#1) kids feel safe enough to come out to him
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Ae Fond Kiss - Part 4
A Prayer in the Prospect of Death
Summary: The years pass and you find out how Simon feels about you before a familiar face arrives.
Words: 2.8k
Parts: 1 2 3 4
“Tell me luv.”
Simon had his fingers tucked under your chin to tilt your head up so you could no longer easily hide. Urgh he was so bloody perceptive.
“It’s silly.”
“You’re always silly, now tell me.”
You fought the urge to blow a raspberry at him. He was truly the most stubbornly protective human you had ever met and he never just let things go if you said it was fine. He always knew when something was bothering you despite your attempts to hide it.
“What am I supposed to do when Joey starts nursery?”
You sighed and dropped any attempt to hide how miserable the thought made you. When you and Johnny had gotten married you had decided that you’d be a stay at home mum. You didn’t have a career you were attached to and Johnny made enough to support the household. Honestly you had come to enjoy it in the last year. You decorated your home for every holiday, experimented in the kitchen until you were actually a very good home cook and baker, always felt safe and content with how well you knew your own space and how cosy and clean you kept it.
It was never how you imagined yourself if you were honest, a homemaker. The idea of you actually sort of enjoying cleaning would have made you feel somewhat ill 5 years ago. But now you were in your own home with a toddler you loved to death and, though you often were reluctant to admit it out loud, a man you loved to death. You had been front and centre for all of Joey’s firsts and you wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Simon missed his first steps. Johnny had been fine doing video calls while he was on base during off hours, but you didn’t even have the number of Simon’s work phone. It used to frustrate you that it felt like he didn’t even exist the moment he left for work, but he had spoken about his family on your first Christmas together and it made you understand. He would never carry anything on him as the Ghost that could link back to you, even in the relative safety of the base during downtime.
Now Joey would be out of the house for most of the day. You could have waited, not sent him to nursery and just kept him home until school, but you knew it would be for your sake rather than his. He loved being around other kids and some of the friends he had made from you taking him to every toddler group in the area in an attempt to be a good mother would be starting nursery as well.
Could you just do nothing all day? Between Johnny’s insurance and death in service benefits and Simon insisting on funnelling money in, you could certainly afford it now, but it felt so wrong when Johnny was dead and Simon was doing the exact job that had killed him.
“What do you mean? You do the same as you do right now if you’re still happy doing it but without him.”
“Lounge around and do nothing while you are out risking your life you mean.”
Simon considered, always careful to think the situation through rather than reply impulsively. He was annoyed with himself for not seeing sooner that you were undervaluing yourself, only considering taking care of Joey which was a full time job in itself as contributing. While it had been a source of bitter guilt in the beginning, he had started to forget how much younger you were than him. He really should have seen it, no woman in her early 20s saw her full worth.
“Princess, you decorated this whole house while I was deployed and you’re the one that fixes things or organises for them to be fixed when they break. You cook almost all our meals from scratch and then make extra to donate to the community kitchen. The garden is immaculate because you follow the planting plan you made yourself and are out there doing maintenance every day. You do not now nor have you ever lounged about doing nothing, even if I would like it if you did.”
He already felt bad enough about it. When he was home he threw himself in, tried to take as much off of you as possible even when he was nowhere near as fast or good at things. If anything he was contributing nowhere near enough money to cover all the full time jobs you were gracefully juggling (only because it had already been a fight to accept any money at all, he gave you what you accepted and then put almost the rest of his pay into an account for Joey).
“Shut up!” you whined, battering fists against his chest as your face flamed.
You had lived together now for just around 3 years. You had been intimately involved for 2. It still absolutely floored you when he was nice to you and made butterflies erupt in your stomach. It was so ridiculous to feel like some wide eyed teen with a crush when it came to this idiot. Unfortunately his favourite hobby was fucking with you when you were taken off guard like this.
“Aww baby girl, you know how much I appreciate everything you do for me and Joe don’t you? We’d fall apart without you beautiful” he said in a smooth rumble, peppering kisses across your cheeks and down your neck.
It wasn’t fair that he could just tease you with a version of him that adored you. A version that you enjoyed even if you didn’t really think it was real. Sure there had been a maybe ‘I love you’ years ago after all that sexual tension broke and he seemed to be happy enough, but you could only imagine that if he ever knew how you felt about him he would run. The last 3 years you had fought at every turn to protect your heart, but you had stopped denying at least to yourself that it was pathetically his now.
“Don’t do that.”
“You don’t want praise and kisses?”
He raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a small smile. You loved praised and kisses, he knew that because in the bedroom he could use that to turn you into a pile of obedient princess who did whatever he said if it would earn you his adulation. But it was just sex wasn’t it?
“I don’t want you to pretend.”
He was confused by that and you wanted to sink into the floor to avoid this conversation. You had been avoiding it for a while now.
“I… fuck. Simon, I don’t- it’s not just sex to me” you choked out, not sure how to put it into words without straight out admitting that you were hopelessly in love with him and wanted him in you and J’s lives permanently.
“Christ, you pretty little idiot” he growled, grabbing your face roughly in his hands. “I love you. I am in love with you. I’m not Johnny, I don’t do big romantic gestures. I’m not the kind of man to tell you all the time how I feel. I’m the kind of man who is a selfish bastard because I don’t give a fuck if you deserve someone who does. You are mine. You have been for years. Do you understand me?”
You could only blink wide-eyed as your brain tried to catch up with the whole world restarting itself after the shock.
“Do you understand me?” he snapped.
“Yes sir.”
“Good girl… wanna get married?”
You stuttered out an outraged shout, feeling the tears that had been building drying up at the audacity of this man.
“Johnny took me to the cabin. He made me a replica of the first dinner we had together and set the table outside during the sunset. He organised for fireworks!”
“Told you I don’t do romantic gestures.”
“Fine!”
“Fine?”
“Fine, let’s get married Casper. You’re the fucking worst.”
“Don’t I know it princess. I’m not wearing a tie.”
“Then I’m not wearing a dress.”
“Yes you bloody well are!”
“Wanna bet?!”
-
He did not wear a tie, but Joey did. Your dress was beautiful. Gaz officiated your wedding for the second time. Price said there was an emergency so he couldn’t make it - you weren’t really sure you believed him.
-
As you cleared up after the whirlwind that was breakfast in a house with a 9 year old late for school, you sighed and stuck on a heat patch. You were starting to wonder if being off birth control was maybe a little pointless because in the past 18 months it had only reminded you how much you hated periods after years of them being gone as a useful side effect.
It had been something you were speaking about since you got married. You had always wanted more kids. Simon had never even expected he’d have one. You were terrified of a repeat of your first pregnancy, he was terrified that his genes were poisonous. You had enough money with his hefty pay and your small business (you had started it up soon after Joey had started nursery and you got a lot of orders for events, birthdays and weddings for sets of biscuits. You imagined wherever Johnny was he was howling with laughter that you had turned into a home baker after all the kitchen disasters he had seen).
In the end it had been Joseph who made the decision. One shrugged mention of how he thought it’d be nice to have a little sibling and that was that. There was not one thing in the whole wide world you and Simon would not give him if it was in your power. Although you were starting to think it wasn’t in your power at all.
It wasn’t like you didn’t have an active sex life and in honesty it had only gotten more active from the breeding kink Simon had uncovered as soon as it was a possibility. But it just hadn’t happened.
You wondered if it was better that it hadn’t, at least until Joey was 10. That was when you had agreed you would tell him everything. On advice of a psychologist you had told him that Simon wasn’t his biological father very early on, as early as he could understand the concept, although stressed he was still his dad. The only thing you mentioned about his biological father was that he had died even though that was very much against the psychologists advice, she had said to tell him everything about Johnny.
But in 4 months he would turn 10 and he knew that you would answer his questions then. It was shitty of the two of you really, to hide Johnny until now. Joey’s grandmother still saw him, but she never talked about her son or who he was. It was cowardice. Simon had been speaking with a therapist for years about how to let go of the idea that Johnny died because he couldn’t save him. You felt ill at the idea of your son knowing you had married his dead father’s best friend. Both of you were so scared of Johnny’s ghost that you kept him from his son for nearly a decade.
Well sort of. Joey knew who Johnny was, just not that he was his father. There were photos of him in the house. Whenever Gaz, Price and their partner (that had been a whole drama, but you were happy the three of them finally worked it out) were around, sometimes they would reminisce about him. Well Gaz and Simon did, Price would just look pained and excuse himself to get a drink.
You could only hope that Joey wouldn’t hate you, but then he was such a great kid. A little wild, but incredibly kind and empathetic beyond his years. He had Johnny’s eyes. You thought that he’d understand when you explained it all. Maybe he’d yell at you for thinking he would blame you for falling in love with his dad, but he’d understand.
You focused on cleaning up and getting the kitchen back clean and cosy how you liked it, deciding not to borrow worries from the future.
–
Price had told him to settle his arse down in the base and let him travel down and talk to him before he went anywhere. Johnny ignored him. He had just saved the fucking world, there was not one thing that was going to keep him from his wife and child one second longer.
He had debriefed already, been medically cleared to leave. He knew the paperwork was going to be horrendous given that he was legally dead, but frankly he’d leave it for the intelligence agencies to deal with given how much of a big bloody favour he had just done them. He got your address off of them given that Price hadn’t given it to him, just telling him to wait until he got there. Fuck that.
It didn’t take too long to get himself there. It was oddly comforting hearing all the English accents after a decade of hearing almost entirely Russian even if he’d be moving your pretty arse back North of the border as soon as he could. Not a chance was his family living in Carlisle. He wondered why you would move that far from the Highlands where his family was. You had always been no contact with your own family, maybe you had reconciled with them and moved to be closer?
He would find out. Whatever it was he’d support you. God he loved you, he had missed you so fucking much. He had imagined the reunion for years, thought of your smile and your laugh when he needed to remind himself what he was fighting for, thought of your soft skin and tight pussy when he needed to relieve some tension with his right hand. Whenever he sent up a prayer in the prospect of death, it was for you that he prayed he would survive.
He thought of how he’d hold you for days when he got back. He knew you would have raised a wonderful son and he could not wait to meet the person he had become. He’d hold him as well, spend days cuddled up and watching movies with his family.
And then he’d take you to the cabin and lose himself in your body. Fuck it was strange to think he’d have to consider it wasn’t just you two anymore. He didn’t want to lose any time with his son, but he needed alone time with you as well. He’d work it out.
The house was nice, sort of quaint with the pretty flowers both real and painted on the door. It hurt knowing if he hadn’t been away you’d have something bigger. You would have had to for a growing family.
He wished he had stopped and gotten a change of clothes and a haircut. He was in military issued sweats and a hoodie and his hair had grown out to curl around his ears. He really should have shaved as well, a task he hadn’t had time for in the chaos of the last few months. But fuck it, he was here and he couldn’t wait.
It was almost like an out of body experience knocking on the door, knowing he was seconds away from you. He should have realised that there was another person around who could answer the door, but he hadn’t been thinking. The Joseph he knew was a tiny baby, not a bright eyed kid with a toothy grin in a football strip (a bloody Man U strip at that, Johnny just knew his uncle Simon would have had a hand in that and it made him grin knowing his best friend was still in his son’s life).
“Ye got big!” he belted, excited beyond proper introductions at seeing his son.
The kid furrowed his brows for a moment before he brightened with recognition. Johnny assumed now was about the time for crying and yelling and hugging. He was unprepared for the alternative.
“I know you! You’re dad’s Sergeant! I thought you died.”
His heart lurched, putting the dots together well before his brain could.
“Joe hurry it up! We’ll miss kick-off!”
Johnny knew that voice. It was not yours.
“I’m ready!”
“You better be! Right, who’s at the door then?”
The voice got closer and even though he wanted to run Johnny was rooted to the spot. It felt like the next 10 seconds as the footsteps and voice came closer was hours. The door swung wider open as a hand pulled on it from behind and then he was looking into the eyes of Simon Riley. The silence was deafening until Johnny broke it.
“What the fuck did you do Si!”
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My mom woke me up at 2am to say "I just want to let you know that I'm not crazy, but I am the bride of Christ and he needs you to take him more seriously." and no one is hiring me, so I can't afford to move out of this wackass fucking house!!! Bro I hate it here!!!
#and then she was like ''i keep trying to /remind him/ that you're trying to sleep‚ but he really wanted me to tell you 🥺''#please someone get me the fuck out of here oh my god. she also mocked me for being raped and abused as a kid which was um. not fun#bc I'm scared of men‚ and i get nervous when men come over. and she has a ldr boyfriend (of 6 months) who she plans on marrying#and she was like ''ohhh let me just NEVER HAVE MEN OVER because I have to bow down to your TWAUMAA *mocking noises*''#and i hadn't even done or said ANYTHING!!! i don't complain when she has guy friends over!!! i just stay in my room!!!!#and then she called me a spoiled rotten brat because i had a panic attack when she randomly mentioned he was coming over#like I'm not allowed to be afraid of a complete stranger my mom has known for 6 months being in my house#and she's like ''i KNOW HIM!!!!'' girl you also knew my father for 12 years and look how that turned out. not good!#sorry for venting on here‚ I'm at the library right now. bc if i go home‚ she's going to start telling me her conspiracy theories#like i do not feel safe enough to go home. and I've been desperately job hunting to get the fuck out but i haven't gotten even 1 reply#anyway!!! I'm coping by looking at apartments and making lists of household items to fill it with#heart shaped rice cooker my beloved#personal
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You think the Zone has its version of Comic Con?
Like? Think about it. You have literally all of time to work on it, your Magnum Opus, your life's work. That DREAM comic. All the supplies you could ever wish for. Endless paper. Endless ink. You can practice and practice for CENTURIES until it's JUST right.
Wouldn't you want to share it?
There are definitely Ghosts who have Obsessions that make them collect.
And two people meeting would lead to a group. Lead to a bigger group. Lead to a large group. A gathering. A crowd even. Eventually you need a Lair to meet IN. It becomes An Event.
People hear about it.
Want to bring other art mediums. Food stalls. Report on it. It grows. Shoot offs start happening. Niche meet ups.
But like?
Unlike comic con? It's all FREE. Sure, you might have fork over the ecto to make your copy. And yeah, weaker ghosts can only do that so many times. Will have to prioritize. But? They can come back after leaving for a nap. Ask a buddy to come with. There ARE work arounds.
Just? Imagine the unbelievable HIPE? Danny would feel? But be unable to TELL anyone about? Zone Con happens several times a year! Cause so many people wanna come. The Zone being infinite, after all.
Problem 1? They're using THEIR standard of a "year". Which is actual 5 earth years. So it's only happens every year and a half for him. And Problem 2? He can't even TALK about how excited he is about Z Con with anyone (outside his friends and family) because they haven't heard of it and might Ask Questions.
It's ALSO held in a part of the Zone that's like? Three days of flying away from the portal. And no amount of begging is gonna get any of his loved ones to camp in the Speeder for around six-ish days just to go to a Con.
So you can imagine his DELIGHT. His utter JOY and *Target Spotted* "!!!" Noise, when? In the crowd? He spots A HUMAN! Hi fellow human!!! Omg, wanna be Con Besties? *doesn't even wait for an answer*
So now? This sad, blonde, deeply lost and kinda alarmed, trench coat dude? Is Danny's new Z Con Going Bestie! You got a map yet, bestie? No? That's cool, he has one. By the way, he has human food in the Speeder if you nee-
YES!
Cause, see, here's the THING. John? Lost to the Realms Infinte. Or Infinte Realms. Translation was iffy... and on fire... like the rest of the building. It was him or the kids those psychos had kidnapped, for what fucked "ritual" the voices in their heads, that THEY thought were demons but frankly he's pretty sure was just feedback from-
Look, doesn't matter, he had to choose. He always knew someday he'd have too. That even twisting Luck and talking fast wouldn't quite be enough. And he had to decide, in that moment, which outcome mattered more to him. They get out safe, or he does.
Wasn't much of a question, was it?
So, there he is. Staring down oblivion and all those debts unpaid. 'Bout to see who's gonna come for him this time, and take what left of wretched soul. When? He bleeds on the FUCKIN two-bit crap circle they squiggled in God only knows what. Remembers that "oh YEAH, set dressings!" Sometimes when you focus too hard on insuring a Good Outcome?
You weird weird as shit byproducts happening on the side to balance it all out.
Or BAD ones.
He wakes up someone fucking green and crowded. For the life of him can't tell you which one it is. And THAT was of course, bout two days ago.
Biggest and most immediate problem? He... does NOT recognize what flavor of magical fuckery this is. Doesn't seem Fae. And doesn't smell like Hell. There are... there are honest to God BOOTH BABES hanging around. Hunks too. The view is LOVELY.
And nerdy.
Very, very nerdy.
But he isn't THAT out of touch. So he should recognize SOMETHING. Or at least the languages. But nope! It's like aliens and magic had a nerd baby and dipped it in GREEN. And the worst thing? Is there is food everywhere, but it all glows and John's not stupid enough to eat it.
Then? Sweet merciful fuck. Salvation! Some teeny bopper Barely No Longer Teen fresh faced INFANT of a Hero kid. With a SHIP. Who has FOOD and a clear idea of where they are. Hello~ John's new BEST FRIEND. Yes. Absolutely. Con Buddies, whatever.
Just feed me, kid.
Only? Once he inhales like 5 "Fenton rations"? He only gets half way through introducing himself before getting interrupted. Kid hears "magic" and "occult Detective" and just? Goes "oh! So you wanna check out the magic Ally with me? Sam wanted me to pick up some witchy stuff!"
..............how magic?
(In Which? Constantine becomes Danny's interdimensional Con buddy)
@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe
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INVERSE FUNCTION (1)
yandere sukuna x fem!reader; stalking; insp: this song [pls listen to this after reading]
divider by @benkeibear; jjk isn't mine; pls don't plagiarise/translate/repost this ❤️❤️
Sukuna is hooked on you.
He has no idea since when, why or how– but he has a very good idea of the degree he is hooked on you— each and every small bit of you–
Your sleepy face, first thing in the morning as you open the windows to your room, and stare at the sky then the empty street below. Your peppy walk out the apartment, not even an hour later as you head to your classes, always so punctual– so neatly, cutely dressed.
The warm smiles you offer everyone you come across— be it the kids waiting for their bus, the florist, the barista who serves you coffee, or the many classmates you've whenever you step into the class, words of greeting leaving you and brightening the room, more than the sun.
And not to mention the endearing look of concentration your pretty features wear, when the classes start.
Sukuna swears he has to actively, very painfully, restrain himself from walking right up to you and kissing your face off, each and every time your eyebrows gather together and your lips pucker into a pout– only for your teeth to sink into your lower lip not a moment later, the flesh there growing angry red, deliciously so, as you continue taking notes of the lecture.
Although... the man thinks his favourite look on you has got to be the one you wear in the evening: when the classes are over, when all your friends have finally left, when you're by yourself, no longer smiling as brightly as you do. Seeming so tired, so very fragile, as you trudge on the darkening streets back to your flat...
It makes something weird, but not wholly unpleasant, curl up within his chest. So strong that it makes him want to pick up into his arms, and keep you there forever, safe and sound and well-rested. Forever with him, tucked in the safety of his embrace—
Sukuna is not too sure, but he thinks this feeling might be why he has suddenly decided to break into your house today, instead of watching you from afar like he has always done. Or maybe, just maybe...
Watching you from a distance is no longer enough for him.
He has to enter the place you call 'home'.
He has to soak up every drop, memorise every fleck of your life here.
Starting from the random tiny doodles scribbled on the canary yellow walls— to the thick hardcover books and notebooks in neat stacks on the sofa, the table, the floor— to the pressure cooker kept on the oval burner of your gas stove— to the queen-size bed in a floral bed sheet, visible if he walks past the translucent screen between your bedroom and living room— to the sketchbook lying on the bed– its pages filled with– filled with–
Sketches Of Him!?!?
Him working in the garage on a car. Him smoking at the bus stop you travel from. Him dozing in class, head propped up on a fist. Him busy eating sandwiches, binoculars on the bench beside as his gaze stays somewhere above—
The sketchbook is filled with drawings of him, him, and only him—
Something stirs and stutters and stomps on his sternum; albeit he is unsure why. Is it the fact that he finally realises he is standing right in the middle of your bedroom– the most intimate place in your life? Or is it because he is staring at these many sketches your dainty fingers have made of him– so beautiful, so careful, so unlike him?
Can it be the unease clawing at him, stemming from your knowledge of him being in places close to you, where and when he should never be? Or– maybe or– is it the thrill tingling his fingers, when he realises, you too have been at places close to him, where and when you must never ever be...
A door opens and shuts behind him.
Sukuna swerves back to find you standing outside your bathroom, in nothing but a flimsy nightgown, hair still soaking wet whilst the towel hangs off your bare shoulders.
Your eyes jump from him to the sketchbook in his hand then to him— before crinkling into two pretty half-crescents as you smile... Sort of–
"Tea or coffee, stranger?"
follow the series here 🥰🥰 // masterlist
#kit writes: Inverse Function#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen x reader#ryomen x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna fluff#sukuna angst#jjk fluff#jjk angst#tw yandere#kit posts 📝
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Not So Imaginary
Parts 1-3
Parts 4-6Parts 7-8
WC: 1177
“I brought you some more books to read,” Jason said as he entered the room.
After Danny had shown that they were clearly a person (a kid at that) and answered a few questions, they had been moved to an actual room on the Watchtower. Jason was pretty sure part of it was how he refused to leave the cell until Danny was moved, but he didn’t really care as long as it got his friend safe.
Danny looked up with a grin. They were pretty solid today, sitting cross-leg on the bed with feet and everything.
“You’re back,” the artificial voice spoke out from the tablet like device in Danny’s hands. It was a version of something called a SGD, Bruce had said, and was used by people who had trouble with verbal sounds. They didn’t know if Danny would always need it or if they’re vocal cords would come back as they continued to solidify.
“I am. B said I could stay a whole three hours today too as long as I ate a snack while I was here,” Jason said, holding up one of the bags he had.
Three hours still wasn’t a lot, but it was better than the one it had been the rest of the week. It took a lot of begging, but B finally agreed that Jason was well enough for a test to see how it went. Danny was still draining life force from Jason, and only Jason, which made certain Leaguers nervous about letting the two of them close. Jason had done everything he could to let it happen: he’d begged and argued, he’d eating everything Alfie wanted him to, he rested whenever Bruce wanted him too which was all the time, and he even agreed to stay benched for as long as it took.
That last one had really helped convince Bruce and Dick that Jason wouldn’t back down from helping his friend.
“Good. I am happy. What do you have?”
“You liked the Hardy Boys, right? I have a few more of those and I found you some science mags you might like,” Jason said as he flopped onto the bed next to Danny. He could feel the odd tingle travel up his arm as he leaned into Danny.
“Thank you,” Danny said with a wide smile. The tone of the electronic voice didn’t match the brightness of that smile, but it was alright. Jason could also feel how happy Danny was.
“You’re doing okay?”
“Yes.” There was a long pause as Danny found the right words. They were pretty quick already with preset phrases, but odder things still took longer than regular talking would. “WW took me to observation deck. We watched stars. She told me stories of stars from her home.”
“Yeah?” Jason asked, trying to keep his voice from hitching around the word. He couldn’t bug Danny with that yet. “You like her? Wonder Woman?”
“Yes.” The reply was quick, but Danny was watching Jason with furrowed brows. They pushed a sense of question through their bond.
“I’m fine. Just thinking through some shit,” Jason said with a wave of his hand. “But Wonder Woman is really cool. She’s my favorite too.”
Danny set the tablet aside so that they could run their fingers through Jason’s hair. It felt odd, what with not all of the fingers always being all of the way solid, but a good sort of odd. It seems Jason couldn’t just Danny’s concern aside.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?”
Danny let out what for anyone else would have been a sigh and gave a little nod. They shorted through the bag of books Jason had brought and found a Hardy Boy’s to hand over to Jason.
“What me to read to you?” Jason waited for the nod. Apparently it was really important to let Danny choose things right then, or so the adults said. “Okay, move over a bit, yeah? You’re hogging all the bed.”
Danny placed their hand to their chest, face screwing up in an affronted expression. It didn’t work though when Jason could feel the amusement through their bond.
“Yeah yeah, I’m a brute, now shove over,” Jason said with a laugh. He worked his way up until he was lounging against the head of the bed.
Danny didn’t move.
“You’re a brat,” Jason accused.
Danny gave a silent laugh, humor bumbling up in their bond, before they flopped over right onto Jason’s chest. Jason let a huff of a sigh, but ran his fingers through Danny’s hair like he knew they liked before he opened the book to start read about another adventure of the Hardy Boys.
It was easier to feel the drain like this, when they were so close to each other and touching. Jason had tried to avoid spelling that out too much to Bruce. He got that his dad was just worried, but he was afraid if B knew he’d tried to keep Danny away.
As it was Bruce was trying to send Danny away.
Jason brushed the thought aside, focusing on doing his best to give the characters good voices for Danny. At least it was a distraction from all the rest of Jason’s thoughts. Two chapters later the stopped to ask, “Want a break or do you want another chapter?”
Danny rolled over and off Jason’s chest to flop onto the pillow next to him and Jason froze. His shock must have been clear because Danny scrambled up off the bed until they were floating above Jason.
“No! It’s a good thing. Just… you’re getting some of your color back,” Jason explained. He should really stop staring. He should take Danny to a mirror to see or something, but it was just that… Danny was beautiful right then. He found himself reaching up to brush his finger tips of the bright freckles that were scattered across Danny’s cheeks and nose like a galaxy of stars.
Bright teal eyes blinked back at him.
Jason cleared his throat. “Right, sorry, let’s go let you look.”
Danny floated to the side, landing on their feet as Jason stood, and followed behind behind to the small attached bathroom. Jason guided Danny in front of the mirror. White was spreading into their hair now.
For a moment Jason was worried that Danny was frozen in shock, then the other leaned in close to the mirror, touching the surface before bringing their hand up to their own face. Suddenly Danny was moving, spinning weightlessly around Jason as they gave a soundless whoop.
“I know,” Jason said with a grin of his own. “Look at you! You’re really coming together now! I knew you could do it. I knew that you could come back.”
Slowly, Danny drifted back down so that the tips of their toes brushed against the floor. They rested their forehead against Jason’s.
He didn’t need words to understand what Danny was trying to say.
“Don’t have to thank me, stardust. I’ll always come for you just like you’ll always come for me.”
---
AN: Oh ho, is Jason starting to realize he has a crush? And what isn't he telling Danny? Hopefully this part is good, the weather is giving me such a migraine/making me super dizzy so my eyes are crossing some! (Yes, I'm resting, on the couch with a cat!)
I really should have made an update post for this... this supposed ficlet just keeps going! 7K now! Aaaah well. Anywho, stay delightful, darlings!
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go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu
synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!
word count; 7.4k
contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight
a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!
”you’re staring. again.”
yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk.
gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.
— it’s maki.
and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.
”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.
”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!”
”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.
his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.
maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.
panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.
and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.
his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.
and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?
but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.
you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.
and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.
he wishes he could get to know you.
yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing.
so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.
hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.
(maybe one day.)
”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”
”see? he’s hopeless.”
”mentaiko…”
”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”
”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”
exam.
yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.
”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”
before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.
inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.
”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”
”you’re still mad about that, huh?”
”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”
a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.
and that’s when it happens.
— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him.
a moment passes.
while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you.
a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun.
yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet.
his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.
”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”
”maki!”
”what do you like about them, anyway?”
the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm.
”huh?”
”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”
”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”
”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”
”tuna mayo.”
”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”
”well, out with it. why them?”
yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.
and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.
(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)
and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.
but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.
why does yuuta like you?
he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.
it all started with a pencil.
in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.
(your smile was just so bright.)
that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.
honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?
all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.
but then you smiled.
”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.
”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”
”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”
then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.
”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”
a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.
such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.
that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.
(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)
”well?”
maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?
squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.
”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”
yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”
maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.
a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.
”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”
”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”
”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”
inumaki hums. affirmative.
”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”
(you’re totally out of his league. right?)
maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”
the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”
…
maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.
the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.
”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”
a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.
maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”
at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”
she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”
the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”
inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.
”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”
”of course not.”
”nope!”
”bonito flakes.”
”b… but —”
”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”
”tuna mayo?”
”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”
”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”
yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”
panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.
”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”
he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”
yuuta looks down.
everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes.
and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.
panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.
”step 1: ask for their number!”
plan a
”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”
panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”
”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”
inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.
yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.
”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”
yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”
panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”
a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.
they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.
(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)
”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”
with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.
”hey, miwa. muta.”
the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.
”hi, maki! how are you?”
”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.”
”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”
”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”
”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”
kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.
”so, here’s how it is…”
panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.
”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.
”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”
”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”
with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”
”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.
”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”
(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)
maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”
”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.
”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”
panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything.
”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”
”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”
plan a
plan b
”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”
the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.
when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.
”you’re a genius, inu!”
”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”
yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.
”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”
”just be straightforward.”
”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”
”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”
a pause. yuuta bites his lip.
”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.
(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)
”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”
gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?
maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”
yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”
maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”
”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”
”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.
just be yourself. this is your specialty, right?
write from your heart.
”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.
”… alright. i’ll write it!”
”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”
”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”
when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.
he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.
(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)
his hands are shaking.
it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —
and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.
he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.
you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.
it’s the perfect moment to strike.
yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.
(just be yourself.)
with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.
his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.
when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.
”that was so good, yuuta!”
….
huh?
”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”
”… ah.” yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”
with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”
mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —
”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”
”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”
for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.
(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)
”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”
shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”
….
”what.”
panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”
a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”
quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —
and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.
”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”
panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”
a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”
inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”
”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”
the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.
surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.
plan a plan b
plan c
a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.
”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”
”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”
”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”
inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.
”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”
”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”
a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”
”that’s the plan.”
”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”
yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”
before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.
”oh? did someone just say confess?”
at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.
panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer.
”— no.”
maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.
”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”
a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.
”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”
maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”
”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him.
placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”
”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.
a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”
before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”
”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”
”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”
…
a moment passes. then another.
”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”
and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.
(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)
so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”
and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”
”have you even talked to a girl before?”
”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”
”salmon.”
”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”
”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”
”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”
gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”
”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”
”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”
maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.
begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”
everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips.
”— just ask them! easy, right?
….
”let’s go, yuuta.”
”mentaiko.”
”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”
”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”
maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway.
”kids! come back!”
plan a plan b plan c
plan d
”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”
relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.
”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”
maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”
he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.
an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.
rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.
the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.
(when we grow up, let’s get married!)
”earth to yuuta!”
his eyes flutter open.
the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.
a flicker of hope.
”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.
yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”
a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”
panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.
this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways.
this is it.
maki parts her lips.
”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”
silence.
a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently.
”… huh?!”
panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.
yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”
”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”
when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.
”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”
tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful.
”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”
panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.
the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.
”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.
”have some confidence, dammit!”
a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.
panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly.
”this… overflowing tough love…!”
”salmon roe…!”
maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right?
yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.
then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”
the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”
a moment passes.
yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.
and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”
”i — i am!”
another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”
”i am!”
…
”wait —”
maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.
”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”
a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”
— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.
”um, yuuta?”
the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound.
it’s you.
you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.
”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.
”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?”
he blinks. the world stops spinning.
(you… want to talk….
to him?)
attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.
he can only stare, star-struck.
it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.
”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”
”have fun, you two!”
”salmon!”
— then they’re off.
yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure.
he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.
”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.
”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”
…
(oh god oh no why did i say that —)
your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”
eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.
”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing.
both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.
”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”
yuuta blinks.
(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)
and he almost can’t believe it.
all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”
he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.
”just — whenever you're ready.”
there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.
”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.
he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.
he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.
he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.
”do you, um…”
a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them.
here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.
yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably.
clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.
they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.
a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.
a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.
here it comes.
your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.
just the sound alone would be enough.
subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.
(when we grow up, let’s get married!
you can keep it, if you want.)
here it comes, yuuta thinks.
a new beginning.
he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —
”do you have maki’s number?”
(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)
#sorry yuuta T_T#I LOVE THIS BOY!! W MY WHOLE CHEST!!! (i just happen to also love maki oops)#dont worry abt it guys the obvious solution here is yutamaki x reader🥳#i love college yuuta sm aaa…. hes so sweet…. i wanna pick him up n throw him against a wall#sorry. im sorry#he gives me cuteness aggression ok😥😥#writing for inumaki makes me feel so goofy... why am i out here going “salmon salmon mentaiko”..........#okkotsu yuuta#yuuta x you#yuuta x reader#jjk yuuta#yuuta okkotsu x reader#yuuta okkotsu x you#yuuta fluff#jjk x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fluff#jjk college au
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Could I please request some platonic HCs for Sir Pentious and Angel Dust with a more reserved/naïve teen!reader sinner that’s relatively new to hell, somewhat overwhelmed by just all that chaos beyond the hotel, and ends up forming a paternal/sibling-like bond with them? Like they got the impression early on that Pentious/Angel either were fun to be around or maybe even helped them feel safe, and so they’ve kind of been hanging around them and coming to them for advice ever since? Thanks!
Cover Your Ears I'm About To Say Something You Don't Need To Hear!
⌐‣Angel & Pentious + Teen Reader REQ
Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I LOVE SIR PENTIOUS SO MUCH. He will get his moment. Trust. BTW ANGEL AS AN OLDER BROTHER WOULD BE SO FUNNY–
Angel & Teen Reader
When he first saw you in the hotel not looking your hottest, he immediately felt a pang of pity.
News spread quickly in the hotel that you were new to hell. So he gave you some time before striking up a conversation.
You two hit it off without a hitch!
Angel often just calls you “kid” but it's in the most loving way possible.
He doesn't mind your reserved nature, easily talking enough for the both of you. So often, he’ll lead the conversation (a rant) and ask for your input every so often.
He tries his hardest not to spit dirty jokes in your presence, he doesn't really give two shits if you're naive, he's gonna try to keep you that way.
He wouldn't tell you what he does for a living and would probably try to avoid you after a rough shift to make absolutely sure that he doesn't pop off at you.
When you begin to come to (him!) for advice— oh that's when he takes the title of big brother.
He’d try his hardest to give you the best advice for anything you ask. If he can't think of something on the spot then expect a message with step-by-step advice at like 1 am.
Pentious & Teen Reader
When he met you in the hotel and saw how young you were and how stressed you looked, tears could be seen in his eyes. (he's an empath I swear.)
He’d try to distract you from your own negative feelings frequently.
He calls you “my child” at first- even though you're a teenager… But soon it changes to him calling you your name like a normal person.
Another one who talks (rants) enough for the two of you. However, he’d be talking inventor and even if you don't know what he's talking about (you will soon) he will ask you your recommendations, thoughts, ideas, etcetera etcetera.
He loves trying to teach you how to build things. Whenever you're successful he claps his hands excitedly with the proudest smile on his face– and he's crying…
He grows attached very easily and will gladly take on the title of “father” The egg bois call you “the boss’s child”
Pentious won't allow any disrespect on your name even if it means he gets all the disrespect himself.
“You're naive? Oh don't worry I can be that too sssometimes—”
He knows he's so happy when you come to him for advice. He may not give the best advice but god damn it, with how he presents his answer to you with so much confidence- it might as well be.
“We ssshould nuke them!”
Word Count: 443
Inbox is open!!
#gender neutral reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x teen reader#hazbin pentious#hazbin sir pentious#hazbin hotel pentious#hazbin hotel sir pentious#hazbin angel dust#hazbin hotel angel dust#x reader#hazbin x teen reader#x teen!reader#voonroo#hazbin x reader platonic#hazbin hotel x reader platonic
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Part 3 of Ghost Kid in Gotham
<<1 Previous Next
Feral brother of mine
When Damien first saw the video from Todd's helmet he only thought of his older brother as an imbecile that apparently couldn't handle children that was until Drake paused the video on the child's face before the video cut off.
Then Richard pointed out the similarities to Damien and of course his first thought was that his mother had made another clone again that they would need to dispose of. That was until he took a closer look at the image when Drake zoomed in. It was still blurry but Damien would recognise that face anywhere and in any state.
Despite his memory being faded it was the face of someone he never wanted to forget and would let freely hunt his dreams. Even if it was to recall the good times or even the bad times through nightmares. Freckles that mirrored constellations and scar by the ear from a training session when the others' dodging ability had not yet been up to par when they were five. Hair longer than his own and less tameable.
Danyal Al Ghul.
His twin that he killed at the age of eight when their grandfather forced them into a fight to death. This was not a simple clone of Damien himself and the teen was pretty sure that his mother must have lost it. Because what else then a clone of his own brother could this be, she probably must have preserved some of Danyal's DNA if not his entire body for this. He must also applaud her cruelty, for the clone was at the exact age his brother had died at.
He does not know why nor how his mother had managed to cause glowing Lazarus green eyes. None of his clones had ever shown these before but a part of him didn't want to know. It already made him sick enough to know that his mother would go so far as to clone Danyal.
All he wanted was to get rid of this cruel clone that wore his long dead brother's face. The knowledge of his brother was something Damien held dear. It was something that belonged to him only and the burden of his death was not something he ever wanted to share either. Besides what use would it be to his family to mourn a member they never would have gotten to meet.
Even as he glared at Todd, who had let loose the feral clone. He could not bring himself to tell them that this was most likely not just a simple clone of himself.
"Come on guys, there is a child running around the Bat Cave. You can fight later about how to safely keep the boy in check."
Clicking his tongue he turned away from his older siblings and drew out his katana. "<tt> I will get rid of that thing myself."
A thing, that was what it was. Damien didn't need his personal feelings or his memories of a twin that could smile brighter than the desert sun despite their pain, get in the way of his rationality. He could not allow this mockery of his twin brother to live on.
He went for the darker areas of the Cave knowing the league trained mind and he was in luck as he was the first to find the feral child hidden away in the area that lead to the medbay. By now the thing was even armed. Damien recognised the dagger as one of his training once, he probably had accidentally left it out of its casing after training right before patrol.
The ex-league prodigy did not give the clone time to react as he attacked without warning. Chasing it through the Bat Cave as it avoided his attacks yet made no move to attack him the way it had Todd. At times the way it dodged made Damien stutter slightly something that never happened before. He slashed at it, ignoring his siblings that shouted for him to stop from the side lines. Ignoring the flashes in his mind of a fight years ago that was similar yet so different.
"I will not let this mockery run free." He muttered pointing his blade as it hissed at him in return. What a feral thing it was, he waited for it to make the first move this time. Clones were not perfect, their forms were lacking, They might retain skills of their original but they rarely were the same let alone cable of thinking outside of what their creator, his mother wanted. He pointedly ignored anything he new about certain clones. They weren't created by his mother, therefore did not count in regards to his conclusion. Yet it was painful seeing this mockery of his dead brother appearing like a perfect copy.
The stance it held with the dagger, despite the feral hissing and movements, it was the exact same his brother had. Sword stances, like martial arts stances had a basic form, every wielder learned and then developed further into their own unique one with time. Danyal had one where he tended to hold the dagger or even swords backwards in his left hand while his right arm covered his empty side with a slight tilt to the back, always ready to reach for any weapon he would carry in hidden pockets on his back.
It was painful to see this clone, this thing mimicking his brother's stand this perfectly. Damien could only narrow his eyes in determination, or was it desperation by now? This was just one more reason to get rid of it. It just hurt even more when with a quick gaze towards the hand that held the dagger Damien also noticed a bad habit his brother had always retained and the league had also never been able to train out of him. It was a small habit, unnoticeable if you wouldn't look for it, yet dangerous to the sword / dagger wielder if they were inexperienced.
Danyal tended to let his thumb rest against the guard if the blade had one or against the blade itself even if it didn't have one. He knows that his twin used to have scaring on his thumb from this habit, especially from their early training years.
This thing was even imitating his brother's habit.
He wanted it gone. Rip it apart and present it to his mother with all the anger and grief it brought to him.
"Guys stop Damien now! That is not a clone!" He heard Drake yell from where the Batcomputer was but he didn't care. This was a clone, so he lunged at the it again. Ignoring how the clone had studied him like he had it. Ignoring how its stance had changed the longer they had watched each other and how that thing let its guard down all of a sudden.
"Damien! Stop!"
It dropped all defenses and Damien could only see that as his chance to deal the final blow to get rid of it. But what he didn't expect despite the dropped defenses was for the clone to also just drop the dagger, close its eyes and smile. The same smile that still hunted his nightmares. His mind flashed back to eight years ago.
"Demon brat! Calm the fuck down!"
The blade stopped inches from the same fatal placement that had killed his brother before. Drake and Richard were right behind him while Todd was by the clone's side gripping at the blade with his bare hands, most likely bleeding already.
"Why?" Damien uttered quietly, his eyes trained on the thing. Richard must have thought that his question had been directed towards them stopping him but that wasn't the case.
"Look Dami, how about listening to what Tim found out first before we decide what to do with that child?"
"Not you." He couldn't help but snap back at them as he withdrew his katana, hearing Todd mutter something about sharp blades and bandaids as well as several curses under his breath. His eyes stayed on the thing. "Why would you let me kill you? Why drop your defence ces? Why not dodge?"
The thing titled its head its glowing green eyes were trained on Damien and he noticed how they flickered into a blue that was so familiar yet so different with the way they glowed. It made chirping noises before it whispered something.
"ahbak, Dami"
Damien froze for a moment there at the quiet words the thing had whispered. How was he supposed to react now? Was this even a clone, no he knew this was a clone. There was no way Danyal was alive let alone still eight years old. He had killed his own brother, he had held him in his own arms as Danyal took his final breath, smiling at him and uttering the same words he had just heard again after so many years.
Even if Danyal had survived somehow then he should be the same age as him. Not the age he had died at. Besides, their grandfather would have never allowed them to use the pits to revive his twin.
"FUCK!"
Intentionally or not Todd's outcry had ripped him out of his thoughts by a rather pathetic yowl of pain. It was like a switch had been flipped in the clone's mind as his brother had reached out to probably detain it again. The moment Todd had touched him, the thing had bitten into his hand before letting go, hissing and running away from them once more.
But instead of running after that thing Damien stood frozen in place, his mind still racing. He could feel Richard's hands on his shoulders, grounding the teenager with the warmth they provided. "You okay there Baby Bird? You seem rather out of it suddenly."
"<tt> I am fine." His only offered answer, ignoring the worried looks he was getting as he moved to wipe Todd's blood off his blade. He needed a distraction before his mind became any more chaotic and unreasonable. "What did Drake find out?"
"Right… you sure you want to hear that right now?" Giving Richard an unimpressed stare, the oldest sighed looking over towards Drake.
"Well I got good news and probably bad news." Side eyeing his brother Damien kept silent waiting for him to continue.
"I can safely say that the child is not a clone. His DNA does not 100% match yours. It differs too much but - and this is where it's probably bad news - it matches with you to 45%, with a matching to Bruce to about 50%, same with Talia. If I run a paternity test I am sure it would be a hit for Bruce and Talia."
Damien swallowed taking in that information, knowing what it meant. Was he horrified? Yes. Did it also awaken a strange sort of hope? Also, Yes.
"But there was a third compartment of the child's DNA structure which was impossible to test. It could even corrupt DNA samples if not taken apart from the rest. It probably has something to do with the green specs I found in his blood too. So I ran a substance analysis and - you probably won't like this - but it got a hit from a substance we have recorded in our database."
"What substance?" Damien knew, he just knew he wouldn't like the next words Drake would say. He could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder as if to help him keep stable.
"Lazarus Water. It matched with what we have recorded from the Lazarus Pits."
"Drake, are you telling me that after eight years, my mother who apparently had preserved my dead twin brother's body, dropped said body into the Lazarus Pits to revive him and then drop him off with Todd of all people?"
"Yes, wait… dead twin brother's body?"
#danny fenton#danny phantom#danny and damian are twins#de aged danny#dp x dc#feral danny#fanfic#damian wayne#jason todd#tim drake#richard grayson#dc x dp#unedited#crossover#no beta wie die like danny#he still only bites jason#I have no idea if I used ahbak correctly#still learning how to best blog fanfics here#dpxdc
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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 19
Part 1 Part 18
Eddie comes back to himself with Will Byers slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He’s standing in front of his trailer, panting like he’d run all the way here.
He probably had. His thighs have their own heartbeats, pulsing off-beat with the thrumming of his heart where it’s up in his throat.
He puts Will down. The kid’s crying. Eddie is, too.
He wants to run back, find Steve. Even with his legs shaking so hard they barely hold him. Even without a weapon. Even if Steve’s probably already dead. But Steve said to keep the kid safe, so that’s what he’s going to do.
He pushes the door open, leading Will in by the shoulder. His fingertips are numb – static running through them until he can’t feel Will’s body hitching with sobs. The sound of them is muffled, too.
“It’ll be okay,” he says, feeling very far away. His throat feels like mincemeat. Has he been screaming? He can’t have been. There’s no monster on his door.
“My Mom—” Will says. He’s curled into a ball in Wayne’s chair. When did he get there?
“Steve’ll keep her safe.”
Eddie knows it’s true as he says it. Remarkably, Steve Harrington is a good dude, and isn’t that the worst fucking thing in the world to realize right now? Steve Harrington had risked his life for a little kid he barely knows, a lady he’s probably only met in the grocery store check-out line, and a high schooler who’s guts he hated a few days before.
And now he’s dead.
Eddie keeps thinking about his last words. They keep running through his mind, steady enough to keep time with, even as his heartbeat speeds up enough to make his blood vessels feel tight. “I’ll see you at home.” Home being the Munson’s trailer. Home being where there’s a little boy and Eddie fucking Munson waiting for him to make it out alive.
Who says that?
Steve fucking Harrington promised to come home when there was no chance of making it out alive.
Will is still crying in Wayne’s recliner, and Eddie wishes, desperately that his Uncle were here now. He’d know how to comfort Will, how to get out of here. How to keep Steve safe.
But he’s not here, so Eddie kneels by the chair and hold Will’s hand while he cries. It could last hours or minutes. Eddie doesn’t know. He’s not really here.
Not when Will asks, “will Steve be okay?”
Not when he replies, “Steve’s like an action hero, Byers. He’ll be walking through that door at any moment.”
Not when Will’s answering silence echoes through the room like condemnation.
His tears have dried on his face, sticky with salt. He doesn’t notice when Will reaches over and wipes them away.
Eddie Munson isn’t in the living room waiting for Steve Harrington to come through the door.
He’s still in the Byers’ hallway, watching King Steve raise his gun. There’s no fear on his face, just a heartbreaking mix of wistfulness and resolve.
Eddie wants to know what he was thinking in that moment, with that expression. Was he standing there with a monster in front of him, wishing more than anything that he was hiding back in Eddie’s bedroom all the while, knowing his rightful place was right there saving lives?
Was he back further still, both in that hallway, and in the cafeteria trading pudding cups with Carol Perkins, standing at the threshold of a realistic fantasy and an unending nightmare?
Maybe he wasn’t thinking anything at all.
Eddie will never know. Steve Harrington is dead. And Eddie wasn’t there.
“Eddie?” Will asks. He sounds scared. Eddie comes back. Steve said to keep Will safe, and he will. “You need water.”
Eddie laughs. It sounds more like he’s choking. “You’re the one crying, baby Byers.”
Neither of them comment on the dried tracks running down Eddie’s own cheeks.
Eddie’s knees feel like concrete as he gets up to go retrieve his backpack. It’s not by the door, not along the path from the entrance to the living room. He checks his bathroom and bedroom, can’t quite remember where he’s been. It’s not there.
“I think I left my backpack at your house,” Eddie says, then laughs, struck hysterical at the way it comes out. Like he’d just gone to Will’s house after school to hang out, and not to contact his Mom from the wrong side of the beyond.
“I still have mine,” Will says.
He slithers forward in the chair, giving himself enough room to slide it down his shoulders from where it’s still strapped to his back.
They only put two bottles in the kid’s pack, not wanting to bog him down, but it should be enough for today, at least.
As they drink from separate bottles, grimacing at the taste of silt, Eddie’s thinking about how he’ll have to get more water tomorrow. Without Steve. Should he go alone? Should he bring the kid? Should he curl up in a ball and die?
Steve took the only viable weapon and fucked off to die. It hits him suddenly; how goddamn angry he is. How dare he? Couldn’t he have pulled this shit a few days ago when his only attachment to Harrington was that he was another living person, that Eddie wouldn’t have to be alone? How could he do this, after they’d played D&D, and played truth and dare, and survived together.
Steve Harrington had carved out a little spot for himself in Eddie’s sternum and then went off to die.
He doesn’t notice his hands shaking until Will crouches in front of him, grabs the open water bottle, and caps it.
“Shit,” Eddie says. “Sorry, kid.”
“Steve will be okay,” Will says, like he believes it and not like he’s just repeating Eddie’s own bullshit back at him.
Eddie nods. The anger is sucked out of him as quick as it arrived. His chin is trembling, and it feels like a lozenge is stuck in his throat. He swallows it, coughs out a “yeah.”
Will pushes Eddie’s bangs back and almost petting him in a move he definitely learned from Mama Byers. At the edges of his eyesight, he can see his bangs spring back down at wonky angles. He doesn’t bother fixing it.
“He beat Xanathar, he can definitely kick a Demogorgon’s butt,” Will says, smiling with his lips, but not his eyes.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, trying for his usual pep, moving forward anyway when it falls flat. “He’s going to come bursting through the door at any moment on his noble stead and tell us tales of his vanquishment of the great evil.”
They smile at each other vacantly. Will folds himself into Eddie’s side. The warmth is comforting. Nice. Eddie slides his arm around the kid, pulling him closer.
They wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Will’s asleep, face pressed into his ribs, by the time Eddie’s eyes start drooping. The stressful day is catching up to him. The days of hunger and fear stacking on top of his eyelids, pulling them down. But he can’t sleep.
If he falls asleep, the day will be over, and Steve Harrington won’t have come back.
He fights it. He loses. He sleeps.
The door creaks when it’s opened – a rusty hinge Uncle Wayne’s meant to oil for years.
It’s not Sir Steven on his noble steed, with his sword held high in victory. No. It’s even better. Steve Harrington stands at the threshold, a little worse for wear. There’s a bloody scratch cutting across his forehead, heading alarmingly up and into his signature hair. His shirts muddy, and there’s a bruise blooming alone his cheekbone. But he’s breathing. He’s alive.
Eddie loses time again, but it’s okay now because he’s in front of Steve, and he’s looking into his pretty, brown, living eyes. He slaps his face, once, too hard. Doesn’t even notice his hand moved until the sound echoes through the room.
Eddie darts forward, kissing the spot, three times quickly. He’s smearing snot and tears across King Steve’s face, and he couldn’t care less.
He feels out of control, untethered and wild, until Steve wraps his arms around Eddie tight. Eddie hugs back, harder than he should when Steve’s injuries remain largely a mystery.
But if he doesn’t keep his hold on the other boy, he thinks he might shake apart.
“You’re alive,” he says, wet and shaking, voice muffled into Steve’s neck.
Steve laughs. It vibrates through Eddie’s cheek, shakes something loose in his chest. “Yeah.” It’s barely a breath, but he hears it. “I said I’d come home.”
Steve Harrington is alive. And he came home.
Part 20
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𝑪𝒂𝒕𝑵𝒂𝒑 x Reader Pt.1
Upon finding you wandering around the orphanage, his first thought was to eat you. He wanted to let you grow, so he could eat more of you. Eventually, CatNap got attached to you, keeping you hidden in one of the orphanage's hundred rooms. You tried to escape, but he destroyed everything in his path to capture you, locking you up and keeping entities in the halls to keep you from escaping. “Mouse. Little Mouse? Are you awake…”
You shivered and hid yourself under the covers like a little kid, not wanting to look at the demonic creature that stands above you, still recovering from the chase from yesterday that left you with a broken arm.
The thing let out a deep rumble like a cat growling and began to walk over to you, and you can feel a deep and sinister urge coming from the thing to get you to look at him. You feel his presence and the sound of bones shifting in his skeletal structure, his footsteps sounding like a loud thud. He comes over to the bedside and sits by your head, leaning over you and looking at you. The thing begins to say something that isn’t language, and you can see the thing’s huge mouth unhinge wide open, the darkness inside looking like a bottomless pit.
You let out a shivered sigh and squeezed your eyes shut, curling up…
The thing’s mouth closed back up and it let out a sound like an irritated cat, it then spoke clearly, but in a whisper that you could hear just fine, although the words still felt like a foreign language. “Child? Are you going to look at me?”
It waited a few moments and then spoke again, this time getting a little bit louder. “Child. Open your eyes and look at me. Little Mouse.”
You slightly open your eyes, looking up at the demonic figure, like a disturbing hysteria…
The thing continued speaking, using a soft and comforting tone, seemingly trying to relax you. “Do not be Afraid. The Prototype says I will do you no harm, and so I will not. I am here to protect and keep you safe. Look at me, mouse.”
“Please…just leave…I want to be alone CatNap”
The thing seemed to get slightly upset and let out a low growl. The thing leaned in closer to you. “…The Prototype orders me to remain here with you and keep you safe. I must follow his orders. but we must do what the Prototype wants.”
“I don’t care for the prototype!” your voice rose, hearing enough about what the prototype was...
The thing’s eyes widened in anger, its mouth opening up again for a moment revealing a void inside the darkness. “Then you do not care for me. I will protect you and you will do as the Prototype says. If you do not, you will regret it. The Prototype is all knowing and all powerful. He made me to protect and you would be wise to believe that he has your best interests in mind.”
You would have swatted him if it wasn't for the broken arm, though your intact hand grasped the bedsheets tightly.
There was a shift in its gaze as its mouth closed up again. “Oh, you have a broken arm? It was foolish of me to forget that. Do you want me to fix that?”
You forcefully flinched your arm away “Don't. You're not fixing anything.”
The creature got a little closer, leaning in towards you and sniffing you like a predator would to its prey. “…But I’m going to fix you. The Prototype told me to protect and feed you, so I must. So please let me fix your arm.”
You roll your eyes and groan “fine! But only if you stop mentioning the ‘prototype.’ If I hear one more word about him I’ll get a headache.”
CatNap leaned back and let out another low growl. “Very well…I just have to make a slight adjustment.” It took hold of your arm and began to move its fingers over the area of your break. butting on some bandages over it.
He let out a sound of satisfaction, seemingly very happy with his work as he let go of your broken arm. his voice returned to the soft tone it earlier. “There we are. All fixed. But there is still one problem, your body is very sickly. You will need more nourishment, much much more.”
“Rude” you mumbled
“But it is true. your body needs a lot of repairing so I will keep you well fed…now let me just fetch some food” He got up and walked out of the room, leaving you alone.
You sighed and leaned back, drifting back of too sleep. “Fucking Feline.”
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Bot based off it:
#horror#poppy playtime#poppy playtime catnap chapter 3#catnap x reader poppy playtime#poppy playtime catnap#catnap headcannons#catnap chapter 3#chapter 3#poppy playtime chapter 3#catnap fanfic#catnap#catnap x reader#poppy playtime fandom#yandere x reader#yandere catnap#yandere catnap x reader poppy playtime
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Physical Therapy
boyfriend!kiyoomi part V!! smut smut smut but also fluff and a little bit of dom!reader. mommy is used (1) once but not by kiyoomi. minors do not interact.
Your voice comes out airily. A little frayed, a little frustrated.
“Thank god for HIPAA laws because I swear,” You run your fingers through Kiyoomi’s hair. “These mothers wouldn’t know autonomy if I smacked them in the back of the head with it.”
“Mhm.”
“I mean, one of my clients’ mother’s been mass emailing all week trying to get me to hint to her ‘troubled son’ that his panic attacks have been putting a “massive strain” on her recently-“
“Hm…”
“Like no wonder these kids have such a hard time opening up at home, their - ah - parents have a skewed understanding of what real priorities are!”
“Hm- Mhm.”
You scoff. God, he loves it when you get all psychiatric but there’s like no blood flowing to his head right now. “I swear, It’s like some of these parents drop their kids off at my office and expect me to program them into becoming… hm… be-…coming their ideal child…! My best guess is half of these adults should consider - fuck - seeking out a therapist themsel- ohh my god…”
Your hips drunkenly rock into his face from where he’s got your hips all but pinned against him. Rough fingers gripping so tightly into your work skirt that they audibly creak against the fabric, and if not for the running volleyball game playing on half volume behind you, you’re certain that the room would be filled with the sodden sounds of his sloppy tongue; digging you out while you complain about your workload this week. Kiyoomi was already springing into action the moment he saw you slump your way out of his genkan and straight to the ice cream stash in the kitchen. So quick on your heels that he could barely bother to pause the game he was re-watching.
Call it a love language. After last month when he moped his way into your humble flat to complain to you about some contract changes with his current sponsor. Something about more media interaction, that and he was gonna have to DIY a few ads for them on his social media. He could barely get a few words out before you were nuzzling your nose against his zipper. Lovingly rubbing up his thighs as you insisted he got all his frustrations out.
“A-All my frustrations out? You want me to…?”
You guide his hand until he’s grazing the short hairs on the top of your neck. “Be as rough with me as you need, baby. I’m here for you.”
Kiyoomi’s moans are muffled by the squish of your thighs. Who’s getting more out of this? He couldn’t say. But if the way his eyes roll when your fingers dig into his scalp should say anything, he might be safe calling it 50/50.
Your lips part as one of his free hands pull at your blouse until the buttons are popping, roughly palming your tits through your bra as you whine against him. “It’s a… good thing I took this pediatric job. If not for a - godd, oh fuck - difference in perspective.”
Kiyoomi answers you with a sound that’s more of a groan than a dutiful hum. Raising his hips like it’ll give him more friction where he wants it, but like the godsend you are you reach behind yourself to rub him through his sweats.
“‘Least I know… that if we had kids I’d be a half decent mother…”
You must feel the way his cock needily twitches under your palm at the sound of that because your voice evens in a way that makes him goosebump. “You like that, huh? Oh don’t tell me Omi’s really been dying to make me a mommy?”
The vibrations of his broken groan makes your thighs tighten over his ears.
“Ah - You wanna fuck me full? Fill me up till I’m brain dead?”
His tongue rolls over your clit with just enough force to have your voice pitching. He tilts his chin up just to make sure it’s his tongue you're clamping around when you start to cum.
Although with what you all but hiss next, grabbing a rough hold of his scalp and pressing his head back like he’s just a warm mouth to fuck. “- Or, would you just be satisfied with blowing your load into my hand, you fucking slut.”
Kiyoomi cums so hard he thinks he may have gone deaf.
Because he barely hears the pathetic whimpers he lets out in your spasming cunt as he starts to hump into your hand like a dog. Lilted voice breaking off into a gravelly groan, so cum-drunk that he keeps at it even as his seed wets a dark spot in sweatpants. For a moment, he can’t even register the sound of your broken - clearly overstimulated mewls.
Kiyoomi reluctantly lets you go when you finally climb off of him.
“You okay?”
“Mhm.”
You giggle a little before pecking him on his wet mouth.
Kiyoomi’s a little sluggish in his attempt to scoot his large body to the side to make room for you to lay comfortably beside him. Pressing his back into the head of the couch even as the springs quietly creak, but any room you don’t have to be completely sunken into the sofa he makes up for by using his arm to belt you against him.
He sighs.
“Move in with me.”
“Hm?”
Biggest Fan
#boyfriend!kiyoomi#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa smut#haikyuu!! smut#hq smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!!#hq sakusa#hq x reader#haikyuu sakusa#sakusa fluff#sakusa x reader#hq fluff#x reader#hq
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Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)
Period Cramps Are No Fun {part 1.} (housemate!harry series)
AN: so after writing part 1. to this, i knew i needed to continue it somewho and this is what i came up with. if you haven't read the previous part, please read that first but it's not mandatory to understand this one. just a recommendation. i hope you enjoy and yes i plan on writing a part three to continue this part as well. make sure to send me your feedback and how you enjoyed it. thank you and enjoy. xoxo
This story contains: smut, one-night stands, arguing (angst), confessions of feelings
{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }
word count- 2,097
After not being able to take one more night of hearing you and your one-night stand have fun in your room, Harry angrily leaves until you're done which leads to apologizing and confessions the following morning.
Ever since your last period a few weeks ago where Harry had to help you in the middle of the night from the amount of pain your cramps were causing you, there has been this lingering tension in the house. You don't know if its from Harry having seen you in such a vulnerable position that night. Or maybe that moment where you could have sworn Harry was thinking of leaning down to kiss you after you shared your gratitude for what he'd done. Either way, the tensions are high and you hate it.
For instance, two Saturdays ago you went out to the club with some friends and end up bringing a guy back home. Harry didn't really care if you brought friends over or people over for a one-night stand as long as they left his stuff alone. That was until he caught feelings for you that you're unaware of.
Anyways, Harry was sat on the couch watching some television show with his cat Pixie in his lap when you came stumbling in the front door with a man by your side. Now you don't always bring home men. You don't sleep around too much but, you dabble here and there when you get just tipsy enough and you're in a desperate need of some real cock.
Harry looked up from the tv screen with an annoyed face. One you've never seen him portray before. Usually when you brought men home he smiled and joked, saying stuff like, "Be safe and make sure you have him wrap it up." Or, "Not too loud, kids. I've got work in the mornin'." Right then, if looks could kill, they would.
To try and have a good rest of your night, you didn't linger in worry over the look Harry gave you and dragged the man you met at the club to your room. Once the moans started, Harry stands from the couch, turning the tv off, and quickly went into his bedroom so he could bury himself under his covers to hopefully drowned out the sounds.
The only reason Harry never tells you to go to their house for the one-night stands is because he feels safer knowing you're here. He can hear if something was to go wrong and you needed help. Otherwise, he would tell you to go back to their house.
When you first moved into his house, Harry never had a problem with hearing moans come out of your room during your one-night stands. He'd drowned them out and move on to what he was doing. But the longer you lived here and the closer you got to one another, the more painful it is to bare. It physically makes him nauseous to think about how another man is making you feel good. Touching you. Fucking you just right. He wished upon anything that it was him.
Seeings as you brought a stranger home, you obviously don't feel the same about him. Or so he thinks. But in reality, you like Harry just as much as he likes you. And the only reason you have one-night stands is you're afraid to share your feelings to Harry because if he doesn't reciprocate, the tension in the house would be ten times worse and you'd probably have to move out. Which means you'd have nowhere to go because he's the cheapest option right now.
Little does Harry know though, everytime you bring a guy back home, as he's fucking you into the mattress, all you can picture is Harry. You picture that guys hands as Harry's hands. You picture that guys dick as Harry's dick. Even the guys face, you close your eyes and imagine it as Harry's perfect face. You're surprised you haven't moaned out Harry's name yet on accident. That would be embarrassing.
You have a feeling Harry doesn't like you in any other way other then just friends too because well, he also has frequent one-night stands over. He invites both men and women to his bedroom to enjoy for the night. You have to sit and suffer as you hear the moans that come out of his room. Just like Harry, when you first moved in it wasn't a big deal. But now, months after living here and the closer you get, the more painful it is.
You wish more than anything you were the people he had in his bed. The one he had under him, or, the one on top of him. Little did you know though for the past few months, every person Harry's slept with he imagines them as you. Whether he has a girl for the night or a boy. Especially when he sleeps with other women because well, you're a women so picturing her as you is easy. With a man it's not as easy but he still subconsciously pictures them as you.
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Currently it's Friday night and after meeting this very hot man at the bar and chatting it up, you decide to take him home with you. You know you should cool it down with all this sleeping around you've been doing recently but the more your feelings grow for Harry, the more you find yourself having one-night stands. Probably to try and ignore those underlying feelings you have towards your housemate.
As you enter the front door with an attractive man in your arms, giggling about something he whispered in your ear, you notice Harry in his usual spot on the couch. His cat Pixie in his lap. But something's different about him tonight. Usually he tiredly smiles at you and jokes around about the things you're about to go do in your bedroom.
Tonight though, he has a deep frown on his face and stands up quicker then you'd ever seen. Grabbing his keys out of the dish by the entryway, Harry spits in a sour tone, "Let me know when you're done, yeah. I'd rather not be here while you're getting fucked by some fuckin' stranger." With that, Harry's out the door in a flash and makes his way to his car in the driveway.
"What's his problem?" your one-night stand questions.
Standing there in shock at how Harry just reacted, you answer just as confused, "Um...... I.. I donno. Usually he's cool when I bring people home." Wanting to at least try and enjoy the rest of your night, you grab the man's arm and drag him towards your bedroom.
This is your first one-night stand that you can say was truly an awful experience. It wasn't so much the guys fault as it was your's. The whole time he was fucking you into the mattress, all you could think about was Harry and how him leaving like he did didn't sit right with you. You hate when people are mad at you and Harry's reaction made it seem like he was very angry with you tonight.
Towards the end of the sex, you became less wet and the sex became more painful. You just weren't turned on at all anymore. You should have told the man to stop but he looked like he was close to coming so you just laid there emotionless until he came in the condom. The man did attempt to make you come by rubbing on your clit but his technique was all wrong and his fingertips felt like dry sandpaper.
Once he pulls out, you stand up to put your clothes back on and as politely as possible request your one-night stand to leave. Most of the time you'll let them stay and you'll cuddle until you both fall asleep but tonight, you didn't want that.
The man leaves in a hurry and as soon as he's out the front door, you text Harry.
To Harry-
he's gone. you can come back home now. going to sleep. night.
From his car, Harry reads the message and makes his way back to his house. He didn't go far. He literally just drove around the neighborhood in circles until you were done. As he pulls back into the driveway, guilt floods his system. He should have never reacted that way. But he just couldn't bare another night of hearing your moans.
Funny thing is, though he now knows you own several sex toys and he assumes you use them from time to time, he's never once heard you masturbate. He'd almost rather hear you moaning from your vibrators then some duchy man.
Harry quietly opens the front door and wishes you weren't asleep right now. He wants to talk to you and properly apologize but he reckons it'll have to wait until morning. He turns all the lights out in the kitchen and living room before going into his bedroom and getting into bed. He hopes he can get at least a little sleep but as of now, his mind is wide awake from guilt and also coming to terms with the fact he actually does like you but not knowing when or if he should tell you that.
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The next morning you're up before Harry and decide to make some coffee. As you're pouring the dark liquid in your cup, Harry walks in the kitchen with a yawn. You turn around and notice how tired he looks. Like he didn't get much sleep last night. "Mornin'." he mutters while scratching his belly.
With a tight lipped smile, you reply, "Morning." to him as well.
Sitting down on a stool at his kitchen island, Harry begins, "Look, I want to apologize for how I acted last night. It was uncalled for. I...."
"No, I get it." you cut him off, "This is your house. I should ask before I bring people over. I just assumed since you've always been so cool about it before that you never had a problem with it. From now on I'll request to go to their house."
"Y/n, that's not it at all. And please don't go to a strangers house. I'd rather you did bring them here so at least I know you're safe when you have one-night stands. But, I'd rather you not have any at all."
Frowning, you bite back, "Then what is it, Harry? You don't want me going to their houses yet you dislike when I bring them here. I've gotta find pleasure somewhere since I don't have an actual boyfriend."
"Why not just use one of the many sex toys I know you have?" Harry comments without thinking and your eyes go wide.
"Wha...What? How do you know about those?"
Giggling arrogantly, he answers, "When you asked me to get you your pain medicine out of your bedside table drawer a few weeks ago. Seen three in there. Classic place to hide them, Y/n. Real classic."
Stuttering, you speak, "I..... I um, it's not the same, Harry! And I could say the same about you. Why don't you just use your hand instead of bringing people over, hm?"
"I use my hand and still bring people home, Y/n. I'm a horny guy. What can I say." You've never seen Harry be so cheeky with his remarks and it's kinda turning you on.
"Okay, so..... like why don't you get yourself a boyfriend or girlfriend?" you question curiously. Ever since living here with Harry he's never had a partner. Just random hook-ups here and there. From your more vulnerable talks, you know he's had partners in the past but he said they never lasted more than a few months and you didn't know the reason.
Breathing deeply, Harry nervously shifts in his seat before spilling, "Because I think I like someone and havin' a girlfriend or boyfriend would make me feel like I'm betraying them."
You notice how nervous Harry appears now. His chest heaves more as he inhales larger breaths. His hands fiddle with the one ring he has on his middle finger. His legs are bobbing up and down. You're scared to ask your next question because depending on his answer, you could get your heart broken.
"Who do you like, Harry?"
"Um..." he starts, "well, she has brown hair and hazel eyes. Very beautiful hazel eyes. Perfect pink lips and an amazing body. She's about 5'5 in height and loves watchin' rom coms on my couch."
Harry is literally describing you but you don't want to assume. Because if it wasn't you, you'd be so embarrassed you guessed yourself. "By chance, what's her name?"
Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n."
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Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)
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Yearling - Ch. 32: Promises
Joel adjusts to life in Jackson after his brush with death. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-31 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: References to canon-typical violence. Smut :). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only
Length: 9.5k
A/N: Hi y'all. If you're still looking at this fic but have skipped the last few chapters because of spoilers, this is a pretty safe chapter to jump back in at. You do need to understand that Joel was nearly killed in an encounter with an unnamed person while on patrol and that someone was looking for him in particular to have the context for this chapter. If you have any questions, feel free to DM me.
AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
December, 2027
“No.”
“Baby…”
“I said no, Joel.”
You stalked off to another room and Joel could feel your frustration from where he sat on the couch.
He sighed, debating whether or not to follow you or if he should stay where he was and let you cool off.
It wasn’t the first time the two of you had had this discussion over the last six weeks.
Joel had made significant recovery since the incident in November. His leg had mostly healed, though he still walked with a slight limp. But he could breathe deeply without feeling the burning pain of broken ribs now. And the parts of him the doctors had to cut away so he would survive - part of his liver, part of his intestine, one of his kidneys - no longer constantly hurt to the point of occasional agony. Everything was tolerable now, if not necessarily what it was before.
As a result, he was starting to go a little stir crazy. Admittedly, the doctors hadn’t cleared him for anything too strenuous - though he wondered how much of that was your doing versus theirs - but he wanted to start preparing to go back to the life he had in Jackson. One where he felt fulfilled, like he had his place in the community and a way to contribute.
You, however, weren’t too happy with that plan.
Joel sighed and got up from the couch, the muscle in his leg burning as he did. Things still hurt and pulled at first - and he was sure getting on a horse would be uncomfortable at best - but it would pass. Or he’d get used to it.
Either way, he wasn’t content with continuing to sit in his house and rot.
“Sweetheart,” he said, finding you in the kitchen.
You closed the fridge door with too much force, making the jars of canned produce inside rattle.
“No,” you said, adding milk to a cup of tea on the counter. “Find a place to sit, I don’t want you spilling hot tea all over yourself.”
“I’m not a kid,” he said, a little defensive. “I know perfectly well what I’m capable of…”
“No, you don’t,” you said, leveling him with a glare before returning the milk to the fridge and pointing to his spot at the table. “Now sit.”
Joel squared his jaw for a moment before going for the kitchen table - trying to walk with as little a limp as he could manage even though it fucking hurt - and sitting down there. He took a deep breath as you got the mugs of tea and carried them to the table, setting one in front of him and the other in front of the seat he’d come to think of as yours. You settled in beside him, holding the mug with both hands, seemingly determined to not actually look at him.
“We need to talk about it,” he said gently.
“I’m not going to discuss you going out there to get yourself fucking killed, Joel,” you snapped. “I’m not doing it, I’m not going through that again. End of story.”
Joel tried to remind himself that he wouldn’t feel any differently if he were in your position. He couldn’t blame you for it.
You’d been a mess when he woke up. It had just taken him a few minutes to really realize it.
It was like you couldn’t get close enough to him once you were against him, clinging to him as you tried to not disturb him or put any weight on him. But once he got you settled, you fell asleep quickly.
Joel, however, was wide awake. Part of him was afraid to go to sleep again. He didn’t want to not wake up, he wasn’t confident enough that he would. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious but it felt like he’d slept enough for a lifetime.
So he just held onto you. He soaked up the feel of you in his arms, a sensation he thought he’d never have again. He tried to pick through the fog of his mind, remember what had happened before, but it felt so far away, nothing but a haze of blood and hurt before your voice was there. After a while, he left it alone.
But you didn’t sleep the way you normally did. At first, you seemed stiff, like you were still conscious enough to be worried about hurting him. That didn’t last too long. Your whole body relaxed, as limp and pliant as you were when he’d just made you come again and again. But you almost never actually found rest that way. Even with Joel beside you, there was part of you that was always tense and ready to defend yourself. A byproduct, he was sure, of years of torment that could strike at any time. You only slept that way when you were at the point of total exhaustion, when your body physically couldn’t be on guard anymore.
As much as he wanted to talk to you - ask you what happened, how you were feeling, how long he’d been like this - he wanted you to rest more. You needed it, your whole body desperate for it. So when his door opened just as the light in the room shifted to the pink and orange of dawn, his hold on you tightened ever so slightly.
Carol, one of the doctors, didn’t even notice him watching her come in at first, nearly jumping out of her skin when she realized that his eyes were open.
“Joel!” She yelped and you stirred ever so slightly against him. He held you tighter.
“Shhh,” he hushed her before whispering, soft and low. “She needs her rest. Don’t think she’s had much of that lately.”
“But…”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said. “Let ‘er sleep. Can look me over in a bit.”
She rolled her eyes but left all the same and he watched you, lost in you. You’d survived. He remembered being afraid that you wouldn’t but you had, and so had he. He trailed his fingers gently over your exposed skin, marveling at the softness of you, that you loved and trusted him enough to let your softness be this close.
The sun was high when the door opened again, not easing open this time but flying, Ellie tearing into the room in a blur of wild hair and disheveled clothes. The door smacking into the wall made you wake with a jolt and he held you close as he felt that tension shock back into your limbs.
“Joel!” Ellie barreled over to him and he couldn’t help but smile as she skidded to a stop at his bedside as you sat up.
“Hey baby girl.”
“You’re awake,” her voice was thick as she sat down near you at the edge of the bed. “Fuck, I didn’t…”
“Are you OK?” He asked, trying to look her over.
“I’m fine,” she waved him off. “You scared the shit out of me but I’m fine. The doc said I needed to get you to let her look you over? What the fuck, Joel?”
“Joel!” You looked down at him, wide awake now, his head propped up on pillows.
“You needed rest,” he shrugged.
“You needed to be examined by a doctor!” You snapped, unfolding yourself from your place at his side. He tried to hold onto you but you leveled him with a glare. “After everything we did to get you here alive, don’t even start.”
He tried very hard not to laugh.
“Whatever you say, baby.”
He seemed to frustrate you a lot after that. You talked to the doctors more than he did, never leaving his side and listening to everything they said with a hard look on your face. He tried to ask more about what happened to you - he remembered you bleeding and your face was still damaged but healing - but you changed the subject back to him immediately every time.
Joel was ready for things to go back to normal as quickly as he could manage but you were nervous, hesitant. The first time you dared leave him at the clinic, something happened with a horse and Olivia came to get you. It was the third day he was awake and you were gone long enough that he was able to get out of bed and try to walk on his own. He didn’t make it very far, all but falling into a chair near the door after using the wall to haphazardly balance as he went. The chair smacked into the wall and Joel heard scrambling from the hall before Carol threw open the door, her eyes wide and panicky before she saw where Joel had ended up.
“Are you trying to get yourself hurt?” She demanded as she helped him back to bed.
“No,” he said, defensive. “I’m tryin’ to get myself back to normal…”
“Joel, you’re 60 years old…”
“Don’t remind me.”
“…And injuries take time to recover from. You’re not a young man anymore, you can’t push yourself the way you used to.”
“I’m not a young man anymore,” he agreed as she helped lower him to the bed, his body seeming so hulking and large beside hers. “I can’t afford to waste time bein’ useless.”
“Recovery isn’t useless,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “If you’re not going to listen to me then you need to listen to that woman of yours, Joel. Take it easy and don’t do things like get up without someone there to help if you need it.”
Carol was nice enough to not tell you about the fact that he got out of bed and walked to the chair, at least. But she had distinctly sided with you in all matters related to his recovery after that, as had Tommy, Ellie, Maria and Savvy.
It didn’t help that there were clearly conversations happening that no one wanted to tell him about. He heard raised voices from the front room of the clinic one day, you and Ellie going back and forth about something he couldn’t quite make out until there was the sharp boom of Tommy’s voice ending the conversation.
“Care to tell me what that was this afternoon?” He asked as you settled into his side to sleep after Ellie and Tommy had gone home for the night.
“Depends on how pissed off you want to be,” you replied, draping your arm gingerly over his chest and settling in with your head on his shoulder.
“Not gonna piss me off,” he said gently. You had shrugged out of the button down of his that you’d worn that day before climbing in bed, stripped down to the tank top below and he could feel your skin so easily like this, his hand skimming over your bared arm. You pressed yourself closer.
“Yes it is,” you said quietly, stretching and kissing his throat before settling at his side again.
“Can’t go the rest of our lives without shit pissin’ me off, baby,” he said gently. “Don’t think I can handle you treatin’ me like glass the whole time, either.”
“I just worry,” you said softly. “I don’t want to do this without you, can’t give you a damn heart attack because Ellie has some scheme…”
“So it’s Ellie that’s causin’ the trouble,” he said.
You groaned.
“Fine,” you said. “Better not get all worked up and just let me handle it. Trust me when I say I have it, Joel, I really do…”
“Baby.”
You sighed again.
“From what Tommy was conscious for and what little you remember,” you said slowly. “The people who… those people. They were after you. Specifically you. And Ellie… she hasn’t taken kindly to that.”
“Alright…”
“She wants to go find them,” you sighed. “She thinks she can handle it…”
“No,” he said, already moving to get up but you held him down.
“Joel.”
“She’s not doin’ that…”
“I know she’s not,” you said, still holding him in place. “I told you, Tommy and I have it handled.”
“I don’t want her to go after them,” Joel said, letting himself relax back into the mattress and your hold on him eased. “Don’t want any of you putting yourself at risk on some damn fool mission…”
“I know.”
“She needs to get that shit outta her head…”
“I know, Joel.”
He sighed.
“This is such a fuckin’ mess. All of it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” you said quietly, nuzzling in closer to him. “All that matters is you’re alive and you’re here. We’ll figure it out.”
You figuring it out, apparently, just meant keeping Joel under lock and key for the foreseeable future. Your jaw was set tight across the table and you fidgeted with your mug, your thumb tapping out a stuttering rhythm on the handle.
“I need to contribute,” Joel said gently. You glared at him. “Sweetheart…”
“You can contribute without leaving Jackson,” you said. “Your value here isn’t limited to going on fucking patrol…”
“It’s a big part of my value, Baby, yeah,” he said. “I don’t got a lot of skills…”
“You were a contractor before,” you snapped. “You think buildings here don’t need to be repaired? That things don’t need to be constructed? Do that, let them take you out of the patrol rotation.”
“I’m not gonna hide,” he said, trying to get you to look at him even as you seemed bound and determined not to. “I want to get back out there, I want to do my part…”
“Your part doesn’t include getting fucking murdered, Joel!”
“I sure hope it doesn’t,” he reached out and took your hand, his thumb running over your knuckles. “I want to be here, with you, for a good, long time, baby. But I can’t… I can’t be something I’m not. And I’m not someone who just lets other people take on all the risk while he sits at home, on his ass…”
“Joel.”
“You say you love me,” he said. You actually met his eyes with that, glassy and wet at the edges.
“Of course I love you,” you said, not as harsh now. “I love you so goddamn much, I can’t lose you, I can’t, do you understand me?”
“I know, Baby,” he reached out, his large hand cupping your face. “And I’m not planning on going anywhere. But I can’t be the man you love by hidin’ away and waitin’ for trouble to come to someone else. I need to be the one to handle it. Me. I need to take care of my own business, need to look after you, need to take care of our girls. I can’t do that here, acting like I’m not capable of doing my part. I’m going back out there, Baby, and I’d like to do it knowin’ that you’ll still be speaking to me when I get back.”
“You don’t get to ask me to watch you hurt yourself,” your voice was thick. “I will not watch you die, Joel. I’m not going to do it and you don’t get to ask me to.”
“I’m not,” he said gently. “But, Sweetheart, if I am gonna go? I’d like to go out as myself. And that means going back out on patrol.”
Your eyes searched his for a moment before you all but collapsed against his shoulder, your arms snaking up around his neck, a sob cracking through you. He put his arms around you, rocking you gently.
Part of him had been waiting for this to happen. Beyond when he caught you off guard when he first woke up, you’d been nothing but strong and stoic. The only time there was a hint of anything else was when the two of you went to bed at night. You clung to him then, Joel swallowing any hint of hurt you accidentally caused when you held him tight. You breathed him in deep, pressed as much skin to him as you could manage. Sometimes, those deep breaths were shaky ones, like you were trying not to cry. He just held onto you, wishing you’d say something - anything - so he’d know how you were feeling. But you didn’t. So he took care of you the best way he could while you were focused on taking care of him.
“It’s alright,” his hand spread wide over your back, keeping a slow and steady rhythm as it ran up and down your spine. Your tears were racking, choking, making your whole body shake. “You’re OK, I’ve got you, s’alright…”
“I can’t,” you sobbed against him. “I can’t, I can’t… you can’t leave me, Joel, you can’t.”
“M’not gonna leave you, Baby,” he said softly. “I promise you. I’ll always come home to you.”
“You can’t know that,” you sniffed, your sobs calming to sniffles. “Seeing you like that…”
“I know,” he said quietly. He’d seen you nearly dead enough times, he knew. He understood it. “I’m sorry, Baby, I’m so sorry…”
“Then why are you insisting on trying to go back out there,” you sat back from him. “If you understood it, you’d stay here with me and with Ellie and Savvy, you wouldn’t do this. Not to yourself, not to me, not to them…”
“I know,” he said again, looking in your eyes, begging you to understand. “But that girl… she took a lot from me, baby. A few organs, more time than I really want. Almost took my future with you and the girls. Not gonna let her take who I am, too. And I need to go back out there. Not gonna just hide in here, afraid, for the rest of my life.”
Your eyes searched his, wide and wet, and then you sighed.
“I have conditions. If you expect me to be OK with this…”
“Of course,” he said quickly. “What are they?”
“You go out with Tommy or me,” you said. “No one else. I don’t trust you out there with Jesse or fucking Gene…”
“They were tryin’ to do the right thing…”
“The right thing was saving you,” you snapped. “You go out with Tommy or with me or not at all.”
“Alright,” he said. “You or Tommy. At least to start.”
You glared at him for a moment but you pressed on.
“You don’t even think about going out until you’re fully cleared by both doctors,” you said. “None of this second opinion bullshit, they’re both on board or you don’t go.”
“I can do that,” he nodded slowly. “You’re being very reasonable, Baby, I’m impressed…”
“Oh, fuck off.”
He laughed a little and tugged you closer to press a kiss to your temple. You melted into his chest, head nestling against his shoulder so that your nose brushed his neck.
“I promise, I don’t have a death wish,” he said, thumb tracing a path over your arm. “I always want to come home to you. I just need to do this, too.”
“I know,” you said softly. “I’m just… I’m so scared with you. All the time, I’m so afraid. It’s different than with Savvy, I’ve always been afraid with her. Scared I was gonna drop her or accidentally hurt her or not teach her the right thing or teach her too much. Scared I couldn’t save her. She’s my heart just walking around outside my body, I’m used to being afraid with her. But it’s different than how I feel about you and I just… I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and I don’t know how to live with being afraid of losing that.”
He took a deep breath and held you a little tighter.
“Know the feeling.”
It was just a few days to Christmas and preparations were in full swing. The tree was up in the middle of town, lights lined the buildings, Julie had been hoarding supplies for some kind of holiday cocktail that she claimed was a surprise that you were highly skeptical of. You, Ellie and Savvy had picked a tree for his living room just the week before and set it up, Savvy standing back with a slight frown on her face the whole time.
“What’s up, baby girl?” Joel asked, sitting in an arm chair as he watched you and Ellie decorate. His leg wasn’t quite up for standing that much yet.
“It’s just…” She looked at him for a moment and perched on the arm of the chair before looking back at you. “People really did this before? Put trees in their houses?”
“Yeah,” Joel smiled up at her. “They did. Biggest holiday of the year for a lot of the world, trees inside stores and offices and shit, too.”
She crossed her arms, her brows knitting together as she frowned.
“She never did this with me,” she said quietly. “I read about Christmas in a book once but it didn’t talk about this part and she didn’t talk about it much when I asked and… I don’t get it.”
Joel nodded slowly. Savvy was still warming up to you. She seemed skeptical of your motivations, of your intentions, of everything you said. It was hard to tell how much of it was teenaged cynicism and how much was rooted in her feelings of abandonment. But since you’d all but moved into Joel’s house, she’d been around you more and more and you did your best to let her guide it. He could tell how much it was killing you, though. He knew the feeling well, remembering back to the days when Ellie wouldn’t even look at him. He could tell how badly you wanted to cling to her. He saw how much you wanted her to stay close and tell you everything in the way you hung on her every word, the way you watched the door for a full minute after she left to go back to Ellie’s. But you needed her to be OK with it more. That just didn’t make things any easier.
“What did she tell you?” Joel asked, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn’t rise over the Christmas carols you’d put on the stereo.
“Stuff she did with her parents,” she shrugged. “That her brothers would tease her about being bad… None of this stuff.”
“Well,” Joel said slowly. “Think she told you the important stuff.”
She looked at him, skeptical.
“The important stuff ain’t the decorations, it’s the people,” he said. “She couldn’t give you the other things so she told you about your family. Don’t think she was trying to hide anything from you. She shared with you what mattered.”
She nodded slowly and looked toward the tree again until Ellie turned around and called her over to put an ornament on the tree. You bit your lip as you watched her do it, your eyes wide and soft and you hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze when she stepped back to look at her handiwork.
Joel was steadfastly trying to focus on the holiday instead of the tension that had settled over the town since his attack. Patrols had been ramped up, sending people out in small groups instead of pairs. There were growing signs of people present in the wilderness, more xes on trees and remains of fires. Tommy had told Joel - much to your chagrin - that the prevailing theory was they were marking Jackson territory, the signs always found at the edges of where patrols ran. As though someone was watching for where they could seize power. Everyone was on tenterhooks, waiting for something worse to happen.
But the build up to Christmas seemed to have taken everyone’s minds off the looming threat. Joel was thankful for it. It seemed to have lightened your mood some, too - part of why he decided to bring up the patrol issue yet again.
He didn’t tell you that he was set to see Carol the next day to hopefully get cleared for patrol. And… other activities.
The cruelty of the timing of the attack hadn’t been lost on Joel. He’d just gotten you back, hadn’t even had 12 damn hours with you before he had to leave for patrol and then almost never came back. But he’d lived and, while you’d been close ever since, you weren’t close enough.
He wanted you.
That wasn’t quite right, he always wanted you. He was pretty sure he’d wanted you since the moment he first saw you. He was beyond that now. He needed you so bad he ached with it, his whole fucking body hurt with it sometimes. But you wouldn’t touch him without the doctors saying it was OK. Even though, at this point, he was starting to think it was medically dangerous to be so fucking wanting.
“Are you goin’ to the stables today?” Joel asked, holding you close. You nodded against him. “You think you’ll be done in time for the movie?”
“Definitely,” you said. “Savvy’s never seen a Christmas movie, not missing that.”
He kissed your forehead.
“Been meanin’ to ask you something,” he said.
“Hm.”
“Think you’ll be my date for the dance tomorrow night?” He asked. You pulled back from him and glared, your eyes still red. He smiled a little. “Know I left it to last minute but I’m hoping…”
“Of course I’ll be your date,” you shoved him ever so lightly. “Who else am I gonna go with? Been cooped up here with you for the last month, all my other prospects have given up on me…”
He laughed and kissed you.
“Guess you’ll just have to be my girl, then.”
“Guess so.”
He kissed you again, deeply, firmly. But it was different than so many other kisses he’d shared with you over the past few weeks. There was heat behind it. A twinge of need and want that tasted so familiar on your tongue. You moaned and adjusted so you were closer to him, your body curving, leg hitching up over his so you could press your mound against his thigh. He gripped you tighter, pulled you closer, but you pulled back with a groan.
“Baby,” he breathed but you shook your head.
“Not going to risk hurting you,” you panted.
“Not gonna hurt me…”
“Not sure I trust your judgement,” you gave him a final, chaste, peck on the lips. “I’ll see you tonight, walk over with you and the girls.”
“Have a good day,” he said.
“I will if you take it easy,” you replied, extracting yourself gently from his grip and heading out the door.
He watched you leave and waited for a few minutes to make sure you were gone before he got up, too. It was almost Christmas and there were things he wanted to do.
***
Joel looked far too pleased with himself, his hand on your thigh as you sat beside him at the Tipsy Bison. You had one of Julie’s special cocktails - something she called the Grinch and tasted like mint - and were well on your way to being tipsy for the first time in months.
Savvy and Ellie were sitting with some friends - Dina, Jesse, the boy from school you suspected Savvy had a crush on named Kyle - and looked to be having fun. You hoped Savvy would talk to you about it later. She’d been opening up a little bit more, never fully pulling away like she had for so long. You took what you could get, thankful that she was willing to speak to you at all.
She’d gone with you, Joel and Ellie to the movie the night before. It was Miracle on 34th Street. She seemed to enjoy it, smiling and watching the screen in wonder, soaking it all in. It was bittersweet to see. You’d always wanted to be able to give her these things, the kinds of things you remembered loving as a girl at the holidays. But there was a certain cruelty in it, too. She’d never see a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, never visit a mall Santa. Jackson brought her closer to the life you’d led as a girl but it was still so far away and it was hard, not being able to share it with her.
But Ellie had talked her into spending Christmas Day with you and Joel. You’d damn near kissed her when she told you and you felt a little like you had as a child on Christmas Eve, the greatest gift you could have ever asked for, spending the day with Savvy, Joel and Ellie all together.
But Joel seemed as excited as you were, a small smile tugging at his lips as you sat across from Tommy and Maria.
“Can’t believe it’s Christmas again,” Maria said, taking a drink of his beer. “Swear, time goes by faster and faster every damn year.”
“I’ll take time goin’ faster as long as that means it’s still goin’,” Joel replied.
“Know that’s right,” Tommy shook his head a little, half smile on his face. “We’re all still standing and after the last year, seems like the best I can ask for.”
“Y’all doing anything special for William this year?” You asked, turning your cocktail glass slowly in your fingers. “He’s getting big enough to know what’s going on now.”
“Santa’s planning to make a visit,” Tommy smiled a little. “He’s been pretty good lately, figure that should be rewarded.”
You smiled back, looking toward Savvy. She was facing the boy on the bench next to her and his fingers traced the outside of her knee and she smiled.
The music changed, the strains of the song familiar. Hallelujah. You looked toward Joel and he smiled a little wider, the change so subtle you doubted anyone but you would notice.
“This is hardly a Christmas song.”
“There’s an argument to be made,” he said. “Heard it on the radio sometimes at Christmastime, it counts.”
He took his hand off your thigh and held it out to you. An offering.
“C’mon, baby,” his eyes were hot on you. “Call it an early Christmas present.”
You put your hand in his and let him lead you to the dance floor. You draped your arms over his shoulders, fingers trailing through his hair as he tugged your body close to his.
“See?” He said, tracing your nose with his. “Not so bad.”
“Helps when you’ve got a good partner,” you smiled a little. “How’s that leg of yours doing?”
“Good as new,” he said. “Definitely isn’t gonna keep me from dancing with you, that’s for damn sure.”
You laughed a little before you nestled your head against his chest, sighing contentedly.
“I’m so glad you’re still here to dance with,” you said quietly as you swayed with him. He gave you a gentle squeeze.
“Me too,” he said softly, almost sadly.
“I feel like I wasted so much time,” you whispered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes and making your throat tight. You got like this a lot lately, this haze of what almost was hanging over you. “I should have known better and…”
“Hey,” he said, pulling back from you just enough to look in your eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t waste anything. I gave you a lot of shit to work through, more than you ever should have had to deal with. You did what you needed to do, s’not a waste.”
“What if I’d lost you?” You asked softly. “What if I never came over that night, what if…”
“What if a lot of things,” he cut you off. “Doesn’t matter. We got here. That’s the important thing.”
He pulled you back against him and you pressed your ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“Gotta ask,” he said, tone lighter after a moment. “Never had any of those fancy dance classes you had. How do I hold up compared to the guys who did?”
You laughed once, burying your face in his chest for a moment.
“Best partner I ever had,” you said.
He chuckled a little, his lips brushing your forehead.
“Good.”
You held him closer, moving with him slowly on the dance floor for a while. You weren’t sure how long. You let yourself get lost in him. The way he swayed in time to a rhythm your body was more in tune with than your mind, the way he felt so warm as he wrapped around you, the way his heart beat and the rise and fall of his chest were constant and stable. The way he was whole in your arms. It was like you could finally relax into that reality, you’d reached a point that you weren’t just scared anymore. He was here, he wasn’t going to fade away to nothing in the night. His heart would keep beating, his chest would keep rising, you wouldn’t need to find a way to do this without him.
“Ready to go?” He asked softly after what felt like a while. “Want to get you home.”
“Yeah,” you said, separating from him enough to look at him. “Let’s go.”
You went and said your goodbyes to Tommy and Maria and Joel stopped by the girls’ table - scaring the shit out of Kyle by the look of it, Kyle’s eyes wide and terrified - before lacing his fingers with yours for the walk home.
“What did you say to them?” You asked, walking close enough to him that you could feel the slight limp he had now.
“Told ‘em to get home at a reasonable time,” he shrugged. “And no boys behind closed doors. Don’t want that Kyle kid gettin’ any ideas…”
You snorted.
“It looked like you threatened to castrate the boy,” you said. “I don’t want anyone taking advantage of Savvy but I don’t want everyone terrified to date her, either.”
“Didn’t get that specific with it,” Joel said, a little defensive. “Just made it clear that someone was watchin’. And that someone was me.”
You smiled and shook your head a little.
“You’re ridiculous,” you said. “But… thank you. For taking care of my daughter.”
He looked at you, his face serious as you came to a stop at his front walk.
“Course,” he said. “She’s an amazing kid, Bambi. You did a great job with her. And… might not deserve it but… feels like she’s mine, too. Love her like she’s mine. Hope that’s OK.”
You looked at him for a moment, his eyes soft and warm, the lines of his face familiar landscapes. For a moment, it was as though your heart had broken open with him, cracked down to the center because the love you had for him couldn’t be held there anymore. You pulled him close to you, kissing him soft and deep.
Or it started that way, at least. But his body against yours, the sharpness of your love in your chest, the taste of him on your tongue pushed you into desire. It didn’t take much to spark it - it had been so long since you’d had him - but once it was there, it burned hot and fast, swallowing the reminder that you should keep yourself under control quickly.
“C’mon,” Joel said against your lips, breathless. “Let’s go inside.”
You nodded and followed him inside, using the short walk from the street to his front door as a chance to try to get the want that was flaring inside you under control. It was too soon, it had to be too soon and you weren’t going to risk Joel’s health just because you were aching to have him as close as possible.
Joel pulled you back against him as he he closed the door behind the two of you, tilting your head to give him better access to your mouth, his fingertips sinking into your skin as he gripped you tight. You swallowed a moan and tried to keep yourself from giving in even as you pressed yourself closer to him.
“Joel,” you breathed, pulling your lips from his, his hands still holding you against him. “We… we should stop…”
“Don’t need to,” he said, kissing you gently again.
“Joel…”
“Went to the doctor today,” he kissed over the line of your jaw, following the curve of your bones up to your temple where his lips lingered. “Said there’s a lot I’m allowed to do now. Including everything I want to do to you.”
He trailed kisses down to your neck and you moaned as his lips pressed into the sensitive skin there.
“I’ll beg if I have to,” he whispered. “But I need you, baby. Need to have you close, need to be inside of you.”
“Fuck,” you panted, eyes closed, fighting to focus. “Are…” his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot, kissing and sucking you gently and sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. “Jesus… are you… are you sure? I don’t want you gettin’ hurt…”
“I’m sure,” he said softly, finally pulling his lips from your skin to look in your eyes again, your body cradled against his. “Bein’ apart from you has damn near killed me. Need to feel you.”
“Need you, too,” you breathed, caving to your baser instincts. “Please, Joel.”
He kissed you again and you could taste the desperation on his tongue, heat pooling between your hips. He guided you toward the stairs as he shrugged out of his coat and pushed yours off your shoulders and down your arms. He left both in a heap on the floor, keeping his mouth against your own until the two of you were at the base of the stairs. You only separated long enough to go up them, Joel pulling you back against him on the second story landing.
You let him guide you, tried to focus on being gentle with him instead of pulling him to you and pressing him against you the way you wanted.
But you could only resist so long. You tugged at his shirt, pulling at the buttons until you could shove it down his arms and toss it to the floor, too. He did the same with yours, discarding it in the hall before pulling you into his bedroom, nudging the door closed with his foot. It wasn’t long before you were both naked next to his bed, bodies pressed close and tight, his cock thick and hard and weeping against your stomach.
You took control then, turning him in your arms so that he was against the bed. He lowered himself back onto it slowly, his grip on you gentle but secure so you were on his lap, straddling him as you kissed him.
“Really fucking missed you,” he whispered, kissing down your jaw to your neck to your chest. He rocked his hips up against you, his thick shaft nestled against your clit, the motion making you moan. “Goddamn, missed you so much.”
His hands slipped over your skin to your breasts, cupping and cradling them before lavishing his hot, wet mouth over the soft swell of flesh there. He sucked a nipple into his mouth with a needy groan and you couldn’t help but roll your hips against him as he did, your tight, hot center clenching and gripping at nothing, desperate for something to pull deep inside. Joel’s tongue teased the firm nub between his lips, licking and sucking you, making you moan and rock yourself against him on his lap before moving to the other breast, giving you the same treatment there.
“Joel,” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls. He pulled his mouth from your chest to look in your eyes, his gaze soft and hot like starlight.
“Think you can come like this for me?” He asked softly. “Want you to come for me, want you to be so wet and soft inside for me, think you can do that?”
You just nodded and his hands slid around to your back as he buried his face in your throat before going back to your breasts as he rutted his thick, dripping length up against your clit, the silken firmness of him pressing close and tight against your wet heat. You ground your hips down against him, desperate for more, to be as close as you could be to him, his body determinedly angled to keep you from working him into you. There was a tightening ache in you, the burn of need for something that was just out of reach making your head spin and pleasure spool.
“Just gotta come for me,” his voice was hot and needy. “Just come for me, all you gotta do. Just come, just come, please baby, just come, want to feel you come like this, you can give me that, know you can…”
His desperate words were what you needed, the tension in you rising until you felt like you were going to break with wanting before your orgasm hit you hard, a wave of pleasure rolling over you. It was sharp, you hadn’t come in weeks, and you could feel all of it. How your clit throbbed against his cock, how your entranced pulsed and grasped at the root of him, how it seemed like your entire being was trying to pull him into yourself.
“Oh fuck,” he held you tight to him, his cock pressed tight against you, so firm that you could feel him against your pubic bone. “Fuck, just like that. Gonna feel so good inside you baby, gonna be so goddamn good, just get all that come all over me, feel so good drippin’ all over me.”
You dropped your head to his shoulder, body going limp for a moment as your orgasm finished. Joel cradled you to him before going to adjust you on the bed but you stopped him, sitting up again and pressing back on his shoulders.
“Baby,” he groaned but you took his face in your hands and tilted his head so you could kiss him, really kiss him, the kind of kiss that was more hungry and consuming and claiming than anything else.
“Let me,” you whispered when you pulled your lips from his just enough to speak. He let you adjust him then, until he was flat on his back in the middle of the bed, your folded legs bracketing his thighs. You stroked his cock - wet with your come and leaking his own arousal - before rising onto your knees to notch his thick head at your entrance. Joel’s hands went to your thighs, his thumb tracing the scar there, the one from the knife you’d taken to the leg when trying to save him. His eyes were trained on it, his fingertips digging into your flesh more sharply there than your other leg. His eyes traced up your body to the scar at your stomach, just as harsh and red and raw as the one at your leg.
“Not tonight,” you said quietly. His eyes found yours. “It’s not about that tonight.”
He didn’t say anything. Instead, his callused hands slid up your thighs to your hips and you eased down onto his hard length. You moaned as you took him into yourself, his thick cock sinking into your soft heat. He felt so good inside of you, your body remembering just how to make him a part of you. It had been weeks but it didn’t matter, he was built into you now, he fit into you the way no one else ever could, filling and stretching you totally. His breaths stuttered as more and more of him entered you, his fingertips clutching onto the soft flesh of your hips and ass harder and harder with every inch of him that worked its way into you. Just as the ridge of his head ghosted against the back wall of your channel, your hips met his and you let yourself adjust for a moment, savoring the feel of him inside you that way.
Joel was panting for breath below you, his eyes tracing over your body again and again as your channel gripped him.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he looked in your eyes as he said it. “Most beautiful goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”
You just moaned a little, your hands coming to rest on the broad expanse of his chest, fingers splaying wide over his skin. But you didn’t move otherwise. He felt too good like this, so deep inside you. You almost didn’t want to move, didn’t care if you didn’t make yourself come with him in you. He was deep inside and he was secure there. You could feel how whole and alive he was, the way his cock throbbed, the pulse of him, the comforting heat. Like this, he was yours. Unquestionably, undoubtedly yours and no one could take him away from you.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” his fingers tightened on you. “I… fuck… I need you to move, baby… I can’t keep goin’ like this, I need… I need you to move, need to feel you, please baby, please.”
You didn’t respond. You just started to rise on his cock, moving your hips slow and shaky over him, making him groan. When just his head was left barely inside your entrance, you thrust back down, his cock splitting you open again, his head falling back, mouth open in a desperate gasp.
You rode him like that for a while, you weren’t sure how long. The slow and aching lift, the devastating reclaiming as you took him again and again almost meditative. You watched each other, lost in the feeling of your bodies together, working in tandem to become something more than just yourselves.
Eventually, Joel tugged you closer, tilting you down until he could reach your face, his large palm curving over your jaw, his thumb pressing into your cheek.
“C’mere,” he whispered in the dim light of the moon on the snow outside his window. “Want to feel more of you.”
You folded yourself into him, your bodies aligned, his cock still buried deep but your chest now against his, your lips overing over his own, noses against each other. Even in the night, you could see the different shades of brown in his iris like this, all of them soft and full of love for you.
His hand slid to the small of your back, tilting your hips just so and holding you there as he started thrusting up into you and making you whimper.
“Let me,” he said softly.
You just nodded, letting him gently work himself into you again and again. The strokes were aching and smooth, almost rocking as he moved inside of you. The deep, full press of his thick cock into all the soft parts of you that existed because of him, the brief moment of feeling so full and whole before the tender rhythm he set within you pulled him back again.
“Joel,” you whimpered, so desperate. You weren’t sure you could even say anything else, every other word you’d ever learned reduced down to the only one that mattered in that moment.
“Together,” he said quietly, never breaking his rhythm. “OK baby? Together.”
You just nodded quickly. Your body was getting tighter and tighter and you kept your eyes on his, breathing the same air, feeling the press of his warm, soft skin into yours as your orgasm built alongside his.
“You’re close,” he said. It wasn’t a question and you didn’t need to answer. He could feel you and you could feel him, too. “I’m gonna come, want you to come with me. Going to fill you up so deep, baby, going to feel me so deep and I need to feel you, too.”
His hand that was on your back pressed into you firmer, taking root at the base of your spine and pushing your hips lower so his cock was deeper longer, his hips pressed against your clit with more heat and tension and, for a moment, it felt as though your entire body was on fire with need before the band of pleasure that had been winding tight inside you snapped. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, rushing out from your core and flooding through the rest of your being just as Joel pressed your hips down and flush with his, holding himself deep as he came with a strangled moan. Your channel fluttered around him, rippling and pulling him into you as he pulsed deep inside. You could feel him so clearly against and inside you, every inch of his skin, every throb of his cock, every gasping breath. You kissed him then, bodies connected in every way, until your orgasms eased and you went limp on top of him. Your head nuzzled against the side of his neck and you breathed in the scent of his skin as you came back down to earth, his arms keeping you flush against him as his cock softened inside of you, the combination of his come and yours already dripping out of you.
“Never goin’ that long without you again,” he said softly, his fingers tracing slow and easy abstract patterns over your skin. You hummed in agreement. “I’m gettin’ to be too old to be so deprived.”
You laughed a little.
“Should start being more careful then,” you said, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair.
“Well now that I have the proper motivation…”
You laughed again and closed your eyes. He held you like that for a while, until goosebumps from the winter air started prickling over your skin. He took you more firmly then, slipping his soft cock from the safe, soft warmth of you and slipping you down beside him on the bed. He pulled a blanket over the two of you and you sighed contentedly. He tugged you closer and you happily obliged, your legs tanging with his as he brushed your hair back before holding your face gently in his large hand. You just smiled a little, eyes on his. He smiled back, just enough that his cheek dimpled.
“You’re still feeling OK?” You asked quietly after a few minutes.
He laughed lightly.
“Whole lot better than OK,” he replied. “I’m amazing. Always amazing when I’m with you.”
You smiled a little wider.
“You know,” he said slowly. “I had a lot of time to think when I thought I was about to die.”
Your smile shifted to a frown but his didn’t, not really. His gaze was just soft, gentle. Like he was trying to leave himself as open as he could to take as much of you in as possible.
“I remember more of that than anything that actually happened in that room. Didn’t have much in the way of regrets,” he continued. “Had you to thank for most of that. Ellie and I had made things right, I was thankful for that. I was thankful you’d come back to me, even if it was just for a night. Thankful I got to tell you I loved you one last time…”
“Joel,” you whispered. His thumb stroked your cheek.
“I saw Sarah,” he said quietly. Your eyes went wide but you stayed silent. “When I was unconscious, I saw her. She was someplace good, somewhere that was bright and warm like her. And there was part of me that wanted to stay with her, take care of her and make sure she was OK. But… most of me wanted to come back here and be with you and the girls. And Sarah… she told me that it wasn’t my time yet. Told me I still had things to do here, that I needed to take care of you and Ellie and Savvy and I just… I knew she was right. I felt it, more than I’d felt so many other things, I felt that. I belong here, next to you. I don’t want to have any regrets when it comes to you but right now… well, I got one big one.”
“What?” You asked quietly, your heart beating faster.
“That I almost died before having the chance to live as your husband,” he said. Your breath caught. “But you saved me, gave me a chance to do it right. And I don’t think I deserve to ask you for a damn thing but I’m hopin’ you’ll let me, anyway. Will you give me that chance? Will you be my wife, will you marry me?”
Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear your blood in your ears. You reached out, hand trembling, and cupped his cheek.
“Of course I will,” you said softly, voice thick and wet. Joel smiled, tears glistening in his eyes, and he kissed you, gentle and deep and lovely, a kiss empty of expectation and full of promise.
When you separated, you just looked at him for a moment, taking him in, the man who would be your husband. The whole concept made you laugh, the sound bubbling up in you.
He just smiled.
“What, baby?”
“I just…” you paused, still laughing a little. “It’s the end of the world, how do you even get married now? Not like there’s a courthouse…”
“Well,” he said, rolling away from you for a moment and reaching into the drawer of his nightstand. You propped yourself up on your elbow and frowned, watching as he rolled back with a small wooden box in his hand. “Figure since the paperwork part don’t exist anymore, we can do it whatever way you want to but…” he opened the box. Inside was two rings, both dark metal, one band slender, the other thick. “Thought I’d make sure this part was covered.”
“Oh Joel,” you sat up all the way, letting the blanket pool around your hips. You took the smaller ring from the box and held it up, looking at it up close. “Where did you find these?”
“Made ‘em,” he said, sitting up, too. “They’re from one of Ares’ old horseshoes. Figured it was only appropriate…”
“They’re perfect,” you breathed, turning it over in your fingers for a moment before looking at him. “Could we… I mean, I know it’s fast but… would you be OK if we just did it now?”
“Did what?”
“Got married,” you said, watching him. “I understand if you want to wait or want the girls there but…”
“How do you want to do it?” He cut you off.
You smiled a little.
“How about we just make promises to each other.”
He smiled back.
“I like it,” he took his ring out and set the box aside. He held it out toward you and you took it before putting your ring in his palm. The two of you faced each other, blankets in your laps, knees brushing under the covers.
He took a deep breath.
“I promise I’ll love you with every part of me,” he said. “And I promise I’ll keep lovin’ you until there’s none of me left.”
“I promise to love you every second of the rest of my life,” you replied. “And every second of whatever comes after, too.”
“I promise to protect you,” he said. “Promise to never let anything hurt you.”
“I promise to take care of you,” you said. “And look out for you and protect you because where you go, I go.”
“I promise to love your girl like she’s my own,” he continued. “And I promise to take care of her and do everything I can to make sure she’s safe and happy.”
“I promise to love Ellie like you do,” you said. “I promise to help guide her and protect her and give her the life she deserves to have.”
You looked at each other for a moment, tears in your eyes, before Joel gently took your left hand in his.
“Think they used to say ‘with this ring, I thee wed,’ or something like that,” he said, thumb tracing your knuckles.
“That sounds right,” you smiled a little.
“Alright then,” he said, lining the ring up with your finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
He slipped it into place. It fit perfectly, settling at the base of your finger with a soothing sense of finality. Joel lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed you there, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment before releasing you. You held his ring tight in your palm for a second, warming the metal, before taking Joel’s left hand. You lined the ring up with his finger and took a deep breath before looking him in the eye.
“With this ring, I thee wed.”
You slipped it into place, lacing your fingers with his once it settled where it belonged. You smiled, looking down and seeing his ring on your finger before looking back at him again.
“Think I get to kiss the bride now,” he said.
You laughed.
“I think so, too.”
He pulled you against him gently and kissed you all soft and deep, his lips holding every promise he’d made to you and, for the first time since the end of the world, you knew what it was to feel secure.
Next Chapter
A/N: ❤️
And that's all I have to say about that.
And that there's a lot more story to come. We're not quite to the end yet, I promise.
Thank you for being here and for reading. Love you!
Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#yearling#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#smut fic
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Happy Little Family
📖"A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat: Just like her Mommy"
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 4407
Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic
Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.
This chapter: Bucky shows up unannounced at your cottage, shattering the peaceful life you thought you'd reclaimed for yourself and your daughter. He's reclaiming what's his, and he isn't planning on accepting a "no."
Nickname Dictionary:
vorishka = "little thief"
mamochka = "mommy/little mother"
kotenok= "kitty/kitten"
omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega
omegechka = (made up) "little omega"
shlyukha = "slut"
krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one"
1. A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat, Just like her Mommy
"And then the knight took the princess away to his castle, and they lived happily ever after."
You're just outside the nursery when you hear his voice, and ice cold fear instantly floods your chest. You drop the laundry basket and run into the room, and there he is: seated in the chair you nurse from, reading one of the antique fairytale books that your mom gave at the shower, holding your baby.
"James," you breathe, horrified. He's been smiling down at June, but now his face smooths out as he looks up at you. He isn't frowning or glaring, but you know him, and there's a storm behind those eyes that makes dread curl heavy in your stomach. "Hi Doll," he says quietly. "It's good to see you again."
Your heart pounds in your chest. You feel sick. One wrong move and who knows what he'll do. You take a cautious step forward, eyes searching James' body and anywhere nearby for a gun. You don't see one. You take another step. "James," you warn,
June makes a happy gurgle at seeing you, and James coos down at her, "Aw, yeah Sweetie. I'm happy to see Mommy too."
Mommy. Hearing that word come out of his mouth, in a setting like this, is a nightmare you've woken from more than once. You lick your lips and hold out your arms, pleading, "Please give her to me."
He acts like he hasn't even heard you, smiling and tapping June's body with one finger. "We were just reading a story. Little lady is gonna be a big reader one day, I bet. Gonna grow up to be real smart." His gaze slides back to you, with what you interpret as a world-of-hurt-coming-your-way look glimmering in his eyes. "A clever, tricky little kitty cat. Just like her Mommy."
A whimper escapes you, unbidden.
June starts squirming in his lap, eager to get to you. When he doesn’t hand her over, she starts to fuss. He coos at her and bounces her in his arms to calm her, kisses the top of her head while keeping his somber, reproachful eyes on you. “You left your door unlocked,” he says. “She was alone.”
She’d been down for her nap when you went downstairs and popped across the street to visit with Hilde, your one friend in the world. It’s so common for mothers to do, in this tiny, Nordic village you’ve settled in. It’s the culture here. It’s supposed to be safe. You swallow thickly, eyes flitting around to try and think of what to do. You think of your gun, so far away. You’d talked yourself out of keeping it tucked behind your bed, so now the only weapon you own is down in the kitchen. But maybe … maybe if you can get him away from June …
“You should be more careful, Little thief. You never know who might break in and take everything you love.”
“The only thing we had to guard against here was you,” you hiss. “And I’m not fool enough to think a locked door would keep you out.”
“You’re damned right it wouldn’t.” He tosses the storybook aside like trash and stands up with June in his arms. “But you are a fool if you thought there was anywhere in the world you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”
You flinch forward compulsively, unable to think of your own safety over your baby’s. “Please, James,” you beg. “Please. Just give her to me.”
“Oh no, Dollface,” he purrs, voice deceptively soft. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, and you aren’t gonna want her in the room when it happens.” His hands tighten threateningly on June’s little body. “Whose baby is this?”
You blanch. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Aw. You don’t want me to hurt her?”
“No, please!” The sob that’s been working its way up in your throat finally breaks. It’s killing you not to rush forward and snatch her from his arms. “Please, I'll do anything.”
“Is that so?” He stares at you long and hard. The few seconds of silence are torturous as he holds your daughter away from you.
James is one of the deadliest people you’ve ever met, and he’s capable of horrendous violence, but he wouldn’t hurt a baby, that much you do know. What you have to worry about most right now isn’t him physically hurting her; it’s him wanting her, whisking her away right alongside you, when he inevitably takes you from this place. There’s nothing you can do to prevent your own fate, but if there’s anything you can do to keep him from getting his hands on June, you’ll do it. Your eyes flit around the nursery frantically, its pale, dream-like decorations taunting you as you try to think of what to do. It feels surreal to have a man like James standing in this room, feels wrong.
Your heart leaps when he suddenly moves, but he’s only turning to walk over to the crib, bending and placing June in it with a surprising amount of care. Something painful lances in your chest at seeing him handle her so gently, but when he turns back around to you, all of that gentleness is gone. “Come on,” he snaps. “To the other bedroom.”
You hesitate, not wanting to leave your daughter alone, but he stalks forward and grabs your upper arm, herding you out of the nursery and down the hallway. In your bedroom, he pushes you onto the bed. You land in a heap and scramble to prop back up on your hands, trying to swipe the hair out of your face.
“Whose baby is that?” he demands. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”
His Voice. God. After almost a year and a half it should be lessened. The pull you feel when you hear it has no right to tug at you the way it does. You’re not even mated, which makes it all the more insulting. It gets in through your ears and spreads throughout your body, like an invasive plant, growing and sinking its roots into you and tug, tug tugging on your will: Whose baby is that.
You fight the awful urge to tell him, as you rapidly, fearfully weigh your options. It’s hard to think when you’re so frightened, so taken aback. Most people might think it wise to admit the truth, but you know this man, this alpha, and you know he’ll never let her go if he knows that she’s his. Anything, you think. You have to do anything you can to keep her from that life, that world.
Heart in your throat, you insist, “Noone.”
“Noone?” His visage darkens. “Artificial insemination, then? I know they’re progressive and all up here, but don’t take me for a fool, mamochka.”
“It was just some guy! Just a one night stand, I swear!”
He surges in, gets one knee up on the bed and pushes you onto your back when you try to get up, leaning over you and holding you down by your shoulders. “So you did let another man fuck you,” he growls.
You jut your chin out and hiss, “Yes.” (Lying Rule #1: deliver your bullshit with confidence).
“Who? Was he alpha?”
“Why do you care? It was one night in Oslo.” (Rule #2: add in one or two unimportant details.)
“What’s. his. name?”
A bitter sound escapes you (Rule #3: attach honest emotion to it, if you can). “I don’t know his name. I never did. I was just racking up a roster, just wanted to get laid after getting away from you.”
He bares his teeth at you in a snarl, furious, and shoves you harder against the mattress. You cry out and try to hit him, but he catches your wrists and holds them down to the bed easily, shoving you again, one of his powerful thighs pressed up between yours. “You’re mine,” he growls, getting in your face, lying on top of you. “Noone else’s. Not ever.”
You whimper and nod, shaken and keenly aware of his body on top of yours, his strength. James is a massive hulk of an alpha, capable of overpowering you in any situation, and even through your frantic thoughts, you know you’ll never be able to get away from him in close contact like this. He’s so angry, his scent gone thick and choking. You’re too panicked to plan out what it is you’re going to say next, you just wind up instinctively trying to placate him, blurting out, “What do you want?”
He leers down at you. “I want what’s mine. What’s always been mine.” On your wrists, his fingers tighten cruelly. “You’ve had your fun now, and gotten away with it for too damn long. You’re coming home with me, Little thief.”
You gasp as the pressure on your wrists increases painfully, mind flying to that cold, Siberian fortress and the life that awaits you there. You might be able to get away from him before then, but you might not, and you can’t risk June being trapped there as well. “Okay, okay! I’ll go with you, I will. Wherever you want. Just … Please let me give her to the neighbor. Please.”
He smiles nastily down at you. “Oh, you don’t want her to come along? Another man’s pup?”
Tears press at the backs of your eyes at the thought of leaving your daughter behind, but you shake your head. “Please. Just take her over to the woman across the street. She’ll look after her. Please James, she's my daughter. I won’t fight you if you leave her there. She’s nothing to you. Just let her stay where it’s safe.”
Something in his expression shifts, but you don’t have time to figure out what the emotion might be, before he shutters again. He leans down and purrs, “Oh, I don’t know, vorishka [little thief]. You stole some very valuable things from me. And since I don’t see any fucking Picassos hanging in this hovel you call a house, I assume they’re in the wind.”
It wasn’t as though you’d simply been able to run away. Escaping had required finances, techniques, firms of dangerous men hired to plant false leads, erase tracks, ferret you away into oblivion, and then move halfway across the globe and buy yourself a new identity. The bribes alone had eaten up most of the money. You shudder in his grip, knowing that the paintings wouldn’t save you, even if you did have them. “They’re gone.”
“I know they’re gone, Little thief.” He shoves his thigh down against you. “So how are you gonna make it up to me?”
You whimper. “I can’t,” you plead. “James. I don’t have anything.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I can think of a few ways you can start repaying your debt.” He runs one hand down your side, groping your waist as he breathes softly against your ear: “For instance, do you have any idea what she’d be worth on the black market?”
It takes you a split second to figure out what he means, and your heart seizes in terror as soon as you do. You know James is involved in every type of shady, illegal dealing there is in the world, but you’d never even considered the idea of human trafficking. Now that he’s said it, you panic that you’ve made a huge mistake by lying that the baby isn’t his. “James,” you whisper, horrified. “Alpha, please.”
“Oh, it’s Alpha, now, is it?” He chuckles meanly, the sound making your stomach churn. You’re about to say something else, beg in some other, pitiful way, tell him he’s June’s father, but instead you cry out as his hand fists in your hair and yanks your head to the side. His breath hits hot against your skin and he drags his nose up the side of your neck, scenting you. “Mmm,” he hums darkly, pleased. “You spread your legs for another man, but you didn’t let anyone in here.”
You squeak when his teeth scrape over your still-unmarked glands. “No!” you gasp, just as much an answer as it is a plea for nim not to bite you. “I didn’t, I didn’—”
“Shut up,” he snaps, closing his teeth down on the spot. You whine as he pulls your hair and slowly increases the pressure of his bite, threatening to break the skin. Horrified, you feel your body responding with arousal, heat blooming deep in your core. You squeeze your eyes shut, and sure enough few seconds later James is inhaling deeply and chuckling. “Oh, kotenok [kitten]. Still the same as ever, huh?” He shifts, hand slipping down between your legs and cupping you from over the fabric of your dress. “Ripe for your Alpha’s touch, even after all this time. How sweet.” Humiliated rage bubbles up inside of you and you glare up at him. He’s looking down fondly at you, eyes heated and lip drawn into his mouth. He lets it slide back out between his teeth and murmurs, “It’s okay, you know. It’s everything to me, omegechka [little omega], the way you respond. It’s only natural.” You growl angrily, but he just hums and tugs your hair again, other hand molding to your mound and rubbing. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, when you cry out louder. “Don’t want to scare the whelp, do you?”
You freeze, listening to try and hear June. She’s whining from over in her room, not understanding why she’s been left alone when she can hear her mommy’s voice just down the hall. “Please,” you whisper, locking eyes with James again. “Please. Let me go to her.”
He grinds the heel of his hand against you. “I told you, Dollface. You don’t want her here for this.”
He kisses you on the mouth, chaste and lingering; so gentle that for a split second it makes you ache for what you once had with him. James always was very good at making love to you, at lavishing you with a softness and a tenderness even in the darkest of times. But now you can only shiver underneath his weight, because you know that’s not what’s about to happen.
“Seventeen months, moya omegya,” he rumbles quietly, lips brushing yours with the words. “My bed suddenly cold, not knowing if you were alive or dead. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
His tone of voice is so intimately familiar that it makes your heart clench, bringing back memories of a life you’ve fought so hard to put behind you. “Please,” you whisper. “Don’t do this.”
He tuts and shakes his head softly, as if he’s actually remorseful. “How this goes depends entirely on you. I want you to know that.” He hasn’t stopped working his hand against you, rubbing his palm against your clit and smiling at how you shudder beneath him and your body betrays you. You watch his nostrils flare as he smells the reaction he’s pulling from you against your will. “Sweet girl,” he coos. “You just can’t help it, can you?” You toss your head and screw your eyes shut, but he’s having none of it. He yanks your hair and hisses at you to open your eyes. “No,” he warns, once he’s got your attention. He moves back, getting up onto his knees and shrugging off his jacket. “You’re going to watch. The whole time.” His hands land on his belt, the buckle clinking as he opens it and undoes his pants. “I want to look right in your eyes while I take back what’s mine.” He shoves his pants down along with his underwear. His cock springs free, already hard and wet at the tip. A part of him that’s been inside you hundreds of times, probably. Something you’ve craved and debased yourself for.
Seeing it reignites your shame, but it’s the way you feel your cunt pulse and release a fresh wave of slick, that really makes you start resisting again. “Nnh!”
“Ah ah ah, Dollface. That’s not gonna work.”
“Nugh! Lemmo go!”
You fight, of course you do, but it’s almost worse that way, as it only points out how comically mismatched you are to him. He laughs at you and holds down your thrashing body, barely even grunting from the effort of subduing you. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, chuckling breathily as he forces you down with one hand and strokes himself with the other. “I have to tell you, kotenok. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
“I hate you!” You manage to get a hand free and you flail, hitting and clawing at him. He inhales sharply as your nails scratch his face. He knocks your hand away with a surprised hiss and, wide eyed, touches the spot where a tiny line of red is welling up on his cheek. The next thing you know, he’s backhanding you, sending spots into your vision and knocking you out of your senses for a few seconds. Your ears ring and you blink, stunned.
His hand appears at your throat, squeezing, pressing up against the arteries. You briefly grapple with him, grabbing his forearm and fighting, but then his thumb notches into place and digs into your glands. Your cries taper off and you go limp with a pathetic, mewling whimper. “Nnnh …”
He leers down at you, adjusting his grip, still jerking his cock as he subdues you with the Hold. “Weak,” he says. “But that’s just how I like you.”
His thumb rubs in circles, sending a rush of liquid gold through your veins. It worsens the situation between your legs, and you can’t hide that any more than you can hide the humiliated tears that prick to your eyes as he shoves your dress up and rips your underwear straight off of you. He coos when he looks down and sees how wet you are. “Oh, omegechka.” He knees your legs further apart and drags his cockhead through your folds. “And this is you hating me?”
You shake with a silent sob, despising him with your whole being, hating yourself for reacting this way. Before James, you’d never met a man who coveted your omega nature so much, hadn’t known what it was to need an alpha that way, to have your body need him. And to think: you used to like it.
He lines himself up and sinks inside of you in one, unyielding push, forcing you to open to him, carving out his space inside of you. You cry out at the force of it, body clamping down hard and the delicate skin at your entrance stinging from the stretch, but he doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated. “Fuck,” he groans, grinding in deep, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, laughing darkly when it makes you squeal. “Oh, you sensitive?” He does it again, and again, doesn’t stop until he gets a high pitched, warbling moan from you. “Theere she is.” He digs his thumb in harder against your glands and stares right in your eyes as he watches the effect it has on you, soaking up the flush in your face and the furious tears welling at the corners of your eyes. “I know, Sweetheart, I know,” he murmurs. “You really can’t help it, can you?” You whimper and he nods along in mock sympathy. “Poor little thing. I can’t imagine what it must be like, to need it that bad.”
“James,”
He pulls out halfway and shoves back in, hard, rumbling in pleasure when it elicits another yelp from you. His other hand grabs at your waist, fingers digging into the soft give of your body. He hums dirtily. “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised. You look good for having just pushed out that pup. You look healthy.” You whine in protest and he fucks in hard again, baring his teeth in a mean smile. “Yeah, momma, you heard me.” He pulls out, thrusts back in.
“Ss-stop.”
He laughs. “Don’t be like that, krasotka [Pretty(n.)]. I like it. You always were too skinny for my taste.” He runs his hand from your waist up to the top of your dress, yanking it down along with the cup of your bra, and groaning when your swollen breast spills out. You squeal in rage as he curses quietly, eyes going molten and unfocused. “Fuck, Honey, look at you.”
You start thrashing again hard, trying to hit him, but you only get a glancing blow to the side of his head before he refixes his hand on your throat and clamps down in another Hold. He gives you a firm shake. “Settle down. I told you: I like it..”
“Nnn, fuck you!” You spit on him, but he only laughs and wipes it away, leering down at you and continuing gleefully,
“Shouldn’t be skinny like some damn underwear model. Mm mn, naw. Now you’re nice and soft, just like you should be. Somethin’ for Alpha to grab onto. Bitty waist and a fat ass.” He grabs your waist again and pulls you down into the next roll of his hips, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside of you that makes stars burst in your vision.
“Ah!”
“Mmhm. Right there baby? Yeah, thaat’s the spot. I remember.” He’s panting open-mouthed, breathless as he taunts you, “I remember everything. What you like. How you feel. The sounds you make. Fuck.” He shoves into you hard and holds there, his licked-red lips curling up wickedly. “Your cunt’s fluttering around me, Sweetheart. Clamping down so fucking hard.”
“Nnh!”
He laughs, but his smile slackens as his own pleasure continues to build. He angles back and looks down your body, stares at where his cock is disappearing inside of you with lewd, wet sounds. “Shit, momma. And this pussy snapped back real good, didn’t it?”
You cry out angrily, but it’s what he wants: to see you aroused and humiliated and furious at him. He sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against you hard on the end of each, brutal thrust; his open belt and the zip of his fly digging into your ass every time he grinds inside. “You haven't been fucking anybody,” he says smugly. “How long’s it really been, mamochka? Hm? How long since another man was in this cunt?”
You moan miserably, his cock driving hard against your walls, too rough but not painful enough to keep it from feeling good. James is big, has an alpha’s cock, and it’s never been a physical possibility for him to be inside of you and not rub against every spot that makes your body light up in pleasure. You shake your head and try to close your eyes, but he pushes his hand up harder underneath your jaw, shaking you. “Uh uh. Look at me.”
You can’t fight off the command of his Voice, not when he’s already dominating you so completely. Your eyes open against your will, full of tears, and he rumbles in satisfaction.
“Better.”
Every whimper and mewl you make drives him on, stoking the angry satisfaction that’s burning in his eyes—eyes that you can’t look away from as you cry out again and again, little “Ah, ah, ah's” that interrupt the cadence of your skin slapping together, all of his eager growls and satisfied grunts.
“That’s it, shlyukha,” he pants, hips snapping in hard, again and again. “You—ugh—you let Alpha know how good that feels. Don’t hold it back from me.” His breathing is getting heavier the closer he gets, his composure and even his anger losing some of their hold as he fucks you harder, sinks down on you farther, covers you with his body fully as he ruts into you in pursuit of his climax. “Shit,” he hisses not far from your ear, face stuffed in your neck.
You keen high in your throat at his proximity to your bonding glands—a plaintive sound that directly contradicts the panicked ‘no!’ that flashes in your brain. His hand leaves the front of your neck and scoops around behind instead, gripping you at the nape in a Scruff that feels just as toe-curlingly right as the Hold had.
For a very split second, his breath hitches and his growling trips into a needy whimper. “O-oh …” And that’s when you feel it: his knot starting to catch on the end of each thrust.
“Ah!” You cry out sharply and grab onto him, helpless to keep your body from seeking out more, from clinging to him and clamping down hard as his knot grows and triggers you into orgasm. “Hhgnn …”
He goes feral when he feels your body locking down on him, growling and shoving in and grinding to ensure that he catches inside and ties you together. His hand abandons your neck entirely as he gives in to the instinct to rut, both arms wrapping around your waist, scooping under your back and holding you still for him to fuck furiously against. The tug of his knot inside your cunt makes you sob and come harder, losing sense of yourself as the pleasure cuts through you like a knife.
“Fuck, fuck, ohhfuck …” The sound of his deep voice, so lost in the desperation and helplessness of his own pleasure, makes your belly flare hot with new arousal even as you’re coming down the other side of it. You gasp and pant, and eventually whimper as the bliss dissipates and you become more aware of him on top of you, grunting and groaning and fucking into your tie as he rides out the long, debilitating climax of an alpha.
You keep your eyes closed and cry, hating that it still feels good as he fucks into you, grinds down on your clit and gives your another orgasm, and another. You wait for him to finish as your brain fills with the high that comes after, that unavoidable pink cloud that you know is going to seal your fate and make you helpless to him for the next thirty minutes, at least. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head in the direction of the pillows.
As the high starts to take you, you think about how, if you’d just kept your gun holstered behind by the headboard like you’d planned, you could be blowing his brains out right about now.
A.N.: Soooo ... This is the rape-iest thing I've ever ever written. I hope y'all are okay. Just wanted to drop a note to let you know that this fic WILL lighten up and not be quite so, well, rapey, in the future. Thanks for reading! 💖Sarah
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"Age doesn't matter" 8
Dad!Bakugo x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16
"So." Eijiro started as they both exited Y/n's apartment.
Katsuki stayed silent while carrying the sleeping Kazui in his arms along with his things for school.
"She seems nice." Eijiro grinned. "And very helpful." He added as he clicked his car keys unlocking his car.
"Straight to the point," Katsuki mumbled carefully getting in the car.
"Well, you both look close to each other, especially after the news," Eijiro said getting in the driver's seat.
"The news is nothing. They're spouting lies. That's all they fucking do." Katsuki mumbled once again, trying not to wake Kazui.
He's not ready. Not yet. But he sees you fitting to be Kazui's mom knowing how close you were with his son. Of course, he knows him being a single father is fine, but he also knows Kazui will be looking for a mom. Now that he can see other kids being picked up by their mothers.
"What do you think will happen if she saw the news?" Starting the engine, Eijiro slowly drove off of the parking lot.
"The fuck do I care," Katsuki growled lowly. "For all I know she's fucking banging any other guy in every bar she goes to."
He doesn't care.
He doesn't care that they're not officially divorced. He won't accept her back. Not after what she did.
"Hey, that's not how you talk about your-
"She's not my fucking wife. Not ever." Katsuki scowled deepened, but soon disappear when he shifted his eyes to Kazui's peaceful face.
He'll do everything for his son. He'll risk his life if he has to just keep him safe.
"Okay, okay. Sorry." Eijiro apologizes.
"Kazui doesn't deserve to know her."
..
After Eijiro dropped Katsuki at their home, he drove to a secluded area.
His eyes were serious while he focuses on driving. No one knows he's here. Not even Katsuki.
Suddenly, he stopped in front of a dark alleyway and roll the passenger seat's window down.
"Get in." He said.
When the person got in, Eijirou started driving once again.
"You'd be surprised by my intel."
"Tell me," Eijiro said quietly while his eyes focuses ahead.
"Didn't I say she's in the city?"
"Yeah."
"Surprisingly. She got her own home."
Eijiro side glances at him after he what he heard. "We're you able to track her house?"
"Yes."
"Give it to me."
..
“Good morning, class.”
Friday finally arrive. That means tomorrow, Y/n can finally rest.
“Good morning, Miss Y/n.”
But deep inside Y/n, no matter how tiring her job is, she loves children. Maybe it's because of a quirk? Pft. Of course not. Was it? Seeing the children smile after she mends their booboos away makes her feel warm. So maybe it was indeed her quirk.
“Alright everybody, today we’ll do arts!” Miss Y/n smiled cheerfully.
A loud cheer of small voices engulfed the room.
“Be quiet everyone.” Miss Y/n spoke up clapping her hands to settle the children down. “Take out the art materials that I advised you to bring. If someone needs more art materials, come to my table, okay?”
“Yes, Miss Y/n!”
“Okay! Draw your favorite hero and you will show it to everyone.” Miss Y/n said.
She was about to make her way to her table when suddenly, a loud crash was heard from the other side of the room alerting Miss Y/n. The children began crying due to being frightened.
“Everyone, please evacuate the premises. Everyone, please evacuate immediately.”
Y/n’s eyes widen. What is an attack? No. This is not the right time to think about it. She needs to take the children outside. Then another loud crash was heard.
Then a laugh.
Terror and fright were getting ahead of her. She couldn't think straight. Seeing the children crying around her makes her heart clench.
Think.
Y/n let her eyes roam around her classroom. There must’ve been something she can use.
Think.
Her eyes suddenly focused on the windows. So without any reluctance, she rushed towards it opening it wide enough for the children to fit.
“Children. Come to teacher, we need to leave.” Miss Y/n said as gently as she could say. “Everything will be okay. The heroes will arrive. They will save us.”
One by one, she held the children and pass them through the classroom window with another teacher outside waiting for the children. But her eyes went wide when she was missing one.
Kazui.
“Kazui!” She shouted. “Where are you, come here, baby!”
“Miss Y/n. You need to get out!”
“No no! I’m missing one student.”
Y/n was now panicking. Her eyes were scanning the classroom repeatedly. He was nowhere.
“Kazui, baby!”
Then another crash was heard. But this time, it was the classroom door she was in.
She yelped in terror and surprise.
“Miss Y/n.”
Miss Y/n turned her head to her left. There she saw Kazui hiding under her table.
“Kazui!” Instantly she took him in her arms protecting him. “It's okay. Don't cry.” She needs to be strong for him. She needs to protect him. Y/n was frightened as he is but right at this moment, she was willing to give her life to protect Kazui.
“Isn't that the number 2 hero’s son? Well well, ain't I lucky?”
“Ugh. This is so boring!” Eijiro complained as he walk to the pavement with his buddy.
“That just means the crime rate was decreasing, idiot. Be glad.” Katsuki crosses his arms saying this.
“Oh yeah-
Their communicator suddenly started making a buzzing noise. Someone’s trying to communicate.
“Dynamight! The daycare from ***** is under attack!”
“Shit!!”
Not letting the person on the other line finish, Katsuki blasts his way to where the daycare.
Kazui was all he can think of. He can't lose him.
..
“Back off!” Y/n yelled at the villain while carrying the crying Kazui in her arms.
“Ya know. You can just show me where the money is. Every money in this establishment then will be all over. You’ll save the heroes from work.” the villain smirked.
“As if I’d tell you! Heroes will come here and they will arrest you!”
Where was this courage coming from?
“Suit yourself,” The villain suddenly launched itself into her but Y/n was quick to dodge and move away. Although, that movement made her catch her breath.
“Aha. You’re fast.” The villain smirked evilly as they slowly pull a knife out of where.
Y/n watches in fear. She doesn't know what to do.
“Oy? Where's that brave face you were wearing? Although I have to say, that look suits you more.” After what the villain said, they once again launched themselves at Y/n.
Y/n manages to run away though. Why hasn't she thought of running away before?
“Miss Y/n I’m scared!!” Kazui cried out loud.
“I know baby, but we’ll be safe. Your papa will protect us!” You said between breaths.
“Where do you think you're going, doll!?” The villain suddenly appeared behind her.
“Papa!” Kazui cried.
Her lungs felt like burning. She's starting to lack oxygen due to running. But she needs to keep both of them safe. She needs to protect Kazui.
All of a sudden she felt immense pain in her back and it made her slow down.
“Miss Y/n!!”
Was all she heard when she felt another. But this time, she knelt, still holding Kazui tightly in her arms.
You were now panting. Every breath you take hurts you.
“Miss Y/n, no!” Kazui was still crying. He slightly pulls himself away from you to look at you.
You were hurt.
“Miss Y/n heal yourself like what you did to Papa and Uncle Kiri!” Kazui cried as he held your face with his small hands.
“Not so tough now, aren't you?” the Villain sneered watching them. “If only you gave me what I want-
“You! Villain! Just wait until Papa came here!” Kazui cried staring angrily at the villain.
“So I was right. You are indeed the no. 2 son!” The villain laughed. “Where was he now though?”
Kazui was sobbing. He shifted his eyes back to you when you suddenly tried to stand up.
You were facing the villain now. You kept Kazui behind you as you stare at the villain. “I will n-never give you want you to want.” You manage to say.
“Come on now. Less the hassle. But eh. It's not like you can fight me. I can just end you right here.” With that, knives were thrown and stabbed right at your shoulder, stomach, and legs.
Everything hurts. Y/n couldn't believe her life will end like this. She always thought she’ll grow old and just die peacefully. Her thoughts are slowly slipping away. Her vision was darkening and her body was numb. She couldn't feel anything.
Y/n’s body just fell on the floor.
“Maybe I wouldn't mind touching you while this kid watches us, eh?”
“Don’t fucking touch my wife.”
..
Took me a while to do part 8. I'm sorry!
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Farmhouse
Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader
Natasha brings you home to Clint’s farm and you share a soft day with the family
Note: I love love love auntie Nat and those kids deserved Nat to stay alive, so in this fic she did. Enjoy the softness!
Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist
One of Natasha’s favorite places in the world is Clint’s farm. When he first helped her defect to Shield, the farm was her safe haven. Laura and Clint were so nice to her. It was the first time in years that she felt anywhere was a home.
Natasha has continued visiting over the years, so she knew when she fell in love with you that she would bring you home to the farm. After much kissing, she convinced you to get up at the crack of dawn to fly to the farm. The kids would want to see her when they wake up.
“Are you ready, detka?” Natasha asks you as you stand on the front porch of the farmhouse. You’ve seen pictures of it before but being here you can really feel the sense of home Nat gets from it.
Nat takes your hand in her strong one and opens the door. The house is quiet, only the soft hum of fans can be heard. Natasha walks with practiced direction and leads you into the kitchen.
“Nat,” a woman, Laura you recognize from photos, greets her. “Come here, honey.”
She stands up from the table and hugs Natasha. You’re surprised by Nat’s easiness to fall into the woman’s arms. The only other people you’ve seen her hug so casually are you and Steve.
“Laura, this is my girlfriend y/n,” Natasha says.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Barton,” you greet her.
“Oh please, call me Laura!” She says and pulls you in for a hug. Nat watches on with a smile.
Laura tells you that the kids will be up soon, so you better prepare for the quiet house to become chaotic. Nat takes you upstairs to drop your bags in her bedroom. While you’re up there, little feet patter across the floor.
Natasha steps into the hallway and looks towards the bedrooms.
“Nate?” She asks.
“Auntie Nat?” The little boy matches her questioning tone.
“Yeah buddy, it’s me.”
“Auntie Nat!” He yells and steps out of his room completely. He runs to Natasha, who picks him up and holds him tight.
“Good morning, Nate,” Natasha says. “This is y/n. Can you say hi?”
The boy rubs his eyes and leans further into her, clearly enjoying her warmth. You understand.
“He’s still sleepy,” a voice comes from behind you. The prodigal daughter stands there with a sleepy grin.
“Lila,” Natasha says softly.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Lila says as she practically jogs to reach Nat for a hug.
“I missed you, malyshka,” Natasha says.
She hugs Lila while still holding Nate in her arms. He’s drifting off to sleep.
“Y/n,” Nat addresses you. “This is Lila, aka my favorite kid.”
You all three chuckle.
“Nice to meet you, Lila,” you say. She feels a warmth in your greeting.
“You too,” she says. “Coop will be sleeping for a while, so we should probably go downstairs.”
Lila leads the way and you follow her with Nat and Nate trailing behind. The little boy is completely asleep, but Nat doesn’t mind. If anything, it warms her heart that he is comfortable enough to drift off in her arms.
Downstairs Laura begins to cook breakfast. You try to help but she tells you that company shouldn’t cook. You sit next to Nat at the table and converse with the family as the day begins.
Breakfast is delicious. And you already feel like a part of the family. Nate even lets you cut up his pancakes so you take that as a win.
You move to the living room afterwards to sit with Nat. Nate runs around and plays while Lila and Cooper play on their phones.
Natasha seems lighter after just a couple of hours of being at the farm. You lean against her shoulder and she kisses your cheek. You sigh contentedly.
“You okay?” Nat asks.
“I’m great,” you tell her.
You shift to look into her eyes and see her smiling at you. Natasha lifts your chin up with her hand and kisses your lips softly.
“Gross,” comes a remark from Clint of all people.
“Shut it, Clinton Francis!” You tell him.
His mouth opens in shock. Natasha, Laura, and the teenagers die laughing.
“Natasha, how dare you tell her about my name!” Clint yells.
“Sorry,” she says unseriously. “She got it out of me.”
“It’s clear who wears the pants in this relationship,” Clint jokes.
Natasha pulls you closer as the conversations continue. You really feel at home with these people in this place.
You think one day you’ll get a farmhouse of your own and live out your days with Natasha there.
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#soft natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff comfort#clint barton#laura barton#I love auntie Nat
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