarations to each other, or to put a label on anything, for this stage of their story to be complete. This also gives me the space to explore their relationship in further instalments. While I don't see another full-fledged series in this universe, there will definitely be drabbles and one-shots in the future.

Before I lose my shit and start crying up a storm, I need to give credit to these lovely people who helped me with this chapter.

❤️ First, I want to thank Cristina @pedropascalsx for making the gif set for the last ever sneak peek. It really set the tone for the finale, and I will cherish it forever.

❤️ Second, thank you Kat @katareyoudrilling for helping me with the Italian translations. Your notes were so detailed, I loved learning about the language from your explanations.

❤️ Third, the heart-shaped pizza idea came from a reblog @hquinzelle left for a previous chapter, and it's been stuck in my head since! Thank you for letting me use this idea for this chapter.

Lastly, thank you to every single one of you who have interacted with this fic in any way. I have been blown away by your love and support every step of the way. Thank you for taking a chance on this story, which started off as a horny one-shot (and my first time ever writing smut), and ended up a short series that I'm so proud to have written for this beautiful mess of a man and - most importantly - for all of you❤️

Ok I'm going to go bawl my eyes out now.

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfic #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo self insert #cliff beasts 6 #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader

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kxizoku-ou · 3 months

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I saw the Sanji was at the top of your list for One piece characters you were interested in tormenting and I got so excited. Most of the Sanji content/head canons I've come across are all about him as a Dom/top (except when he is paired with other men). But I think he (and plenty other one piece characters ) would be a great candidate for your type of writing. If you ever have any thoughts on them, I hope you post it!! I always love hearing what you come up with!

Yeah, Sanji is wayyyy too pathetic for me to see him as a dom (in terms of reader-insert stuff, at least). XD And uhhh... I've had MANY thoughts about him already. Since we're already on the topic of smut, you get a (partial/current) list of his (somewhat concerning) kinks. XD

. . .

• An obvious one, but Sanji's desperation to be useful absolutely ends up as a sex thing for him, too. The idea of wanting fills him with shame and self-loathing, and the best way he's found to swallow that is by making any intimate situation entirely about the other person. Even in his fantasies, he's always the one serving his partner and earning whatever indulgences he's given, his own pleasure coming second to fulfilling their needs (if it's acknowledged at all, even).

• Being extremely susceptible to praise seems to be a near-universal character trait in One Piece, but Sanji has it worse than most. He puts up plenty of emotional walls (especially when kind words come from anyone but a safe pretty woman), but especially once someone's opinion matters to him, a simple "good boy" would haunt him for months. Doing things right was such a foreign concept for most of his life, after all, how could he not still so badly want it?

• Whether his partner actually has a size advantage over him or not, Sanji likes feeling smaller. It's definitely a factor that well-fed people tend to have more weight on them, but even simply being pinned down or manhandled is undeniably (and sometimes embarrassingly) arousing, for potential reasons that he really doesn't want to dwell on.

• Though he's stubbornly refused to entertain the idea even in his most unthinking fantasies, certain parental figure-oriented titles are bound to slip out sooner or later. Yes, both. The "mommy" version comes right from some very emotionally vulnerable parts of his psyche, but even though he dreads acknowledging that, the "daddy" version (rough, physical associations and all) is far worse.

• On that note, Sanji is definitely something of a masochist. Most of the love he's experienced (or hoped for when it wasn't really there) has come hand-in-hand with pain, and that definitely got a few wires crossed in his head. Between that, the adrenaline high, and the subconscious need for self-punishment... yeah, it can get messy.

• It's an entirely hypothetical fantasy (and a vague, emotion-driven one, at that), but Sanji has come back to the thought of being eaten more times than can be considered quite normal. To quote a particular source, Sanji "has a complicated (i.e. insane) relationship with self-sacrifice"— combined with the stranded-on-an-island experience and his overall fixation on food and cooking, it's all added up to a warped sort of fixation on (sometimes erotic) cannibalism.

(^^^Bonus source for that one!)

#One Piece #Sanji #Black Leg Sanji #Headcanon #Lemon #gore tw///#i guess??? idk how to tag this one

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i4bellingham · 1 year

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HAPPIER: mason mount x reader

SYNOPSIS: you only appreciate what you have when it's gone. mason feels that certain way about you.

CONTENT: angst, breakups, written from mason's pov, oc named amelia, george russell x reader, kind of rushed ending (?) + not proofread please don’t sue me 🙏🏻

NOTE: i hope everyone's had a good week so far! if not, then i hope this upcoming one will be a lot more bearable for you <3 also not sure about the title like i literally suck at coming up with it but please ignore that if it doesn't match lol

ONE.

Everything felt like shit.

Everything just felt different now that you're finally out of Mason’s life.

It doesn't feel suffocating but it does feel like there's a hollow in his chest every time a reoccurring memory of you flashes by his mind.

It doesn't hurt. It doesn't bother him. But Mason does feel numb. He feels numb to everything around him and feeling certain emotions are lost.

A month after you left, the entire house was merely an imitation of what it used to be before it was bought; bare, soulless and empty. There's no longer any scent of coffee filling the house from your constant brewing. There's no more extra set of skin care supplies on the bathroom sink saved for you. There's no more neatly arranged closet when you hurriedly tucked away your clothes in your luggage before you left, leaving the closet nearly barren of anything to remember you by. The plants had all dried up from the lack of care from its now sole owner. The paintings and photos that used to give your walls a depiction of your character and your love for each other was now left empty, bare gray walls catching Mason’s eyes like the colorless sensation there is to his chest.

Everything wasn't the same.

Everything was never going to be the same.

TWO.

An entire year had passed by, yet there were still no apparent changes in Mason and his way of living.

Christian and Kai suggested for him to see somebody else, venture out and relive his romantic adventures with someone new.

Mason knew he shouldn't, not when he's not in a capable state to even be thinking about starting a new relationship but he simply nods his head. He agrees with their suggestion, just so they don’t bother him about this part of his life that he knows will never function the same.

And so, Mason prepares himself for the blind date prepped by his two friends that will happen in the weekend.

He got three more days left to sort himself out. He doesn't do anything. He dreads for that day to come.

Her name was Amelia.

THREE.

She was a nice lady. She had a kind smile, one that almost threw him off as she sat in front of him, introducing herself and shaking his hands. She wore an outfit he knew you'd be fussing to wear, he knew you'd ask him a plenty of questions and he'd assure you just as many times that you look phenomenal, just like you always do. Amelia was chatty, but not in the overbearing kind. She knew how to carry the conversation that Mason could give zero fucks about. But for the sake of her kindness, he tries to match her energy with his fake smiles, fake laughter, fake enthusiasm, fake everything. He just wants for the night to be over. He just wants to go home.

“I know you haven't healed from your last relationship with...” Amelia starts, and Mason was ready to cut her off, tell her that she doesn't have the right to touch such a sensitive subject with him, not when they barely know each other at all. “And I’m in the same position. The last relationship was what I thought would be my endgame, I was wrong obviously.” She chuckles, but it felt and sound faked in Mason’s ears.

Is that how he sounded all evening? Like he was restrained from something that kept him from showing his real emotions to a girl who showed him nothing but kindness?

Amelia leans back on her seat, a timid smile on her lips as she offers him her hand. “So because of that, I know I'm not in the right condition to be finding someone as of now to be in a relationship with... but I would like for us to be friends, if that's alright with you?”

Amelia waits for Mason to respond, and for a split second he considers declining her offer, tell her he's already got a bunch of them but he sighs and with that sigh he shakes her hand, now with a small genuine smile on his lips.

“Fine. Friends.”

He shouldn't have agreed to being her friend. Not when he knew there was a chance of her falling like in the cliche movies and books where the female friend falls for her male friend.

FOUR.

And as the tears run down from her eyes, Mason bites the insides of his cheeks as he moves his head to divert his gaze elsewhere.

“I don’t know until when do I have to compete with her... she's not here anymore Mase but why are you so keen on holding onto your memories with someone who's already moved on with someone else?” She asks him, weeping softly.

Mason isn't sure why himself. Was it the memories? Was it the way you used to love him so freely? Was it the way you accepted him for all his flaws and stayed by his side despite the time where football grew harsh on him and he wasn't on his best form? Was it because you saw past his flaws but still stayed with him, whispering how much he means to you and how much you love him during the late night evenings when you're both on bed and when you thought he was already fast asleep? Whispering kind and loving words so emotionally that tears ran down your cheeks and onto the bed, probably thinking that he doesn't know that you show him your most vulnerable state of loving when you think he's asleep beside you? Which was it?

“I’m here for you Mase. I’ve been here for you for for nearly a year. She might have loved you differently but I can love you in my own way... just let her go.”

Mason lets her hand go, turning his back on her as he walks back and forth in front of Amelia in the parking lot of the restaurant.

“You know I can't do that-” Mason bites his lips, gnawing on it as he paces. “Ame you know I can't do that-”

Amelia walks over to him, grabbing his hands and she pleads him, tells him that Yes, You can Mase! You can but you just chose not to!

Mason wants to tell her that he can't. That he shouldn't have gone to that blind date in the very first place because now he's hurting the one friend who was there for him, who understood him.

But as another car flashes their headlights to their left as it was being parked and a familiar figure steps out, all thoughts immediately leave Mason’s head.

The door to the restaurant opens before Kai steps out, wanting to fuse down the conversation and get the two back inside before his eyes too lands on the familiar figure standing a mere 10 feet away from them. And all of a sudden, that plan doesn't seem as easy as it sounded in Kai’s head.

Because like some fucked up game the fates conjured, you were there, standing and staring at the situation you were cluelessly partly the cause of.

“Mase? Kai?”

Mason nearly ran to you, beg for you to take him back, tell you that he still loved you despite your relationship ending a year and a half ago. But somethingㅡsomeone kept him from doing so and just ultimately saved his face from the embarrassment it could've caused.

“You know them love?” George fucking Russell places an arm around your waist as he awaits for your answer, patiently and kindly doing so before you're nodding your head with a smile.

“Yeah... they're my, my friends.”

Friends? Ha. Mason wanted to clarify that he wasn't just a friend, that he was but he was your boyfriend once too.

George sends them a head nod and a tight-lipped smile. “Well... it's always nice to meet my girlfriend’s friends. I’m George Russell.”

Kai walks over to offer a hand, one that George immediately shakes before the German hugs you. You wrap an arm around Kai, warily eyeing Mason and only then noticing the girl beside him.

You were about to approach them and introduce yourself when Mason opens his mouth and says something he knew he will regret immensely.

“You should join us... for dinner. Just so we can, catch up and talk properly.” He offers, and Kai sends him a warning look.

“That is if we're not going to be a bother with your night, of course.” Kai adds. “You can joins us at our table.”

“Yeah.” Amelia nods her head beside Mason, and he notices that she's dried her tears, plastering on one of her friendly smiles. “I would love to know Y/N that I have heard so much about from the guys.”

Instead of declining, you turn your head to George. “Can we love?”

George fucking Russell leans down to fucking kiss your head, smiling charmingly as he replies. “Sure love, we can join them for dinner. Would be a nice opportunity to know your friends better I reckon.” He chuckles.

Amelia leads the way, opening the door as she gestures for you and George to follow her in while introducing herself to the both of you.

Mason and Kai were left standing in front of the restaurant, the recent happening weighing heavily on the both of them and embracing them in an uncomfortable silence.

But Kai breaks that after a while, shooting him a stern glare as he points a finger on Mason’s chest. “Don’t do something fucking stupid Mase. I know you, but don't do something that will hurt you and her again.” Kai follows after the three of you inside the restaurant, leaving Mason alone to dwell on his thoughts.

Mason used to think that everything was colourless, dreary and hollow after you left. He still believes in it. He doesn't know how to fix this way of feeling and thinking but after tonight, he's sure that there's no way of retrieving you back with him no matter how much he wants to. Not when there's a ring band on your ring finger. Not when you're already entwined with someone else that you so clearly loved, just awaiting for the time to pronounce your love in front of family and friends.

Mason is so used to think of everything so differently, and he can't help but think that maybe he'll never get over this one anytime soon.

#☆ i4bellingham writes.#☆ mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount x oc #mason mount imagine #mason mount one shot #mason mount imagines #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount #george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x you #george russell fanfiction

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

Text

Falling For the Devil [Part fifty-four: "The Impossible Friendship"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Karen invites you out to Josie’s to have drinks with her and Marci.

You don't realize Karen and Marci have other intentions behind you coming out until it's too late.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: This installment is a part of the Big Angst arc. Forewarning, there is no comfort in the next handful of installments, not until you reach "The Aftermath" (Part 58) will there be comfort. Another angsty update bringing you closer to the installment with comfort. There's another Matt POV in this one! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here. And if you're enjoying it please let me know!

"Come on, why don't you just stop by?" Karen asked you over the phone. "Please? As far as I'm aware, Matt is still going to be finishing stuff up at the office with Foggy tonight. It's just Marci and I here at Josie’s right now."

You leaned against the door of your apartment, slipping your shoes off of your feet as you held the phone to your ear. "I don't know," you answered hesitantly. "I really don't think I'm ready to run into Matt. And I just finished a class so I'm all sweaty."

"That martial arts thing?" she asked curiously.

"The self-defense thing," you corrected her, rubbing a hand along your aching backside. "And yeah, I just finished up another training session tonight. My ass is somehow bruised from it."

"Well just wash up and bring your bruised ass to Josie’s," Karen urged. "We haven't seen you in a week and a half. If Matt shows up we'll just deal with that then. It's not like we can't leave if you want."

You ran your hand across your forehead next, blowing out a rough breath as you glanced at your empty apartment. If you stayed home you'd just be alone all night and that didn't sound remotely appealing in contrast. But your stomach twisted uncomfortably at the prospect of seeing Matt; you still hadn't seen or spoken to him since he broke up with you and jumped off your fire escape almost two weeks ago.

"I mean I suppose…as long as you really don't think he'll be there," you nervously answered. "I know it's been a couple weeks but…I don't know if I'm ready to see him, you know?"

Karen sighed gently over the line. "Yeah, I understand. But even if he did show up, it's not like he'd be a dick to you or anything. I heard him telling Fog the other day he’s been wanting to talk to you about everything. That he'd be open to a friendship if you were."

A pain hit you in your chest, right over your heart, sharp and hot. Friends. You'd go back to being friends again. After everything you'd been through with Matt, all that time you'd shared together, the way you still loved him, how you'd been a few months from living together and even mentally picturing a wedding in your future–he wanted to just be friends with you.

Swallowing down the lump of emotion in your throat, you said, "I suppose I can wash up and come out for a bit tonight with you two."

"Great!" Karen exclaimed excitedly. "We'll see you in a bit then!"

You exchanged goodbyes before hanging up. Head rolling back, it lightly hit into your apartment door as your eyes closed. You sure hoped Karen was right and Matt wasn't coming out tonight with Foggy after work. Because you weren't sure how you'd react to finally seeing him again.

Pushing yourself off of the door, you dragged your tired and bruised body to your bathroom. You pulled your hair up and started the shower, intending to quickly wash the sweat off of you before heading to Josie’s to meet up with Karen and Marci.

________

"Can we please talk about anything else?" you begged Marci. "We have discussed the breakup in depth plenty already and I would love an evening where I don't think about how much it hurts."

Her face softened across the table from you before she nodded. "Yeah, sorry," she muttered. "I just…don't understand what happened."

"You and me both," you grumbled, picking up your beer and taking a drink.

"So are you…dating yet?" Marci asked curiously. "Or like, sleeping around a little at least?"

Your brows furrowed as your nails fiddled nervously with the label on the beer bottle. "No, that's the furthest thing from my mind. Why, is Matt?" you asked, eyes darting between Karen and Marci.

"No," Karen said firmly, shaking her head. "I've heard nothing of the sort. I'm pretty sure he's still hurting."

"Yeah, I get the same vibe from Foggy Bear," Marci assured you.

Your eyes fell back down to your beer, your nails still picking at the label on it. You definitely didn't want to think about Matt fucking someone else. That certainly hurt too damn much.

“How’d that court case go for the firm?” you asked Karen, eyes still focused on the beer bottle. “I know it was sort of a big deal.”

“It finished up the other day,” she told you. “We won, thankfully. So that’s a big weight off of our shoulders this week.”

You nodded silently, drawing the beer back up to your lips. Taking a few deep drinks, you finished half of your third beer already. As you set the bottle back on the table, you ignored the way Karen and Marci were shooting you sympathetic looks. You knew you were drinking your beers down faster than usual, and you figured they both could easily guess why, but you’d had a long day writing bullshit fluff pieces for Ellison–which seemed to be your permanent assignments lately–before pushing your body through yet another rigorous self-defense lesson. You needed the buzz of alcohol to dull everything else right now.

A sharp inhale of a breath came from Marci across the table, the sound catching your attention. You glanced up at her from your bottle, raising a brow curiously. Beside her, you saw Karen stiffening in her seat, her back straightening as her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. Immediately your shoulders sagged knowing there was probably only one reason they’d both reacted like that to something behind you. You chanced a look over your shoulder just for confirmation.

Sure enough, Matt was casually walking towards your table with a hand holding onto Foggy’s arm. Because of course he’d show up the one Thursday night you’d randomly popped into Josie’s. And of course he’d be looking handsome as fuck with his slightly messed navy blue tie and a few buttons undone on the top of his powder blue dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick, muscular forearms that you loved so much as his winter coat hung over one arm. It looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days either, but somehow the darker stubble only made him look more handsome. His hair was just a bit windswept from the walk here from their office, your fingers itching to comb through the dark strands and fix it as you'd often done so many times before. Your heart constricted in your chest at the sight of him and his easygoing smile–it wasn't fair that he looked this good.

You shifted back in your seat, a wave of nausea rolling over you that was entirely unrelated to the alcohol as you focused on the table. Clearly he’d known you were in here before he’d decided to come in anyway. You weren’t even sure what to make of that. Probably wanting to be friends , you thought bitterly. As if it was just that easy to pretend the last eight months hadn't happened. As if they hadn't been the best eight months you'd ever had. But maybe they hadn't been near as great for him. Tears burned at your eyes at the thought and you rapidly blinked them back.

“Hey ladies!” Foggy greeted, though you heard the bit of tension in his voice as he acknowledged you, saying your name which was more of a show for Marci to pretend that Matt didn’t know you were seated there. “I didn’t know you three were here.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously down at the table at the tone of his voice. Somehow you didn't believe this wasn't some elaborate setup between your friends. And while you didn’t believe Matt had been a part of it–you were sure he wasn't because he could have easily just called if he'd wanted to talk to you–he had nevertheless gone along with it.

“We were just having a little girl’s night,” Marci answered her husband.

“Ahh, well, we’re very sorry to intrude,” Matt replied in that charming way of his. “We just figured we’d grab a drink after the long day. We didn’t know you were all here this evening.”

Matt quickly greeted Karen and Marci before he said your name, the word sounding a bit pained as it came from his mouth. Your eyes remained fixed ahead of you, unable to look at him just to your left as you muttered a quiet greeting in return. Your heart was squirming in your chest, aware of his blank gaze on you from your peripheral. This was uncomfortable.

“We…can grab another table,” Matt offered awkwardly. “If you’d all prefer us–”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, eyes still avoiding him.

“You know, I think I’ll go grab us some beers,” Foggy announced, clearly feeling the discomfort and finding an excuse to disappear.

Matt’s hand reached out, falling onto the back of the chair beside yours. He pulled it out slowly, taking a moment to sit down at the table beside you. You picked up your beer and took another drink, ignoring the matching looks Marci and Karen were shooting you. When he’d settled into his seat, you saw him adjusting his glasses on his nose from the corner of your eye. He said your name again and you flinched.

“How have you been?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

You bit down on your tongue, fighting back the bitter laugh that threatened to spill out of you. How had you been? Fucking heartbroken, that’s how you’d been. What kind of a question was that? But you sure as hell weren’t about to admit that to him. Not like you figured he would truly care, considering he’d never once reached out to you after the breakup or the kidnapping to see how you were doing. Why the hell would he suddenly care about how you were doing now?

“Fine,” you answered sharply, intentionally not asking him in return. You didn't care he could tell it was a lie.

He shifted in his seat, the movement seeming a little uncomfortable. Good, you thought, let him feel uncomfortable. It was the very least he deserved.

Matt cleared his throat loudly, his attention shifting towards Karen and Marci across the table. “Do you maybe mind if we have a moment to talk?” he asked them.

Your eyes snapped shut as you heard the pair of them scooting their chairs back across the bar floor instantly. When you opened your eyes again, Karen was clearly urging you with her eyes to talk to him.

“Yeah, sure,” Marci said. Her gaze landed on you as she added, “Just let us know if you need anything.”

The pair of them grabbed their drinks and made their way towards Foggy at the bar. You sighed, feeling like somehow this had been a setup. You focused on peeling the label off of your beer bottle again, unable to look at Matt beside you as he turned in his seat, facing towards you. He sat focused on you for a long time, neither of you saying a word. You sure as hell didn't want to be the one to break the silence. But the longer you both sat there without speaking, the more uncomfortable you felt.

“I’m sorry for…what I did,” Matt finally said, a nervous tremor in his voice. "How horribly I ended things."

Your hand tightened around the neck of your beer bottle, eyes glaring at it. For some reason his simple apology after what he'd done only pissed you off. Especially since he hadn't even bothered to reach out to you, it had been your friends orchestrating whatever this awkward meeting was.

“No you’re not,” you shot back, drawing the beer to your lips for a drink.

Taken aback, Matt’s head tilted to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you could see his brows furrowing behind his dark glasses at you, his lips parting in surprise. You lowered the bottle to the table and continued to fidget with it.

“What?” he asked.

“You’d have to actually regret your actions to mean that,” you answered, still not looking at him. Even you heard the bitter edge in your voice as you continued. “And judging by your utter silence over the past two weeks, you don’t. I don’t remotely believe you’re sorry for how you just broke up with me after everything and then left me there. And honestly, I don't want a half-assed, unfeeling apology from you.”

“Sweetheart–”

“ Don’t ,” you warned coldly, cutting him off firmly as your eyes finally landed on him.

There was that sick feeling churning in your gut again, something unpleasant instantly washing over you just at the sound of that term of endearment you desperately wished to hear him say with the love and feeling he used to say it with. Matt sat frozen beside you, almost as if he’d accidentally slipped up with saying it himself and only realized it when you’d spoken.

“Don’t call me that,” you said firmly.

He nodded quietly, his mouth thinning into a straight line. You saw the movement of his throat as he swallowed hard, his face dropping down towards his lap. A confusing mix of emotions flickered through you as you let yourself take in the sight of him before you.

There was a large part of you, one that had been quickly growing over the last week, that wanted to yell at him. Maybe curse him out even. You wanted to tell him off and make him hurt, to make him feel even just a fraction of the pain you’d been feeling because of him. You wanted to tell him how pissed you were that he hadn’t emotionally been there for you after what had happened, though you’d certainly tried to be there for him. You wanted to tell him the fucked up part of that evening wasn’t the way he’d fucked you after, but the way he’d broke your heart and left you broken and alone–and then never reached out to you afterwards.

But there was also a part of you that was dying to throw yourself out of your chair at him. You wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest and cry. You wanted to feel his strong arms around you, hear his voice whispering in your ear how sorry he was and that everything would be okay. That he didn’t mean it. That he loved you still. That he wanted to fix things and talk through what happened.

Instead, he broke the awkward silence with one of the last things you wanted to hear.

“I’d like to find a way to apologize. To be friends, if that's alright?” he said, voice soft.

You winced at that word again.

“I don’t…want this tension between us,” he continued. “I uh, I don’t know if you would like that as well?”

Your hands tightened around the cold beer bottle on the table before you again, eyes glaring daggers at it. “Friends?” you asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” he replied quickly. “We can talk about something else for now. Like maybe why you’re covered in bruises?”

Your eyes narrowed further at the brown bottle in your hands, brows creasing together. “How do you even know that?” you asked.

“The uh, sound of your blood,” he answered awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath. “Well, I don’t think it’s really any of your concern,” you said, turning back to face him.

His face fell at your words, but your focus immediately shifted to just past his shoulder. A young brunette was determinedly making her way towards the pair of you, her eyes fixed on the back of Matt. Your grip tightened even further around the bottle of beer in your hand.

“Hey,” she greeted, cutting in the moment she reached the table.

Matt startled in his seat, almost as if he hadn’t been aware of her approaching the pair of you. He turned a little in his chair, shifting in the direction of the young woman. She smiled down at him, tucking a strand of hair nervously behind her ear. You wanted to puke.

“You know, I’ve noticed you in here a few times before,” she continued, ignoring you as she spoke, “and I’ve never had the nerve to just come say hi. I noticed you don’t have a drink, can I…maybe get you one?”

Your blood felt like it was boiling as Matt sent her that charming smile of his. It was like the universe thought it would be even more amusing to not only force you to have the friendship talk with Matt, but to then throw a pretty girl flirting with him in the middle of it. Because it’s not like your heart was hurting enough as it was, no, you needed to be reminded that this man drew attention from beautiful women everywhere he went. He didn’t need you .

“I appreciate that, but my friend has already grabbed me a drink,” Matt told her.

“Oh, okay, well maybe I can get the next one?” she asked hopefully, her hip leaning up against the table.

You lost it when Matt laughed lightly at her open flirting. As if this whole situation wasn’t killing you slowly to be stuck watching. Shifting in your seat, you drew your beer up to your mouth and downed the last half of it before roughly setting it back onto the table. The noise caused both of them to focus on you. Sliding out of your seat, you hoped Matt could feel the glare you were shooting him.

“I’ll pass on the friendship,” you told him.

“Oh, shit, was I interrupting something?” the young woman asked.

You shot her a sarcastic smile, ignoring the way Matt was quickly turning back towards you in his seat. “Yes,” you told her bluntly. “You were. But I’m done here. He’s all yours, sweetheart .”

Matt said your name, his tone almost desperate. “Wait,” he begged you. “Stay, please.”

But you didn’t.

You made your way towards the exit, the sound of your heart hammering in your own ears as you went. At the bar, you noticed Foggy, Karen, and Marci all wearing sad smiles. Even Josie behind the bar seemed to be shooting you a sympathetic look.

Fighting back the well of tears, you pushed the door open and left the bar. You didn’t need to force yourself to endure the pain of that situation any longer than you already had. The Matt you’d known would have told that young woman off for interrupting that conversation, for acting like you weren’t even there, but for some reason this time it had felt like he’d done the same.

You hugged your arms across your chest, sniffling hard as you walked back to your apartment alone, somehow feeling worse than when you’d begun your evening.

________

“Oh uh, I’m–I’m so sorry,” the young woman said.

Behind him, Matt could hear her taking a few steps back, but he was more focused on the sound of you lightly crying as you hurried away from Josie’s. He didn’t care when the young woman behind him slunk quietly away, he hadn’t even noticed her initially when she’d approached the table anyway. If anything, she’d been a frustrating interruption that he’d tried to politely get rid of, one that had blindsided him and made him further nervous when he’d been trying to figure out how to just talk to you.

Which, somehow he still fucked that up, too.

Your heart was beating unsteadily in your chest, though you were getting further and further away and it was quickly becoming almost impossible for him to keep focusing on it. He’d noticed it had been beating irregularly a lot lately whenever he passed by your apartment at night.

Though he had noticed the way it had stuttered in your chest the moment you’d seen him tonight. He’d also noticed the momentary uptick in your body temperature, the almost imperceptible flush on your cheeks, and the rush of pheromones rolling off of you when you’d first spotted him. He couldn’t deny that it had pleased him to still see your body reacting like that just at the sight of him, either. He always loved how you had reacted to him, consciously and unconsciously.

He had to admit it was difficult for him tonight to refrain from pulling you into a hug or drawing you in for a kiss–and fuck how he missed the taste of you on his tongue, missed the feel of your warm, soft lips always so eager for his. He missed the way you curled in against him whenever he embraced you, the scent of you filling his nose and those soft little sighs he didn't think you realized you made each time he did wrap you in his arms.

But you’d quickly become angry with him after that initial jolt of attraction. He felt the increase in your blood pressure, the race in your pulse, the tension in your muscles. You’d been subtly grinding your teeth, too, besides the nervous fidgeting with your beer bottle–which had been your third beer already. You’d been pissed at him, even more so after he had idiotically asked you how you’d been. Though the anger was rightly deserved; he had been an asshole. And even though he still felt it was best to not pursue something romantic with you to keep you safe from himself and his extracurricular nighttime pursuits, he hadn’t wanted to entirely cut you out of his life. Matt loved you too much to lose you permanently even though he knew how selfish that was.

But he also didn’t know how to reach out to you after what he’d done and what had happened. He didn’t want to give you false hope for something more between you both, because as badly as he wanted that, it wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe. But he was desperate to apologize and to help you understand why you were better off without him. So he had to admit that he had been a little bit happy when Foggy had told him about Karen and Marci’s ploy to get the pair of you to talk at Josie’s. At least he could blame it on them if you’d gotten mad about it–which it seemed like you had.

“What the hell happened?” Foggy asked, his tone light and teasing as he plopped into the chair beside Matt. “We leave you two alone for barely more than five minutes and you send her running off looking like she’s on the verge of tears!”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Matt murmured.

Foggy slid a beer towards Matt and he accepted it, uttering a soft ‘thanks’ before bringing it to his lips for a deep drink. He could feel Foggy’s eyes on him.

“Well, so what happened?” Foggy pressed.

Matt blew out a rough breath, raising his glasses with one hand and rubbing at his eyes with the other. “I don’t really even know,” he admitted. “She’s mad at me. Which I get and I definitely deserve that anger. But I barely had a chance to truly apologize, or to try to ease the tension before attempting to again. She certainly didn't want to hear it the first time. But then I was interrupted.”

“Ahh, yeah,” Foggy said, nodding. “Figured that’s what did it. Why didn’t you brush that girl off like you usually do?”

“I was trying to!” Matt quickly defended. “I didn’t even realize she’d come up to the table until she’d been talking. Wasn’t even remotely focused on anything else but our conversation. So when that woman showed up she threw me off entirely. By the time I was trying to send her on her way it was too late.”

Matt’s heart ached in his chest at how it felt to call out for you to wait, to just stay to talk to him, only to have you just walk away from him. Though he knew that pain didn’t feel remotely as horrible as when he’d done it to you two weeks ago.

“You know,” Foggy began, “that whole friendship thing is bullshit. You love her, man. Couple weeks ago I was pretty sure you were debating on ring shopping. What the hell happened? And don’t,” he continued sharply, Matt hearing the way Foggy’s hand rose and pointed a firm finger at his chest, “tell me it’s because she was kidnapped.”

“But it is,” Matt stressed, his hand gripping his beer bottle in frustration. He leaned in on the table closer to Foggy as he harshly whispered, “Backman’s men took her to get to me, Fog. Me . They held a gun to her head because of me . She doesn’t–doesn’t deserve that. She deserves to be with someone who won’t put her in danger. Who won’t have dangerous people kidnapping her because of what they do. Or put her in danger because of who they are." Matt roughly shook his head, drawing the beer back up to his lips. “She’s safer without me.”

“That’s stupid and you know it,” Foggy shot at him. “You know, Karen said she’s been taking a bunch of self-defense classes lately.”

Matt frowned as he set his beer onto the table. “That’s why she’s covered in bruises?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Foggy said. “And for the record, still really weird you can notice that.”

“Further proves my point,” Matt muttered, shifting in his seat.

“What point?” Foggy asked.

“She’s taking self-defense classes now, after what happened,” he answered. “She wasn’t afraid before, but now she is. And that’s on me.”

Foggy cleared his throat, the sound of him nervously chewing on his lip not lost on Matt. With a sigh Matt’s head turned to his friend beside him, raising a single brow.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just…” Foggy began hesitantly, “Karen said that she’d told her she was taking the classes because she no longer had Daredevil protecting her, not–not because of what had happened.”

Matt’s frown deepened, a pang hitting him in the chest at that information. “I’ll always protect her,” he replied immediately. “Always.”

“Karen also said that…there was more to it than the kidnapping,” Foggy continued awkwardly. “That uh, some of it was about what happened afterwards? When you two uh–” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “–you know.”

Matt grunted in frustration. Foggy’s heart nervously sped up at the sound.

“It uh, it’s really none of my business, man,” Foggy quickly added, “but Karen said she had repeatedly stressed that whatever happened was entirely consensual between you two. And I just think you two need to just sit down and talk.” “Fog, no,” Matt snapped. “I’ve told you already, her and I can’t happen. I won’t willingly put her in danger.”

“Matt, come on,” Foggy pushed. “She's miserable. You’re miserable. We all see it. You’re always out in the mask, too. You’re barely sleeping anymore, man. Always so distracted at work. And if you’re not grumpy, you’re mopey. I’m worried about you, Matt.” Foggy leaned closer towards his friend, resting his elbows on the table. “Dude, you love her. What the fuck is it going to take? Just talk to her. Stop torturing both of yourselves needlessly. Apologize and work it out.”

“I heard you the first time, Fog,” Matt grumbled, bringing his beer back up to his lips. “I intend to find a way to properly apologize. What I did was…wrong. And she shouldn’t have met that side of me. But anything more than friendship between us is not happening.”

Foggy was shaking his head roughly, Matt could hear the way air was moving around the pair of them. He could practically feel the disappointed look on his friend’s face.

“You just can’t ever let yourself be happy, can you?” Foggy asked, his voice sad.

“That’s not what this is,” Matt stated firmly.

“Isn’t it?” Foggy asked, his brows creasing together. “You’ve been the happiest I’ve ever seen you for the past eight months. Because of her . She’s perfect for you–hell, she accepts the weird and very unsafe hobby you have with open fucking arms! She accepts you ," Foggy pressed, placing a hand on Matt’s shoulder. "And the first time something goes wrong, the first time things get really scary for both of you, you just fucking bolt. You’re scared, Matt. That's what this is. You think if you leave her first, you won’t get hurt. But guess what buddy?” Foggy's hand left his friend’s shoulder, waving it around at Matt, gesturing roughly at him. “You’re already hurt. She's hurt. And you did it to yourself. But it doesn't have to be like this and deep down you know that."

Matt grit his teeth together, shaking his head as his focus dropped down towards his beer. “That’s not what this is,” he repeated.

Beside him, Foggy’s shoulders slumped as a sigh left him. He picked up his beer and took a long drink.

“If you say so, Matt,” he said, tone disbelieving.

This was about keeping you safe, Matt told himself. His friends just didn’t understand.

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