#I only want mentions and little sad things
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Vintage | Rooster x Reader
Summary: You love teasing your husband about his deep and unwavering devotion to his Bronco, but he's insistent that it would come in second place to you every time, and he intends to prove it. While you're away on deployment, he concocts a plan to get you behind the wheel of your very own vintage beauty.
Warnings: Swears, fluff, mentions of smut
Length: 2700 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
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"Sometimes I swear you love that thing more than you love me."
Your voice startled Bradley as he ran the wet, soapy sponge along the hood of his vintage Ford Bronco, pulling him from his thoughts. That was something you frequently said to him, jokingly claiming that you were the second love of his life. But you both knew it wasn't true. Especially not tonight.
"Hey, Baby," he whispered, coaxing you closer to him as he tossed the sponge back into the bucket. "Come here."
The setting sun painted your face with orange and gold, and he noticed the sadness in your eyes. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans and then held them out to you, and you were in his arms in an instant. "Bradley," you mumbled against his chest as he squeezed you, getting your shirt a little damp in the process. But you didn't seem to mind. "I'm going to miss you."
Detailing and cleaning what used to be his dad's 1973 Bronco had become a way for him to relieve stress. He would get out the soap and turn on the hose when he needed a few minutes to himself. It was easier to be alone in his head, processing his thoughts and worries when he was washing the light blue masterpiece he'd spent so many years and a lot of money preserving. He always found himself in a better headspace to deal with whatever was troubling him when he spent some time with the Bronco. And today was no exception.
"I'm going to miss you, too."
Sometimes it felt like the nearly five years you and he had been married were just spent alternating deployments. First he would be gone on an aircraft carrier for months on end, and then it would be your turn. You'd be sent abroad with the Navy before returning to him, and then the cycle would begin anew. Everything felt harder when you weren't around, and maybe that's why Bradley was out on the driveway right now instead of helping you pack for your early call time tomorrow morning.
With your cheek pressed to his sternum, you cried softly. "It's only two months this time. And I'll have access to my phone. And I'll even be home in time for our anniversary. I don't know why I'm feeling so emotional about this."
He pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "It's not like it gets any easier. You know that. I know that. It's going to feel like two months of hell on my end."
You sniffed hard then looked up at him with a little smirk. "At least you'll have the Bronco to keep you warm."
Bradley groaned and started to walk you backwards toward the house. "I mean, she's pretty and all, and I've definitely spent a night or two curled up around her gear shift, but I never gave her a diamond ring."
Your lips and your soft laughter against his neck sent a jolt of physical pleasure through his body, but he didn't want to rush this. He needed this to last, to hold him over for two months without your touch. Both of you tripped along to the bedroom where he smiled and whispered, "Let me show you that you're my number one girl. Let me prove you always will be."
Bradley was meticulous. He knew every inch of his Bronco, inside and out, but he knew you better. The sounds you made were prettier. The way you clung to him as he brought you pleasure was unparalleled. Your fingers laced with his as he connected his body with yours in the most intimate way, and it left him breathless.
"I love you."
-----------------------
Two days. He'd only been alone for two days, and he was already halfway through binge watching a season of a show that wasn't even that interesting. When he got home from work, he eyed up the couch and TV before ultimately changing into some sweats and heading back out to the driveway. He looked over the Bronco from hood to taillights, making a mental list of what she needed: new wiper blades, two new tires, and an oil change.
When he took his phone out to order the parts from his favorite website, he must have typed something wrong. It rerouted him to a vintage Ford resale page that left him staring at a sage green 1975 Bronco in rough condition. Man, she was still pretty though, with her original chrome and hubcaps. She was just an hour away, and the price wasn't too bad...
He glanced up at the blue gem in front of him. An idea started to take shape. He wondered how you would feel about it. With a smile, he ordered the wiper blades and oil filter that he needed and went inside to make dinner. But he couldn't stop picturing that chipped, green paint, and the vinyl that needed to be patched.
If he knew he could get you hooked on a Bronco of your very own, he'd make this purchase. Two months to go. Shit, he might have just enough time to pull this off. He could practically picture you cranking the engine to life and waving goodbye as you pulled out of the driveway and took your Bronco for a spin. He wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face, but he'd say it anyway. "You love that thing more than you love me, Baby."
When he was stretched out on your side of the bed later that night, enveloped in your sweet scent that clung to the pillows, he closed his eyes and thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. It would be fun to prove to you once and for all where his loyalties lie. Or maybe it could just be a project that would keep him busy, and if you didn't like the idea, he could resell it after you got home. Either way, he drifted to sleep as he thought about you behind the wheel, and he knew it was too perfect to pass up.
----------------------
"Hey, Baby," Bradley said with a smirk as he answered his phone.
"Bradley! I miss you like crazy!"
"I miss you, too," he promised as he looked at the rather beat up, green Bronco before him. He got it for a great price when he offered to pay cash, and the tow truck just dropped it off a few days ago. Half of the engine was taken apart on a tarp at his feet, and it was currently jacked up so he could replace the oil pan. But he thought it was gorgeous. "I have a little surprise for you when you get home."
"A surprise?! Tell me. You know I can't wait that long."
"Nah," he said, kneeling down to check the wiring for the headlights. "I think I'll make you wait this one out."
"Rooster!"
"What?" he laughed, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he slipped his work gloves on and pulled at the loose wire. "You know, this is what you get for always giving me a hard time about my dad's Bronco. I love you so much, Baby, I'll make you wait for the surprise. It'll be sweeter that way."
"You're the worst," you groaned playfully. "Now I'll be thinking about what it could possibly be the whole time I'm gone. I'll be wondering what you have up your sleeve."
"As long as you're thinking about me, I'm happy," he rasped, and your pretty sigh in response left him a little breathless.
"I'm always thinking about you. Promise me as soon as I get back, we'll go for a long drive? Up along the coast? Late at night?"
He loved that idea. It would just look a little different than you were probably imagining if he could get this thing up and running again in time for your return. "We'll make a night of it," he promised. "I'll pack some blankets, and we can sit in the back and look out at the ocean. Can't guarantee I'll be able to keep my hands to myself though."
"Mmm. That's what I'm counting on."
----------------------
After about two weeks of watching a lot of YouTube videos posted by professionals, Bradley finally had the engine rebuilt. He was just waiting for some parts to arrive before he could put it back in place. "You're a needy one, aren't you?" he asked the green Bronco. "Nothing like her. She's a saint." He nodded his head toward the blue one before kneeling to replace the taillights.
He was quickly realizing that the money he saved on the cost of the actual vehicle was being eaten up in the expensive, vintage parts. He was lucky he knew how to do most of this himself, even if it took twice as long. Today he was replacing the brakes and listening to a Motown playlist, and he fully realized that he felt calmest when he was with you or a Bronco. He snorted at how ridiculous that fact was as he scooted under the vehicle, but it was true. And having you tucked away in the back with the tailgate dropped, all wrapped up in a blanket while you turned him on just by existing.... well, that's when he would be happiest of all.
As the weeks wore on and the project progressed, the day finally arrived when it was time to try to start her up and take her for a little drive. Everything smelled like new rubber from the tires he'd just put on. The vinyl seats were still in bad shape, but when he slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine purred to life.
Bradley's head tipped back as he groaned softly. "So fucking pretty. My god." He tapped the accelerator gently with his foot, enjoying the rev of the engine. He smoothed his hands along the steering wheel and the dashboard before he adjusted the rear view mirror to accommodate his height. Then he flicked the chrome switch and turned on the radio which he was surprised still worked.
My Girl by the Temptations poured from the speakers as the station crackled to life, and that felt like a very good sign. "Let's get out of here, Sweetheart," he whispered before shifting into reverse and leaving the driveway and his toolbox behind.
She was smooth and steady and everything he was hoping for. Would it ever fully compete with Goose's Bronco? Probably not. Was it worth the investment anyway? He'd find out next week when you got home. There were just a few things left to do before he dropped it off to be repainted and have the interior patched, and then she'd be good as new.
Bradley's phone rang in his pocket, and he smiled when he saw it was you. "Hey, Baby."
"Bradley! I miss you so much. I swear, if this thing was longer than two months, I wouldn't make it. What are you up to?"
"Oh, I'm just out for a little drive."
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After eight weeks of nothing more than a few scant phone calls, Bradley was more than ready to have you home again. Maybe you and he could take a few days off from work. He'd help you catch up on some sleep after initially keeping you up all night. He already had some blankets ready to go as soon as you said you wanted to drive up to Carlsbad and watch the surfers at sunset before making love in the back of your Bronco.
Your Bronco. His wife's Bronco. It would take some getting used to, but it already made him smile every time he thought about it. With his hands on that familiar steering wheel, he drove toward the Naval base where both of you spent so much of your time. He waited, leaning against the light blue hood until you came running toward him in your uniform with your bags.
"Bradley!" you shrieked as you landed in his arms where you belonged.
"I missed you," he promised, finally kissing your lips again after so many weeks. He felt your bag hit his foot, and he smiled as he tilted your face up for better access to your mouth.
"I missed you, too," you moaned softly, and he was already making the move to get you back home and remind you what you meant to him. But you dug your feet in outside the passenger door.
"Where's my surprise?" you asked as you tucked your fingers into the top of his jeans and grinned up at him. "I've been thinking about it nonstop. Is it you?"
"No," he replied with a chuckle as his gaze drifted toward the Bronco. "You'll see soon enough."
You glanced at where he was looking, and you rolled your eyes before kissing his chin. "Did she keep you company while I was gone? She looks pristine, like you spend some time working on her."
Bradley kissed your forehead. "Just get in, Baby," he rasped. "The sooner we get home, the sooner your little surprise will make sense."
He knew the routine by heart now. The short ride home would start out with you holding his right hand and playing with his fingers while he drove. Then your hand would migrate to his thigh when the Bronco was about five blocks away. Then as soon as the tires touched the driveway, you'd unbuckle your seatbelt and make your way over to his lap.
The routine was important to him. He loved it. He loved taking you inside and directly to bed before coming back out much later to get the bags. He thrived on the return to normal life that was triggered by the routine. But today, he knew you weren't going to end up on his lap, and that was more than okay.
When your hand settled on his thigh exactly five blocks away from home, Bradley smiled. Your fingers crept up inch by inch as you leaned closer and whispered in his ear that you had their fifth wedding anniversary all planned out for the following weekend. You were playing with the zipper of his jeans by the time he could see the house, and he just waited for it. He was not disappointed.
"What the fuck is that?" you gasped, both hands going to the dashboard in front of you as you leaned to check out the freshly painted green Bronco as he coasted into the driveway. "Bradley?" you asked, glancing at him with wide eyes as he shifted into park.
He smiled and leaned over to kiss your softly parted lips. "This is your surprise. You're always joking about how much I love my Bronco, but I'll never love anything more than I love you."
You pressed your lips to his once before pulling away, shaking your head slightly. "So you got me one of my own?" you asked, jerking your thumb toward the green one.
He nodded and pulled his key from the ignition before pressing it into your palm. "Yep. She's all yours."
"Wait," you whispered, your brow creasing in confusion as you looked down at your hand. "This is your key."
"No, it's your key. The key to the green one is in the house. That's my key."
You gaped at him as your eyebrows shot upwards. "You're giving me your Bronco?"
"Yep."
"But," you whispered, turning to look out the window, "I can drive the other one."
"No, I bought the green one with myself in mind," he replied, taking your chin gently in his hand so you were looking at him again. "This one's better. She's sweet. Like you. She's yours."
"Oh my god, Bradley."
He was wrong; you did end up in his lap. Right where you belonged. His hands settled at your hips as you kissed every inch of his face while he laughed.
"I want to take her for a spin," you whispered, nudging him out of the driver's seat with your knee. "Go."
He smiled as he walked around to the passenger side of the blue Bronco, and he barely had the door closed before you started the engine and shifted into gear. "Pretty soon you'll love this thing more than you love me, Baby."
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He gave you his Bronco. The green one was for him. That's how you know he loves you. I hope they do some nasty shit in the green one to break it in. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
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#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x reader#rooster x you#rooster imagine#rooster fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#vintage
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Butterfly pt.2
part one
this story will contain mentions of sexual assault, part one contains sexual assault please do not read if this will trigger you.
summary: gojo helps you heal from a traumatic sexual experience by showing you what consensual sex is like and just how good it can make you feel.
pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader
content MDNI: sexual assault mention, consensual sex, vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), praise kink, squirting, fingering, friends to loversish, healing, trauma, soft gojo, girl obsessed gojo, yearning, angst, protected sex
I am in no way romanticizing or gloryfing sexual assault, this is how I’m choosing to cope with my trauma. Any and all hate will be blcoked.
November
Gojo immediately regrets asking, he goes to wipe your tears but stops himself. The atmosphere has shifted, and he doesn’t know what to do or say. You have this strong urge to hug him and hope he hugs back, making you feel safe but that voice reminds you how horrid men can be.
“No,” you answer his question and you feel like heaving up the little bits of pizza you ate. You feel dirty and disgusting, wanting to crawl out of your own skin.
Before you can think, you’re climbing into his lap. You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, he’s stiff, completely taken by surprise as your inner conscience screams at you to get off him, to not let him touch you.
You should tense when his fingers trail up your spine, rubbing gently as his other hand holds the back of your head. It feels nice, to be held and treated so softly.
“You can talk to me, you can trust me,” he says, the urge to tell someone the truth I so strong but you’re scared he’ll think of you as disgusting or blame you for what happened.
His fingers thread through your hair until he’s massaging your scalp, and you sigh at the feeling. You’ve been craving physical touch for so long but it’s terrified you until now, until him.
You slowly look up at him, eyes locking with his through his glasses. You’re not sure if it’s depravation or desperation that makes you kiss his lips but you do.
Rejection hits you when he pulls you off of him, gently setting you beside him.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, looking at your lap. The only friendship you have, potentially ruined.
“It’s okay, I should probably go,” he says and you nod, following him to the door.
You cry yourself to sleep that night.
End of November
It’s been almost four weeks, since you’ve heard from him. He doesn’t text you, he doesn’t ask for a stupid little song even though you’ve made a list of them for everyday he’s missed.
You feel horribly sad, eyes lingering on the bottle of vodka sitting in front of you.
It also been four weeks since you’ve had a drink or touched drugs. A toxic cycle you’re trying to break, you’re not addicted to it. You like the numbness it brings, like an outlet or a cure to some sick disease festering inside of you.
Salem meows, making you look away. You crouch down and lift him up into your arms. He nuzzles against you, as you lay down on the couch.
You feel sick, utterly sick at how you managed to ruin the one good thing in your life. Why would he want to kiss you, someone so tainted and broken, someone so hideous.
The urge to break your lease and move away seems like the only reasonable option, even though deep down you know it’s insane.
How could you be so stupid? Why do you have to ruin everything?
Beginning of December Gojos Birthday.
The cold air nips at your skin, but you enjoy the walk home from work. Her Way by PartyNextDoor fills your ears, AirPods hidden under your black earmuffs.
You hiss as your ungloved hand reaches the freezing metal handle of the door to your building. You yank it open and rush inside, shivering.
Mrs. Tomioka stands by the mailboxes and smiles at you. You pause your music as her lips part.
“Oh dear, you need to layer up more,” she says staring at you dressed in nothing but leggings, a hoodie and fur boots. You simply nod, turning to walk away.
“How’s the cat?” she asks and your brows furrow.
“What?” You ask, she lives two floors above you and you’ve never mentioned Salem to her.
“The one your neighbor bought off me?” She asks.
“Gojo?”you ask and she nods.
“The little black cat he insisted I give to him. Someone had already bought him so he doubled it,” she says and your heart feels strange in your chest.
“You must have the wrong person, he said he found the kitten” you say and she shakes her head.
“No honey, it was him. The one with the blindfold, he said there was a girl in desperate need of a friend,” she says and you feel dizzy. You walk away from her, climbing up the stairs trying to process her words.
You find yourself walking to his door, hands gently knocking.
You feel a sense of euphoria when the door opens only it’s not Gojo. The woman you always see with him opens the door and stares at you. Your expression turns solem as she looks at you curiously.
“Is Gojo here?” You ask and she nods.
“He’s in the shower,” she says, your eyes catch the balloons with Happy Birthday written across them.
“It’s his birthday?” You ask and she nods.
“Thank you,” you say, walking toward your door and she closes his.
You pull out your phone and text him ‘Happy Birthday!’.
He doesn’t respond.
Mid December
The rooms dark as you curl into a ball, Salem nestled against your chest. Your anxiety’s so bad, you just want it to go away. Salems purring as your fingers run along his spine, grounding you. He’s the only thing keeping you afloat.
A light knock at your door has you blinking, you want to yell at them to go away but you’re drained of all energy.
The knocking continues, making Salem jump down from the bed. Annoyance fills you as you follow the kitten toward the front door, lifting him into your arms.
You don’t bother checking the peephole as you open it, so many feelings hit you as you stare at the man in front of you. Sadness, anger, confusion, yearning, it all hits you.
“Hi,” he says and your eyes sting. Salem fights to jump into his arms, so enthralled by the tall man.
You close the door and he doesn’t stop you.
“I just want to talk,” he says through the door as you set the cat down.
“I can explain,” he says but you don’t want to hear it. He’s like every man, they make you feel good until they don’t anymore.
He had promised not to hurt you and he lied, the organ beating in your chest hurts so badly because of him.
“Please go,” you whisper weakly, accepting that it’s over and he does.
December 22nd
Four messages hit your phone, Happy Birthday texts from your siblings, mom and grandma. You simply thank them with a heart emoji. You despise your birthday, another reminder of everything you’ve failed to accomplish in the previous year and how alone you are.
A knock at the door has you sighing, expecting the hideous daisies your grandma always sends you. You’re grateful and don’t have the heart to tell her how much you hate them.
The door swings open and you audibly gasp. Gojo stands there with his blindfold off and piercing blue irises stare into the depths of your soul. He’s beautiful, more so than you had conjured in your head.
“X & Y” he says and your head tilts, brows furrowing.
“What?” You ask.
“X & Y by Coldplay, that’s our song” he says, your chest tightens, you’ve heard it a million times.
I dive in at the deep end
You become my best friend
I want to love you but I don't know if I can
I know something is broken
And I'm trying to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way I can
“It’s just a song,” you say and he shakes his head.
“Nothings just a song to you, it’s everything, it’s us” he says absolutely serious, blue eyes pinning yours.
“You kissed me and I couldn’t think, you’ve slowly become my bestfriend and that scared me. I had a bestfriend once, and he died… I thought I’d be sparing you from the horror that is my life because I don’t want to lose another friend, not you. But I saw you, hidden behind the music, spiraling and so scared. I saw you and never in my life have I wanted anything more,” he says, you stand there frozen trying to make sense of his words.
“You ignored me, made me feel unwanted, ashamed and so sad,”you whisper, eyes watering. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek against his palm.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’ve never done this. And I know you’re too good for me, a better person than I’ll ever deserve but I’m just a guy desperately wanting a girl, the girl, to talk to him again” he says . His words are so foreign to your ears, so full of adoration, need and genuinuity.
“You missed the songs,” you say as he steps closer.
“I’m sorry” he breathes looking down at you.
“You didn’t answer my texts” you whisper, as he enters the apartment.
“Hardest thing I ever did”.
“You lied to me about Salem,” you say and he shuts the door, your hearts beating so fast, too fast that you fear it’ll give out.
“You needed him,” he whispers, hands cupping your face and he kisses you.
This kiss sends shocks throughout your body, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. The hairs on your arms stand up and your pupils dilate. His tongue prods against your lips and you open them, feeling his mouth hungrily lap at yours.
Your nails dig into the muscles of his arms, nipples hardening and core aching. Nothing but your mingled breaths, fill the apartment.
His hands slide down to your ass and you tense. You still against him and he stops, his forehead pressed against yours. His hands pin to your waist.
“I won’t hurt you, not ever,” he says and you nod, tears sliding down your cheeks. You want this to be real, to believe him.
“Pick a word. Any word, you use it and this all stops,” he says.
“Butterfly” you whisper, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss him. It’s sweet and gentle, this is Gojo, he won’t hurt you.
He pulls you down to the couch with him, straddling his waist. Nerves prickle at you, his fingers skimming the naked skin of your arms. You can feel the bulge underneath you and your eyes close.
“You’re safe,” he whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you,” he says, lips brushing your cheek. The safety net he’s created around you, creates warmth in your belly.
His lips brush against your neck, soft wet kisses trailing along the smooth column. You moan as he sucks at the skin, fingers gripping the wrist that hold your waist.
“Do you want me touch you?” he asks and you nod against him, you haven’t felt this kind of desire in your life, it outweighs your fear. You trust him.
“Show me where”he says and you redden, unsure of what he means. Your hand grabs his and he looks at you.
“Here” you say shyly, pressing his hand against your core. His hand moves against you, palm digging into your cloth covered pussy but the pressure feels so good. You bite your lip, face scrunching and it makes him painfully harder. He stops and you worry, but he fingers graze the waist band of your shorts.
“Is it okay if we take these off?” He asks and you nod, slowly standing up so he can slide them down you. You look down, nervous. The words fat, ugly, slut and whore resonate and your chest constricts. He kneels down infront of you, fingers grazing the hem of your tank top. He lifts it off and tosses it, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You fight the urge to cover yourself and hide.
“So beautiful,” he whispers looking up at you, and you sigh when his lips meet your belly. He peppers the flesh with kisses, every touch going to your core.
He gently moves you so you can sit back on the couch. Your chest heaves watching him kneeling before you. His fingers grip the edge of your panties, and you watch him slide them down. Your legs close and his large hands press against your thighs.
“Do you trust me?” He asks and you nod.
His eyes don’t leave yours as his hands pry you open. He looks at your pussy with lust and awe, fingers grazing through your folds and you buck against them.
His thumb grazes your clit and you cry, eyes locked on his.
“I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” He asks and you nod, watching his thumb circle your clit and feel a long and thick finger, push inside of you. Your hands clutch at the couch cushions, desperate to claw at the flesh of his arms.
“Relax, gonna stretch you out” he whispers and you nod, trying your best to calm down despite the sensation inside of you. Your face morphs into discomfort when he adds a second finger, his movements slow down to let you adjust.
He leans down and presses a kiss to your clit for distraction and your eyes widen. Your fingers slide through his scalp and tug at the white silky strands when his tongue pokes your clit.
The feeling of his fingers become pleasurable and you grind against them, gasping when you feel his wet tongue drag across your pussy. It’s too much, you feel like you’re going to die.
His tongue flicks across your clit over and over until his mouth devours your pussy entirely, sucking it and lapping the juices that leak from you. You flush red as you grind against his face, chasing the end of what the knot in your stomach promises.
He groans against you and it vibrates your pussy making you cry out as you cum, his fingers speeding up their pace as he drags out your orgasm. Your legs shaking as your thighs try to close. He lazily licks at you, sending little aftershocks through you.
When he’s done, he presses several kisses to your cunt and then your inner thighs, to your belly and the valley between your breast until he’s kissing your lips. Everything about this is so erotic, you feel so high off of your release and how good he makes you feel.
He pulls back and his forehead presses against yours.
“Did you like it?” He asks and you nod, watching him grab your clothes. He chuckles as he slides your panties up and then your shorts. You raise your arms and he slides the tank top over you.
“Happy birthday” he whispers against your lips. You have no idea how he knows but you don’t care.
“Thank you,” you smile up at him.
“I have your gifts in my apartment,” he says making you feel tingly inside.
“You didn’t have to get me anything, “ you say, you feel horrible you didn’t get to see him on his birthday or even talk to him but that was his fault.
“I’ll be right back,” he says and walks out the front door. You rush to your room, and reach for the stupid thing you had made him. You feel doubt, he may hate it but it comes from your heart.
You sigh, looking at Salem curled into a ball on your bed and grab the cd. You close the door and see Gojo with several packages… you deflate. You’re actually the worst gift giver in the world.
“I know we didn’t get to see eachother for your birthday but I made you this which seems quite lame now. I know everything’s digital but I wanted you to have something physical,” you say handing him the blue wrapped gift.
He opens it and you swallow, as he stares at the cover. He laughs at the picture of Pearl with her pitchfork and turns it over to see the songs listed. His finger stills on track number seven.
“X & Y” he reads aloud and you nod.
“I told you we share the same brain” he says before kissing you, his arms circling your waist and lifting you off the ground. You smile against him.
You’re not use to this kind of affection, it feels overwhelming. It makes you want to just burst at the seams.
“I love it,” he says putting you down.
“Your turn,” he says gesturing toward the bigger box on the coffee table. You nervously touch the pink wrapping paper and rip it. You swallow roughly, staring at the white audio technica record player. You reach for the thinly stacked pile of gifts and open them revealing record after record of your favorite albums. Your throat feels raw, tears pricking your eyes and you look up at him.
Your arms wrap around him and squeeze him like if you let go he’ll be gone. Tears soak his shirt as his arms hug back, his lips press against the top of your head.
“Seemed like something you’d like” he said and you nodded. You wanted to collect vinyls but it’s such an expensive hobby, so you held off.
“Thank you, for everything”.
Beginning of January
Gojo: song ?
You: Coming Down, The Weeknd
Gojo: you’re freaky
You blush at the text.
You: aren’t you suppose to be working?
Gojo: I’d rather talk to you, let me see you
You hesitantly open your camera app, trying not to let the insecurities get to you as you snap a picture of you smiling and send it.
Gojo: so fucking pretty
Your insides stir at the compliment, you love the way he makes you feel. Fear tries to crawl its way up at the thought of this being taken away. It’s like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop because how could someone so beautiful be into you?
Mid January
Gojo wants to take you on a date but he’s aware of your anxiety, the way you hide behind your music when in public to avoid social interactions.
You love it just being the two of you, no expectations no pressure, just the two of you in this little bubble.
“Gojo?” You ask watching him eat his General tso on the couch and you eat your bourbon chicken across from him.
“What was your bestfriends name?” You ask and he stills. You hope you’re not crossing a line but you want to know everything about him, the good and the bad.
“Suguru Geto,” he says, his voice cracks and you look down at your lap.
“How’d he die?…” you ask, the room is silent as he thinks of what to say.
“Car accident” he lies to you, one day he’ll tell you the truth but he doesn’t want you to look at him differently, not now and not ever.
“I’m sorry, if you ever want to talk about it I’m here,” you say with sincerity, hand reaching to touch his. His fingers lace with yours and he stares at you, blue orbs in awe.
“Can I ask you something?” He asks and you nod, dreading what it is.
“What happened to you?”he asks, your fingers tremble as you look down at your lap. Your lips move and you speak, your ears block out every word, every detail that leaves you as tears roll down your cheeks. You avoid his reaction, you can’t bare for him to look at you differently.
When it’s done, your chest hurts like it’s being crushed.
You feel yourself being lifted, his hands gripping the back of your thighs as they wrap around his waist. Your arms fall over his shoulders and your head in the crook of his neck. You don’t realize you’re shaking against him as he presses kisses to your face.
“You’re safe now,” he whispers, trying to not think of you so scared and vulnerable. How someone could hurt you and be so cruel to you.
He carries you to his room and you fall asleep against his chest, his fingers grazing your back as he promises nothing bad will ever happen to you again.
Beginning of February
Your fingers grip the recliner, absolutely scared. You’ve never felt this scared from a movie but god it’s fucking brutal and you love it.
Gojo laughs as you jump from the chair in shock, he’s never seen you this animated.
“Christ…” you breathe watching the possessed girl stab her brother.
“It’s just a movie, baby” Gojo whispers, grateful he rented the movie theatre out. Even though he loves your reactions, popcorn would’ve been thrown at you by now.
“My stomach hurts” you whine.
“That’s anxiety,” he chuckles squeezing your hand. The jump scares are too much and you bury your face in his side. Your hands covers your face, eyes peeking through your fingers. You’re definitely sleeping at his place tonight, there’s no way you’re gonna be home alone after this.
Once the movies over, your hand grips his for dear life trying to process what the fuck you just watched.
“I assume you didn’t like it” he says.
“I loved it!” You answer, surprising him. Evil dead rise now easily one of the best horror movies you’ve seen in a long time.
He laughs as he holds your joined hands up to his lips. You both walk through the mall, stopping when Gojo sighs and you spot three teenagers staring at you with wide eyes and dropped jaws.
“Sensei!” A pink haired boy shouts running up to you.
“You have a girlfriend?” The spiky haired boy with him asks, looking to Gojo.
“She’s too pretty to be his girlfriend” the girl shakes her head.
“What are you three doing here?” He asks them.
“Following you,” the pink haired boy says like it’s the most normal answer.
“Yuji said you’ve been acting weird, so we decided to see for ourselves. Hi, I’m Nobara Kugisaki!” The girl says holding her hand out to you and you shake it.
“That’s Yuji, and that’s Megumi,” she says pointing to the boys beside her. Yuji smiles but Megumi simply looks bored. You instantly recognize them as Gojo’s students he had told you about.
“We were going to eat, did you want to join us?” You ask.
“No!” Gojo says.
“Yes!” Nobara and Yuji beam.
The five of you fall in step to the little pizza place inside the mall. Yuji and Nobara ask you a million questions while Gojo scowls beside Megumi.
You all find a table and order a half and half cheese and pepperoni pizza and then a Hawaiian pizza.
“He got you a cat?!” Nobara asks and you nod, pulling your phone out to show her pictures of Salem. She gushes, and smiles at Gojo.
“I wish someone would get me a cat?” She sighs taking a bite of her cheese pizza.
“The last thing you need is a cat” Gojo says and Megumis lips tug upward.
“How long have you guys been dating?” Yuji asks and your cheeks redden.
“Is this an interrogation?” Gojo asks and you chuckle, he seems annoyed by them but you can tell he loves them.
Gojo’s grateful when it’s over and you two are in his apartment after grabbing Salem from yours. Salem runs rampant around Gojo’s place.
“I love them” you say referring to his students and he smiles, pecking your lips.
“They’re a handful but they’re good kids, really good kids”.
March
You tense into Gojo’s side, his fingers gently grazing up and down your arm. It’s innocent but you feel it all around you. He hasn’t initiated anything since your birthday and you kind of wish he would.
The idea of sex doesn’t seem so scary since he made it enjoyable for you. He stares at the movie on the screen as you think about his head between your legs, his tongue licking at you. Your fingers dig into your thigh, and it’s like you can feel his fingers inside of you. A fire starts in your belly and you look up at him, he can feel your eyes on him and his brows furrow.
“What’s wrong?” He asks.
“Can you touch me?” you ask.
“I am,” he says, fingers tapping against your arm and you turn red.
“Down there” you whisper and feel him pull away from you. You fear you’ve ruined this routine you’ve fallen into but feel him lifting you up. You laugh as he tosses you over his shoulder and walks you to his room.
Your hearts in your ears, unsure of what will happen but you need to feel his skin against yours.
He sets you on the bed and you stare up at him with eager eyes.
“Safe word?” He asks.
“Butterfly” you say.
“Good girl” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips.
“I’m gonna undress you now” he says and you nod, standing up so he can take your clothes off. The rooms dark but the moonlight gives enough lighting for him to see your body. His hands glide up your sides, squeezing your hips.
Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging on it to let him know you want it off. You desperately want to see him. He smiles and lifts it up and over his head. Your stomach clenches at the sight of his muscled body and abs but the trail of white hair leading down into his pants makes your toes curl into the carpet.
“Can I touch you?” You ask and his hand grabs yours, pressing it against his stomach. Your fingers burn under the heat of his skin, sliding over the toned ridges of his body. He’s so warm you want to feel him against you.
“You’re so pretty”you tell him and he kisses you, his tongue finding home in your mouth, devouring you entirely. You moan against him, feel his fingers touch your clit. He bites your lips, rubbing against the bud and your face scrunches. A gasp escapes you when you feel his finger enter you, gently pushing you down onto the bed.
His finger fucks into you at a gentle yet deep pace, he wants you to enjoy this despite how badly he wants to fuck you into the mattress. His thumb works circles into your clit and your hips push forward, taking him deeper in you.
He adds a second finger and you cry, his pace slightly increasing but the fullness has you gripping the comforter as you writhe against him.
“Cum baby, you can do it” he encourages and you do when his fingers push against this one spot that has your eyes rolling back. You twitch against him he withdraws his fingers, your nipples become painfully hard as he takes them in his mouth.
“The sweetest girl” he says licking at them. He grabs your clothes and you stop him, kneeling up on the bed.
“I want more” you say nervously.
“Are you sure?” He asks and you nod, your trembling fingers reach for his belt, eyes locked on his as you undo it. Your fingers drag his zipper down and stop, anxiety crawls up. You feel like you’re going to throw up, he sees it and presses his forehead against yours.
“It’s me and you, you control this. One word and it stops, I won’t do anything you don’t want to” he says and you nod, kissing his cheek.
“Can you do it?” You ask and he nods, pushing you back down. You stare at the ceiling, listening to him undress and your throat bobs.
It’s Gojo, he would never hurt you.
He grabs a condom from the bed side drawer and tears it open with his teeth. You don’t look down, scared you’ll want this to stop. He rolls the condom on and spreads your legs open. Your heart is beating inhumanly fast.
“Let me take care of you” he says before pressing kisses to your inner thighs, easing the tension out of you. You whimper when you feel him kiss your clit before he crawls on top of you.
“Ready?” He asks and you nod, feeling the head of his cock nudge at your opening. He feels too big as he tries to ease inside, and he see the panic in your eyes. He kisses your cheeks, hesitant to continue but you nod letting him know it’s okay. You want this, you want him.
The stretch is painful as he inches further inside of you, tears fall from your eyes and he feels so much guilt pressing kisses to every tear until he’s bottoming out inside of you.
You feel so full, but he doesn’t move, letting you adjust. His thumb circles your clit and you moan, squeezing around him. He groans at the feel of you choking the life out of his dick.
He hasn’t had sex in three years, something you don’t know and he doesn’t want to fuck this up by cumming before you do.
“You’re squeezing the life out of me baby, gotta relax” he says.
“I’m sorry” you squeak and he kisses you.
“It feels really good, but I gotta take care of you first” he assures you and you nod. Your mouth opens when he pulls out and slowly thrusts back in, he hits something deep inside of you and you tremble slightly.
He continues this slow thrusting, feeling your nails drag across his back. Milky white skin turning red.
He’s trying his best not to lose control but his thrusts become faster and you cry, feeling his hand press down on your stomach. He grunts with every thrust, sending heat to your pussy as you grip him like a vice.
“You’re doing so good baby,” he says knocking into your cervix and you both moan as his body crushes against yours, arms wrapping around you. He fucks into you over and over feeling you shake around him. You feel this strange sensation, like something is begging to release from you. He knocks into your cervix again and you sob, feeling yourself cum around him, liquid gushing out of you and you feel mortified.
“I’m sorry” you say as he stills inside of you, your thighs now wet.
“You squirted baby, it’s okay. Can you do it again?” He asks, you’re not sure but you nod and he moves inside of you, thrust harder and faster as he ruts into you, he grabs your hand and places it over your belly underneath his.
You feel the bulge he’s making inside of you, feel his cock moving inside of you under your skin and it sends you over the edge, cumming like your life depends on it and he grunts, fucking into you until he’s cumming too. He pulls out and rolls you over to lay on top of him.
“Are you okay?” He asks and you smile up at him.
“I think I love you” you say and he laughs.
“I know I love you,” he says back.
“You do?” You ask and he nods.
“I knew it the moment you saw Salem in my arms, like for the first time, there was something worth caring about,” he says, your fingers tracing circles into his chest.
“I think you’re healing me” you say.
“I think we’re healing eachother” he says pressing his lips to your temple.
“All I want is you. I want this everyday, forever, you, me and salem” he says, and you smile. You press a kiss to his sternum.
“You, me and Salem”.
I’ll do grammar check later, I was trying to get this out asap! thanks for reading! Also I didn’t mention it but it’s canon that gojo lied about needing eggs, milk and sugar just as an excuse to talk to her!
@kakashixhatakesxwhore @erensblackwife
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#toji fushiguro#gojo satoru#toji fushigro x reader#salemgojo#choso x reader#geto suguru#choso kamo#gojo smut#sukuna au#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#jjk satoru#nanami kento#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna
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The great birthday mess up : Damian Wayne x Reader
Request: Yes! Reader planning a surprise party for Dami and him thining she's going to break up with him so he does it first.
Thank you anon! ;) made some changes to the requests hope you'll like it either way :)
***
„I don’t understand…” the words coming out of Damian’s mouth was the perfect example that hearing and getting were two completely different things.
“What’s there to not understand Y/N?. I’m breaking up with you. Sounds pretty simple even for your little brain.” He shrugged and turned to the window in their shared apartment so she wouldn’t see the strain on his face and clenched fists.
“But-“
“Please don’t go all whiny on me now. Just take my decision with dignity.
“I don’t understand—” she said again, as if that was the only sentence she could say in shock coursing in every cell in her body.
“Of course you don’t.” the tone he was giving her was ruthless, unlike the rapid beat of his heart calling her name with all the emotional power it could gather.
“Don’t you love me anymore?” as pathetic as it was, she almost downgraded herself to begging for an explanation with that sentence
“I’m just breaking up with you! Now will you leave me alone? I really do not want to see your face anymore.”
Well that was true, cause seeing her sad face was making his resolve crumble.
And It hurt. It hurt to tell her all those mean things.
Especially because Damian did not even wantto act like an asshole.
He did love her like a fool, he used to laugh at. If anything, he could just fall at her feet (as long as no one saw) and beg to forgive him.
But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t because she was the one who stopped loving him first.
***
Three weeks ago, “command center” at Wayne Manor.
“Ok, people, listen up! We’re on a mission of-“
“Is she for real?” Tim whispered turning to Dick who was holding back a laugh. If the boys knew that Y/N would take planning Damian’s 24th birthday in such a serious manner, almost putting on a war paint, one of them would bring a fancy camera to memorize it.
Instead it was only Jason taking photo after photo of the girl-in-command in her makeshift uniform and with indicator in hand.
“Get it off my face Todd!” she cried out trying to shove him off, but failing at dealing with the brick Jason was.
“Not a chance. You look ridiculous. And all that for the demon’s spawn? My god! He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Careful or I’ll think you’re telling me a compliment.”
“Compliment? No, no. It’s merely an observation of your poor choice in men. Both your boyfriend and those gathered here…”
“HEY!” Dick reacted almost immediately. No way he was going to let anyone, even his adoptive brother shit-talk him “I beg your pardon! I believe Y/N has an exquisite taste in men!”
“Just because you are here?” Jason mocked, giving Dick a smirk.
“Oh-my-god….” Y/N rolled her eyes throwing hands in the air “Could you please stop that…? I got a whole presentation about ideas for the party and –”
“A presentation?” While Dick and Jason did not give the girl any attention, at the mention of possible slides Tim became awfully animated. “What kind of slides? How many?”
“Oh-my-god…” She muttered again, this time covering face with hands gathering herself “God give me patience for those man-children.” One deep inhale and exhale on her part and she was ready to proceed. “SHUT UP!!” she yelled at the top of her lungs “SHUT UP ALL OF YOU!”
None of the men has ever seen her like that. Reddened on the face with fury in eyes and clenched fists. Clearly just a thought of Damian was making her spin out of control.
“Y/N--?”
“I’m about to tell you how it’s going to go from now on.” She hissed with an unobjectionable tone. “First, you’re going to sit on your pretty asses.” her gaze travelled to Dick knowing the attention in this particular moment will make him listen “Second, you’re going to stop throwing veiled insults.”
“But-“ Jason tried to chime in and object.
“I don’t fucking care if your inner Chandler Bing is coming to voice, you shut it or I will.”
“I’m not scared of you Y/N. You are just a –”
In a blink of an eye she was next to him, with one finger on his neck.
“You got about 100 vascular plexus in your body and so it happens I know how to put pressure on all of them.” She hissed before pulling back and taking on an innocent look “now, will you keep quiet, Jason?”
“I’m still not scared…” he muttered leaning on the doorframe with a frown and pout of a kicked puppy.
“Thank you very much. As for the plan, thirdly, you’ll stop asking me about my PowerPoint thing and actually watch it.”
“I’ve been dying to watch it the whole time!”
“ Shut up Tim!” came from three pair of mouths.
“Hey! Why am I being the only one yelled at by everyone? It’s harassment! Not fair!”
Y/N exhaled deeply, making a mental note to herself to never get those boys in men bodies in one room ever again and started explaining the details of her surprise party. Clearly, even despite knowing Damian’s family for a while she did not expect it would be this hard to get boys to cooperate.
However, per aspera ad astra, she managed to present her idea of a gift, the attractions and all the surprise party.
Obliging the boys under the pain of sudden and unexpected death, or at least mutilation, to keep their mouths shut. And since she was the girlfriend of a teenage assassin – this time no one dared to say a word.
***
Obviously the surprise party included working on it undercover. Therefore Y/N was spending more time with Jason, Dick and Tim to the detriment of her hours with Damian. Sneaking around. Dismissing or getting off lightly of answering his questions.
And he got suspicious, it was Damian Wayne Al-Ghul after all.
The young boy, spend hours and days fighting his natural urge to follow her when she was walking out the apartment with no explanation. Tie her to the chair, light the lamp in her face and force the information out of her.
But she was his girlfriend, not a villain.
So, getting too much into his head he came out to one plausible explanation – she was slowly letting him down. Not cutting the tie right away, because that was not who she was, but discouraging him.
“You’re going out again?” he asked, capably hiding the disappointment seeing her putting on shoes and jacket. Quickly he put the bouquet of flowers he bought for her behind his back, almost crushing the innocent buds, while simultaneously wondering if calling off reservation at her fav restaurant for the fourth time this month would get him kicked out of the VIP list. “I thought we could have a night out and—“
“Sorry, babe.” She smiled apologetically pecking his lips, grabbing the bag and already one foot out the door. “I gotta go do this thing that I told you about!”
“What thing---”
“Don’t wait for me, I’ll be back late. See you around buddy!”
Buddy?!
Did she just--? Holy fucking shit. Now Damian was sure, she stopped loving him.
And since he couldn’t watch her walk out his life like that, it was him, who was going to walk out of hers.
***
She run.
She run as fast as she could, hoping that if by some miracle she got into Flash’s speed the last fifteen minutes conversation with Damian would just turn out to be a dream. Or maybe she’ll find herself back in time, making sure it never happened in the first place.
What did she ever do to him to be treated like that?
Working her ass off to prepare a party? Using all her abilities to get people to help? Miraculously finding Damian’s friends from the past and even getting Jon to attend?
Fuck this shit! Fuck the life!
And out of all day’s in year he choose his own birthday to break up with her!
Fucking piece of shit, demon’s spawn, undeserving of a single second of the last 6 years she gave him.
Jason was fucking right as tragic as it sounded.
She burst into the Wayne Manor, where the boys were hanging the last decorations and immediately started ripping the garlands off and throwing tableware off the table.
“Y/N!!” Dick jumped off the ladder and rushed her direction, but it was Jason who reached her first. Almost tackling her to the floor, fighting against the rage of nails, teeth and screams coming out of her mouth.
“Stop it!”
“LET FUCKING GO OFF ME! THIS PARTY AIN;T HAPPENING UNLESS IT’S OVER MY DEAD BODY!”
“Better be careful with those words, cause in this family you get more than one chance at life.” Jason chuckled
“LET FUCKING GO!” she was struggling against his iron grip while Dick and Tim kneeled next to them
“No.” Jason responded calmly. “No, I’m not letting go off you.”
“None of us do, Y/N.” Tim added, moving a little bit closer, careful to not get a shoe in his face or something like that.
“What happened?” Dick asked calmly “come on, it can’t be that bad…”
“He broke up with me…” she sobbed. Not angry or furious anymore, but fully immersing in sadness. “Damian broke up with me…”
“HE WHAT?!” Dick yelled almost ready to start ripping off the decorations himself, successfully held back by Tim slapping him in the back of his head.
“She just told you. Can’t you see how shaken she is. And your making her say it again just for the sake of it? Get yourself together, Dick.”
“Sorry…”
“I don’t know what happened! I tried to talk and—”
“Talking to Damian about feelings, huh! Great idea Y/N.”
“GRAYSON!” Tim yelled slapping him again.
“Sorry…”
“I hate to break it to you guys, but it seems like the man of the day has just arrived.” Tim moved to the window where he saw the reflection of the car lights.
“WHAT!?”
“Don’t yell at me! Bruce brought him! It was your plan Y/N!!”
“Oh so one time Bruce could be late he’s actually on time?!”
“Again-stop yelling at me!”
“He cannot see me here! Not like this! Not crying cause he’s going to think that I –“
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAMIAN!
“—care….”
The ending of the sentence was not supposed to escape her mouth, but not caring about her intentions it did. Maybe it was the shock of Bruce entering Wayne Manor with his youngest son, almost convinced the surprise party was already prepared and they could celebrate.
Instead the two were met with four people, caught like deer in the headlights, crying y/n, Jason on the floor holding her for comfort, enraged Dick and a little scared Tim without a plan.
As far away from their usual selves as possible.
“Are we too early or—” Bruce started, but before he could finish the sentence, the nearby ladder started to totter, hooking over the poorly hanged b-day banner and –
“NO!!” Dick yelled and rushed towards it, but tripping over Jason’s leg, fighting desperately to gain back balance and stepping on Y/N’s hand in the process. She yelled and it scared Tim who took a step back, crashing into Dick. Seeing all that Jason rushed to his feet trying to catch the material that was already falling down, dangerously close to the table and the candlestick. In the commotion no one noticed Alfred the cat, who obliviously entered the room, only to almost be flattened.
As the poor animal rushed to Y/N’s side, making her reach arms to give cat some resemblance of shelter, Dick finally managed to grab the banner.
“I got it! YES! Once more I am the one to save the day and--- AH!” he slipped on the floor cause clearly Alfred the cat left a remnants of his fear there, sliding all the way up to the table.
“NO!” Y/N yelled trying to save any of the dish that was already flying to her face.
“NO!” Jason cried out trying to snatch the decoration, getting tangled in it.
“NO!” Tim shrieked as the candled set the tablecloth on fire, that quickly spread to the leg of his trousers. And as the stimuli activated already downloaded plan in his brain, he reached for the extinguisher, profusely spraying everything (and everyone) with white powder.
Disaster.
Y/N, Dick, Jason and Tim were now all on the floor. Dirty, injured and/or humiliated, turned into giant, living, walking snowmen all on Bruce and Damian’s eyes.
“Not again….” Bruce whined.
“Happy birthday Damian!”
“SHUT UP GRAYSON!” the rest of three organizers yelled getting off the floor feeling worse than ever.
“What is all this?” Damian asked with a slight frown. “Or rather… what was all of this.”
“This is your—” Dick started
“AHHHHH!”
“Y/N, we know you are frustrated but please try to calm down—”
“This was supposed to be your stupid birthday party you idiot!” she yelled stumping towards Damian “Hear me?” he poke a finger into his chest. “Your. Stupid. Birthday. Party.”
“My- my what?” Damian stuttered grabbing her wrist only now realizing what day it was. Honestly after the morning break up with Y/N he couldn’t care less about the clock or calendar.
“Your—”
“Wait, wait. Hold back. Is this why you were acting so suspicious?”
“sus-suspicious? Is that what you thought?” her eyes grew wide once more and the steam to hit him blew off instantly
“You were just planning and preparing a party?” Damian asked realizing how much of an idiot he was.
“Yes”!
“So you didn’t stop loving me?” the hint of hope showed up in his eyes
“So you did not stop loving me?” Y/N repeated.
“How could I ever—”
She never gave him a chance to finish that sentence pressing her lips to his, not caring who was watching. And if anyone dared to tease, Damian’s katana would be used for something. And the knowledge of locations of nerve plexuses in the human body.
“Um….” Tim muttered feeling a little awkward in the situation. “Should we--?”
“Mhm. We should.” Dick agreed and noiselessly, like silently as befits a vigilante they fled the room.
***
Meanwhile, Damian and Y/n were sitting on the window sill amongst the mess of a b-day party.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way I planned—” she sighed.
“You kidding? It was the best thing ever.”
“Because you got the gift in clearing the misunderstanding between us?” she smiled and interlaced their fingers.
“no! because of watching my brothers making fools out of themselves.”
“Damian!” she patted his head.
“OUCH! Ok, fine! Fine! It was because I got you back!”
“This was forced, such confession doesn’t count!” she feigned offence.
“Well technically, we never really broke up, so I couldn’t get you back.”
“Well, technically-“ she tried to find a smart way of the situation, but he cut her off.
“Well, non-technically, you got cake in your hair. And on your face And in your lips. And I haven’t even tried that treat. So how about we stop talking so I could get a chance at it?”
He liked the cake.
A lot.
@keidylovestacos @nocturnal-onlooker - I'm taking the liberty of tagging you guys :)
#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x you#damian wayne x y/n#damian wayne x female reader#robin x reader#robin x y/n
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Please ship Orion and Lightray with me, thank you
If you've been reading my Fourth World posting, you might have noticed me mentioning Orion and Lightray's relationship. This is because they're in love and I'm obsessed with them. Please join me in grumpy/sunshine-but-they're-alien-demigods hell, with visual references below.
So Orion, as we know, is the son of Darkseid who was raised on New Genesis but has always felt different and monstrous compared to his peers. Lightray is his best friend, who thinks Orion is just the best thing since sliced bread and says so constantly.
This is literally how we're introduced to them, in New Gods #1:
Lightray: Don't be sad. Hug time!
Orion: Hugs are not for one such as me. But you're still my best friend.
Lightray: Please let me enter your chambers.
Orion: NO THEY ARE TOO DARK.
Lightray: D:
This panel, from #6, sums up their whole dynamic really well:
Lightray doesn't crave battle the way Orion does but he is determined to stay by his side, while Orion doesn't want Lightray to fight beside him because he thinks Lightray is too good and pure to be tainted by violence.
Zero personal space.
So one of the things about Orion is that his real face is sort of brutish and not traditionally handsome (the eyebrows are WILD), but he uses his Mother Box (like a living pocket computer that loves you) to make himself look more like the people of New Genesis. In #8, he gets into a knock-down, drag-out fight with his half-brother Kalibak that nearly kills them both, and Mother Box can't maintain the illusion (and also his face is, like, pulverized). And then this happens:
I WEEP. LIGHTRAY LOVES YOU JUST THE WAY YOU ARE, ORION.
New Gods was canceled soon after this, but when Kirby returned a decade later, he went all in on the homoerotic devotion. So Orion goes to Apokolips to kill his dad and rescue his mom, and who do you think follows him?
That second panel makes me laugh so hard. "Here, honey, you forgot your Scooty Puff Jr!"
My favorite thing about this is that Lightray is playing dumb. He shot at Orion earlier and then said something vague about missing on purpose...but he didn't:
HE REALLY TRIED TO WOUND ORION ENOUGH TO STOP HIS SUICIDE MISSION. And the way he just shuts his eyes and takes Orion's anger because he doesn't care what happens as long as he saves his friend's life...! (Orion doesn't hurt him, they just touch each other a lot.)
Anyway they argue for multiple pages, with Orion insisting that Lightray go home and Lightray insisting that he stay, until finally:
This is so intensely romantic and also so unintentionally hilarious that I can't stand it. The homoerotic gazing into one another's eyes and then the stupid mutual thumbs up! Whatever is going on with that closeup of Orion in the second panel! I die!
...And you know who else dies? Orion! Or at least he comes very close (it's unclear), but is rescued by a freedom fighter named Himon and nursed back to health by Himon and his daughter Bekka. We get a little romance between Orion and Bekka, but we also get Lightray coming to visit:
That is some FULL CONTACT wrestling, boys. Orion pinning Lightray to the ground while telling him it's good to see him is so much, but the fourth panel is even mucher. My goodness.
And then things get serious, because they both believe they are going to die in the upcoming battle (they don't), so they bid each other farewell and Lightray leaves, and then:
Orion yells after Lightray how smart and funny he is and then collapses in despair because his friend is gone. "HOW LIKE A WANDERING STAR HE SEEMS." Oh my god, Orion.
That's it for Kirby, so I'll move on to other writers and artists, but I want to clear that I'm only sharing the most intense scenes between them. There are so many panels, from Kirby and others, of Lightray faithfully following Orion around, joyously welcoming him back to New Genesis, gently teasing him, and talking about how brave and noble he is. And of Orion only smiling for Lightray, going feral when he gets hurt, and telling him he's too good and pretty for battle. And of the two of them touching each other. A lot.
Literally just two random examples. THEY DO THIS SHIT ALL THE TIME.
The next really big moment comes in New Gods (1995), where the Source (basically God/Heaven) becomes corrupted and Lightray goes evil and Orion has to beat him up to stop him and I will never ever ever recover from these pages:
"You want the beast? Do you like it?" on its own is...hoo boy, SOMETHING. But it is eclipsed by the tremulous "Maybe...maybe if I can just hold him" and Orion gathering Lightray up in his arms while telling him he loves him. LIKE. THIS IS SO MUCH. (P.S. Lightray's fine don't worry. And yes, he does want the beast.)
Then we get to Orion (PLEASE read this comic) and the biggest smile Orion has ever smolt:
Look at how happy he is!!! You need to understand that his mother died in his arms ten minutes ago and he's still like "Lightray! Omg hi!!!" (To be fair, his mother was terrible.) Plus bonus unnecessary touching, Lightray's love language being gifts, and Orion giggling and twirling his hair while going "Omg you're so smart."
(Also, when Lightray mentions his "brief but troubling visit" to Apokolips in the second panel, what's not saying is that he put on a silly disguise and went to see a fortuneteller to try to figure out if Orion's mom was lying about Darkseid not being his real dad (she was; again, she was terrible), and when the fortuneteller is like "You DARE come to Apokolips?!" he goes "I would dare anything for my friend!" I know you would, honey. I know you would.)
The next bit requires some explanation. So, as briefly as possible: Orion kills Darkseid (or so he thinks), takes over Apokolips, and tries very hard to change it for the better. He also accidentally gains possession of the Anti-Life Equation, the formula Darkseid is always searching for that eradicates free will, and gradually is driven to use it to FORCE everyone on Apokolips to be good. And Earth. And New Genesis.
Eventually, Orion is seemingly killed, but actually he's been teleported somewhere unfathomably far away, where he realizes what he's done and sinks into suicidal despair. In the midst of this, he manages to both destroy the Anti-Life Equation AND save all of reality (and nearly die in the process), but he still thinks that because he used the Equation, he's irredeemable and doesn't deserve to exist.
So when he's teleported back to Earth and captured by a human who blinds him and rigs him up to a torture device so that he can drain Orion's life force and use it to be eternally youthful, Orion just...lets it happen. Because he thinks he deserves it. For SEVEN MONTHS.
But eventually he's like "Wait...I deserve this, but probably whatever is being done with my energy is not good and I should stop it." He tries to escape but only manages to let out a single scream.
Luckily, Lightray has been searching for him nonstop for those seven months, despite the face that Orion is supposed to be dead. And then we get this:
To be clear: this is sweet, gentle Lightray absolutely obliterating the men who kept Orion in the torture device.
Nakey.
Lightray gives Orion the crushed remnants of his wrist cuffs, and Orion does a magical girl transformation about it:
For everyone playing along at home, that's the second time Orion has canonically told Lightray that he loves him.
Anyway, Orion goes off to get revenge on the guy who did this to him (it's very satisfying, please read Orion), and then he's depressed some more until he has some brotherly bonding time with Scott and finally feels well enough to go back to New Genesis. His last line of dialogue in the series is "For it is late, and the sunrise and friend Lightray await us in the gleaming city of the gods." OKAY!
Tragically, almost every New Gods appearance after this is complete dogshit, although there is a great moment in Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps (a Rebirth series) where they need information from Orion but he's comatose so they bring in a telepath and the only word he can get out of Orion's mind is "Lightray." I'LL BET.
IN CONCLUSION: Orion and Lightray love each other so so much and I believe it is honoring Jack Kirby's legacy to think about them smooching. It's what the King would have wanted!
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hi love! may I request some angst with art where family friend!reader gets invited to the Donaldson’s yearly fundraiser gala and they spend the night yearning and pining over art. if you can, make it as heart wrenching as possible ♡ thank you and keep up the great work!
「wrong choices」 Art Donaldson x F!reader
I'm so exited, this is the real first fic I write under request, thank you so much for requesting love, hope this is good enough for you! 🩷(didn't know if you wanted a sad or happy ending and I got carried away with an happy one, if you want an angst ending let me know)
info: angst, fluff, kissing, mentions of cheating (on reader), happy ending.
you can read the other parts here!
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You love galas, you always did: ever since you were little you and your family had to attend many galas and you would always be head over the heels at the idea of dressing with cute dresses and beautiful shoes. Yes, you love galas, especially the Donaldson's.
You've been to the Donaldson family's galas for ages and they never disappoint. No, truly, they know how to put on an event. With beautiful dresses to wear (always wearing the latest from fashion designers), incredible music- every year different- and even the best food in the state; these galas always excite you.
Another thing that made you exited about their galas was the only child of the family: the blonde, blue and brown eyed, sweet guy you met at the first gala you attended at the sweet age of six years old, Art Donaldson.
You've always liked him, when you were little he would take you around his huge villa to play whatever game you two would invent at that moment and at the end of the night your dress and his little tuxedo would be all wrinkled, sometimes dirty, hair all out of place that caused your moms to lightly scold you... at the end neither your mother nor his cared much if at the end of the evening you both looked like you had just returned from a day of planting flowers with your bare hands.
Things obviously changed as time went on: after Art's 17th and your 16th birthday, at least at the beginning of the evening, you seemed determined to pay attention and talk to the other guests... but it never lasted too long before Art dragged you away with him to share a bottle of wine with your feet immersed in his outdoor pool.
The last year the same thing happened.
"Art, you can't always kidnap me when I'm talking to someone" you wanted to sound serious, you really did, but his boyish smile was too cute and the expensive wine bottle he had in his hand was too tempting.
"Come on! don't act like you really wanted to listen to those boring conversations with those boring business men" he said, his hand dragging you by your wrist towards the pool.
Once you were close enough he released your wrist and took off his shoes and socks, his feet in the water immediately after while you stood there, he looked at you.
"please" he said and you scolded him with your eyes before shaking your head and taking off your heels and lifted your dress up to your thighs to avoid getting it wet, you sat down next to him, your feet touched the cool water and a sigh left your mouth, you didn't realize how bad they were hurting in the shoes.
Art grinned at you and you looked ay him skeptical "what" you ask, a fake annoyed look on your face .
"see? even your feet are thanking me" he said and you met his left shoulder with your right one.
"shut up, you're getting ruder and ruder with each passing year" you joked and Art passed to bottle to you to take the first sip, always the gentleman.
Art chuckled and watched as you took the first sip, the cool, smooth liquid sliding down your throat. He knew you better than almost anyone and could tell when you were being serious and when you were just acting tough to save face.
"Don't worry, I know you secretly love me" he teased, nudging your shoulder with his own. Art took the bottle back from you, taking a small sip before speaking again "and besides, I'm not getting ruder, I'm just becoming more charming and witty."
You raised your eyebrows at him and decided not to indulge him any further "so, how is the tennis school going?" you asked and Art shrugged.
"good" he answered with a shrug.
"and Patrick?".
"still the same asshole" he laughed "he won't be coming to Standford with me in fall".
"he's going in another college?" he shook his head.
"he plans on going on a tour".
"mhhh" you said and Art looked at you suspiciously.
"you seem really interested in Patrick" his tone not as light as it was before and you raised your head to look at him, but he was already looking at the water of the pool, jaw clenched.
There was something in Art's demeanor change that caught your attention. It was subtle, but palpable. The relaxed and playful atmosphere between you two had shifted, and Art's jaw was now tense. You knew him well enough to realize that something was bothering him, and judging by his comment about Patrick, you had an idea of what it might be. You decided to tread lightly with your next words, wanting to understand what had triggered this sudden change in his mood "what makes you say that?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.
"every time we see each other you always ask about him, you saw him only once like what, 3 years ago?" he asked ironically and your eyes widened "okay, slow down Donaldson, where is this all coming from? I'm just trying to have a conversation with you" you said as gently as possible.
Art leaned back a little, taking another swig from the bottle before responding. His tone was still a little on edge, but he knew you enough to understand you were just trying to calm things down "I know you're just trying to have a conversation, but seriously, why are you so interested in Patrick all of a sudden?" he questioned, his gaze still fixed on the water.
"I'm not interested in Patrick" your tone was serious and suddenly maintaining eyes contact with him was harder.
Art turned to look at you, his gaze intense, searching yours. He could see the conviction in your eyes and hear it in your tone, but something was still bothering him. He paused a moment before speaking again "then why are you always asking about him?" he asked, his voice a bit softer now.
"Because I care about your life, I care about you and Patrick is a part of your life, that's all, I swear" you didn't know why, but the thought of Art thinking that you had feelings for another man felt wrong but somewhat satisfying.
Art sighed, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little. He could see the truth in your words, and his own jealousy subsided a little. "Sorry" he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess I just got a little..." he admitted, his gaze darting from you back to the pool.
"...Jealous? aw aren't you the sweetest friend ever?" you pinched his cheek with your fingers and Art laughed, his hand grasped yours to take it off his cheek, but once away from his face his hand stayed wrapped around your, his thumb caressing the back of it.
Art's laughter filled the air, breaking the tension between you. The warmth of his hand enclosing yours sent a shiver up your spine, his thumb gently stroking your skin. There was something intimate about the touch, something that defied the boundaries of mere friendship. For a moment, you were both silent, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool.
Art looked down at your joined hands, his thumb continuing its slow, soothing motion against your skin.
"I'm sorry" he said again and you shook your head.
"It's okay" you muttered and your eyes met, his blue light of the pool shined on his face, hands still intertwined on his thigh and his eyes looked briefly at your lips.
"what if, what if I don't want to be your friend" your heart skipped a bit.
"u-uh?" you asked.
Art swallowed hard, his gaze locked with yours. The air around you suddenly felt charged, the casual setting of the poolside now seemed intimate and intense "what are you... what are you saying?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Art's grip on your hand tightened, his thumb still tracing small circles on your skin.
Art leaned a little closer, his eyes still fixed on yours. "What I'm saying is..." he began, his voice low and serious "I don't want to be just your friend anymore" he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing "I don't want to watch you talk and laugh with other men, I can't stand it, it makes me sick".
His words hung in the air between you, the atmosphere thick with tension. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing with the implications of what he was saying. Art's hand still held yours tightly, almost as if he was afraid to let go, afraid that you might pull away.
"oh" you felt stupid, utterly and absolutely stupid, the guy whom you had a crush for since forever, just confessed to you and the only thing you can say is...'oh'? Art laughed.
"Don't laugh you asshole!" you exclaimed pushing him away from you, him almost falling in the pool.
"Can you not like... push me in the pool just cause I confessed to you?" he said between laughters and your cheeks flushed red.
"I'm sorry you caught me off guard!" you said bringing the bottle to your mouth and taking a big sip, you couldn't have this conversation sober.
Art finally managed to regain his balance, still laughing as he held onto the side of the pool for support. "It's okay, it's okay" he said, his laughter slowly dying down as he regained his composure.
"But seriously, you can't just say 'oh'" he teased once again, his tone turning playful again as he splashed a bit of water at you jokingly.
You stayed silent and Art waited for you to answer, it took you all the strength you had to maintain eye contact with him "I like you too" you said, face serious and red cheeks and Art nodded.
"oh" his tone light was clearly teasing you.
"ok, now I'm pushing you in the pool on purpose" you said.
Art burst into laughter at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He held up his hands in surrender "No, no, no, please don't" he said between chuckles but his tone was full of teasing.
As he spoke, he shifted closer to you, his thigh now touching yours. He reached out and lightly pushed your shoulder, the playful gesture causing a ripple in the water between you.
Art's teasing expression quickly vanished at your words, his hand that was still on your shoulder froze "what?" he asked, his tone slightly sharper than it was before.
"I should ask Patrik if he's single I don't think h-" your joking sentence is interrupted by his lips on yours, a hand behind your head and the other on your thigh and you immediately rested yours on his cheeks.
Art's lips were soft and firm against yours, the taste of the expensive wine still lingered on his tongue as he kissed you passionately. His hand on your thigh moved to your waist to pulls you closer to him, his fingers digging slightly into your skin through the fabric of your dress. He wanted you as close as possible, as if he couldn't get enough of you.
Your hands moved from his cheeks up to thread through his hair, slightly tugging it and eliciting a low groan from him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours. The world around you seemed to disappear as the two of you surrendered to the moment, the cool water of the pool forgotten as the heat between you grew increasingly intense.
Art pulled away from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting slightly. His eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of desire and disbelief. "You're really gonna mention another man while I'm trying to kiss you" he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with a hint of jealousy.
“I thought you needed a little push to do that" you teased and Art kissed you again briefly "never do that again" he whispered
The moment in the pool didn't last long after that, your parent messaging you a while after to tell you to get back to the car to go home.
You and Art kept in contact through his first whole year at Standford but too busy to see each other, you with your last year of high school and him with exams and his tennis matches.
So now you have one more reason to be exited about the gala of this year, you would see Art again and you couldn't wait to see what would happen this time.
"You look beautiful" your mom says and you smile at her.
You are standing in your bedroom in front of a full-length mirror admiring yourself in your dress for the gala tonight. The dress is beautiful, hugging your curves perfectly and highlighting your features. You turn and twirl in front of the mirror, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves about tonight.
"Thank you, Mom," you say as she enters the room, a smile on your lips. "I just hope Art likes it too" you add, casually tossing the comment, before mentally kicking yourself for it.
"Please, he's already head over heels for you" she jokes and for the whole drive towards the Donaldson house your legs can't stay still, your hands fussing and stirring your dress over and over again making your parents smile teasingly at you, but you pay them no mind.
Finally, the car pulls up to the Donaldson's house and your heart beats faster at the sight of the grand, familiar building. You take a deep breath, gathering your courage and excitement, before stepping out of the car, your dress flowing behind you like a gentle whisper on the ground.
You walk with your parents toward the entrance of the house, the sound of your stilettos echoing on the paved path.
You step in the garden of the house and Art's parents are already there to greet your family lovingly, Art still nowhere in sight as you walk around with your parents to greet their colleagues and friends and you're only waiting for Art to sweep you off your feet like every year.
As you continue to mingle with your parents and their friends, you keep an eye out for Art, hoping to catch a glimpse of him among the crowd. The anticipation is driving you insane, and just when you're starting to wonder where he could be, you finally catch sight of him across the garden, talking to a group of people, a girl right beside him.
She is beautiful, dark skin and long black hair that reaches her lower back, long legs and thin body wrapped in a blue short but elegant dress... but what really shocks you is his hand, clearly resting on the small of her back. Your heart stops. Your breath short and you have to grip the champagne glass tighter in your hands to avoid letting it fall on the floor.
You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Art, your Art, was standing there with another girl, his hand comfortably resting on the small of her back. You couldn't tear your eyes away from them, your thoughts racing as you tried to make sense of the situation.
Arts eyes meets yours from the other side of the garden and his grin disappears when he sees your sad face "oh there is Art" his mom says and gestures for him to come where you are. As he approaches, you can feel his gaze fixed on you, but you don't meet his eyes, looking anywhere but his face until he stops in front of you, his smile faltering when he sees the expression on your face. But before he can say anything, his mother speaks up.
"Art brought one of the promises of the future female tennis tonight" she says and she smiles, you don't.
Art's mom gestures towards the girl beside him, a proud look on her face. The girl smiles sheepishly, looking shyly at you. Art shifts uncomfortably, his hand dropping from her back as though he's suddenly aware of what it looks like.
You force a smile on your face, despite the churning feeling in your stomach.
"this is Tashi, we met at Standford" he says, his eyes don't meet yours and the lump in your throat is too big to swallow.
The introduction feels like a dagger twisting in your chest. Tashi smiles at you gently, her eyes soft as her gaze flicks between you and Art.
"Nice to meet you," she says, her voice soft and clear. You nod awkwardly, the sound of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears.
"The pleasure is all mine" the exchange of pleasantries feel like nails scraping on a chalkboard. Your parents politely greet Tashi like they do with every important guest at these events, but even you can see the fake smiles plastered on their faces. They know.
She is gorgeous and you feel small next to her... you don't get it, your dress is more elegant than hers, more beautiful but she looks so effortlessly gorgeous in hers and you feel like crying.
The silence that follows feels like a never-ending void. Tashi doesn't speak and Art doesn't as well, his eyes finally meeting yours and you look away immediately, the betrayal in your eyes makes Art's heart clench. Your parents try to make small talk with Tashi, Art's mom jumping in as well but you just stay quiet, your chest tightening and your breath short.
As the conversation turns to the weather, the upcoming year's tennis matches and other mundane topics, your thoughts spiral out of control. Your mind is a mess of thoughts and insecurities. Why did he bring her here? Why is his hand on her back like he owns her? And why, why is he looking at you like neither he knows why he did this?
"I think everyone is gathering in the lounge for the auction," your mom says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She glances at you, noticing the tension in your shoulders "come, let's go find our seats" she adds, gently placing a hand on your back to lead you away but as the other, Art included, starts to move you stay still and your mom does too.
"actually mom, I think I'll go home" your voice trembles and your mom doesn't know what to answer.
"you want me to come with you?" she asks but you shake your head.
"no you stay with dad, but I need to go" and she nods.
"we'll be home as soon as possible baby" you nod and in a moment you're outside waiting for your driver to come pick you up, you feel so lost. You thought everything was going well with Art, he's been nothing but sweet for the past year and he never, ever mentioned Tashi while talking about his life at Standford.
As the air hits your face outside, you take a deep, shaky breath... You feel lost, confused, betrayed even. Art, the guy you've been in love with for so long, the guy who kissed you the last summer, is now bringing another girl to this event, acting like they're together.
The minutes seem to stretch on forever as you wait for your car. You don't make any attempt to wipe the tears from your face, letting them flow freely down your cheeks. You feel like a fool, standing outside the Donaldson's house, dressed up for a night that quickly turned into a nightmare.
The sound of footsteps behind you is like a punch in the gut. You know it's him without even turning around. Art's presence is unmistakable and you feel him standing behind you even before he speaks.
"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice soft and full of hesitation. You can feel his eyes on your back, studying you, but you don't turn around. The tears keep rolling down your cheeks and you don't have the strength to look at him right now.
Still, you shake your head in a no.
Art's sigh echoes behind you, the disappointment he must be feeling evident in the single breath. He waits for a moment, maybe hoping you'll change your mind, but when you make no attempt to turn around or speak, he finally does. "Please, just a minute" he tries again, his voice pleading.
The desperation in his voice tugs at your heart, but you remain resolute, refusing to turn around. The memory of his hand on Tashi’s back and the sight of the two of them together flashes in your mind and you shake your head in silent answer once again.
"okay, fine" you hear other footsteps and a moment later he is in front of you, you huff in annoyance "you don't understand the signs, do you?" the tone of your voice is aggressive.
Art's eyes widen in surprise at the tone of your voice, clearly caught off guard by your sudden aggression. He opens his mouth to speak, but he seems unable to find the right words, unsure of how to respond to the hostile attitude. He takes a step forward, trying to reach for your hand, but you take a step back, preventing him from touching you.
"I understand you're upset-" he tries to speak, his voice measured but you cut him off.
"Upset? Is that what you think I am?" you say, your voice a mix of anger and disappointment."upset that you brought another girl to this event, acting like she's the one you should be with? I'm not upset, Art. I'm hurt, hurt cause I thought what happened last summer meant something to you, hurt that in a whole year you made me believe that my feeling were reciprocated, hurt that in all those months you never, ever, mentioned a girl named Tashi and I'm hurt because I wasted a whole year of my life waiting for you!" you shout, and you think that for someone who didn't want to talk, you said a lot.
Art flinches at your words, your voice filled with pain and disappointment. He tries to speak but you don't let him, the words pouring out of your mouth like a dam breaking. "And you know what's funny? I actually thought that something would happen between us tonight. I was looking forward to seeing you again and then you come here with her like she's the one you've been waiting for all this time, fuck I feel so stupid right now" your laugh turns into a sob as you realize how foolish you feel.
Art takes a step closer, his expression pained as he sees you unravel in front of him "you're not stupid" he says gently, his hand reaching out to cup your face instinctively, like he used to do a year ago.
"don't touch me" you say and swat his hand away.
Art's hand freezes and he retracts it quickly, the pain on his face is clear but he doesn't argue "I'm sorry" he says softly, his eyes watching you, unsure if he'll try to touch you again, "I never wanted this to happen, I mean it" he says, his eyes locked on yours, imploring you to believe him.
He takes another step towards you, now standing closer than before but not actually touching you "after we kissed that summer, I swear I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was looking forward to this night so bad" he says, his voice genuine and full of yearning "but then you told me you chose Harvard instead of Standford and... I don't know, we would be so far away and- me and Tashi, it's nothing serious" if when he started talking he felt stupid, now by looking at your face, he is sure of it.
"so you thought that keeping me on the hook for the whole year would solve everything, that you could have both of us?"
He shakes his head "no that's not what I wanted" he answers immediately "I want you, only you... I'm sorry" Art's confession is honest and raw, his words a mix of desperation and regret "I never intended to keep you on the hook, I swear, I just didn't know how to handle things... I wanted you, I still want you" he hesitates, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again "but now I've messed up, I know. I really screwed up" he admits, his expression pleading for forgiveness.
Your car pulls up and you thank the god for the only good thing happening tonight "well, the good news is that I'm still going to Harvard so you can keep having... whatever thing is going on with Tashi" you say dismissively, the tears are still falling and right now you would love to be one of those strong women that can keep emotions under control, that can keep the eye contact with an emotionless expression and resist until they're alone to finally cry... but you're not, and you're sure you look like a mess right now.
Art watches as your car pulls up, the sight of it bringing a new wave of desperation to his face. He takes a step forward, his hand reaching out for you again, but he stops himself, realizing that his touch is not welcome right now "please, we can talk about this?" he pleads but you brush him off.
"Like I said, keep having whatever thing you have with Tashi" you say, your voice trembling, the tears keep falling down your face as you grab the handle but Art moves quickly, closing the door of the car before you can open it again. He stands in front of it, blocking your path, his expression determined "you're not going anywhere" he says firmly, his eyes locked on yours "we need to talk" he repeats, his voice steady despite the mess of emotions inside him.
You can see in his expression how much he doesn't want you to leave but your heart feels like it's shattered into a million pieces and right now you're just tired "there's nothing to talk about" you say, trying to sound strong but the tears streaming down your face betray you "you were right Art, you have every right to live your college life with someone you can be close to, and I do too" you don't mean that, you know you don't. You want to be with him. But now you just want to go home and cry until you fall asleep.
Art's expression falters at your words, hurt and disappointment etched on his face. He takes a step closer, the proximity making your body react despite the anger and pain "I don't give a damn about my college life" he says frustrated, his emotions raw and unfiltered "I wanted to be with you, I still do. Don't do this, please don't leave like this" his voice breaks slightly as he pleads you.
He reaches for your hand, grasping it in his, the feeling of his touch sending a shiver down your spine "don't run away from this, please" he says, his grip tightening slightly "we can work this out, just don't go" he repeats, his eyes pleading you to stay and talk.
"Art- please, I really want to go home" you sob and Art stills at that, his heart aches at the sound of your sob, the desperation in your voice breaking something in him. You sound so desperate and he doest know what to do anymore, if only he had talked about his insecurities sooner...
He releases your hand, taking a step back to give you space, the conflict and pain visible on his face "I'm sorry" he says softly, his voice low and full of guilt. "If I could go back in time, I would do things so differently" he admits, rubbing a hand on his face in frustration.
You're not listening to him anymore, that much he can tell, he steps back, allowing you to climb into the passenger seat without another word. The defeat in his expression is clear, but he doesn't try to stop you anymore. The sight of you on the passenger seat, tears streaming down your face, is enough to convince him to not hurt you any further.
"I-I'll call you, ok? o-or you could call me when you're ready" he stammers but you don't say anything, you don't even shake or nod your head.
Art stands there helplessly, watching as you refuse to respond to his words. The silence between you feels like a physical barrier, the pain and hurt creating a void that neither of you knows how to fill. He takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I really am sorry" he says again, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. Still nothing, your eyes are fixed in front of him, "okay.. goodnight" he shuts the door and watches your car drive away, the taillights growing smaller and smaller until they disappear from sight. His hands curl into fists at his side as a mixture of frustration and sadness washes over him. He had messed everything up and now he was standing there alone, his heart shattered along with yours.
Art spends the rest of the summer trying to contact you: he sends text after text, voicemail after voicemail, begging for you to talk to him and try to fix things, but every time you see his name flash on your screen you feel a pang of pain in your chest and you end up deleting his messages without opening them.
At the same time, you're busy preparing for your move to Harvard and throwing yourself into the tasks at hand, anything to distract yourself from the thoughts of Art that keep creeping into your mind.
Despite your best efforts, the thought of Art is always there, lingering in the back of your mind. Every time you pack a box or organize your new room, memories of the times you spent together flash before your eyes. And even when you're with your new college friends, sharing excitement about the upcoming year, a part of you can't help but wonder what Art is doing and if he's just as wrecked as you are.
Every time your fingers hover over Art's name on your phone, a mix of longing and fear washes over you. You want to hear his voice, to pour out your heart and ask if he's feeling the same ache you are, but the fear of finding out that he has moved on, that he's happy without you stops you every time. You feel stuck between the need to reach out and the fear of what you might find.
The first two months at Harvard are a whirlwind of new experiences, but they're also marked by the new, completely absence of Art that stopped calling since the start of the college year. The silence from him is deafening, and the realization that he's moved on stings more with each passing day. Every time you think about him, your heart clenches as if the wound is still fresh. You try to push the thoughts aside, but the memories and the ache for him persist, refusing to let you fully move on.
It's a sunny October day, the sun is shining brightly, a warm contrast to the slightly chilly autumn breeze that brushes against your face as you're walking with your new friends, everyone chattering away excitedly about the upcoming autumn break. Your eyes are fixed on the path in front of you, as you're listening to your friends speaking, laughs loud and your smile genuine
"ok girls don't look now, but a really cute guy is looking at our Y/N right now, on the left, the one leaned against the wall" your friend's words catch your attention and you try hard not to look but curiosity gets the best of you and almost instinctively, you and your friends simultaneously turn to the left, your heads swiveling to catch a glimpse of the guy leaning against the wall.
The moment you turn, your heart stops. Your steps falter and your eyes widen as you recognize the figure standing there. It's Art. His eyes immediately connect with yours and time seems to freeze.
He smiles, clearly insecure, but smiles and you can see a mixture of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes, yours rakes over his body to take him in: he is wearing a dark blue quarter zip, a white shirt underneath, light blue jeans and white sneakers, his hands in his front pocket and his hair are messy from the wind going through them.
"Do you know him?" your friend's question breaks the intense moment of eye contact between you and Art and you're snapped back to reality. You try to speak, but your mouth seems to have forgotten how to form words, the words are stuck in your throat, along with all the emotions that are now swirling inside you.
Your friends are looking at you, a mix of curiosity and confusion on their faces. One of them repeats the question, nudging your shoulder slightly to bring you back to the present. You swallow hard, still unable to find your voice, your eyes darting back to Art who's still standing there, watching you with a mixture of hope and nervousness in his eyes "uhm yeah, he is an old friend" you mutter.
Your voice comes out soft and a bit shaky as you finally manage to speak. You say that he's an old friend, trying to keep it casual despite the storm of emotions rushing through you. They exchange a knowing glance as they realize that there's more to your relationship with Art.
"we should leave them alone, we'll save a place for you" one of them say and the others nod, you feel a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as you watch your friends walk away, their forms shrinking in the distance in the orange Harvard park.
As you take a tentative step towards Art, time seems to slow down, each movement feeling weighted under his intense gaze. Your heart is beating faster, and you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You try to keep your expression neutral, but it’s difficult to hide the mixture of anticipation and anxiety that you feel.
His gaze never leaves your face, watching your every move as he moves away from the wall "what are you doing here?" you ask breathless and it's a miracle Art heard you.
"I called you" he says.
You nod "I know".
Art takes a few steps towards you "You never answered" there is no accusation in his voice and you nod.
"I know".
The silence hangs heavy between you "college life suits you, you look beautiful".
"what are you doing here?" you ask and Art looks at his shoes before forcing himself to maintain eye-contact.
"I missed you" he answers immediately and suddenly the wall behind Art is really interesting.
"you could have sent me a message, it would have been less expensive".
"would you have answered me this time?" you open your mouth to answer him but nothing that would be the truth comes out.
"probably not" he laughs at that, but there's a hint of melancholy in that laugh, mixed with a tinge of understanding.
"I guess that's fair" he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. He takes a moment to collect himself before continuing "I thought coming here was the only way to see you" he confesses, his voice softer now.
Your arms are crossed, a subtle barrier between you and him as you listen to his words. He looks sincere and a pang of guilt twists in your stomach when he mentions that he thought this was the only way to see you. You know you could have answered his messages or calls, but something in you wouldn't allow it.
"You could've answered one of my calls even if to just scream at me or to tell me to fuck off".
You chuckle weakly "maybe I should have. But I was... I was really hurt and confused" you admit, your voice slightly shaky. He takes a step closer to you, the distance between you shrinking even more.
"I'm sorry" he mutters, he takes your face in his hands and you let him, he missed your skin in his hands, you nod, again.
"I know you are" you murmur.
"I love you" your eyes widens.
Art's hands feel warm and familiar on your face, and you let him hold you. Your hands grip his sweater, holding on to him as if you're scared he might disappear. Tears start to form in your eyes.
"oh" you mentally facepalm yourself and close your eyes as tight as you can, you can hear Art suppress a laugh.
"yeah... 'oh'... you should really work on a better way to react to good news".
"Art... what you said that night is true, we are so far away now and I don't want us to suffer the long distance" he shakes his head as you speak.
"No, no I was wrong, never been more wrong. If there are two people who can do it is us" he assures you.
"but what about Tashi?" you ask and Art takes a deep breath, his hands still holding your face. The mention of Tashi's name hangs in the air for a moment, and your insecurity is almost palpable to him. He looks into your eyes as he tries to find the right words to say.
"I don't care about Tashi, I never did" he says firmly, his voice filled with conviction "all I care about is you and only you. You're the one I love, you're the one I want to be with. Tashi is nothing to me" Art's grip on your face tightens slightly as he speaks. His eyes search yours, attempting to convey the sincerity behind his words.
"I'm sorry about everything, I swear I'll do anything you want me to do! I can come here every week-end and we'll spend the vacations together or I can transfer here, I can play tennis here too-" your lips interrupt his ramble but he doesn't waste time to return it. Art's lips move against yours with a mixture of passion and desperation, as if he's finally found what he's been searching for.
As the kiss deepens, Art's hands on your waist pull you impossibly close, closing the already small gap between your bodies. You can feel the hunger and need in his touch, the months you've spent apart making the kiss even more intense.
"god- fuck, I missed you so much" his words against your lips are even sweeter than the kiss itself and you feel like melting in his arms, you missed him too "you have no idea how much I missed you" he mutters before capturing your lips again in a bruising kiss.
Your cheeks are not cold anymore, your entire body feels hot with affection and you mutter an 'I love you' that makes Art pull back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he listens to the words you whisper. A soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he repeats them "I love you too". You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his hands on your waist keeping you closer than ever.
"you don't have to move here for me, we can make this work" you reassure him and finally a genuine and wide smile takes space on your face for him again.
Art visibly relaxes at your words, the tension leaves his shoulders and he lets out a small sigh of relief "really?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. Your reassurance washes away some of his worries, and he allows himself to believe that it could actually work, that you could make it work despite the distance.
"really".
"so we're okay now- ow!" Art winces as your hand connects with the side of his head, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face.
"Now we're okay" you smile in victory.
"I guess I deserved that" he says rubbing the spot where you slapped him. Despite the gentle reprimand, his eyes are filled with relief and happiness as he nods "yeah, we're okay now" he affirms, a warm smile spreading across his face.
━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━
Do not copy or repost.
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson fluff#art donaldson#challengers#challengers fic
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Chapter 9: Looking Over Fences
From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series
Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader
Summary: Things may seem alright on the other side of the fence if you’re not consciously looking at it, but both sides are on the struggle currently
Word count: 2,268
Content/warnings: Mentions/allusions to self harm that are a poor joke, mob themes, mentions of blood, mentions of death, threats, annoyance, pushy behavior and lowkey misogyny, possibly a very bad decision, Peter being a sweet lil brother essentially
Author’s Note: This is lined up so the phone call she makes at the end would occur in Ch. 5 of The Rainmaker
I hope you guys are liking this AU, and I’d love to hear all your thoughts. Comments, reblogs, and asks are greatly appreciated!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >
The following week since Bucky had left the farm was…okay. It was fine. And to be honest, you didn’t really care for much that was going on outside your own bubble. You fielded the occasional call or text from Steve or Decks, never from Bucky, trying to make it seem like everything was okay, but that was pretty much it.
Peter was helpful, monitoring shipments that started to come in, but more so, you could feel the way he was monitoring you. Perhaps to make sure you didn’t jump off one of the bridges you’d helped to design in town. But what did that matter? They were like ten feet off the riverbed anyway. And it’s not like you were faring that poorly. You were just a little sad, but not enough for it to affect you, but the people closest to you in your life thought differently than that. And by closest, right now you meant physical proximity: Peter and Curtis.
Everywhere you went, if you turned around and squinted enough, you could still see Peter in a distant corner. He definitely needed to work or his stealth skills, or perhaps he was purposely making sure you could see him, letting you know you didn’t have to be alone. That was too bad, though, because that was all that you wanted. To be left alone and sulk and just do your work like the good farmer you are.
So you did, and tried to ignore your shadow figure following you around in jeans and a shirt you’d made Curtis bring him from the store in town. He was just so tiny that he was swimming in everything else you had for the boys, and you weren’t really sure if he would want your old, nasty clothes. The ones you were hardly wearing anymore after your got back late at night, in favor of the only thing Bucky had left behind: a single Henley.
But really, it was fine. It was okay, and you were going to be fine. If only Curtis would stop asking! You could handle everything on your own, just like you had before. That’s what mattered, right? The only one you could really rely on was yourself, and no one needed to see how much pain you were actually in besides him. The one who got to be so happy with his sweet girl while you were separated, independent, alone. Any time you made a snide comment about it outside the soft likeness you were known for prior to these mood swings, Curtis simply let it roll off his back, giving you a tight hug, and moving on, avoiding the subject once again.
Bucky was miserable. Just like you, he threw himself into work to try and ignore the pain. He needed someone around, though. Struggling alone wasn’t as easy as it used to be, so he searched for help. What the hell was this attempt at a healthy coping mechanism? One that landed him in the apartment of your best friend, no less.
Bucky had tried to find Steve upon his return, the second in command still working double time, plus essentially a new part-time job of flirting. Steve didn’t say it, but Bucky could see it. Plus, he got an earful from Sam about their developing situation in the debrief of preparation for coming back to work. Good for Steve, not relatable. The only chance he could get to find his elusive best friend was to track down his car and jump in. So after Steve had picked up snacks for what appeared to be a movie date, Bucky snuck into the trunk to hide. Any attention, or just human presence, especially that of someone you seemed to enjoy so much would work.
Bucky was exhausted. His nights were sleepless again, but now for different reasons. He couldn’t sleep without you. He didn’t want to sleep without you. But his body didn’t get the message as he was pulled under by the gentle rocking of Steve’s SUV.
He woke up to the familiar, gentle voice in his place amongst the grocery bags. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable suit. It was one of his trash suits: one of the scratchy ones, one of the ones he didn’t care if it got a little bloody. To be honest, he didn’t care right now. Who did he have to impress? This was the first time he’d been out of the house in a week. But this was better than no clothes, and why waste something designer when no one was important around to see it? This mindset was completely different than two months ago.
Bucky groaned and sat up from the trunk, telling Steve his true feelings, something rarely voiced, so who was Steve to turn away from that vulnerability? Bucky really just needed someone, and even though Steve really wanted this private time with Decks, his best friend needed him more. In response to Bucky’s request to joint them, Steve’s lips formed a tight line and his nostrils flared with a frustrated, but sympathetic huff.
“Fine. Come on upstairs.”
The time with Decks and Steve really helped Bucky, even though he could tell he was very evidently interrupting something. Once the movie was over and Decks was asleep, Bucky checked his phone to see a new message: another employee dead.
As the weeks went on, employee deaths had been on the rise with even a few occurring at first when he was at the farm. It initially seemed like weird chance events. A missing employee here and there, unfortunately, was normal when you owned so much of the city. They would usually turn up again, but this time it was different. Employees were dying, both innocent and mob-associated alike. This was targeted, and he knew exactly who was doing it: Lloyd. He was closing in on business, looking to intimidate. This was going to fill Bucky’s time well, combined rage from these slaps in the face, as well as the constant berating you were starting to face from Cole (as Peter had reported), working as fuel to the fire of reclaiming his rule over the city.
Not only did business suck, but if someone asked Steve and Sam, they’d say their boss was a menace to society, and not in the good way. He was running himself, and them by proxy, into the ground. Nothing was ever enough for him, and they were catching the brunt of that. Maybe there was a way to fix it, but what was coming wasn’t quite what they had in mind. With all the shit going on in the city, they hoped things were better for you.
You had no idea what Bucky was going through besides the small things that Peter updated you on, but you hope it wasn’t as bad as having to put on a fake smile for an annoying, fake farmer.
It was as if Cole was consciously waiting for Bucky to leave your farm for him to start coming around again. It was like clockwork, with a gift from him earlier in the week, followed by an in-person sometime visit in the second half. It was like he was hoping to find you to more vulnerable like this. If that was the metric he was going on, though, he was severely underestimating your abilities. Bucky had been gone for three weeks, and Cole seemed unrelenting.
At least your rage at his persistence gave you something to fill your days with. And Peter was a delightful gossip, making impressions of the clumsy and pushy ‘farmer.’
You didn’t really have the desire to keep any of the gifts you were receiving but the cow, though, which was quickly growing, ready soon to move into her shed out back. First, it was the little things, like her, but then things started getting bigger. A Turner’s drink fridge. Where was that supposed to go? Then a hydroponics tower. That…well, actually, that one was kinda nice. Those things were expensive, and you hadn’t gotten the chance to invest in them yet. But what could a singular one possibly do for you? And then a tractor. One not even graded for the type of work you had to do. Each gift was punctuated by him forcing his way into your house right at dinner time, and sitting with you and Peter until you could shove him out, polite as ever.
His last visit, though. That one was a little bit different. You could see the smug look on his face as he ate off your cutlery. It was an insult that the plates and utensils your family, and Bucky, once used were touching his mouth. You’d purposely set those ones aside, reused for only him each time, and marked them mentally to be blown up once this all blew over. You were sure Peter would enjoy that, too. And hopefully it was sooner rather than later, but until then, it was one dinner at a time.
You walked Cole out to the porch, like you did every time, but instead of walking straight out to his truck, this time, he lingered for a second, turning around and looking down at you.
“Listen up, Sweet Peach. Sure, my capacities right now, every time I visit you, are limited, but I’ve got friends in low places. I’m not gonna give up. Either you give me the farm, or my buddy Lloyd starts a war with your boyfriend.”
A threat like that made you lose your usually cool demeanor for a second. “Cole, absolutely not!” This came out of nowhere.
You had to find a way to hit his pride. Maybe that could cause him to back down without retaliation. “What’s the valor in me handing it over, anyway? It would be worth so much more if you earned it. I know you’ve got something to prove, just like in high school.”
You did your best not to cringe at the memory. You obviously didn’t care about back then and it still pained you to think of it. Living in the past wasn’t something you did, but it was very evidently something he was caught up on. “Work to earn my farm, maybe you’ll earn my respect…and possibly a little something else.”
You bit your lip trying to be suggestive. Ugh, this was humiliating, but his entire manner of carrying himself shifted from his poor attempt at intimidation to intrigue. After all these years he still couldn’t help himself trying to win you over, and he was still a doofus.
“Oh yeah? And how do you suppose I do that?”
You tapped your bottom lip with your pointer finger, humming. “Mmm, how about a wager? Winner takes all, or at least just my farm. I win, Lloyd doesn’t wage war, either. Deal?”
“Wait, wait. A wager on what?” He licked his lips, still giving you a look that made you sick to your stomach.
“How about a game of pool? And tell you what, I’ll be extra nice since you’ve never seen me play and I just want to make sure we’re even.” You said it in your sweetest tone, a pout on your lips and your eyes as wide and sparkling as a doe. “You can pick who plays for your side, but here are the ground rules: no professional players. No pre-professional, either. Friends, allies, and acquaintances only. Keep the playing field even. But, the caveat is that I get to do the same. Whichever side wins the game, wins the prize. Do we have a deal?”
Cole stood there for a second, nodding and thinking it over. “So you’re trying to win my compliance? Didn’t think you were the type to treat your livelihood like a game, but lucky for you, I am.”
It’s true, you hate that it had to come to this, but you held out your hand for him to shake, just for him to limply grab it. How he got this far in business, you’ll never know, because that handshake was terrible, yet binding for the young-ish heir. Oh wait, that’s right, he got this far because his parents did it for him. Bucky would never let that handshake fly, but maybe he would understand. This was a threat facing both of you, and according to the breadcrumbs you’d heard from Peter, it could be even worse on Bucky’s end. That, on top of what Cole said about waging war added to your concern.
“Deal.” Cole dropped your hand and you tucked it behind you back, ready to wash it as soon as you could get inside.
“Good. Now get off my property. I’ll meet you at the bar next week. Saturday. 6pm.”
He nodded with a wink and walked down the porch steps to his lifted truck, tripping on the gravel on the way there, not daring to look back to catch your snicker. You could see his huff when he slid into the front seat, after having jumped up into the tall vehicle. The engine roared as he drove away, creating ruts. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as you walked back inside.
You heart was racing. The stakes were unbelievably high, but you didn’t have much of an option. Either win this bet and end it once and for all, or chance him trying to take things by force. So it wasn’t really much of a choice at all when you laid it out.
You had a few phone calls to make…
Next >
Bonus A/N: The grass is always greener, but it looks like both Bucky and Bee are standing on dead lawns.
Taglist: @mrsnikstan @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @multifandomreader73 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch @thesarcasmqueen-22 @ronearoundblindly
#Bucky Barnes#Bucky Barnes fanfiction#Bucky Barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes x you#mob Bucky x farmer reader#you catch more bees with honey series#YCMBWH series#outta nowhere AU#YCMBWH#you catch more bees with honey#outta nowhere#YCMBWH: chapter 9#chapter 9: looking over fences#Peter Parker#Cole Turner#ghosted#marvel#mcu#marvel fanfiction#Sebastian Stan#Chris Evans#mob Bucky#mob!bucky#mafia Bucky#mafia!bucky#farmer reader#farmer!reader#Curtis Everett#mob AU
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right here
it was just one of those nights when you had to take care of Satoru since Suguru left…
content. au, no sorcerers in this one. mentions of drugs and drug use, angst, curse words, maybe some kind of domestic fluff? implied smut at the end. happy ending?
a/n. this is kind of like an au from this fic. not so sad and a little bold. hope you like it either way!! (right here by chase atlantic heavily inspired this)
Satoru was high, again. His dilated pupils were fixed on your body from the moment you entered his field of vision, walking among the sweaty bodies that did nothing but squeeze against each other in that discotheque. His lips had curved into a lewd smile, because you knew he knew you were coming, sooner or later, and his bright eyes roamed your body, even though you were barely wearing a pair of baggy jeans and one of his giant jackets. To beat his stupid ass and take him back home, like always.
“Satoru.” you spoke in reprimand, and his fucking friends around you barely gave you a sideways glance, some blurting out obscene words they thought you couldn't hear and others booing because you were going to take away their source of amusement. “Time to go.”
“Ah, y/n, can't you wait a little longer?” Shoko was at Satoru's right side, holding his arm as if she wasn't ready to let him go.
You only liked Shoko when she was sober, so you pay her minimal attention as you approached your white-haired friend. His smile hadn't disappeared, and it seemed like those moments were the only ones where you could glimpse a bit of real emotion in his eyes.
“Come on.” You grabbed his arm, ignoring the way Shoko wanted to cling to him and how his other friends were booing louder. Satoru's limp body slipped through your fingers, because he was damn heavy, falling against the couch again. “Please.”
His body gave way, moving with a new strength of resolve the moment that word left your mouth. His eyes, as bright as they were dangerous, were fixed on yours as he intertwined his fingers with yours.
“Will you shut the fuck up, Choso?” Satoru spat, averting his gaze for a moment to devote a deadly expression to the friend who used to boo you the most whenever you went looking for him. You and Choso used to get along well, but from a while back things had changed too much.
Even six months ago you didn't think you'd ever have to go into a nightclub at two in the fucking morning to look for your friend because he wasn't answering his fucking phone.
You dragged Satoru to your car, and even though he looked so stoned from the way you could barely make out the blue in his irises, he walked like he was sober beside you and buckled up judiciously.
“You were late today.” was the first thing he said as you pulled onto the freeway heading towards your apartment; the apartment you shared with the airhead you had for a friend.
"I was asleep. You were supposed to write me if you were here any longer.” you gave yourself a moment to turn to look at him, his gaze clouded with drugs. “What did you get into?”
“Nothing I haven't tried before, don't worry.”
“Why do you have to do this every time?” you whispered, but his perceptive self caught every word that came out of your mouth and let out a chuckle in response.
“You shouldn't worry so much, y/n.”
“I'll worry as much as I damn well please, you hear?”
Your aggressive tone of voice only caused him to laugh again. He didn't answer back, but with his head resting against the window you knew he'd fall asleep soon.
-
Satoru had become uncontrollable since Suguru left. Six months ago, the love of his life, the person he swore he would spend the rest of his life with, had given him nothing but a poor excuse to end what they had built for four years and kick it all over his face as he turned his back on him and disappeared; totally. The day Suguru walked out that door, neither you nor Satoru ever saw him again.
It was clear why you were coping better than Satoru. Suguru hadn't promised you a lifetime together or given you a promise ring. Satoru had been broken since the day he left and it had been a constant battle trying to keep him afloat. Only that nigh Suguru left, Satoru dared to be vulnerable with you and spent the whole night crying himself to sleep from exhaustion. Afterwards, he reconnected with friends he had abandoned since meeting Suguru. And with old habits, too.
You did what you could, but there was enough you could carry. Still, you didn't have the heart to leave him alone. He was the most important thing in your life and you couldn't let him fade away, even if his friends hated you; even if he hated you himself. Whatever you had to do, you would do it.
“You smell so good.” Satoru spoke in his sleep, the moment you dropped him on your bed, because he had never dared to go back into the room he shared with Suguru. He usually slept in the living room or brought the couch into your room when he felt too lonely. “Have you always smelled like this?”
His head lifted from the pillow, trying to follow the thread of the scent of your perfume wafting from your neck.
“Yes. Now hold still.”
“Is it time to undress already?”
"Yes, Satoru. And you should take a bath. You smell awful."
"What the…? Of course not."
The white-haired man stood up long enough to try to sniff his own shirt, which emitted a smell of alcohol mixed with cigarette and who knows how many other things. His nose wrinkled and for that reason alone he let you unbutton his shirt without a complaint. Usually Satoru would get too commentary when you undressed him to take a shower, but that time he kept quiet, his narrowed eyes following your movements and flinching when your fingers touched his skin.
“Are you going to fix dinner?”
You looked up at him through your lashes as you undid his black pants.
“Are you hungry?”
“I think it would help me regain consciousness.”
"In the fridge are the leftovers from dinner. I can heat them up while you bathe."
Satoru clicked his tongue, moving to sit up when you took him by the shoulders.
“We were supposed to have dinner tonight.”
Ah, in all and in the midst of his lethargic state he remembered.
“Doesn't matter.”
“I'm sorry, y/n.”
"Get up. The tub's ready."
Satoru stood up with a pout, his eyes crystallizing as he moved behind you in the direction of the bathroom. He didn't stray for a moment like he did before.
“Ah,” Satoru almost groaned as he sank fully into the water, letting his eyes close as you wet his hair a little, “this feels like glory.”
“You could feel like this more often if you didn't go out so much.”
Your friend frowned, half-opening his eyes to look at you as his hair got soaked. “Are you implying something specific?”
You didn't respond, letting silence dance between the two of you, until your friend groaned loudly.
“You know I'm slower when I'm drunk.”
“Then you should stop being drunk so often.”
“Not fair…”
“Take a bath,” you left the soap between his hands, “I'll go heat up your food.”
Walking in the direction of the exit, you still wondered why you had let things go this far. Satoru called out to you, his left hand outstretched outside the tub, as if reaching for you, trying to get to you. His bright eyes still lacked that glowing blue, but you could see a little more lucidity in them now.
“Thank you.”
-
You sat across from your friend as he dove into the dinner you had prepared. Satoru loved your food. Back when Suguru still lived here, you would prepare banquets to spend a day or the whole weekend with endless platters of food while having series or movie marathons.
Maybe you wanted to convince yourself that Suguru's departure hadn't affected you as much as it had Satoru. Maybe it had, but if you weren't the rational one in the relationship you were left in with Satoru then probably neither of you would survive.
“This tastes amazing.” Satoru complimented you, scraping the crockery to eat every last chip.
“It was more delicious freshly prepared.”
You let your chin rest on the back of your hand as Satoru looked up heavily, the blue glowing a little brighter after the shower and with some food in his stomach.
He gulped. “I'm sorry-”
“Whatever,” you didn't want to hear it; you'd lost count of the number of times he'd apologized and the number of times he'd promised you that next time it wouldn't be like this, “finish quickly to go to sleep. I can't feel my eyes anymore."
You got up before his whiny voice could reach your ears and finished organizing the kitchen by the time his plate was left in the dishwasher.
“The rest will be organized by tomorrow's sober you.”
Satoru lifted a shoulder. “It's only fair.”
In the room, silence engulfed you once again. You didn't close the door because you knew he planned to sleep there that night, but his body remained standing in front of the couch when you thought he'd already gone to bed. You changed, as usual, as you usually do while he sleeps, in front of the closet.
“Hey, do you think I can sleep with-? Wow.”
You froze. Your breath caught in your throat because you swore he'd gone to bed; it was what he did every time, you didn't even have to ask him to do it. But when you cautiously turned to look over your shoulder, he was standing in front of your bed, with a direct view of your bare back and full coverage of your legs because you were only in your underwear.
“Satoru! Turn around!”
“Ah, yes, sorry, sorry…”
His body turned reluctantly, returning the poorly disguised stare about three times until his back was completely turned to you.
You changed in record time, barely putting on one of the white shirts you had stolen from him months ago and closing the closet. When you turned around to see him, his back was still turned, playfully kicking some lint on the floor, trying to distract himself while you finished changing.
“What were you saying?”
Satoru turned suddenly, his eyes finding you with trained ease, walking in the direction of the nightstand to prepare you, once again, for sleep. His silence intrigued you, and when you turned back to see him after plugging in your phone and setting your alarms, you found him staring at your legs.
“Satoru.”
“Yes?” his large, not very innocent eyes returned to your face with embarrassing speed, and from the hardness in your gaze he cleared his throat before speaking again. "Ah. Mmm. Actually, I wanted to ask you if I could sleep with you tonight, but I don't know if it's the most appropriate thing to do right now…"
You arched an eyebrow at him, massaging your hands with a moisturizer as you settled in between your sheets.
“But you sleep here every night.”
“I mean,” Satoru shifted, pointing to the empty side of your bed and then to himself, “to literally sleep with you.”
“Ah.”
You looked at the empty side and at your friend, taking more time to respond than Satoru had considered. He thought you'd straight up tell him no and even send him to sleep in the living room, but it seemed like you genuinely considered it.
“I wouldn't mind.” you finally replied, and you missed seeing the way his shoulders relaxed as you turned to turn off the room light. “Just try not to snore too much.”
“What?” Satoru stopped halfway into the bed, and you smiled imagining his offended face; if you focused properly you could see it through the darkness. “I don't snore.”
“Uh-huh~”
Satoru finally threw himself on the bed with a grunt and you could only laugh in response.
“Go to sleep already.”
Satoru cowered on his side of the bed, unaccustomed to sharing a bed with someone for several months now. His tense body stayed in the position he fell into, face up, barely feeling your movements on the mattress as you found your favorite sleeping position. Your bed was small, barely fit two people, and if Satoru got any closer he could feel your breathing against his neck.
“y/n?” Satoru spoke a couple of minutes later, when he thought you had fallen asleep.
“Mmm?” you hummed in response, trying to hold back sleep until you were sure your friend had fallen asleep first. Usually that wasn't a problem, because Satoru pretty much came in asleep from the car ride, but that night he seemed to be full of surprises.
“Do you miss him?”
Your chest ached for the tiniest second, the fond memories of their nights the three of you together in that apartment raiding your mind. Maybe you had mourned Suguru's departure as much as Satoru had when he wasn't seeing you, but that was something you were going to keep to yourself alone. There was no room for forgiveness and that attempted of a man didn't deserve a single tear from both of you.
So you swallowed that pressure like a wet rag and frowned, even if your friend couldn't see you.
“Not as much as I'd like to strangle him.”
“How do you do that? How do you stay strong?”
His voice, so low, soft and vulnerable, you couldn't help but let it pierce through to your heart. You opened your eyes, and for some reason you felt his blue eyes on yours.
“I do it for you.”
You listened to his breathing, loud, choppy, the slight startled intake of breath. You moved your hands over the mattress and didn't have to go too far to find his hands and cradle them.
“You don't have to think about that,” you murmured now that you were closer, feeling his heartbeat through your grip, “you don't have to think about him.”
“I don't know what to think about anymore.” Satoru replied, his voice matching yours, almost as if he was running out of air; like his last prayer for salvation.
And you didn't know, even some time later, what had moved you that night. His closeness, his vulnerability, that you no longer knew what else to do to help him… but you moved closer to him and pressed your lips against his.
Satoru was probably moved by the same thing that moved you, because he didn't hesitate for a second to kiss you back with the same fierceness and passion, letting go of your hands and wrapping his long arms around your waist.
That night something changed between the two of you. You didn't know if you were seeking comfort in each other's arms; trying to fill a void that someone else had implanted in both of you with his departure, when he had taken a part of each of you with him when he left; maybe because you were both the only thing the other had; maybe because you knew Satoru would never do that to you; maybe because he knew you would never do that to him.
Whatever the reason, Satoru never let go of you all night, his lips swallowing every moan of yours and his hands always intertwined with yours.
Whatever the reason, Satoru had found something else, something different, something that didn't even compare to drugs… something he didn't even know he could have.
And he wasn't about to let it go this time.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#gojo smut#satoru angst
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Egg Fried Rice
Rating: General Audiences
Pairing: Geto Suguru x Original Female Character
Characters: Geto Suguru, Original Female Character of Color
Additional Tags: Fluff, Mentions of food and alcohol, Flirting, Pre-established friendship, Geto and OC are roommates, There is some suggestiveness near the end, This is part of a series
Summary:
“I was,” she admits, “but I realized I didn’t feel like working out tonight and decided to make greasy food instead.” She raises an eyebrow, taking his spoon from him and helping herself to his bowl of fried rice. “And anyway, I’m allowed to eat and drink whatever I want, Suguru.”
“The point of cooking enough for both of us is so we can each have our own… is it not?” He looks pointedly at the spoon in her hand.
“It tastes better when I take it from you,” she laughs. She holds a spoonful of rice up to his mouth. He hesitates only for a moment before letting her feed him.
“You’re definitely different,” he chuckles once he’s done chewing. He doesn’t realize he’s said the words aloud until she goes quiet, her brown eyes wide and staring.
Part 1: Sundane (it isn't necessary to read this one first, but it gives you some context)
A/N: What kind of writer would I be if I didn't use my personal issues as inspiration? :)
Read on AO3
He feels a little like a creep watching her this way, but he can’t help it.
There’s something different about her. Suguru has been trying to pinpoint it for months - the change in her that’s made her seem less sweet, less timid and accommodating to the world around her. It’s almost as if there’s something that’s been lying dormant inside of her for a long time and is now finally starting to awaken.
Perhaps it’s the confidence she’s gained from the way she’s been sculpting her body. The little corner of the living room that they’ve designated as their home gym has undergone its own changes over the past half year to match her increase in strength and endurance: heavier free weights added to her personal collection, more resistance bands, a wider variety of kettlebells. She likes to say that she can’t completely change the body she was born with, but she’s trying her best to make it into the body she wants.
He hasn’t said as much to her, but her efforts are paying off in a way that makes him look twice at her sometimes.
Or perhaps the change is because of her hair.
After four years of letting it grow long, she’d decided she needed something different. He’d come home one day to find her in her bathroom with trimming shears in her hand. “I feel so liberated,” she’d told him, a satisfied smile on her face as she admired the haircut she’d given herself. He’d certainly been impressed that she’d had the courage to cut it at all, let alone to do such a good job of it on her own.
He likes it. He thinks it suits her.
And while those things have brought about changes that Suguru can see, he thinks it’s probably the things he can’t see that truly make her look different.
The sadness in her eyes is gone. He doesn’t see that wistful look in her gaze whenever certain songs come on. Suguru knows who those songs reminded her of.
He doesn’t hear her crying in her bedroom anymore, the way she did every night for long months after the breakup. There is no longer the sound of her trying to muffle her sobs into her pillow.
She frowns less and sleeps more.
She seems less… haunted. Suguru knows that those feelings that once pained her haven’t disappeared completely - and perhaps they never will - but he has noticed the difference in how she carries them. They no longer seem as heavy as they did before.
He’s always liked the way she looks, but the things that are different about her now have enhanced that.
They’ve made her more appealing.
She hasn’t noticed him yet. She’s shimmying and shaking around the kitchen to whatever is playing through her noise-canceling headphones, chopping vegetables and combining ingredients to the beat of the song she’s listening to.
Suguru could watch her like this forever, but he doesn’t want to get caught.
He waits until she’s turned part of the way towards the living room before raising one hand in a lazy wave to catch her attention.
And then he promptly curses his own heart for the way its tempo increases as her eyes light up and she smiles at him.
“Welcome home,” she calls loudly. She seems to remember that she’s wearing the headphones and pulls them off of her head to let them rest around her neck. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly, in a softer tone. “I can never really hear how loud my voice is when I’m wearing these.”
“Mm,” he grunts softly, making his way over to the bar that separates the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. He leans forward, squinting at the skillet on the stove. “What’s that? It smells good.”
“Just egg fried rice,” she answers as she stirs oyster sauce into the skillet. She looks at him over her shoulder. “Nothing as fancy as what the magnificent Geto Suguru would make for one of his clients, I’m afraid.”
“My clients are all rich, picky assholes with weird food preferences,” he replies. “I wouldn’t want what they eat anyway.”
She makes a little noise of agreement as she scoops fried rice into a bowl and sets it on the bar in front of him. “Beer?”
“Yeah, please.”
Rummaging in the fridge for a few seconds yields two bottles of the IPA they both favor. She smiles triumphantly and pops the caps off of them, setting one down on the bar and taking a swig from the other one.
“You allowed to have beer?” He asks the question teasingly around a mouthful of food, motioning to the clothes she’s wearing. “Thought you might be getting ready for a workout.”
“I was,” she admits, “but I realized I didn’t feel like working out tonight and decided to make greasy food instead.” She raises an eyebrow, taking his spoon from him and helping herself to his bowl of fried rice. “And anyway, I’m allowed to eat and drink whatever I want, Suguru.”
“The point of cooking enough for both of us is so we can each have our own… is it not?” He looks pointedly at the spoon in her hand.
“It tastes better when I take it from you,” she laughs. She holds a spoonful of rice up to his mouth. He hesitates only for a moment before letting her feed him.
“You’re definitely different,” he chuckles once he’s done chewing. He doesn’t realize he’s said the words aloud until she goes quiet, her brown eyes wide and staring.
“Me?” She shakes her head, filching another spoonful of his rice. He lets her. “Different?”
He’s said the words now and there’s no point in trying to recall them. The question he asks himself now is how much of what he’s thinking does he want to reveal. “Different,” he repeats.
She gives him a measured look. “Is that good or bad?”
“Isn’t that a trick question?”
Suguru doesn’t know why his rebuttal question makes her laugh, but it does. She doesn’t seem upset, so he decides to take a gamble and be honest. “I’ll say that it’s good,” he starts slowly, watching in amusement as she continues eating from the bowl of fried rice she’d fixed for him, “but I don’t want you to think it means everything about the way you were before was bad.”
“Oh?” She takes a swig of her beer. “And how was I before?”
“Sad,” Suguru answers bluntly. “Heartbroken… insecure.”
The hand holding her bottle of beer pauses in midair, halfway to the counter. Instead of setting it down, she raises it back to her mouth, draining what’s left. “Congratulations on seeing something not many people have gotten to see,” she murmurs. “Me at my worst. How you can say that wasn’t bad is beyond me.”
“You’re still you, just different. More confident… and happier.” He picks up his neglected spoon. “You ate all my rice,” he laughs, pointing to the empty bowl in front of him.
She laughs with him. “I’m sorry. Here---” She leans over and kisses his cheek. “A kiss to make it up to you.”
He shrugs, trying to ignore the way an innocent kiss on the cheek makes him feel and hoisting himself off of the barstool to join her in the kitchen. He scoops more rice from the pan into his bowl, and she watches him. “You look good,” he tells her solemnly, his eyes still on the food. “Not just your body---”
“Oh, are you saying you’ve noticed my body?” She teases him, bumping her hip against his playfully. “In what way, if I may ask?”
Suguru actually short-circuits for a split second as his brain decides that it needs to conjure up specific images of the two of them in compromising positions. “What the fuck, Val… I’m trying to be decent here.”
His explosive words seem to catch her by surprise. “Wait… what?”
“I said, I’m trying to be decent here.”
He expects her to laugh, to brush off what he’s saying - and what it implies - as a joke.
She doesn’t.
“Since when have you worried about being decent?” She studies him, her head inclined to the side curiously. “You know one of the things I’ve always loved most about you is that you say what’s on your mind, no matter what it is.”
“I don’t think you want me to say what’s on my mind right now.”
She gazes at him levelly. “What makes you think I can’t guess what’s on your mind right now?” Before he can answer, she speaks again. “What makes you think what’s on your mind isn’t what’s also on my mind?”
He stands in the middle of the kitchen, a steaming bowl of food in one hand and his half-drunk beer in the other. There are a million and one thoughts racing through his mind, and somehow his brain pinpoints just one to voice. “What about… that guy?”
She takes a beat to digest his question and what it means. “He’s…” She trails off and looks briefly away from him. When she looks back, her mouth is twisted into a bitter smile. “Weren’t you there? You witnessed it firsthand - how it all blew up in my face. You saw it for yourself… I’m toxic.” She reaches out, plucking his IPA from his hand and polishing it off.
He tries - and fails - not to notice the way her lips fit around the mouth of the bottle, and the way her tongue darts out to taste the beer before she swallows it. “Toxic?”
Her mouth twists again. This time it’s not quite a smile. “Toxic.”
“Hm. Toxic isn’t the word I would use, but that’s a conversation for another time.” Suguru moves closer to her, until he’s backed her up against the kitchen counter and there’s no space left between their bodies. “What you are is a food and drink thief,” he asserts, his voice low and quiet. “Fixing me food and giving me beer just to take it back for yourself.”
“I told you,” she whispers. “It tastes better when I take it from you.”
His eyes are on her lips. “You realize I’m not that guy.” It isn’t a question. “He was a good guy. I’m not.”
“I know who you are, Suguru,” she laughs, a little breathlessly. “We’ve been roommates for three years now. I see how women look at you, before and after they’ve been with you.” She pauses, and her next words are pitched low and quiet. “And I know enough not to get attached. I’d be stupid to think I could ever fill that space.”
“So you’re not looking to?” I’d let you, if you wanted. He doesn’t voice the thought.
“Why would I? I’d never be able to compare anyway.” She swallows the words she really wants to say, looking away from him again with a shrug. “Besides, aren’t you scared I’m gonna poison you?”
Experimentally, he lowers his head and presses a kiss to her neck. He likes the sound she makes when he does that. “The new you seems like she wouldn’t give a fuck whether or not she poisoned me,” he chuckles into her skin. “Or anybody else, for that matter.” He raises his head so he can meet her eyes. “Am I right?”
“Maybe,” she assents, bottom lip caught in her teeth. She pauses, then: “I thought you were hungry.”
He casts a glance over his shoulder at his neglected bowl of fried rice. “I was.”
She reaches up, toying with the tie that his hair is gathered in. After a moment she tugs on it, letting his hair loose and recapturing his attention. “And now?”
He looks back at her. “The rice will be there. Right now, there’s something else I wanna do.”
“What a coincidence,” she laughs, raking her fingers through his newly-freed hair. “There’s something I’d like to do, too.”
Tag List: @strawberry1042 @darkfaerietails @jay220a @fattybattysblog @suguru-nugget @senseifupa @aleigant @gigiculona @rahuratna @tsukimefuku @whatshernameis
About Me | My Other Fics | AO3
End Note: This series will have an NSFW part 3. If you'd like to be tagged in it (or any of my other fics), feel free to let me know!
-Val 💙
#JJK#Jujutsu Kaisen#Geto Suguru#JJK Geto#Geto Suguru x OC#Black OC#tinywoodenrobot fics#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#jjk drabbles#writing challenge#writing prompt#jjk fluff#jjk angst#jjk x oc#jjk x black oc
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daryl dixon.: love goes through the fire
Pairings: daryl dixon x fem! reader married!
Summary: after being kidnapped and tortured by Negan, the reader does everything she can to make Daryl feel better.
Warnings: angst! sad! graphic description of Glenn and Abraham's death! mention of torture! only depression from here on!
WC.: 3,9k
Author @xsolaresx
Notes: English is not my first language, so there may be some grammatical errors.
(gif is not mine, https://br.pinterest.com/pin/690106342925382015/)
The noise still bothered me every night. Whenever my eyes closed, even for just a second, the sound of the bat repeatedly hitting Abraham's skull and then Glenn's tormented me.
One hit after another, and at the end Negan's diabolical laughter.
I could still feel Glenn's blood dripping down to my knees, I was so close to him that after it was over I was covered in his blood and the scraps of skin that flew off. No matter how many baths I forced myself to take, that sticky feeling of fresh blood never left my skin. And sometimes I still found a patch of my skin with a crimson tinge impregnated in it.
My dark circles told anyone who saw me that I hadn't slept for days. I kept reliving the moment like an endless loop in my head. I still remember how that day began, that week, that month, how the whole situation ended the way it did.
Hilltop had enemies, and Alexandria needed food. One thing led to another.
First the massacre at the outpost, then the kidnapping of Carol and Maggie. Everyone had questions about whether it was the right thing to do, whether killing so many people was worth it, whether it was worth seeing another sunrise under so much blood.
But Carol felt more, the deaths she had caused were beyond counting on her hands. We all kill to survive, but she was molded in this world, she wasn't raised with Rick's hero instinct, or the strength that the trauma and torture that Daryl suffered at the hands of his father and brother did to him. It was too much for her, she couldn't look us in the eye anymore, so she ran away from everything and everyone.
There was no concrete reason for so many deaths, they were evil, weren't they? They killed people, and they die at the hands of our people. We did what had to be done. We saved a community from the so-called Saviors, but it couldn't have been that easy, there were more of them, there always would be.
Daryl had to see it first hand. Denise died in front of him by her crossbow. It made him furious, we saved Dwight in the burning bush, helped him and his wife only for him to do something terrible in the end. Daryl had shown them a way, but they couldn't believe that was salvation.
He had to go back there, he had to finish what he didn't finish. He thought it was his fault that Tara no longer had a girlfriend. If only I could have stopped him before...
Everything happened so fast, Maggie got sick, we had to get her to Hilltop. I thought I'd meet Daryl at night, in our room, I'd arrive and he'd be waiting for me, he'd apologize for leaving unannounced, we'd talk and make things right, and then we'd sleep together and have a new day.
But that day never came.
They surrounded us on the road, left us with no way out and took us exactly where they wanted us. The frightening whistles were the prelude to something much worse to come. After that I only remember seeing Daryl shot and bleeding being dragged to the wheel, Abraham offering himself up and dying by the bat.
Little by little I saw the terror forming in Rick's eyes. In all the years I've been with him leading this group, this was the first time I'd seen the elder Grimes lost, with no way out and praying that this madman wouldn't take someone else from our family.
But Dixon got angry, he tried to get to Negan. And the next thing I knew, the bat with the barbed wire was next to my face. Daryl screamed so much, screamed, cried.
"It's all right, my love. I love you, it wasn't your fault” I could only look at him, knowing that he would be the last thing I saw before I left calmed me down.
Negan started smiling and swinging his baseball bat between the two of us. "What the fuck! Let's see what we've got here, guys."
“P-please... no-no”
“You'd better shut the fuck up, Rick! Or your dear son's next.” Negan shouted when Grimes tried to intervene, he knew that if I died Daryl would never be the same. "So you're a couple? Dwight's best friend has a wife? hohoho this just gets more interesting!"
“If you lay a finger on her I'll kill you, you bastard!” Daryl wasn't the type to take a beating quietly, even though he was losing blood and had a gun to his head he was going to try and fight back.
“Ah, but I'll remember that very well, dear Daryl... You know what... I'm tired of all this, why don't we just get it over with, huh?” The next thing I saw was blood gushing everywhere. One second I had Glenn, my best friend, the person who had saved me in so many ways by my side, and the next I had a lifeless body.
Daryl was taken away that night, as a guarantee that we would stay on the line. And only God knows what happened to him during those days.
I couldn't bear to see him so bruised and dirty the first time the Saviors came to Alexandria. That wasn't my Daryl anymore, he looked so fragile, wounded, defeated. He was no longer the survivor who could take it all.
“No! He's my servant now, you don't talk to him, you don't look at him, and I don't make you cut off any part of his body.” Negan shouted when Rick tried to talk to Dixon. “And that goes for everyone, even his wife, understand?” I couldn't walk away, I needed to hug Daryl, tell him that everything was going to be okay and that I was there, but I couldn't risk someone else in our family, so I just turned and walked to our house, mine and Daryl's, unable to hold back the tears any longer. The last thing I heard was Negan's shrill laughter. “That one knows how to take orders, Rick!”
A few days had passed since then, we hadn't heard from Daryl, Maggie was hiding in Hilltop, which was under threat from the Saviors. Rick went out every day in search of supplies for the Saviors, and I... couldn't leave the house. I couldn't leave the room, the bed where I could still smell Daryl.
Frantic knocks started at my door, and when I opened it, I saw Gabriel. "He's back, Y/N. He hasn't done anything yet, but he's back with Carl, they're at Rick's now and he's not back from his run with Aaron yet. I-I don't, we don't know what to do, Judith is there with them and..."
"Gabriel, breathe. It's okay.” I held the priest by the shoulders, trying to calm him down. Everyone was lost, scared. “Tell everyone to stay in their homes, they mustn't have come for anything else, so don't provoke them, okay?”
“But Judith... I... I promised Rick I'd look after her...”
“I'll go, okay?” I grabbed my sweater and left the house in the direction of Rick's. If Carl is back with Negan, it means that the boy went after him planning some revenge. He's so young, but he harbors so much anger, he's lost so much to this world.
“Hold it right there, cutie,” one of Negan's henchmen stopped me on the front steps of the house.
“I want to talk to him.”
“You can let her through, let's hear what the wife has to say” I stared at the man until he got out of my way. I was angry, the way he called me 'wife' only reminded me that every day Daryl was in prison, being tortured by him. “Hello, my dear, to what do I owe your presence in my humble abode?” Negan was sitting on the balcony with Judith on his lap asleep, Carl was next to him without the bandage on his eye with a sad and angry expression. I completely ignored the killer and turned to the boy.
“Are you all right, Carl?”
“Yeah. I'm fine, he didn't do anything,” he replied, lowering his head. I turned to Negan, who didn't look the least bit happy at being ignored.
“I want to see him.”
“You're going to have to be more specific, sweetheart.”
"I want to see my husband, see if he's alive. You can search me, I don't have any weapons after you took them all. Take me with you to him." A devilish smile appeared on his face.
“You know, I can see that you don't look so good after I took your man, but I don't know if I was very clear when I said that he's now my servant, maybe you won't like what you see, your husband isn't the most sociable.”
"I know he's not, but I've seen worse. I need to see him alive, it's okay if he's dirty."
"Ah girl, you're a tough nut to crack. But I understand, I can't go too many days without seeing my wives, Carl here has met some of them and he can tell you how hot they are! Tell you what, I'll talk to Rick, we'll settle up and if I'm still in a good mood you can come with me."
“Thanks”
“Oh how I like that word, thank you.” Then Spencer arrived, started his plan to take Rick out and ended up dying. Eugene was going to be taken away for making the bullet.
“You're gonna take me, right?” I shouted as Negan neared the gate, about to leave.
"Y/N... what? No." Rick tried to approach but I moved away, I needed to see Daryl.
“I almost forgot the wife, search her, you're coming with me in the truck”
I kept quiet the whole way, blindfolded, the truck had three seats, the driver was some kind of savior who kept quiet and Negan made me stay in the middle of them in case I decided to jump out during the journey.
“I told them to give your husband a bath, you know, to make him look more presentable, but no intimate visits, I don't want him to get too comfortable with all this” Negan said when we stopped in front of a room. “I also took him out of his cell, that's no place for a lady like you, my love”. When the door opened I saw Daryl in the corner of the room, a little cleaner, but cowering in the dark with an angry look on his face, but when he saw me he turned away from the wall in anguish. Dwight was in the other corner, standing guard. “I thought you guys would be more comfortable with an acquaintance on guard.”
“Not the best, but thanks,” I said between my teeth, looking at Dwight, who couldn't take his eyes off Daryl.
"What the fuck, baby! If you thank me one more time I won't be able to let you go, you've become my favorite." Then he left, closing the door. I ran over to Dixon, throwing myself into his arms, but he didn't return the hug, still focused on the other man in the room.
"No, no, please, look at me, darling. Don't focus on him, focus on me, please.” I ran my hands over his face and turned him towards me, tears starting to well up in my eyes when I saw the bandage on his shoulder where he had been shot. “I missed you so much, are you okay?”
“I don't think he's going to say much, he probably doesn't even remember how he does it, does he Daryl?”
"Shut the fuck up Dwight! If you don't I'll come over there and smash your face in” I turned to him who just laughed weakly and left the room.
“You have to get out of here, you can't stay, I can't protect you... them... them” his voice was broken, as if he hadn't spoken for days.
“Shiii, it's okay, I just came to see you, he's taking me back, we made a deal... What did they do to you, darling?”
“It was my fault”
"What? No, it wasn't, everything's fine at home, everyone's fine” He pulled my hand away from his face, moving away from me.
“It was my fault, Glenn, then Maggie, she died because of me”
“My goodness, no” I moved closer to him so that no one would hear. "Maggie's fine, the baby's fine, we did it so he wouldn't get suspicious. Everyone's fine” Daryl pulled me into a long-suffering kiss and began to cry, grabbing me in a hug, I sat on the floor with him still clinging to me. Dixon looked so broken, he wasn't the same strong guy who did everything for Rick. We stayed like that for a few hours, I ran my fingers through his hair to calm him down, he didn't sleep, he was on the lookout for any threat, but he closed his eyes, enjoying the affection. Until our bubble burst when someone opened the door. Daryl got up at a speed I didn't think he could manage, weakened like that, and promptly stood in front of me, protecting me from whoever came in.
"Visiting hours are over, honey. I hope you didn't take your clothes off after Dwight left." Negan entered the room with a smug smile, covering his eyes with his bat.
“I'm very well dressed, much to your displeasure,” I said, getting up and standing next to Daryl, who promptly grabbed my hand. "I have to get back, but nobody's forgotten you here, okay? We'll get you out of this, sweetheart."
“I wouldn't be so sure, but now Laura will take you back, and I hope your puppy behaves better after the visit.” Negan left and a blonde woman came in, waving us out.
I hugged Daryl one last time, kissing his forehead and left the room.
The days passed more melancholy and with preparations for the war against the Saviors approaching. Rick got help from the people at the Dump. We were on our way to Hilltop to talk to Maggie and get her support.
But when the gates opened, my vision blurred with tears... Daryl was there, a little shy, but waiting for us halfway.
I threw my backpack on the floor and ran as fast as I could to him, his arms already open waiting for me, and he kissed me with such urgency that I lost my breath. We stayed like that for a few minutes, crying and hugging, until Rick approached us in silence, his smile unmistakable.
I broke away from Dixon, making room for Rick and the others to hug him. Joyful laughter with tears coming out of me.
_______________________________
“We can't try anything without Hilltop's weapons, we have a lot of personnel, but it's still too little, and we're vulnerable that way.” Maggie said after we left Gregory's room, the asshole would rather spend his whole life under threat than fight back.
“She's right, but maybe I know someone who'd be interested in helping... they call themselves The Kingdom.” Jesus intervenes, from the corner of the room, where we're hugging, Daryl squeezes my hand with an air of hope and I can't help but smile at him with confidence too.
“Do you think they'd be allies in the war?” Rick asks, shifting in his seat. The situation isn't the best, I realize that now. I was so numb from missing Daryl that I didn't focus on protecting the community, and Rick had to handle it alone.
“They also suffer threats from the Saviors, but the community doesn't know about it, only the leader and people they trust.”
“He doesn't want to create panic or riots for no reason,” I say and everyone agrees. “So, what are we waiting for?” With a nod from Rick, everyone leaves the mansion and heads for their cars. The whole time Daryl didn't let go of my hand and I didn't make a point of complaining, he wasn't one to show much affection in the midst of so many people, but after everything that happened to him, I understand.
The Kingdom was very large, with many warriors training and many families, protected and happy. I squeeze Dixon's hand tighter when I see a couple with a newborn baby surrounded by elderly women. He stares at the couple and lowers his head.
When we enter the auditorium, the first thing that catches our eye is the huge tigress sitting next to a guy on a kind of throne. Rick shies away from approaching her, but they talk normally. Until Morgan appears, and Daryl asks me quietly where Carol is. “It's a delicate subject, but if Morgan's here she must be all right, you know she's tough.” He nods, even though his curiosity isn't quenched, he knows it's not time.
The King didn't accept our proposal, but gave Daryl the freedom to take refuge in the Kingdom for as long as he needed.
“We need to go Y/N, they can go into Alexandria after Daryl.” Rick appeared next to us as I was saying goodbye to Dixon, I nodded and he walked away.
“It's temporary, when this is over you're not leaving my side anymore, okay?” I held Daryl's cheeks and he bowed his head sadly.
“I want to go with you, I want to help put an end to this”
"You'll help, my love. Staying here, safe. Maybe you can convince the King, we need him."
“You know I'm not that diplomatic”
“Let's look at this situation as an opportunity, what do you think?” I smile to break the mood, Daryl gives a sad smile. “I'll never leave you, my love” I say more seriously so that he feels the truth, these days away from him were the worst and I don't want it to happen again.
_______________________________
“Look, look, look, Rick Grimes has come to greet me on my doorstep!” Negan and his henchmen arrived shortly after we got back from the Kingdom, someone up there is surely on our side. "I love seeing your abandoned dog face, Rick, but today my business is with your little friend's wife. Why don't you bring her to me?"
Rick nods begrudgingly, turns and starts walking towards the main house where we were all gathered, waiting for some sign of Grimes.
“He wants to talk to you.” Rick approaches and says quietly. “Be careful, he's unpredictable.”
"That's all right, Rick. I'll put him in his place, I've had enough of this.” I walk away quickly, anger overflowing just knowing that because of him my Daryl is shaken.
“Y/N, no, wait.” Rick tries to stop me, but it's too late, I'm striding hard towards Negan.
“I hear you want to talk to me.” That maniac's smile only gets wider when he sees me.
"Oh, hello, darling. How are you? Miss your husband?"
“You've got to be kidding... of course I miss him, if you don't remember you took him away from me and I'm very possessive of what's mine,” I say through my teeth. If he thinks I'm going to be compassionate and keep my mouth shut, he's mistaken.
"Wow, that's what I like about you, darling. You're tough as nails,” he says with a mischievous laugh. "The problem is that your husband was very moved by your visit, you know? And he must have thought it was a loophole for an escape."
“Wait, what?” I say exasperated, I've always loved acting. “You mean you've lost my husband?”
“I thought you could help me find him.”
“You're unbelievable...” I whisper indignantly. “If you think he's here you can look, have your goons search every house, every manhole or cupboard in this place.”
“You're always a refreshment to me, darling, you always know what I want.” I roll my eyes as he sends his men to search Alexandria.
As expected, they find nothing and leave, promising to return next week to collect supplies.
“I have to go, Rick,” I warn Grimes. To avoid the risk of them following me, I waited a few hours after they left, and night came. I need to see Daryl, he won't stay another night thinking we've abandoned him. He gets up from the rocking chair on the porch of his house with Judith on his lap and approaches.
“Okay, but be careful, make sure no one's following you.” Rick hugs me in his fatherly way. We were always close like brothers, after I lost everything Rick was there as a leader for everyone. “And send him a hug, tell him we miss him.”
“I will.” I say goodbye to him and kiss the head of a sleepy Judith, who gives me a smile. I grab a car and head out through the cellars of Alexandria, towards the Kingdom, towards Daryl.
_______________________________
“She's magnificent” Daryl was standing next to Shiva's cage when I arrived at the Kingdom. Quiet and shrunken, just stroking the snout of the tigress who melted at his touch.
“She is.” he confirms with a frown. I moved closer until I could see tears forming in his eyes. I quickly bent down, sat next to him and hugged him tightly, which he reciprocated.
"It's all right now, my love. I'm here, you're not going to stay away from me any longer.” I tried to calm his crying, which was only getting more intense. I've never seen Daryl so broken, he seemed to be accumulating all the suffering, the pain, waiting to fall apart on me. He would never do that to anyone else.
“I got scared.” Daryl says after he calms down. “I was afraid of losing you too, losing our family.”
“You're not going to lose me, ever.”
“But what if it does?” Daryl lifts his head with a more serious look. "When they tortured me, all I could think about was you, that you'd be alone out here, unprotected. They could do anything to you to make me accept the fact that I was nothing in that place. And I felt like nothing."
“No, no, no.” I pull Daryl's face so that he pays close attention to me. “You're not going to lose me, you know why? Because your wife is strong, she'll go through hell to pull you out of the fire and when I can't do it anymore I'll have our whole family helping me, because I love you, Daryl, we love you. That's what love does, it turns us into fighters, people who would do anything for the one they love. I love you, Daryl.” Tears flowed non-stop from my eyes and Daryl's.
“I love you, Y/N” His lips met mine fervently, it was a needy kiss, as if he had been thirsty for days and I was his oasis in the desert. I gave myself completely to him, wanting more and more all the time.
We were too wrapped up in our bubble, completely forgetting that Shiva was still in the cage next door, and an imposing roar from her broke us out of this bubble of lust.
“I don't think she likes not being the center of attention,” we laughed when we noticed the tigress's angry face at being left out.
“She'll have to accept it, because now my only attention is on my wife.”
#daryldixon#daryl#dixon#thewalkingdead#twd#rickgrimes#michonne#the ones who lives#amc#tv shows#daryl dixon x reader#fanfic
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((@leticiachaos on twitter))
Time for Q!Tallulah headcannons!!
Fair warning: this post has mentions of depression, abandonment issues, trust issues, poor living conditions; all of the mentions of Wilbur are ONLY mentions to his character not the real person.
• Due to her abandonment and trust issues, Tallulah created a tough and cold exterior not opening herself to anything new, but, if you manage to break the shell, she's sweet, caring, loyal, nice, creative, the loveliest egg possible
• She likes Richas, but has jealousy, after all he came AFTER her and still has most of the island around him and ADOPTING HIM??? While SHE had to ground herself to an empty promise of a returning loving father and feeling alone most of the time "without" a "real" family to comfort her.
• Due to her time in the attic Tallulah developed anemia due to not having for a long time the necessary nutrients and surviving off of dirt.
• She hates the smell of moss, dirt and related things despite loving botany due to her time in the attic
Black: depression, extreme anger, sorrow or loneliness, it's her way of expressing she's REALLY not feeling okay
• When she finally accepted Wilbur would never come back or be the father she wished and dreamt of, she cut her hair that was long since "hair holds memories", painted her hair black since Missa is Philza's partner and is more of a father to her than Wilbur could ever be and she was tired of holding herself to a small memory instead of accepting change and happiness
• Can't really vent not because her family wouldn't listen, but because of her trust issues and before having to be the "cute innocent girl who's there for everyone" she didn't have the space to vent and put her emotions first
• She was tired of her original red beanie matching Wilbur, it was too dirty and old, deciding to pick a purple one who matched her and a few mushroom hats to express her emotions
• Each color of mushroom represent an emotion (in canon I think she only had black and purple, but I expanded it considering there's a lot more patterns and colors of mushrooms, especially in a sort of magic island)
purple: neutral, calm, it's the regular she wears all the time
Pink: love, happiness, she's feeling creative or excited over something, possibly wanting or doing stims
Blue: shows more of "little" sadness, not strong enough to be depression or despair, but just enough to show it, also can mean fear.
Red: anger, hate.
• Due to her autism, she carries a pair of headphones ALL the time as well as stim toys, comfort objects or plushies, a sketchbook she writes and draws what she's feeling to better communicate it.
• She can play maracas, flute, piano, guitar (acoustic), kalimba.
• Big fan of musicals and history, in late nights she likes to listen to Philza's stories of the old times and Chay loves his battle stories, so they share this cozy moment
• In the beginning she could only see ghosts, but with time she could see the deities. She can see and feel their emotions but can't talk with them much, she mainly can see Mumza and Rose, Rose in the sanctuary where her power is centered and stronger, Mumza all around her dad (Phil >:) ) and every time she's with the crows.
• Knows flower language to write better letters to everyone, adding a deeper meaning, sometimes saying secret stuff through the flowers and as an extra giving pretty flowers
• Tallulah sometimes paints her nails with Phil and Chayanne, every week with a different design
• When Missa is home back from his journeys, Tallulah sees how exhausted her dad is, so she speaks in spanish (their native languages) and makes him some food or brings fruit
• Before she officially forgot Wilbur whenever she would come with other residents and her siblings, Tallulah sometimes felt weak, abandoned, left behind, after all, ALL the others had their parents, had close connections, she hated it but couldn't help but feel jealous, in these situations Phil and Chayanne always reassured her the best they could that they would never leave her and that she wouldn't go back to the attic.
• Makes bracelets for her close family, always wearing one with PxTxC on her left hand (Philza, Chayanne and Tallulah), in the right one she has a TxCxR (Tallulah, Richas, Chayanne) or it could be TxCxP (Tallulah, Chayanne, Pomme) after all she doesn't hate Richas, she hates that he's immature and acts "entitled" and dramatic over his issues, but still tries her best to be a good sister to him, also loves pomme a lot!! Considering Pomme her bestie
Reminder: Tallulah is just a child in rp, children don't know how to control their emotions and in situations of abandonment, neglect and lack of a trusting bond with a caretaker, children can struggle even more with emotions, care, jealousy, trust, self-esteem etc, so don't call Tallulah "selfish" or "spoiled" she has every right to be that way after what she's been through
• Due to her depression,sometimes Tallulah can't take care of herself, spending days or weeks in bed or just not feeling like going out, or when she does she doesn't show much interest, in these cases Phil and Chayanne always cooked some nice food and drinks, went to the nests, and chatted and comforted her
• She became a great fighter after the events of pre-purgatory and purgatory, she NEEDED a tough exterior since she was without Chayanne, and that time worsened her depression severely
#qsmp headcanons#qsmp tallulah#qsmp chayanne#qsmp philza#silly#headcannons#tallulah the egg#death family#Spotify
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True love of mine part 7
An Eddie Munson story
Stranger Things AU (no Upside-Down)
warnings: female reader, angst, mentioning of drug use and death by OD. Flexible timeline.
Chapter 6.
Now
Y/N
You felt like you were slowly losing your mind. It had been a week since Eddie’s song was released, a week since your hope grew into a burning flame from the ashes.
But nothing more had happened.
The next day you actually followed him on Instagram, just so that he would know you were on social media, a way to make contact.
Nothing.
You were hurt once again, wondering if this had been some kind of game of his, to lure you back into his net only to dump you before anything had even happened! Did he tell his fellow musicians about you? About the pathetic girl that couldn’t get over her high school boyfriend?!
You were so depressed that when Friday came rolling around you had bought yourself a whole container of Ben & Jerry’s and a bottle of wine, decided to put on your comfiest pajamas and feel sorry for yourself the whole night.
That didn’t happen though, because someone knocked on your door before you even had put the ice cream in the freezer.
You walked over to the door and opened it. On the other side stood Wayne, Eddie’s uncle.
Your jaw dropped and in the next instant you were hugging the old man. “Wayne!” you exclaimed, tears rising in your eyes. He had been as much a part of your life back then as Eddie had and you had always liked him.
The smell of motor oil, cigarettes and coffee instantly soothed your nerves, bringing the nostalgic memories of stepping into Wayne’s trailer back then. Wayne himself hadn’t changed much and that was a comfort.
“Hey, kiddo,” he told you as he let you go. “Is this a bad time? Can I come in?”
“Of course not, come in!” You beamed, stepping aside for him.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you still lived in Hawkins, you poor man.”
Wayne laughed. “I do, although nowadays I live in a house, not a trailer.”
“Aw,” you couldn’t help but say. “I loved your trailer.”
“Yes, there were some good times there. But I’m not getting any younger and the luxury of having enough hot water and a boiler that won’t give out when it’s freezing outside… makes it easier on these old joints.”
You felt a little sad. You didn’t want Wayne to get old. Somehow it had seemed like he never aged, but of course he was human, just like everyone else.
“That’s nice,” you told him, giving him a beer as you sat down in the living room. “Did you get a good check from the plant when you retired for all that overtime you’ve given them?”
Wayne shook his head. “No. Actually Eddie bought it for me, after he released his second album. I told him he didn’t have to, of course, but he said that I had taken care of him for far longer than I needed to, now it was his turn to take care of me.”
You looked down in your lap, feeling tears burn behind your eyelids. That sounded like the Eddie you knew. Then you frowned and your head shut up.
“Wait… so you were in contact with Eddie back then? On that note he left us it said not to look for him! When did he get back into contact with you?! And why didn’t he…”
Your voice sounded broken, your tone cracked with tears.
What the hell was this?! Had everyone suddenly gotten into contact with Eddie but no one had told you? And why didn’t he get into contact with you!? He wrote a song to say he still loved you after all these years but somehow you were the last one he contacted.
Wayne noticed your facial expression and your tears and leaned forward and placed a hand over your own.
“I understand that you’re angry and feel betrayed, Y/N. But that’s why I’m here. I’m going to explain what happened and why things are the way they are now. The correct thing would be to let Eddie tell you himself, but I know my boy… that might take another two years of misery for both of you so… I’ll do it instead.”
Wayne leaned backwards on the couch and took another sip of the beer. “As you probably remember – Eddie sold drugs back in high school. He did it to help me pay the bills. I’m not proud about that, I wanted to provide for him, but even living in that trailer money was scarce, so… I looked another way.”
You nodded; you had done the same. Well, you and Eddie even shared a joint or two back in the days, seeing nothing wrong with it.
“He rarely sold anything heavier than weed – the occasional prescription pills and sometimes Ketamine,” Wayne continued. “Neither him or I thought that would be bad enough for something to happen. But it did. You remember Chrissy Cunningham?”
You searched your memory before nodding. Of course you did. She was one year younger than you, two years younger than Eddie and had been head cheerleader the time you graduated from Hawkins High.
You had been away at college when it happened – Eddie was repeating his senior year for the third time – but you still remembered it. Chrissy had somehow died from a heart failure. The details were kept under wraps but from what you’d heart Chrissy’s heart had stopped one night and she had died.
“Chrissy didn’t die from heart failure, Y/N,” Wayne said heavily. “She died from an overdose. She came to Eddie some months before graduation and wanted to buy Adderall from him. She said that it was so she could study for several tests at the same time, that she was under so much pressure from her mom to make straight A’s.”
Your eyes widened. “She… she died because…?”
Wayne nodded. “Eddie told her to follow the recommended dosage but it seems she doubled them. Eventually her heart couldn’t take it anymore and it gave out. The Cunninghams didn’t want ‘overdose’ as cause on the death certificate so they bribed the coroner to put 'heart aneurysm' as cause of death.
Anyway… somehow after this that Carver boy found out. He threatened to kill Eddie, and with even worse things I won’t repeat to you. But basically, Jason told Eddie that killing Eddie himself would be too easy. He would make sure, through his dad and his contacts, that I got fired from my job and wouldn’t be able to find a new one. That the Hellfire Club would be tossed out of high school and their parents in turn would be fired too.
That you…”
Wayne swallowed. “That you would be gang raped and beaten to a pulp on your campus ground, that compared to you Chrissy’s death would appear a walk in the park.”
“Eddie was desperate. He had already decided to go to the police and confess what he had done, but I’m guessing Jason didn’t know, because when Eddie asked him if turned himself in… would he then leave his family and friends – and most importantly; you alone? They had nothing to do with this.
Jason said yes. That’s why Eddie left. He went to Hopper first and Hopper contacted the state police since they are the ones taking care of bigger crimes. Eddie was sent to Indiana State Prison and got charged for involuntarily manslaughter and drug dealing.
Since he was so young and had no earlier priors he was sentenced to a year and a half but only served ten months due to good behavior and overcrowding. He may have served his punishment but he has never been able to leave it behind himself. That’s why he stopped with every illegal drug, weed included, after he got out. Rarely drinks himself drunk either.”
You nodded, trying to digest everything you had heard. Poor Chrissy. And poor Eddie! Dear God, he must have felt so… lost and scared. Even though he hadn’t killed Chrissy himself he must have felt so guilty. No wonder he ran away. Even without that fuckwad Jason, how could Eddie just pick up his regular life like nothing had happened after something like that.
“So Hopper knew?” you asked, feeling a bit of anger toward the old chief. “He knew where Eddie was and never told us. Never told you!”
Wayne shook his head. “Eddie had told him not to. Eddie was over eighteen, if you remember, and Chrissy’s parents wanted to keep it quiet. Hopper didn’t have much say in the matter.”
Maybe. But the fact that he had known all along what had happened, where Eddie was when the rest of you wondered if he was lying dead in a ditch… it still made you grit your teeth, but you let it be for now. You had more pressing questions.
“What about Jason?” you carefully wondered. “Has he backed off now?”
Wayne snorted. “That little shit. No, he doesn’t hold the same power over Eddie now. Jason is a bitter man that never grew out of his high school persona. Only difference is that he can no longer hide behind his parent’s wealth and power. He’s on his own.
No… the biggest reason why Eddie hasn’t gotten into contact with you, even though he finally bit down and told me everything, is… that he’s scared of what you will do, what you will think of him. But he has never stopped loving you. Jesus, I don’t even think he’s had a steady girlfriend ever during these fifteen years. An interviewer actually asked him if he was gay, since he’s never seen with any women.
And he’s has that tattoo you two got. I see you do too,” he told you, nodding toward the tattoo on your arm, making you rub your thumb over it.
“More than once I’ve told him to get into contact and just tell you – let you decide what you want to do with that information rather than make the choice for the both of you. That’s why I’m here now. Just giving the whole thing a little push.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the old man. He was a sly fox in many ways.
“Here,” he told you and held something out for you. It was a ticket to a new one night only concert for the new song Eddie had released. In your town!”
“Silly boy thought that if he came here and held a concert somehow you would find out and go there. Well, I’m making sure that happens,” Wayne said and you had to chuckle again.
“Go there, Y/N. Talk to him. Tell him you know and… well, what happens after this is up to you to. I’m just putting the wheels in motion.”
You nodded and walked over to him and hugged him again.
“Some things makes more sense now, uncle Wayne,” you said, without noticing you had once again called him ‘uncle’, “and it’s easier to understand. Thank you again.”
“Of course, kiddo.”
Then
Hawkins, 1982
Eddie
Eddie and Y/N sat in his room, Y/N was reading a book by Stephen King with her feet in Eddie’s lap and Eddie was making notes for the next campaign. He was looking through one of the Dungeons & Dragons game books and raised his eyebrows:
“Wow, that’s a great design!”
“Hmm?” Y/N said and put her book down. “What is?”
Eddie showed her the image of the wyvern and Y/N’s question of “that’s not a regular dragon, right? It’s something different about it,” made him love her even more.
“God, I love you,” he said out loud and kissed her temple. “Yes, that’s not a dragon, it’s a wyvern. Wyvern has two legs, not four, and they usually have a stinger at the tail, like a scorpion.”
“Cool,” Y/N said, smiling at him. “Why? Are you thinking of adding that to your tattoo collection?” Despite the fact that Eddie hadn’t turned eighteen yet he already had two tattoos – the flock of bats on his arm – in honor of Ozzy Osbourne and a demon head on his chest.
“I thought you liked dragons more, though,” Y/N continued, taking the book from him to see if she could find a picture of a dragon to compare.
“I do like dragons, kitten,” Eddie told her, using his special nickname for her. “But everyone likes dragons. It’s the ultimate animal. Powerful, beautiful and famous… the safe choice for a tattoo. Barely anyone chooses a wyvern for a tattoo. Or even knows they exist for that matter.”
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes held that special expression she got when something pleased her to the core of her heart. “Always looking out for the less fortunate ones, huh, Eds?” she said, leaning over to kiss him hard on the lips, the books falling to the floor.
Eddie held her face and rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone.
“You know what… I do plan on getting this as a tattoo soon, but my next one… I want to do something for you!”
Y/N’s looked up so fast her eyes almost rolled. “What?”
“Yes! I… I want to get a tattoo for you.”
“What – like… my name?”
“You don’t want me to?” Eddie wondered, pouting a little.
Y/N smiled. “No names, Eddie. That feels like bad luck.”
“Are you superstitious?” Eddie teased her and Y/N swatted his arm.
“Perhaps a little bit? I just don’t think you should push your luck. So no names – it needs to blend in with the rest of your tattoos as well, so… how about… how about we make roman numerals for the day we met?”
Eddie’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his fringe.
“We? You… you want to do it with me? A… a matching one? A couples tattoo!?”
Y/N blushed. “Yes. If you want me to?”
Eddie brought her up into his lap and got up, spinning around with her, all but yelling from joy. He already knew he would never love anyone else like Y/N. That he would marry her someday. And this… this was the first step towards that.
When you knew, you knew.
taglist: @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @mewchiili @melodymunson @ches-86 @jenniquinn @eddiemunsonfuxks @stolen-in-moonlight @alastorssimp @pandemoniusstuff
(let me know if you want to be on the taglist!)
please, like, comment and reblog!
Your likes are wonderful but reblogs expand my reading circle.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#older!eddie munson#eddie munson angst#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things au#joseph quinn#v's writing#true love of mine
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Istg if RY pulls any shit like she did in iron flame when she had violet hallucinate Liam, I will be jumping off the science building at school.
#unless he comes back for real#I only want mentions and little sad things#nothing that will make me bawl silently like I did last time#onyx storm#fourth wing#iron flame#liam mairi#violet sorrengail#xaden riorson#the empyrean
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I love all the little details in In Stars and Time so much
(Just as a note, I am currently in (the beginning? of) act 3)
The way that after a few loops the excited "It's my allies!" turns into a less enthusiastic "It's my allies." (And I think it used to be "it's my friends!" but I'm not entirely sure)
The first time Siffrin knocks into the counter and gets embarrassed, and then another (the next?) time it's frustrated, and then playful, and then frustrated again but this time refusing to show it.
The little remarks that become "..." in later loops
I'm pretty sure the descriptions of the deaths got a little more graphic? I think when he slipped on the banana peel it said that he tripped or that he fell. In a later loop it said something about cracking their head open on a rock or something.
Their wish for victory became a wish for rest
It's just so interesting to me. For some reason, this game almost makes me feel like I'm reading a book. But also not really? I think it's because of how the details are laid out. My favorite stories to read have almost always been the ones that I can pick apart, and this game is very much like that.
#isat spoilers#in stars and time spoilers#maybe? they're pretty small spoilers compared to the one I ran into#just in case#I love this game soooooooo much#I see siffrin and get immediate cute aggression#amd they're so sad :(#I want his friends to notice that something is off#I've seen little moments of it but nothing big yet#and there are some odd things going on that intrigue me#bonnie said the weird sadness (which looks a little like loop) smells like burnt sugar#the king mentioned something about siffrins smell#does he smell like burnt sugar too?#the weird sadnesses are connected to time in some way since defeating them lets you get rid of time stopping tears#also I'm pretty sure king is the croissant dude#and that he and siffrin are from the island everyone forgot#maybe it's that place on the globe that's been worn down?#the fact that siffrins carvings only come out well when they chant things like “please be good please be good please be good” is interestin#and their wishes for being faster/stronger/whatever the other one was called always comes true#despite mirabelle saying that the change god rarely blesses anyone#oh! there was that weird double siffrin down the hall that disappeared when I got closer#and at one point siffrin became so stressed that time rewound without him dying or being frozen#and it always hurts his stomach when he loops back#I'm just waiting for the group to get suspicous/concerned#and for siffrin to have another breakdown#this gaaaaaaaaame#I love it so much
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everyday there's somethin goin on. like the day. or somethin like that
#just me hi#[squinting] there's always something going on#but also ?? what's been happening lol ?? i am only like 34% sure things happened recently#not like i forgot things (i did but-) it feels like nothin is happening. but also there's always Something hbsh#//anyway. my software is being funky again lol :)#kind of wanna do stuff but blaaahahahah#blaaaaaaaah#no motivation really. so sads#GASP but wait i wanted to work on Hid's natural form cuz i want it to be a lil less human-looking#trying to figure how i'll do that though. hmm :^#cuz see he may have wings but he didn't originally. this is due to Fate stuff but that means he won't have bird legs or summin lol#/MAN and i should digitize Fate asap when my puter gets back lol#i think i've mentioned her like twice but Ough. i gotta draw her ehehegh :33#/but yea i dunno what angle i wanna try for hid lol !!#something........ sooooomething.......#/cannot WAIT til i've finished the little world stuff i was writing !! boop has all my files tho so until then...#condensing information is my passion hdvhs#//speaking of i gotta make new refs for everyone HH#i just made those new ones last year i think and i Do still like them but aoh. they're inaccurate now hfvsh#like oath's hair changed as did kira's and also i'm redesigning hid So :^ :>>#//man. anywhoogh#i'm gonna skedaddle rn n see if i can get somethin done lol :3#toodles man !! [skitters away]
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haven't been sad like this in a long time
#doll#did i get lovebombed again#it's been ages since he last even tried that w/ me...#but. the more i think abt it the more it makes sense.#the others were suspicious from the start but we couldn't figure out what the ulterior motive could possibly be#cause it was so out of character for him. suddenly wantin to make us more official when he'll usually avoid any trace of actual commitment#i guess he knows i dream about a more....traditional relationship. exclusive for both instead of just one way.#white picket fence etc#so it was easy to spin it into that when rly he just wanted to stake his claim in a more visible way#(not a proposal just a promise ring type of thing on a necklace so i thought it was him tryin to compromise)#so now i just feel stupid cause i bought into all the stuff he said. bout the way he wants this to be forever.#when it rly was just another way to mark me.#i'd be fine w/ it if he just said that's what he wants! he knows i don't mind wearin his name or w/e even though i don't rly get it#but tryin to mask it as smth else that he knows i want but would never ask for cause he doesn't do that stuff#it's not ok#everything he does we deal w/ as it comes but. not the fucking mind games again. he can't/doesn't wanna force me to do things (anymore)#so now he's tryin to trick me into em instead?#i don't feel like i can trust anything he's said now#n if i try to have an actual adult conversation about it he's just gonna talk circles around me til i'm dizzy again#i was rly startin to trust him. i don't understand. what happened?#did i do something? have i been so flaky he feels he needs to do this stuff to keep me in check?#he just told me that he's happy if i even just drop by for a little while but. i'm not sure i believe that now either.#i mean i shoulda realized cause it'd only affect me anyway. i don't think he even mentioned wearing one himself.#i've been so happy ring shopping for days n now i just feel sick. messing w/ consent is a whole Thing for him so#chances are he wanted to keep me content w/ an empty show of commitment while he gets off on what it really means#i shoulda known it was too sudden n came out too easy for him. he never talks about feelings stuff so easily it's always a struggle#i think it's all bc he's afraid of losin me but....i rly thought we were past this stuff. i rly thought i could trust him now.#i'm just rly rly upset n sad n disappointed#spdrvent
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Alternatives to Squishmallow
So as many of you have probably already heard, Jazwares, the company that produces Squishmallows, is donating to charities that support Israeli soldiers and the IDF. They’re also supporting Canary Mission, which has been doxxing people who speak out against Israel. BDS hasn’t called for a boycott against them, but I can’t in good faith spend my money on their products, and I would strongly encourage everyone who enjoys plushies to really think long and hard about if you want to give your money to a company that’s helping support genocide!
But the holidays are coming up, and lots of us enjoy plushies and were fans of Squishmallow, and were planning to give Squishmallows to friends and family this year.
Fortunately, there are a number of great plushie companies out there, and I want to promote some of my favorites in the hopes that folks will get their plushie fix from a source that doesn’t side with Israel. So without further ado:
Fluffnest
Fluffnest got their start on Kickstarter a few years ago, and I adore the round shapes of their PuffPal plushies! My favorite is Pete the Possum, which is probably the best possum plush I’ve ever seen. I’ve also got a beautiful moth from their Kickstarter and I’ve been wanting their bats for ages. They also recently had a Kickstarter for an Animal Crossing-esque video game featuring their plushie characters and it looks fantastic.
Squishables
I can’t get over the plague doctor plushies. They’re so perfect and cute, and they’ve released other variations of them called Alter Egos, like a ghostly version, an alien, or a really sweet cottagecore one! They’ve got a ton of variety, but what I like the most are the fantasy plushies. There’s a lich! There are dragons and demons! Cryptids! Biblically accurate angels! A lot of really fun stuff!
Also they do a lot of great charity work! Right now they’re doing an auction for the Food Bank of New York City.
AfternoonFika
AfternoonFika is a very small business of only three people, but their plushies are extremely cute. They tend to sell out fast, so I recommend following them on social media to stay on top of any restocks! They recently released a line of dinosaurs that are precious, and of course I love their iconic cactus cat and cinnamon bun bunny.
Jellycat
Jellycat has been around since 1999, so they’re the oldest of these companies. They’ve got great designs, a ton of variety, and a lot of their plushies are made to be cuddled on and not just displayed. All three of my tiny nephews sleep with a different stuffed dog from Jellycat. My mom has a sun and several succulents that she uses as decorations. There’s a little something for everyone who enjoys plushies!
If you have any other favorite companies I haven’t mentioned, feel free to add on! I’ve enjoyed Squishmallows for a while now and I’m sad to see their leadership coming out on the side that’s committing war crimes on a daily basis, but this is a good time to discover new favorite plushie companies! And remember, money speaks loudly. Even if BDS hasn’t called for a boycott of Jazwares, it sends a message when sales start dropping for companies that support genocide. It’s a small thing, but the little things we do can add up!
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