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tteokdoroki · 1 year

Note

nagi has beef with any of your pets cuz why do they get to lay around all day but he doesn’t :(

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— feline foe + seishiro nagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — strangers to enemies except it’s nagi and your pet cat.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, semi-smutty, mentions of sex, suggestive towards the end, dry humping, owning a cat lol, the cat walks in on you, established relationship, pro player!nagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2K.

⭑ notes — thank u lambie for sending me this ! i thought it was too cute an idea not to write! also i queued this to post on nagi’s bday so happy bday to my bf <3!! enjoy! - m.list ✩

it might sound vain, but nagi was sure that before it arrived, he was the centre of your universe.

he had all of your attention, always. you went out of your way to bring him lunches at the stadium during practices and helped him drink water or energy drinks on the pitch at his games because you liked to believe that it would bring him good luck and he let you. his teammates heave with jealousy each and every time.

when your days were done, you’d let nagi settle his head in your lap while you brush back his hair and scratch at his scalp — letting him game to his heart's content in your company. nagi might have been pampered too and much to the point where he expected to have all of your attention… so he doesn’t quite understand why all of it shifts to a brand new presence in your lives.

your cat.

miruku. milk.

it’s a ridiculous name for an animal, nagi thinks, it’s a pest. annoying. but he couldn’t say no to you when you’d brought the stray cream-coloured kitty home, soaked in rain from where you’d chased it around his apartment complex trying to bring it inside. if he said no to you, that would’ve been another issue in itself — and nagi hated when you fought. it was bothersome having you play silent treatment.

so you keep it, the kitten, and everything changes for seishiro nagi. for the worst.

miruku can do everything nagi isn’t allowed to nd gets away with it as well. he raids the fridge if you leave it open, doesn’t have to pay to replenish it because of course cats don’t have income. he wakes you up at ungodly hours for playtime which usually consists of you sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking around a ball of yarn for the kitty to play with. it’s irritating for nagi, having your warmth stolen away from him and pulling him out of the depths of slumber by your lack of presence— all because the stupid cat wants to play ball and you just can’t seem to say no to it.

the feline that’s suspiciously close to looking like your boyfriend if he were to be an animal is also allowed to sleep in. miruku naps where he pleases, in the linen closet, the corner of the kitchen where the water pipes run hot, on top of the drier and especially by the front door where he trips up nagi on the way in from practices. it’s like the cat is purposely trying to make the pro-player’s life even more difficult than it’s meant to be and you find it’s every single movement adorable.

the worst place miruku could possibly nap is seishiro’s favourite spot— on your chest. nuzzled against your boobs on a warm sunday afternoon where your boyfriend should be, where your boyfriend should be making you giggle by sucking hickies into your neck while he thumbs at the skin underneath your breasts. he should be suckling on the sweet expanse of your skin lazily, working you up just enough to offer yourself up to appease seishiro’s insatiable appetite.

and its so sick that he can’t because of your pampered little pet. you’d just brush him off and tell him ‘you’ll get your turn later, sei,’ which makes nagi hate that stupid fucking cat even more than anything.

you don’t ever let seishiro sleep in these days, ripping the blankets from his tall frame every morning with a slice of toast hanging from between your pretty lips as you say. “get up sei, wake up for me, baby.” you coo sweetly, briefly letting go of your breakfast to kiss his forehead before you rush out of the door. “i won’t be happy if isagi or reo have to wake you up for practice. ‘kay?”

“mmm…lil’ longer. please angel.” he groans but you weave your fingers through his snow white locks to scratch at his scalp before you tug on them slightly.

“up. seishiro nagi. i’ll see you later!” the tone you use is warning, and prompts nagi to shift int he sheets to get out of bed.

he huffs, stretching his limbs a little too similarly to your kitty companion before the realisation hits— miruku is laying in your spot, comfy and cosy. sleeping. and it only pisses him off more. that should be him.

“you’re a pain.” seishiro narrows his eyes at the snoozing feline, scratching it under the chin and the twitch of miruku’s ears tells him that he’s been acknowledged as a rival.

so be it.

“how come this cat gets away with everythin’ ‘nd i don’t?”

nagi whines into your neck, watching with darkened and narrowed eyes as his feline opponent hops up onto the couch to join you both in your late night cuddle session. miruku makes his presence known, pushing his head under your chin affectionately and clawing at the fluffy blanket draped over you and your boyfriend. you obviously find it adorable, your hands slipping from seishiro’s soft white hair to tickle just behind your pet’s ear— completely discarding the man tucked into your side.

“what are you talking about, sei?” you mumble absentmindedly — missing the way the striker squirms in his seat and squeezes you close by the waist, as if to pull you away from the offending kitty.

seishiro grumbles out a response. “he gets to sleep in, but when i do it, it’s a bother. same for when he gets in the fridge too, and when i nap on top of you—“

“stop complaining about him, sei. miruku is just a baby!” you scold your boyfriend, hugging your kitten to your chest, cooing down at him as if he really is a baby. nagi seethes from beside you, that should be him in your arms and not some cat-like freeloader from the streets. miruku blinks up at the white-haired pro player slowly, his mouth opening in a petty meow that almost makes nagi hiss back in response.

“i’m supposed to be your baby.”

“and you are! but you’re just a little more self-sufficient than my precious lil’ kitty— he needs me to take care of him.”

“why don’t you just take care of me? cats are s’pposed to be independent,” seishiro nuzzles into your neck, his lips still pouty against your skin and you’d be a liar to say you weren’t overwhelmed with affection for your two boys. “‘n looking after the two of us must be a drag…”

rolling your eyes, you turn your head to capture nagi in a surprise chaste kiss just to sate him— brushing your lips over his delicately. “i do take care of you, seishiro. some might say you’re a little spoilt with how much i do,” smiling into the kiss, you scratch your nails through his scalp in the way that he likes, a lot similar to your feline friend before jumping up from the couch with a clap of your hands. “now which one of my boys is hungry?”

miruku is promptly shooed to the floor beside a frustrated nagi left without your warmth. the pair share a brief moment of eye contact as your boyfriend runs a hand over his face in annoyance.

“i hate you.”

“meow.”

the final straw for nagi is the night your cat makes it into the bedroom while you’re having sex.

he’s pent up, training has been more intensive than usual and all he wants to do is come home and lose himself in you. you let him, falling into the sheets with seishiro nagi, your hands lost in his sea of perfectly soft white hair, your mouth on his, your legs wrapped around the small of his waist as he sinks into you for the first time in a long time. you share a moan, muffled by nagi’s tongue working it’s way down your throat and his entire body weight thrown over you.

somehow he manages to tear through your clothes, tongue hungrily lapping over your pert nipples while you tug his aching cock free from the confines of his shorts. tears sting at your waterline as nagi presses into your cunt without much prep. he’s so big, you feel as though he might already be kissing your cervix without even moving and you tug hard on his hair at the feeling of nagi twitching within your walls.

“s-sei, god. fill me up s’good—!”

he cuts you off with a throaty moan, eyes rolling back as he gives an experimental thrust. “s’no fair…s’pretty. so tight around me, fuck, angel…”

the moment is perfect, he’s dizzy with love and desire and all caught up in the heat it all… that is until your stupid fucking cat starts screaming bloody murder from outside your locked door.

“leave it,” seishiro grunts, pawing at your sides and languidly rolling his hips into yours. “s’probably nothin’, angel.”

you gasp and nod, delirious with ecstasy and pull him closer but miruku seems to whine again— scratching pathetically at the door. “sei, what if—?”

“he’s fine, jus’ focus on me, pretty thing.” and for the most part you try, you let nagi have his way with you— let him pin you to the bed and make you see galaxies and you’re both about to burst when he swears to the fucking stars he feels that cat’s paw between his balls.

he doesn’t remember what happens next, just that he sees red or turns it and you are equally as embarrassed— shuffling out of the room to deal with your pesky cat, draped in one of sei’s spare hoodies.

that’s when nagi decides he’s had enough.

his final plan isn’t to get rid of miruku but instead to steal your attention away from the dumb animal.

nagi puts a little more effort into cleaning up himself and the house for you once he gets back from practice at blue lock ( after multiple face times to barou and isagi, reo and others ). he stops by a flower shop and puts together an arrangement that he thinks you’ll like because the colours remind him so much of you.

when you come home, your eyes light up at the bouquet on your sparkling countertops and the sight of your boyfriend lounging around in your kitchen on his phone. “baby, did you get these for me?” you swoon.

“yeah. on the way back from practice i went to that flower shop you always talk about.”

“sei, that’s not even on the way home,” you smile and his heart flutters in his chest. “you didn’t have to go out of your way for me.”

nagi bristles with happiness as you make your way into his arms of your own accord and hide your face in his toned chest. “i’d do anything for you, angel,” he mumbled into your hairline and uses a finger to tilt your head up for a gentle kiss, quickly distracting you from miruku who’s jumped up onto the counter. “missed you, s’much.” he knows exactly what he’s doing when he presses his cock between your thighs, dropping his lips to your neck wetly.

“m-missed you too, sei but…gotta feed the cat…”

your kitten purrs at your side but seishiro rolls you over, nailing your hips down to the countertops and grinds into you feverishly. his plan is working.

“no buts, need you. god… s’not fair bein’ away from you f’so long. baby…fuck.” he’s whiny and needy, grabbing handfuls of your ass to slide you back and forth on his growing erection so that you become putty in his hands. you’re so lightheaded that you don’t even hear your cat meowing for your attention— clinging onto nagi’s broad shoulders for dear life. “unless you want me to stop?”

you blink up at your boyfriend, teary eyed and ravenous— for once not reaching out instinctively to pet miruku but instead reaching up to tug on seishiro’s soft snowball locks and bring him down to your height. “i don’t want you to stop, seishiro,” you growl, your voice dipping into sensual and sultry territory. “i want you to fuck me.”

“can do, angel.” he coos, letting you drag him by the hand towards your shared bedroom.

nagi throws a smug look over his shoulder at your unhappy cat, grinning from ear to ear as miruku hisses at him in defeat.

nagi: 1 - miruku: 0

#blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi smut #bllk x you #nagi fluff #nagi imagines #seishiro nagi x reader #seishiro nagi x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro fluff #nagi seishiro smut #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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monzamash · 1 year

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❝ what am i to you truly ? a puppet to be used to get what you want? ❞ + daniel 🥺😩

on our side daniel ricciardo x you | 1.1k — i combined this prompt and “did you just seriously insinuate i would do something like that to you?” because we love the drama, don't we folks? x

“You good?”

Daniel’s raspy voice stirred you awake, the exhaustion of too many night shifts strung together and the red wine he’d graciously provided for dinner had caused your weary eyes to close just for one peaceful, silent moment.

“Yeah, just needed a minute... it's so rowdy out there.”

The dip in the bed had your head tilting to the side, eying Daniel as he slumped down beside you, laying back on a bed that didn’t belong to either of you. In reality you didn’t know whose bed it was; maybe Scotty’s, maybe Sean’s – neither of you cared now that the dinner party had entered the wee hours of the morning.

“It’s been the longest day in history, I reckon. Trust those two to have the most extravagant wedding rehearsal dinner known to man…” Daniel sighed, hands linked behind his head; distressed curls falling every which way.

“Well, we are talking about a Stroll funded wedding event so not surprised that they’ve gone all out… Thought maybe there would be a flurry of doves as we walked in, it was that beautiful.”

Daniel chuckled at your joke and glanced your way, eternally in awe of how effortlessly funny you were. Quick witted and sharper than a tack like you’d always been; since the day he met you all those years ago.

“Should suggest that to Scotty for the big day – he’s all about the theatrics and hoopla… Christ, he might actually do it,” Daniel scoffed, making you chuckle and catch his eyes – gleaming and bloodshot from jet-lag.

There was a beat before his question; a question that you didn’t expect to get and certainly one you didn't want to receive.

“You ever think about getting married?”

The scoff that bubbled in your throat surfaced, eyes now widened at the man looking back at you with intrigue. Was he seriously asking you that? You? The girl who couldn't hold down a relationship because she's hung up on a man she can't have? Him.

“To who?” You asked, voice higher in pitch than you would’ve liked.

“I don’t exactly have a line of men queuing up around the corner…”

You cringed at the self-deprecation, wishing you’d gone with something less sad but the words spilled before you could catch them, painfully honest.

And Daniel’s quirked brow didn’t help you feel less desperate, “Oh, you know I’m camping out to be at the front of that queue.”

His tone was light-hearted but you knew that he wasn’t joking around. You’d found yourself here too many times, on too many late nights – fantasying about what could’ve been, maybe what should’ve been with the two of you. The almost’s, the close calls, the declarations of love when it wasn’t “the right time” and the apologies the next day when you wake up filled with regret, wanting nothing more than to pretend it didn’t happen because “your friendship means more to me than anything.”

It was cyclical.

“You promised we wouldn’t say things like that anymore, Dan.”

It was his chuckle that set you off, ringing in your ears like a taunt. It was as if the pain you felt every time he dangled himself in front of you, forbidden fruit, meant nothing to him. Like it didn’t rip his heart out of his chest, when it did. Having you as a friend killed him, every time he heard your voice on the phone, every time he made you laugh. Deflecting was his defence mechanism because admitting how he truly felt would hurt more than just you and him now.

“I’m deadly serious…” You reiterated, staring into the windows of his soul, or so it felt for him as he watched your pupils widen.

“I know.”

And Daniel did know. He knew all too well the feeling of watching you happily in love – even if it was fleeting. But now it was his turn. The action of finding someone new was never intended to be vengeful or mean-spirited; it was just the way it was. Timing never on your side.

“But sometimes I think about getting married and when I do, I know you’re the only person on earth that understands how I feel… what that could look like and that might not be fair but it’s the truth.”

Daniel looked back up at the crown molding ceiling, hands clasped over his stomach, rising and falling with deep breaths. His heart was pounding, confessing his feelings was never easy when it came to you – and that was part of the reason you were laying side by side as friends, nothing more.

“You’re right, it’s not fair,” You stated, still staring at his sharpened jawline, tensing at your words, “I feel like… I feel like I’m just a puppet to you – a puppet to be used to get what you want whenever it doesn’t work out with your flavour of the month and… and…”

Daniel shot up, elbow buried into the mattress as he propped himself up beside you. As soon as you looked into those dark brown eyes, your heart shattered into a million pieces – the look of complete horror staring back at you as you stuttered through the sentence you wished you never even started. Regret getting the better of you.

“Did you just seriously insinuate i would treat you that way? After everything we’ve been through?” Daniel was stunned, gobsmacked by how differently you had perceived your relationship. Disposable.

He never wanted to make you feel that way, not ever.

“I fucking love you. I’m in love with you. And you know that. I know you do and I know you feel the same, which is why I sometimes keep my distance, especially when you’re with someone because I know what we have isn’t normal. I know it isn’t a normal friendship 'cause the reason all of my 'flavours of the month' leave is because of you.”

“Because they see the way I look at you and apparently it’s the same way you look at me so I dunno what to tell ya? You’re not a puppet and you never have been, it’s just… when we do get the chance to be together… in that way, I can’t say no to you… You’re you.”

Daniel reached down and softly brushed the pad of his thumb across your reddened cheek, a single tear rolling down the flushed skin as you let his words wash over you. He was right about all of it; he always was. He was the rational one, levelheaded and steadfast. But his words could only ease the pain so much.

The room was quiet, erratic breaths were the only sound being caught in the thickened air. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of your lungs, confessions somehow confusing the situation even more. Closure now being the only remedy for the heartache.

“If all that's true then, what do we do?”

Your voice was meek, barely a whisper as Daniel fell back onto the white linen duvet, hand searching for yours. You did what you always do and laced your fingers together; a comforting gesture to ease the sadness and gentle squeeze for good measure.

“I don’t know.”

Daniel genuinely didn’t know what to do and you could tell by the way his eyes darkened and the smile lines that were almost always visible were gone that he was as clueless as you. Stuck.

Because timing was never on your side.

a//n — don't know how many angsty drabbles i can write to be completely honest 'cause this hurt 😂 but hope you liked it x masterlist | askbox

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo drabble #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula 1 one shot #f1 drabble #f1 writing #monzamashmasterlist #monzamashprompts

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themorbidwriter · 4 months

Text

The Dutton Ranch glowed with the beauty of the morning on your very first day there. Determined to make a good impression and avoid any disruptions, you woke up early and headed to the barn to tackle the biggest task on your list. As you stepped inside, the serene and peaceful atmosphere enveloped you, accompanied only by the gentle sounds of the countryside drifting through the open doors. The scent of hay and animals filled the air, creating a comforting and familiar aura. Without wasting a moment, you plugged in your earbuds, queued up an upbeat playlist, and found your rhythm. The music transported you into a world of focus and determination, as you swayed and hummed along, totally absorbed in your work.

Unbeknownst to you, Rip Wheeler had quietly entered the barn, observing your dedication with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. Wanting to catch your attention, he greeted you with a friendly "Hello there." Unfortunately, the music blasting through your earbuds prevented you from hearing his words, and you continued working, oblivious to his presence. Intrigued by your commitment, Rip decided to make himself known in a more direct way. He tilted his head, a mischievous smile forming on his lips, and approached you from behind. Out of the blue, Rip blew a soft puff of air through your hair, successfully startling you. As you turned around, your eyes met his, and a bewildered expression crossed your face as you struggled to process the unexpected interruption.

Your heart raced as you took in Rip's rugged features and piercing gaze. His mischievous blue eyes sparkled, causing a warmth to spread through your body despite the initial shock. It took a moment for words to form, but eventually, you managed to stutter out a greeting, "Oh… uh, hi. Sorry, I didn't hear you." Rip chuckled at your flustered response and took a step back, giving you some space. His deep, confident voice filled the barn as he assured you, "No need to apologize. I couldn't help but notice your enthusiasm. You really know how to put in the work."

Blushing, you quickly looked away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride at his words. You hadn't expected anyone, let alone the formidable foreman of the ranch, to witness your routine. Gathering your composure, you replied, "Thank you. I wanted to make a good impression." Rip's lips curled into a reassuring smile as the warm morning light streamed through the barn windows, softening his features. "Consider that mission accomplished. You've definitely caught my attention."

Your heart skipped a beat, unsure if his words were meant as a simple compliment or something more. Before you had a chance to dwell on it, Rip continued, his voice filled with genuine interest, "So, what brings you to the Dutton Ranch? Are you planning to stay long?" Pausing to gather your thoughts, you explained, "I just graduated from college, I needed a change of pace and my father just happens to be friends with Mr. Dutton and he thought me getting a job here would be an opportunity I was lucky enough to land a job here."

As you spoke, Rip's unwavering gaze remained fixed on you, intensifying your emotions. His interest felt genuine, and you couldn't help but feel grateful to your father for opening the doors to this incredible opportunity. The Dutton Ranch was a legendary place, and being a part of it was a dream come true. "Your father has excellent taste," Rip expressed, a hint of admiration lacing his words. "Working on this ranch is not just an ordinary job. It requires dedication and a love for the land. Do you have that love?"

You nodded, a small smile gracing your lips. "Absolutely. Nature's beauty and the peace that comes from working the land have captivated me since childhood. The Dutton Ranch provides the perfect opportunity to fully immerse myself in that way of life." Rip's eyes sparkled with understanding as he listened intently to your words. He admired the passion in your voice, knowing firsthand the profound fulfillment that could be found in ranching. As a trusted hand on the ranch and a friend to the Dutton family, he felt a responsibility to ensure that those who joined the ranch possessed the same devotion and connection to the land.

"Good," Rip replied, firmly nodding in agreement. "Working on the Dutton Ranch is more than just a job. It's about preserving a legacy, a way of life that has been passed down through generations." As you stood there, captivated by Rip's passionate speech about the ranch's significance, it suddenly dawned on you the true weight of his role on this land. He wasn't just another worker; he was the foreman, entrusted with overseeing every aspect of the ranch and ensuring its lasting prosperity.

A playful smile danced across your lips as you cast a teasing gaze down at Rip and remarked, "So, you're the foreman, huh? That means you're supervising me right now. And, if I'm not mistaken, you're actually giving me a lecture because you want me to grasp how important this land is to you. Am I close?" Rip couldn't contain his laughter at your playful comment, his ruggedly handsome face breaking into a wide grin. "Damn right you are," he replied, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection.

You found yourself drawn to Rip's easy smile and genuine laughter, feeling a connection with him that you hadn't expected. His presence exuded strength and determination, but there was also a vulnerability hidden beneath the surface. It was as if he carried the weight of the land on his broad shoulders, shouldering the responsibility of preserving the ranch's heritage. Rip's eyes locked with yours as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone. "You have to understand," he began, his voice laced with emotion, "that this land, this ranch, it's more than just a job or a way of life. It's a part of who we are. It's in our blood, our very souls."

You could feel the intensity of his words resonating within you, awakening a sense of purpose that you hadn't yet realized existed. The Dutton Ranch was more than just a dream come true; it was a chance to be a part of something greater, to contribute to a legacy that stretched back through generations. Rip paused for a moment, studying your face with a mixture of curiosity and awe. "You have that fire in you," he murmured, his voice tinged with both admiration and a hint of skepticism. "But it remains to be seen if you have the grit and resilience required to survive in this harsh, beautiful land."

You found yourself lost in Rip Wheeler's deep, intense gaze as you locked eyes with him. There was an indescribable magnetism between the two of you that seemed to draw you closer together. As you continued to stare up into his piercing eyes, your own gaze gradually shifted downwards, causing a slight blush to spread across your cheeks. With each passing moment, you became acutely aware of just how close his face was to yours.

A sudden rush of nervousness and anticipation coursed through your veins, forcing your heart to beat a little faster. The cacophony of thoughts in your head intensified as you desperately tried to regain your composure. Amidst the chaos, one singular thought echoed over and over again like a broken record: keep it professional. Realizing the need to break the tension and refocus your attention, you cleared your throat, the sound cutting through the charged atmosphere. "Yeah, sure," you managed to stammer, attempting to compose yourself. "Whatever you say, Rip… I mean, sir."

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rushed, breathless manner, betraying your inner turmoil. Despite your attempt to maintain a professional tone, the slip of calling him by his first name did not go unnoticed. Rip's rugged features softened slightly, revealing a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky timbre. "You can call me Rip, if you'd like," he replied, his words laden with an unspoken invitation. The sound of your own breath caught in your throat as you processed his unexpected response.

You stood there, face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, as you took a step back from Rip Wheeler. The name seemed to have caught your attention, and you couldn't help but flash him a smile. "Rip! That's a really interesting name!" you exclaimed, trying to make conversation and perhaps distract yourself from the awkwardness of the situation. Rip raised an eyebrow at your comment, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. He studied you curiously, his piercing gaze leaving you slightly flustered. Your attempt to create some distance only seemed to entertain him more, and you couldn't help feeling slightly self-conscious under his scrutiny.

Just as you turned to walk away, your foot caught on something unseen, causing you to lose your balance. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling backward, much to your surprise, and landed hard on your ass with a resounding thud. The shock of the impact made you grunt involuntarily, unable to suppress the exclamation that slipped from your lips. "Fuck me running!" you blurted out, wincing at the realization of the inappropriate choice of words. Your eyes widened, mortified that such a phrase had escaped you in the presence of the enigmatic Rip Wheeler. The combination of shock, embarrassment, and pain made you want to sink into the ground as you prayed for it to all just disappear.

As you lay there, your heart racing and your cheeks flaming red, you could feel Rip's gaze on you. You braced yourself for his reaction, expecting him to either laugh or scold you. But instead, he simply smiled and extended a hand to help you up. "You okay there?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. You took his hand gratefully, feeling a jolt of electricity run through you as your fingers brushed against his rough skin. As he helped you to your feet, your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You could see the amusement in his eyes, but there was also something else there - something that made your heart skip a beat. You tried to look away, but his gaze was too intense, too captivating. And then, without warning, he leaned in closer and whispered in your ear, "I think we're going to get along just fine."

Your heart pounded in your chest as his warm breath caressed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. The world around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in that suspended moment of connection. It was as if an invisible bond had formed between you, drawing you closer together in ways you couldn't quite comprehend. His words hung in the air, the implications both thrilling and terrifying. What did he mean by "we're going to get along?" Was this just a friendly gesture or something more? You could feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his presence, and it made your mind race with possibilities.

As you stood there, the intensity of the moment enveloping you, a small smile began to tug at the corners of Rip's lips. It was a smile filled with promises and secrets, a smile that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. It was a smile that suggested this encounter was no mere coincidence. Rip released your hand, but the electric connection between you remained palpable and unbroken. His eyes traced over your flushed face, lingering on your lips for a fleeting moment before meeting your gaze once again. In his eyes, you could see a glimmer of challenge, a silent invitation that stirred something deep within you.

As a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt a hitch in your breath. The ground beneath you felt unsteady, defying the laws of gravity. The world around you faded away, leaving only Rip's presence and the cacophony of your racing thoughts. In that moment, the air crackled with an intense energy, an unspoken tension that pulled you closer together. You took a hesitant step forward, unable to resist the magnetic force that Rip exuded. Anticipation spread through your body, mingling with the lingering pain from your recent fall.

Moving closer, your eyes locked once more, drawn to the magnetic pull between you like two celestial bodies in perfect orbit. Rip's gaze bore into yours, intense and unyielding, seemingly capable of penetrating through the barriers you had carefully constructed. It was a vulnerability that both thrilled and terrified you. Without breaking eye contact, Rip reached up, his hand coming to rest gently against your cheek. His touch was surprisingly tender, sending sparks of desire trailing along your skin. The world around you seemed to dissipate entirely, replaced only by the electricity of his touch and the magnetic pull between you.

The weight of his hand on your cheek called for a response, and instinctively, you leaned into his touch. A surge of heat spread through your body, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you. In this suspended moment, time stood still as you savored the tantalizing possibilities that hung in the air. But, as if on cue, the moment shattered with Jimmy's oblivious smile as he entered the barn. The air instantly became tense, disrupted by his presence and breaking the intimate atmosphere between Rip and you.

You tore your gaze away from Rip, feeling a pang of disappointment and confusion as reality crashed back in. It was as if a spell had been broken, and the world rushed back in with all its noise and chaos. Jimmy's obliviousness to the charged atmosphere between you and Rip only added to your frustration. He walked over to you, completely unaware of the connection you had just shared. "Hey, what's going on here? Did I interrupt something?" Jimmy asked, his brows furrowing with genuine concern. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of desire that still clung to your thoughts. "No, nothing, just lost my footing for a moment. Rip was helping me up."

Jimmy gave a nod of understanding, though you could tell he still had a lingering suspicion that something had transpired. As he began to talk about the day's tasks and plans, you could hardly concentrate. Your mind was still spinning, replaying the intense moment between you and Rip. Were you reading too much into it? Or was there something more between you? Throughout the day, while completing your usual chores around the ranch, your mind kept wandering back to that electric moment in the barn. The memory of Rip's touch lingered on your skin, sending sparks of longing through your veins. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was unfinished business between the two of you.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, you found yourself standing by the horse stable, lost in your thoughts. Dusk painted a romantic backdrop, amplifying the emotions swirling within you. Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, and before you could turn around, a deep voice filled the air. "I hope I didn't scare you away earlier," Rip said, his voice rough and soothing all at once. You felt a thrill run down your spine at the sound of his voice, turning around to find Rip leaning against a wooden beam of the stable. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and his strong arms were crossed casually over his chest. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, as if he too was grappling with the same magnetic pull between you.

A blush stained your cheeks as you met Rip's gaze, unable to form words in response. The electricity between the two of you crackled in the air, making it hard to breathe. Time seemed to stand still, as the world around you faded into the background. Breaking the silence, Rip took a step closer, his steady footsteps resonating with purpose. "I've been thinking about you all day," he confessed softly, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. As Rip's words hung in the air, you couldn't help but feel your heart quicken its pace. Each beat echoed in your ears, syncing with the rhythm of the moment. His honesty washed over you like a gentle breeze, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. The vulnerability in his voice only served to deepen your connection.

You found it difficult to tear your gaze away from his mesmerizing eyes, which held a depth and intensity that drew you in. The setting sun cast a warm glow upon his features, accentuating the subtle contours of his face. As his lips curved into a tender smile, a surge of warmth flooded your chest. Step by step, Rip closed the distance between you, his movements deliberate and deliberate, almost as if he was afraid to shatter the fragile tension that hung delicately in the air. The wooden beam creaked slightly under his weight as he leaned against it, creating a symphony of sounds that further added to the atmosphere.

As his hand gently reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a shiver coursed through your body. His touch was warm and reassuring, radiating a tenderness that felt both comforting and exhilarating. Time seemed to stand still, suspended in the gentle ebb and flow of the moment. His fingers trailed delicately down the curve of your cheek, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. You couldn't help but lean into his touch, craving more of his gentle caress. His hand then cupped your face, his thumb softly caressing your cheekbone, and your breath hitched in your throat. The weight of his touch was electrifying, sending a jolt of desire rippling through your body.

The proximity between the two of you became almost unbearable, yet you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, as if the slightest movement could send everything toppling over the edge. In this moment, it felt as though the whole world revolved around the two of you, locked in an intimate dance of emotions. Rip's eyes absorbed every detail of your face, as if he was committing it to memory. His gaze was so intense that it felt like he was unraveling every secret you held within, every hidden desire and vulnerability. It was both thrilling and terrifying, to have someone see you so completely, yet it was also a rare and beautiful gift.

In a breathless whisper, Rip's voice filled with a fiery passion. "I cannot resist you any longer," he murmured, his words igniting a blazing inferno in your heart. Anticipation crackled in the air, his lips drawing closer to yours, as you found yourself unable to resist the magnetic force between you. Just as his lips were about to meet yours, Lloyd's voice shattered the moment as he called out to Rip, breaking the spell that held you both captive. Both of you were abruptly taken aback, startled by the sudden interruption. Rip's hand swiftly fell from your face, and the charged atmosphere dissipated instantly. Lloyd's untroubled presence invaded the previously sacred space that had been established between you and Rip. His obliviousness to the gravity of the moment left you feeling frustrated and a bit embarrassed.

Rip swiftly regained his composure, his features returning to their usual stoic expression. "Yeah, Lloyd?" he replied, his voice giving away no hint of the desire that had recently consumed him. A pang of disappointment washed over you as you observed how easily he shifted gears, seemingly brushing off the connection that had formed between the two of you. Unaware of the lingering tension in the air, Lloyd moved closer. "Just wanted to let you know that dinner's ready," he cheerfully announced, oblivious to the emotional turbulence that lay just beneath the surface. With great effort, you nodded, fighting to regain your composure. "Thanks, Lloyd. We'll be there shortly," you managed to say, your voice revealing a slight tremor.

As Lloyd departed towards the main house, you turned to face Rip, desperately searching his eyes for any indication that he shared the same intensity that you felt. However, all you found was a guarded expression and a fleeting hint of regret that quickly vanished. "We should go," Rip suggested, his voice sounding distant and detached. It was as if the spell had been abruptly shattered, forcing the harsh reality of the world to come crashing back in. You nodded, unable to muster any words as you stood there, feeling the weight of missed opportunity and the ache of unfulfilled longing. But you knew that Rip was right—they had to go. Slowly, you both made your way back to the main house, where the fragrant aroma of a home-cooked meal filled the air.

As you entered the dining room, John glanced up and observed Rip and you as you made your way towards the table. Sitting beside each other, you cleared your throat and apologized for your tardiness. Explaining the situation, you shared, "Apologies for our delay; I had some chores to complete, and Rip kindly assisted me in finishing them, as I was struggling with a particular task. Isn't that right, Rip?" Rip nodded in agreement, his eyes briefly locking with yours as he confirmed your explanation. "Yes, that's right," he replied, his voice cool and collected. "It took longer than anticipated, but we managed to get it done."

John raised an eyebrow, his playful smile hinting at a knowingness that made your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Well, glad you two could collaborate so efficiently," he chuckled, causing a ripple of laughter to pass through the rest of the group gathered around the table. It felt like a strange mixture of relief and discomfort, knowing that your secret rendezvous had been exposed, albeit in a lighthearted manner. Unable to shake off the lingering tension, you found it difficult to focus on the meal. Each bite seemed to stick in your throat, reminding you of the missed opportunity and the unspoken desires that were still lurking beneath the surface. The conversation at the table buzzed around you, but your mind kept drifting back to Rip, replaying the moment over and over again.

As the conversation around the dining room table continued, your mind wandered to Rip Wheeler, the rugged and handsome ranch hand who sat beside you. You couldn't help but notice the way his muscles bulged beneath his shirt as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the conversation. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze lingered on him, and a smile crept up on your face. Without thinking twice, you placed your hand on Rip's lap, and he turned his head to look at you.

You quickly unbuttoned his pants, and he raised an eyebrow, unsure of what was happening. Without a word, you slid your hand into his pants and wrapped it around his dick. Rip let out a low moan as you began to stroke him slowly and steadily. John Dutton regaled the group with a story, oblivious to the intimate act taking place right under his nose. Rip's dick was thick and hard in your hand, and you could feel his breath catching in his throat as you stroked him. You leaned in close to his ear, whispering words of encouragement and desire. "You're so big," you murmured, "I want to taste you."

As your hand continued to move up and down Rip's cock, you could feel his body tense and his breathing become more erratic. His eyes closed tightly as he let out a soft groan, his head tilting slightly to the side as he surrendered himself to the pleasure you were providing. You couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and desire as you watched him lose control, his body responding to your touch in a way that left you breathless.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against Rip's ear as you whispered, "I want to feel you inside me. I want to be filled by your strength and your power." Rip's eyes snapped open, his gaze locking with yours as he realized the true nature of your request. As you turned your head and looked at John, you noticed the slight furrow in his brow and the curiosity in his eyes as he continued recounting his story. Taking a moment to clear your throat, you couldn't help but interrupt him. "I'm sorry, John," you began hesitantly, "for interrupting your, uh, story, but where's your bathroom? I, uh, have to use it."

John paused mid-sentence, his attention now fully focused on you. He contemplated your request for a moment before a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Oh, it's just down the hall to the left," he replied, his voice warm and accommodating. "First door on your right, can't miss it." As you turned your head and caught John's gaze, a mischievous smile played on your lips. You couldn't resist teasing him a little, especially since you knew Rip was watching. Clearing your throat you faked a perplexed expression and innocently asked, "Third door on the left, you say?"

John paused once again, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of your words. "No," he finally replied, shaking his head. "First door on the right." You pretended to suddenly understand, realizing that you had made a mistake. "Oh! The fifth door on the left," you declared confidently, causing a burst of laughter to escape from Rip. John looked at you, completely bewildered. He couldn't help but chuckle awkwardly "Uh, no, Rip," he said, gesturing towards you. "How about you show her where the bathroom is?"

Rip stood up, his voice laced with amusement as he replied, "Sure thing, John. I'll take her there." As he led you down the hall, your heart pounding in your chest, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. You wanted Rip more than anything in that moment, and you knew that once you were alone with him, there was no stopping what would happen next. Jimmy suddenly looked up from his plate and said, “Hey Rip, I can show (Y/N) where the bathroom is.” Rip narrowed his eyes at Jimmy, immediately killing the friendly atmosphere at the table. "Shut the fuck up, Jimmy," he growled. Lloyd's eyes shifted from Rip to you, trying to figure out what was going on. But as he watched the exchange between the two, something suddenly clicked in his mind. "Uh, you know what Jimmy, how about you let Rip show (Y/N) where the bathroom is," Lloyd suggested, trying to diffuse the situation.

As Rip led you down the hallway, your heart pounded in your chest, and your mind raced with anticipation. You couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as you followed him, every step bringing you closer to the fulfillment of your desires. The hallway was dimly lit, and the only sounds were the soft creaking of the floorboards beneath your feet and the faint hum of the air conditioning unit. As you reached the door at the end of the hall, Rip turned to face you, his eyes locked onto yours. You could see the desire and hunger in his gaze, and it sent shivers down your spine. Without a word, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, beckoning you to follow.

The bathroom was small and cramped, but it was enough to satisfy your needs. The walls were a dull gray, and the floor was tiled in a mosaic pattern that sparkled in the dim light. Rip closed the door behind you, his back pressed against it as he looked down at you. You could see the hunger in his eyes as he took in your appearance, his gaze lingering on your curves and your full lips. Without a word, Rip reached out and pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into him. His lips met yours in a fierce kiss, his tongue darting into your mouth as he deepened the embrace. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thighs as he ground himself against you, his hands roaming over your body as he explored every inch of you.

As he lifted you up onto the sink counter, Rip's hands traveled down to your thighs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin. You moaned softly as he slid one finger between your legs, his touch sending shivers through your body. He continued to explore every inch of you with his fingers, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you with each passing moment. As Rip's fingers moved faster and faster, you could feel yourself nearing the brink of ecstasy. You wrapped your legs around him tightly, pulling him closer as he continued to explore every inch of you with his fingers. Suddenly, Rip's lips found their way back to yours as he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as he brought you over the edge.

With a sudden urgency, Rip lifted you up and set you down on the floor, his hands moving quickly to unfasten his pants. You watched in anticipation as he stepped out of them, revealing his arousal in all its glory. Without a word, Rip took hold of your hips and pulled you closer, his arousal pressing against your core. You could feel the heat between your bodies as he entered you, his movements slow and deliberate at first before picking up speed. As Rip's movements grew more frenzied, you could feel yourself nearing the brink once again. You wrapped your legs around him tightly, pulling him closer as he continued to move within you. Suddenly, Rip's body stiffened, and he let out a loud groan as he came within you. You felt his body shudder against yours as he collapsed onto the floor beside you, spent and satisfied.

#yellowstone #rip wheeler #rip wheeler x reader #cole hauser

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keep-the-wolves-close · 2 months

Text

Steady Heart

Chapter 28: Achilles Heel

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

* Warnings: language, angst

* Word count: 1,867ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all

Author's note: Okay, I lied. One more because I have an uneven number queued. Then I’ll follow the rules. Scouts honor lol. 🤓 Things are starting to ramp up, Kayce and Stella are finally coming back to some kind of normalcy. It’s been rough, but we’ll get there. Also, this is shorter than normal, but it worked well for splitting these events up. I hope y’all don’t mind, I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well!

“What! You told me you ran into him!” Ryan cried out.

“Okay I bent the truth! I’m sorry. I knew if I told you that 30 minutes ago, you would have burnt the whole state of Montana to the ground!” She defended herself.

All the men moved closer to her instinctually. Rip started in on her hard. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me when I picked you up?!”

“Because I wanted to tell everyone all at once, Rip!” Was he even listening?

He came back at her even angrier. “Bullshit! Were you gonna say anything at all?!”

“Yes! My god! I’m here aren’t I?”

Kayce targeted her next. “You’re only here because your brother and I made sure you’d come talk to my dad.”

John interrupted. “All of you quit!” He locked in on Stella. “What did he want?”

“I asked him and he said something about liking my property, yadda yadda, and got insulted when I asked who he was again and told me I work for a ranch that has started to annoy people. Then read me like an open book almost to every little detail about my life.” Stella crossed her arms and shook her leg. The memory of Malcolm’s unnaturally blue eyes staring into hers as he recited her information sent a chill up her spine.

“I told him I wasn’t interested in anything he had to offer. He said I was a soft spot for people here, which I beg to differ,” she focused on the floor, “but whatever. Then he said he would be seein’ me real soon. Whatever that means.” She looked back up at John and shrugged.

“So long story short, what I wanted to say was, I’m not sure Jenkins is our culprit for those cows being dead. Somethin’ about Malcolm and his brother doesn’t sit straight with me. He was fishin’ for somethin’, but I don’t know what.” Her cheeks were flushed by the time she was finished. Stella felt like she was on trial. Especially with the way everyone just looked at her angrily and didn’t say anything. “You can choose to believe me, or not, but I’m tellin’ you right now somethin’ ain’t right.”

“Damn it.” John looked to his son. “Kayce, what did you find out from Jenkins?”

Kayce watched Stella, who focused on John. She turned her body to face the patriarch, trying to pretend she was anywhere but in the room with them. He announced. “Wasn’t Jenkins.”

Rip mumbled a cuss to himself. That meant they were dealing with a different player; and that player was bigger, and seemingly interested in Stella.

“How do we know it wasn’t him?” John asked.

“I looked him in the eye and it wasn’t him.” Kayce made direct eye contact with his dad.

“I can also attest that he wouldn’t know the first thing about cows or how to kill them.” Stella added.

She finally locked eyes with Kayce. He looked tired. “You okay?” Everyone could tell there was something deeper behind her question. Even though it seemed like she wanted to be out of any room Kayce was in.

“It went fine.”

Stella scowled at him for ignoring her actual question.

“Let me talk to my son please.” John excused the three of them. Stella wasn’t sure what was going on, but if it meant she could escape, she’d take it.

Kayce stayed behind to talk to his father. At first they talked about something Kayce had done in war that had changed him forever. His heart raced just reliving the memory. If he could go back and have it happen differently, he would in a heartbeat. Kayce wanted to leave, but John stopped him.

“What’s going on with you and Stella?”

Kayce sighed. “Nothing dad.”

“Her looking like she was about to claw her way out of the window to get away when you went in on her says otherwise.” John leaned back against his desk smugly. He was almost certain he knew what was coming.

“There is nothing going on between Stella and I. Nothing.” He tried to be stern in his answer to get his dad to stop asking. He was confused as to what was going on himself. He had fucked up. Simple as that.

John stayed quiet and examined his son. Kayce’s face was flushed, and his voice let John know he was confused. If he didn’t know any better, he would say Kayce looked like he was going to panic. He looked like he was in love. That’s how he had looked when he found Evelyn.

Kayce couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Okay fine! We slept together. So what?”

‘Ah. There it was.’ John thought to himself as he breathed out a chuckle. This wasn’t when or how he thought this conversation would come up, but he knew it would cross him one day. “And when was that?”

Kayce looked down. “A few days ago.” He refused to tell his father that it was more than once.

“And you just got back from visiting with Monica? Now I understand why she wanted to leave so badly.” John worked out. He watched as his son squirmed. “How did things go with Monica, by the way? Especially with this new,” there was no real way for him to say this delicately, “development.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it dad.”

“But you’re gonna have to sooner or later.”

“She wants a divorce.”

“What for?”

“A lot of things.”

John crossed his arms. “What are you gonna do, son? Because that woman out there has stood behind you through thick and thin. Even after you broke her, she still made sure you were okay. Didn’t like that you ignored her actual question, but she still did it.”

Kayce got frustrated and slammed his hand against the door. “I don’t know! On one hand Monica is my wife, the mother of my son, the lov—,” he stopped himself. He didn’t know if he was choked up, or if he couldn’t actually bring himself to say it.

“— But?” John interrupted.

“I don’t know, dad. I just — I don’t know.”

Making it to the door, Stella started to pick up her pace. She thought she was home free when her feet hit the porch. She would have been if Rip’s rough hand didn’t grab her elbow. Her shoulders sagged. “Listen I know you’re both angry I didn’t tell you right away, but can one more person not be mad at me today?” She looked down at the floor of the porch. “I have Ryan double mad at me, you, probably Mr. Dutton. Kayce and I are weird right now…,” she trailed off. The list could go if she thought about it hard enough.

“Yeah we noticed.” Ryan informed her crossing his arms.

Stella pulled her lips in. She hoped she had hidden it better than that. ‘Great.’

“Was it really that noticeable?”

Ryan scoffed. “You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but where Kayce was.”

“You didn’t wanna be around him the other night. You were upset about somethin’.” Rip started to put two and two together out loud for Ryan. He didn’t want to be the one to spill the beans. “Somethin’ about you broke your own heart.”

“I was really hoping that you wouldn’t have remembered that.”

“What happened between you two?” Ryan asked. Stella remained quiet with her lips pulled in. “C’mon Stell. You gotta lay it out there at some point.”

She looked out along the dark horizon line and wished she could shrink herself. It was embarrassing enough to have the thoughts run through her own head, let alone say them out loud. Especially to her brother and a man she considered a brother.

“I thought something might have changed between us, but it didn’t. I was just a hopelessly hopeless romantic caught up in my own delusion.” She moved her hands in a ‘giving up’ motion. Her voice came out more quietly than before. “It doesn’t matter.” She stepped toward the stairs. “Can we be done here? Please?”

Kayce came out of the house looking flustered. His gaze landed on Stella and both of them seemed to stop breathing. “Can I talk to you?”

Stella breathed in. “I mean, no,” she blew the breath out, “but you’re gonna keep tryin’ until I let you. So I guess.” She crossed her arms and looked at the other two men. “Can you guys give us a minute? I’ll be right behind you.”

Ryan stepped forward and Rip reached out to stop him from getting too close. He threatened the man responsible for hurting his sister. “You hurt her even more, and everything else you’re going through will be the least of your worries.” Rip grabbed his shoulder to direct him to the horses.

Stella watched them trot off. Ryan gave her one last look and she nodded to him. It was quiet behind her, and she was half expecting Kayce to be gone when she turned around. Holding her head as high as she could, she pivoted around to face him. She fixed her glasses and sniffed. “Well, let’s have it.”

Kayce got a good look at her face. She looked humiliated. He had hurt her badly. He was afraid it was past the point of repair. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too Kayce.” She looked down, sullen.

“I shouldn’t have come onto you like that. We shouldn’t have done it at all. I ruined a perfectly good friendship.”

“Yeah I know it was a mistake. Is that all you wanted to say? Because I could live without the embarrassment of hearing, let's just pretend this never happened.”

“No. I wanted to tell you Monica and I decided to co-parent, but we can’t go back to each other.”

“Okay that’s great, but now I feel dirty. Like I was just a distraction, which I mean I was. A distraction for you at my expense. I just don’t know if I can get past that.”

Unbeknownst to the two of them, John had snuck out onto his porch to hear how this would play out.

Kayce started, “I understand, but—,” and Stella interrupted him.

“— Do you really have any grounds to stand on to place a ‘but’ in there? I was blinded by the feelings I’ve had for you since we were kids and somehow, whether you realized it or not, you used it to your advantage.” Her eyes stung. “I thought I was always safe with you.” She said in a small voice. “And to find out I wasn’t, hurts. I let you past everything I had put up.” John tilted his head to the side. She had a point. “So I’m gonna go. I just wanna be left alone.” She spun around to make her way down to the bunkhouse.

Kayce stood there defeated. He knew he’d fucked up big time. If she ever talked to him again, he would be surprised. He heard footsteps on the porch. He turned and saw his dad.

“So how are you gonna make this right, son?”

“I’m gonna respect her and leave her be. I’ve already done enough damage.” He walked off and hopped in his truck.

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #yellowstonetv #luke grimes #ian bohen #ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #kayce dutton fanfic

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jishyucks · 2 years

Text

after tomorrow. ‣ ljn

‣ pairing: lee jeno x reader

‣ genre: fluff, slice-of-life?, implied f2l

‣ wc: 1.8k

‣ summary: after waiting patiently for your schedule to clear up due to school, Jeno finally sees his chance to ask you out

‣ warnings?: reader's eating corner store ramen, nothing else I don't think

‣ an: something short I mustered up that I meant to post during exam season

After tomorrow, it’ll all be over. You’d finally be able to breathe and relax and sleep with no worries at all. After tomorrow, you could binge-watch the shows that had been queuing up on an imaginary list you had created in your head, and finally catch up to internet content you’d been tracking on Twitter. After tomo–

The timer on your phone rings, knocking you off your train of thought. You jump slightly at the ping, hands travelling up from your lap to turn off the alarm. You hope that you didn’t startle anyone else in the corner store. It is almost one in the morning. But this was important to you—you wanted your ramen perfectly cooked. “Finally.”

Pulling the bowl closer to you, you rip open the remainder of the bowl’s cover and set it aside to throw away later. Then, you slip out the chopsticks from their sleeve before ripping them apart. The smell of the food easily travels up for you to smell, and at this point, you feel your mouth watering.

This was a well-deserved (sort of) meal. Being cooped up in your room all day, studying for your final tomorrow, a good bowl of corner store ramen was what you needed before you got some sleep.

“You forgot your drink.” To the right of your noodles, you see a hand push over your favourite juice pouch. The hand slides out of your field of vision, prompting you to look up, though you didn’t even need to look to see who it was.

“Jeno~” You greeted, mouth full of ramen. You quickly swallow it before smiling up at him, “I didn’t see you when I was grabbing my food.”

“I was checking some stock in the back,” he shrugs. Jeno takes this time to retrieve your juice pouch, rip the straw off of its side, and finally poke it into the respective hole for you.

Although Jeno was a university student like you were, he somehow was resilient enough to stay up all night and still attend the few classes he had in the afternoon. But you figured that since it was exam season, he didn’t have anymore classes, which explained why he’d been here almost every night.

“Thank you,” you sighed, grabbing the juice and taking a sip.

Jeno sits next to you, looking out onto the quiet street, “Your last final is tomorrow right?” He looks over at you and rests his head on his hand, propped up by his elbow, “For chem?”

You nodded and groaned, “You remembered? I’m terrified. I think I’m gonna fail.”

Jeno nods, surprised that you even asked. He remembers a lot of details when it comes to you, but it’s nothing, “Well, with that mindset, you might actually do bad.” He pokes your shoulder, earning a glare from you.

“You’re right,” you admit, “But I genuinely am scared. I’ve been studying non-stop, but I don’t feel like I’m retaining anything.” You continue eating, slumping in your seat with the thought of the exam you had to take tomorrow.

“You’ll probably do well,” Jeno sighs, “You look like you’ve been working hard.”

Eyebrows furrowing, you turn to look at him again, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He turns back to face the empty streets. Your hair was a bit unkempt and he can see bags underneath your eyes, but even so, he still thinks you’re pretty. But for now, he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“Remind me to never come here again,” you joke.

Jeno gasps quietly, “Why? I was joking!”

You peek at Jeno through the corner of your eye and see that he thought you were being serious. “Jeno, I’m joking, too. Why would I not come here when my favourite corner store worker works here!”

Jeno eases a bit and grins, “O-oh… thank you?”

“Why are you saying thank you? I was talking about Jaemin.” Another joke—only because you loved messing with Jeno. Sulky Jeno was one of your favourite Jenos because of how a pout would appear on his lips.

Jeno glares at you, sliding the juice pouch away from you, “This is mine now.” He slowly brings it up to his lips to drink, eyes watching and waiting for a reaction.

“Did I say Jaemin?” Your eyes widen, “I meant you!” You lean over to nudge him, which he quickly counters. This makes you laugh before you turn back to eat the rest of your noodles and Jeno slides the juice back to its rightful place next to your bowl.

Jeno lets you finish your meal, occasionally glancing between you and the people or cars that walked past the store. He sees a stray cat across the street, passing a woman in scrubs. Then he spots a man, dressed down, hopping out of a taxi before slowly walking into the building at the other corner of the street. Then he sees a couple skipping down the sidewalk with arms swinging back and forth as they do.

He shifts his gaze to you wondering if this would be the right time to ask you to dinner or maybe ice cream—somewhere that wasn’t this corner store. But then he remembers the words you said a few weeks back:

“I’m too busy for anything but school and it’s draining me.”

Which very much means that a relationship is not your priority.

“Finished~” you sang, gathering your trash into the now empty bowl. The juice you still have yet to finish, but you decided it was great to have this on the walk home.

Standing up, you make your way to the garbage can, disposing of the trash, “You’re here until six right?” You walk back to your spot and pick up the sweater you had hung at the back of your chair.

Jeno nods, “Wait, you’re leaving already?” His head tilts to the side slightly, watching as you put your sweater on.

“I would stay and keep you company, but I have an exam tomorrow, remember?” you laugh lightly, raising one of your brows, “But after tomorrow, I’ll visit you as much as I want.” Pushing the chair back under the wall-mounted table, you say goodbye to Jeno before turning to leave.

You don’t complain when a wave of fresh air hits you once you open the store’s door. In fact, you take in a deep breath, causing you to sigh as you close your eyes.

“Let me walk you.” You jump at Jeno, who has suddenly appeared next to you.

“Don’t you have a store to look after?” you punch him playfully, hopping down each of the stairs beneath you, “I’ll be fine.”

He hops down right after you, “The street is empty, meaning no customers. Besides… you live like thirty seconds from here.”

“Exactly,” you say, “I live close, so you don’t need to walk me home.”

“I want to, though.” Jeno’s standing beside you, hands in his pockets, “So let’s go.” Finding no energy to argue, you sighed and gestured for him to begin walking, following shortly after.

“So, are you planning on just working for all your break?” you questioned, “Or got any other plans?”

“For the most part, yeah,” he nods, “Other than that, I’m not sure.” Maybe he can actually go through with his plan to ask you out, “How about you?”

“Nothing,” you say happily, “I can finally rest.”

“You deserve it,” he grins in your direction. At this point, you and Jeno are approaching your house, the porch light being the only thing guiding your path.

“Thanks, Jeno,” you smiled, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jeno waits for you to slip through your gate and disappear through your door before he turns to leave. There’s a lingering feeling at the back of his head—one mixed with confidence and anticipation for tomorrow or even the day after. He plays back the number of times he’s had this same feeling when he’s with you. This equals the number of times he’s wanted to take you out and spend time with you, and the number of times he has cursed school for getting in the way.

But after tomorrow, after you’re free from the temporary shackles of school, Jeno can finally take his built-up confidence into use.

He just hopes that the waiting was worth it.

°•. ✿ .•°

tags: @k-radio @whipped-kpop-creators

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caker-baker · 2 years

Text

Bite

Stop it.

The vampire shoved part of their fist in their mouth, watching the hero do what they always did.

Being good was sometimes shed with immortality, with power, ripped away with bindings that once held a soul.

Heroes were good, even with power, even knowing it didn’t always amount to something important.

Was this hero important? Was this hero so worth it that for the first time in a long time, old tears found the way to the vampire’s eyes?

They were not good, and no vampire would fool themselves into thinking anything different. Reckless chaos was what vampires brought into the universe, and long since had peace been considered too idle for them.

Peace was a fool’s game, someone without power trying to reach it under guises of harmony and unity and what have you, and yet…

And yet and yet and yet.

People—breathing, delicate, heart pumping blood through their veins, run of the mill carbon copy people—tried so hard.

Stop it.

The vampire bit down on their fist harder, something in the back of their mind wondering how long it’s been since an action like that would have pierced the skin. The front of the mind was too busy to intercept, focusing on the flashing police lights, Hero talking to law enforcement as they handed off one more, amount to nothing important, good deed of a person.

This particular amount to nothing good deed had caught Hero’s eyes because of some thieving attempt.

Plebeian.

If the hero craved real justice, the vampire could manipulate the world just so they could set it right again. Topple the crème de la crème of society, expose the biggest of frauds in the world, create real chaos, chaos the hero could take time to fix, to do something other than nothing.

The vampire thought of their usual chaos, the fear in the night routine, urban legends walking among the carbon copies, waiting in the dark.

That wasn’t something the hero could fix, and yet…

And yet and yet and yet.

They walked the streets, escorted people home, waited in alleyways for urban legends to get to them first.

The police and the lights faded, and again, Hero waited in the streets, still for a moment to catch the swish of clothing in the dark.

“Hi again.” They greeted with a smile, glancing up at the source of the swish of clothing.

Taking their fist out of their mouth, the vampire hopped down.

One took a surprising amount of caution to seem a noticeable and unnoticeable perfect mix of human being. Hopping wasn’t part of the vampire’s life, but gliding would draw attention.

“Hi yourself.” The vampire greeted back, staying halfway in the dark. “You’ve been quiet around here lately.”

“You know me, I go where there’s high traffic.” It was meant to be a joke, the vampire could only assume.

“Burglars are suddenly high traffic?” They doubted the hero could see their raised eyebrow, shrouded in the dark.

“Slow night tonight. You plan on causing any trouble?” The hero smiled, and so did the vampire.

“Not tonight. My dance card is fully queued.”

The hero, long ago, assumed the vampire to be some sort of vigilante. They were never corrected, because the truth was far worse.

The back of the vampire’s mind spoke again.

Stop it.

“Oh?” The hero asked. “Should I be jealous? Here I thought I was the only one conversing with the tall, dark, stranger hidden in shadow.”

“You might not be the only brightly colored hero basking in streetlight that swings by here.” Their eyes glided across the hero’s form, only for a moment, only to see their vulnerability.

The hero snorted. “Can you tell them to back off, then? This is my area.” They made a show of posing in a proud manner. “Yeah. I’m kind of a big deal around here, so…”

The vampire snickered.

Do it.

“A big deal?” They echoed. “Please. Talk to me when you’ve overthrown an oligarch.”

The hero’s over-exaggerated pose deflated. “Hey. I’m working on it.”

And it could be done. Do it. They’ll forgive you. It might take years, but it’s years they’ll have. One day they’ll die. They can be mad, or they could be dead. Do it. Exposed neck. No witnesses. Bite. Them.

The vampire shoved their fist back in their mouth and stumbled back.

“Woah! Hey,” The hero walked forward, stopping abruptly when the vampire put their other hand out, signaling for them to stay. “Are you ok?”

The back of their mind, the front of their mind, thoughts of all kind mixed together. Sickening and kind, fragile and indestructible, before the curtain dropped on human emotion, after everything heightened tenfold, the need to see humans and mimic, the pull of chaos, and then everything in between, resting on the shoulders of this unimportant hero, who could live forever if they just–

Stop it.

Slowly, they lowered both hands. “Yes, apologies, I-”

‘I’ what? Come closer, little hero.

They backed further away. “I have dizzy spells.” What a horrid lie. “Sometimes I just need to be nearer to a wall, to rest.”

This didn’t cement the noticeable and unnoticeable human traits. The vampire was always the right combination of clumsy and agile, never before had they faltered. Dizzy spells?

“No big. Do I need to find you some water? Call anyone? One of those other brightly colored heroes?”

The vampire hid the brilliant grin that bloomed across their face, not that it mattered, they had fully immersed themselves into the darkness the shadows provided, meaning that the hero couldn’t see their eyes.

Sinking down the wall, the vampire looked to the hero, bathing in the streetlight.

Importance and unimportance. How trivial it all was in comparison to human force, vampiric chaos, a rivalry gone on for far too long.

Bite them. It’s a kindness, this gift.

“No. It’s only me, no one to call.”

The hero sat at the opposite end. “Consider me your emergency contact, then. How long do these normally last?”

Stop it.

The vampire enjoyed this human. This one force in the universe as a constant. But this constant wasn’t forever. They would die one day. Death was constant, Hero wasn’t.

What good was an inconsistent without their ability to be good?

“Not long.” The vampire stood again, the action taking more from them than they originally realized.

It wasn’t until the hero spoke again that they felt an unusual mortal weakness.

“Stay here.” The hero also stood. “I’ll get you some water.”

God, this ache in their chest was painful in a way they hadn’t known since their human death. The weak knees that buckled with the hero’s absence was a sensation they wished they couldn’t feel. Those old and stale tears once again sprung to their eyes.

Had they always been this dramatic? Had it always hurt?

Even the darkness that comforted and protected creatures like them was now suffocating, but suffocating it had to be.

The hero’s footsteps echoed around the corner.

Stop it.

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sadisticsongbird · 11 months

Text

divided by the crown ~ peter parker

part three

a/n: y’all i am SO sorry. i thought i had queued this yesterday already because I had a funeral. but here it is. FINALLY. the last part of divided by the crown and i’m not going to lie, i am NOT going to miss it. although it was fun to write, it was difficult to continue working on it for a long length of time. i am however willing to answer any questions you may have about the series or write little blurbs here and there if they end up in my ask box. but without further adu...

summary: the close of your and peters royal adventure...

warnings: this has NOT been edited

word count: 9.5k

You had officially run out of tears and your throat was raw. Screaming wasn’t helping and now your voice was left to a broken sound. The funny thing was that you weren’t screaming for your sake, for them to let you out. You had been calling Peter’s name over and over. Even now as sound was barely escaping you, his name was the only thing leaving your lips. Your back was sore and you were sure that you had countless slivers in the palms of your hands. It had been only three days since you had been locked up and you hadn’t even seen Peter once. You were sure that guards were keeping him away, but you couldn’t help but ask why he didn’t take control over the guards. They were HIS soldiers after all, not MJ’s. You sighed before getting up from the hay on the ground upon seeing your breakfast tray lying at the foot of the barred cell door. You looked up to see a guard standing before your cell, staring straight ahead. Of course, she would set up a watch. She probably had guards on Peter’s door too, keeping you two away from one another.

When they had brought you here, they had given you only a sheer dress, even worse than what you normally wore. There were already rips in the fabric from the rough ground and rock walls, holes in the most inconvenient of places. It was long, thank God, so it wouldn’t ride up. Peter was kept behind after they had brought you in, Lord Stark the one to take him home. He was escorted to his room immediately and probably hadn’t left it since.

It had only been days, but it had felt like years. He had been sitting at his desk for the time being kept in his room. The ring that sat on his finger was being twisted between his fingers and your necklace that sat in his pocket felt heavy. All he could think about was you. You locked up in a cell.

All because of him.

He wouldn’t stop until he had looked at every last document, every last note until he found a loophole to get you both out of the situation you were in. He had yet to be visited by the princess and was quite dreading a visit from her. What had happened in the short afternoon and evening that he had disappeared for? It had been normal for him to disappear and abandon all responsibility in the past few months, but how far did MJ have her nails in the court? Lord Stark, whom he trusted, was even submitting to the foreign royal’s orders. In frustration, he plopped down in the chair that was sitting behind his desk. Peter couldn’t bare to think about what would happen to you if he couldn’t succeed. What would the princess do to you? Your relationship was one forbode and MJ was meant to take the place that you currently held. Would she go as far as killing you to be at Peter’s side?

And what would be of him? If MJ intended to continue to control his guards and court, what place did Peter serve? What if she intended to kill the both of them and take the kingdom for herself? He couldn’t let that happen. To either of you. He would make sure of it.

A knock was heard at his door and he scrambled to his feet and tried to scatter the documents and maps across his desk. Although they probably knew that Peter was doing whatever he could to get out of this mess, he didn’t want them to know if he had made any progress and stop him. If he was making progress at all. Unannounced, his doors opened, revealing the princess herself.

“Peter.”

“MJ.”

There was an awkwardness radiating off of the young prince, making MJ very aware of his vulnerability and it gave her all the more reason to keep pursuing confidence.

“Your little love bird is sitting in a cell right now…but you want to know what the weird thing is?” Peter didn’t say anything. “She doesn’t seem to be concerned for herself…only for you.” He gulped. It sounded like something you would do. Even though you should be worrying about yourself, you concern yourself with others' well-being. “You must’ve fooled her well. That move you pulled in the woods, the defensive boyfriend bit,” she muttered, making her way closer to Peter and placing her hand on his chest. He recoiled slightly but didn’t move far. “I’ll admit, I was convinced. Really, I’m impressed. But does she really know the truth about the young Peter Parker?” Her hand dragged lower and lower until it was sitting near the waistband of his pants. Just before she reached his belt, he grasped her wrist in his hand and twisted slightly, if only to inflict a little pain. If it did, it didn’t show on her unmoving features.

“Enough, MJ,”

“What?” she scoffed. “You upset your little play thing’s locked away?”

His scowl grew deep. The anger between the two didn’t dissipate and the princess was only making it worse. He threw her hand away and turned around. He was scared of what he would do to her if she kept on instigating him.

“Come on, Peter. Just admit that you were playing her and this whole thing is over…”

“What’s over!?!” he yelled. “What is this?! What’s going on?!!” He paused, waiting for a reaction. When she didn’t give one, he decided it was enough self-control. “What, did daddy pull the plug on your money? He tells you that you couldn’t lead the kingdom because of that recklessness we both know you possess?”

“SHUT UP!!!” she screamed.

Peter fell back. He wasn’t expecting such an outburst and definitely wasn’t expecting the red glow coming from her eyes. She was a sight. Her entire body glowed like it was aflame and her eyes…her eyes bore into him, leaving his head spinning. This was no princess, at least not the one he knew from years ago.

“You have 24 hours, young prince, to relinquish your right to the throne…willingly or this kingdom will fall to the ground.” She flattened her gown, attempting to look clean before storming out of his room.

Fear. That was the only thing ingrained into him at the moment. Who was the woman that had just been standing in front of him? He should have guessed that something was up the moment a cocky grin appeared on her face the very first evening. While the girl that he knew had attitude problems, she didn’t like confronting people, too worried that her mistakes would lead the kingdom into further ruin. That girl wouldn’t be as straightforward with him as she was nor would she order around guards as smoothly as she did. Whoever she was, she wasn’t MJ. But her warning let him know that he had 24 hours to figure out.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you had been locked down there but everything was dark and you couldn’t make anything out besides the little cracks in the bricks that surrounded the torch posts on the wall. It was cold, a slight breeze traveling through the corridor, insinuating that it was most likely night now. You knew that there were guards down here. You could hear them talking at the end of the hall. The straw and the rock were beginning to make your feet raw so you opted for sitting on the makeshift wood plank they called a bed. When - if - you got out of this, you’d be talking to Peter about making the prison cells a little bit more comfortable. While being in jail wasn’t meant to be a leisure opportunity, last days or hours deserved to be spent in better conditions, especially in once-in-a-lifetime situations like yours. And maybe adding some windows or a source of natural light down here. What you would give to see the sun one last time, hear the birds chirp in the spring once more, feel the rain on your skin. But you had sealed your fate the moment you had stepped into Peter’s room that night to help him with his nightmare. You loved Peter, but that came at a cost. One you were scared to pay. Although it should have made you more worried about yourself, all you could think about was what would happen to Peter after you were gone. Did MJ have too much control of the kingdom already and it was slipping through Peter’s fingers? Would your death take a toll on the prince and would he be strong enough to lead after you were gone? Would he be vulnerable enough for MJ to take the kingdom or would he give up willingly?

Questions seemed to take more place in both of your minds rather than action. But then again, what could you do?

You had given up on trying to make a key out of straw after about ten minutes and the bars were too strong to be broken or even indented with your bare strength. So here you were, giving up and hopeless just as you promised Peter you wouldn’t be. You felt like you were letting him down. He was probably trying as many things as he could to try and get you out and yet you were sitting here, surrendering to your fate.

A clang rang on the bars outside of your cell. You didn’t turn over, keeping your back to whomever stood outside your cell. You kept your eyes on the stones, tracing the cracks in the walls with your eyes.

“I take it you're probably hungry?” Immediately upon hearing the voice, you turned to see Wanda standing there, holding a tray of food.

“Wanda!” You stood up right away, but your legs gave out from underneath you. You were weak and hadn’t eaten much. What little strength you had left in you, you wanted to preserve.

There was a single soldier standing with Wanda, who began unlocking the door while your friend waitied anxiously to attend to you. The key turned and you felt the only thing that kept you from escaping opening for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Wanda rushed over to you, setting down the food and helping you sit up. “You’re weak. Come on, eat.” She handed you a piece of bread. “God, they couldn’t have opened that door any slower,” she said without even bothering to see if they had disappeared. Luckily, they had retreated to their position at the end of the hall.

Your arms could barely support your weight, but you used your free hand to shove the piece of bread in your mouth. You weren’t sure if your stomach could hold it down, but you would take anything to soothe your hunger. Your friend stayed silent, only watching you scarf down what was in front of you.

“So, you and Peter? In the woods? Naked?” She rose her eyebrows a few times, teasing.

“Shut up,” you giggled, unable to stop the blush creeping up on your cheeks. Taking a sip of water, you finally had the confidence to look up at her.

“There’s a smile…”

“H-how’s the kingdom? Is MJ…is she-”

“Y/N, ask what you wanna ask…”

You gulped. “How’s Peter?” “He’s…struggling. Guards are posted outside of his room and limited staff are allowed in. He most likely hasn’t slept since you were locked up.” You looked down, breaking eye contact with Wanda. This was all your fault. If you hadn’t given in to Peter’s antics, neither of you would be in this spot. “And the princess, she made a deal with Peter. He has 24 hours to fulfill her request before…”

She didn’t even have to finish. You knew. You knew what would happen. Both of you sat in silence in the straw. You knew that Wanda would have to leave any moment. Although you wished she could stay longer, the red-head had already gotten up and picked up the tray. She left the bread on the ground. You grabbed what was left of the bun and raised it to her.

“Keep it. Take a few more bites. Trust me.”

You looked at the bread in hand but didn’t understand. Before you could look at her again, she was walking out of your cell and was already halfway down the hall, the door locking again behind her. Subconsciously, you took a larger bite into the bun and something hard hit your teeth. It sent a jolt of pain through your mouth as you quickly pulled the food out of your mouth. Your hands were swift to pull the bread apart and a metallic clink landed on the stone floor. Attempting to follow the object in the minimal lighting, you let your hands roam around the floor, searching with your sense of touch. When you felt something cold on your fingers, you grasped it. The moment you felt what it was, recollection flooded you and you felt a warmth in your chest. Peter’s ring, the one you had given him. And it only meant one thing. Peter had found a way. There was hope.

He had found a way to smuggle Wanda into his room, someone he knew you trusted. It was all the more reason for him to trust her. Peter had given her very specific instructions on how to place the ring in the bread, then bring her food. Once you had gotten his gift, you would know that he was going to get you out and end this madness. While scanning documents for loopholes to this whole fiasco began to seem pointless after a few hours, the maps had given him some closure. The only way to escape the problem was to escape. He had a way to sneak out of his room to get to you. All he had to do was wait for the right opportunity. He hadn’t thought about how to deal with MJ yet. He didn’t even know if it was truly her or if he could even defeat her. Peter didn’t want to give up his kingdom or give up on his people, but he couldn’t leave you for death either. He knew he shouldn’t, but his heart desired your safety above anyone else's. It was wrong. Being the Heir Prince, he was supposed to put the kingdom above his own needs and be responsible in situations like this, but he just couldn’t let you go.

Peter had changed into something more comfortable for being on the run and had a small bag packed with resources for a short while. All he had to do was wait a few more minutes. The guards would be changing and it gave him only a two minute window to slip out of his room and hide. But escaping his room would be the easy part. He still had to deal with everyone else in the palace, soldiers and apparently court members alike, get you out of your cell, and not to mention a head to head with the princess if he wanted to save his people. His foot continued to tap against the ground under the weight of his shaking legs. Nerves were nowhere near settling and they probably wouldn’t die down until he knew for sure that you were safe and free.

The clock kept ticking and he was growing impatient for when the clock finally struck 2. He had spent the last few hours devising a plan after MJ had paid him a dear old visit, just trying to figure out how to get to you without her noticing either one of your disappearances. The guards normally weren’t inside the hall by the doors, only at the end of it. As the prince, he held a set of emergency keys in case something like this were to happen. Well, not something exactly like this, but being the sole leader of the kingdom, he had access to everywhere in the palace with these keys, including the prison. He was sure that MJ took them out of his desk before locking him in, but then again, she probably wasn’t expecting Peter to leave his room either. He slipped the jail cell key and the sewer tunnel key off of the link that they were on and slipped them into his jacket pocket. He decided on the coat that he had given to you the night you came in to comfort him. It made his heart slow its beating, having a piece of you around. While it looked a little cheesy on him, your necklace also took a place around his neck. It was tucked under his shirt so the chain wouldn’t fall off, worried that if it was in his pocket, it could possibly fall out.

It felt like way too long since he had seen you, but he didn’t want to know what kind of state you were in. He couldn’t bare looking at you hurt, knowing that it was his actions that caused it. Why couldn’t he have just stayed away? Now here he was, hopelessly in love with you and risking his entire kingdom to save your life. He watched as the last seconds on the clock ticked down. The second the minute hand hit twelve, he flew to the door. He crouched down to peek through the small lock in the door. He prayed that the guards wouldn’t all of a sudden have a feeling that he was going to leave, I mean, he hadn’t tried in the days already spent locked in his room. Peter heard silent footsteps walking down the hall and he took a deep breath. This was it. This was his chance. Silently, he pushed open the doors to his room, leaving only enough space for him to sneak between them. He never left his back to the hall, making sure to keep an eye out for anyone coming up the corridor.

His plan was simple. Sneak down to the servant chambers. Wanda would be waiting down there as long as she had successfully brought you your food. She had a set of clothes waiting for him to take along for you and some shoes. Then he would travel opposite the kitchen, hopefully unnoticed, to the prison which was conveniently located in the same hall. He still didn’t have a plan to lure the extra guards out, but he’d get to it when he got there. Then unlock your cell, get you out, and run to the sewers and exit where Wanda would be waiting with a horse. See, simple.

His heart was beating out of his chest. There was no imagining what kind of consequences would befall his people if he failed. Would all of the people assisting him be condemned? The fate of the kingdom was resting on his shoulders and the worst part was that his people didn’t even know about the danger they were in. He guessed that was a good thing, but would his people rally behind him if they knew? Peter had been a pretty poor leader since his parents passed. His father was a god compared to his leadership skills. All he’d done was endanger the kingdom with his reckless love. The prince was always impressed with his father. The authoritative tone that echoed across the throne room, the way that he seemed calm no matter the circumstances that pressed down on the lives of his people. When Peter stepped up to the throne, fear was definitely expected, but the sinking feeling in his stomach that he was going to let down everyone, wasn’t.

This was his chance to prove to not only to his people but himself that he could do this.

His head turned to glance around the hall. Once he knew that it was clear, he ran down the corridor until he saw the small door tucked away into a divet in the hall. No light illuminated the doorway and, if Peter was honest, he almost missed it. Slipping through the door, he began walking down the steep staircase. He carried nothing with him besides what was on his person, so there was nothing to get caught and make him trip, although he still was cautious. The stairs were already risky as it was, only one foot sideways able to fit on the stairs at time. The trudge down seemed to take forever and it only made Peter more anxious. He should be more excited. He was getting closer to saving you, but the only thing that was running through his head was how scared he was.

He had only explored these halls a few times when he was little, so the maps were a nice refresher. Whenever his parents were busy and needed to tend to royal business, he would come down here and explore, pretending he didn’t hold the life he held. Most kids in the villages surrounding would love to be where he is, but in all honesty, he envied the life that they held. The life that you held. You had freedoms that he didn’t. Peter had been basically betrothed since birth and was destined to lead the kingdom. He just wasn’t expecting it to happen all so soon.

The servant chambers were nearly in sight. The light was on in the kitchen and the last thing he expected to see was Chef Rogers so late at night. As long as he wasn’t seen he would be fine, but he couldn’t be too loud either without waking up the entire servants quarters. Waiting until the chef had turned around, he ran quickly around the corner to the servant quarters, opening the door carefully so as not ot make a sound or let in too much light. When he stepped inside, he was expecting the room to be a lot more occupied. With the dozens of beds that were held in the room, only a few of them were currently being slept in. He had never thought about the fact that they worked while he slept, doing things for him to prepare for the next mornings that he never acknowledged.

Wanda was sitting on her bed, holding a small journal in her hands, writing something down. She didn’t say anything, only motioning him over. No one else seemed to be awake. If they were, they were too caught up in their own world to know that the Crown Prince had just walked in. The closer he got, the more he recognized what had been put together. A small care basket, one holding a blanket, small hand held mirror, and a few apples. If anyone else were to see the haul that Wanda had been holding for you, she would be killed.

“Just a few seconds more. I have something I really want her to have.” Wanda’s voice was unsteady. Everything that had happened lately had happened so fast. One morning she was covering for her best friend to spend the day in the woods and the next, she was helping that same friend escape the royal prison. Along with the Prince.

Peter waited impatiently. He knew that whatever Wanda was writing was special and something that you would need to hear, but he was in a hurry to get you out before MJ noticed that anyone was out of place. He let out a sigh of relief when Wanda signed the bottom and began folding the delicate piece of paper.

“That pile of clothes,” she gestured to, placing her note among the basket items, “put it on.”

“What?” Peter asked. “I already changed.”

She scoffed patting her hand on his chest. “Right. No one’s gonna recognize you with the royal emblem on your clothing.” He looked down and sure enough, what he thought was an inconspicuous disguise had royal prince sewn all over it.

She chucked the clothes at his chest and turned around. Normally he would be embarrassed to change in front of a girl, but since everyone else was sleeping and that your life was on the line, it didn’t seem to bother him. He slipped the keys out the jacket and set them in the pouch in his belt. Changing quickly, he wondered what he would do with his clothes. After the whole jacket fiasco, he didn’t know what he’d do if your friend also was imprisoned because of him.

“You have it very simple. All you have to do is go down the hall, the guards are usually asleep at the time. If they aren’t, this,” she took a small white pouch out of the basket, “if you set it on fire, will knock ‘em out in a few minutes. You just might have to be careful. You could take Y/N out in the process and, trust me, it’s gonna be easier to take her with you if she’s conscious.” He only nodded along with the instructions, mapping out the plan in his head. “I’ll be waiting by the sewer tunnel with your horse and your supplies. You think you can ride without a saddle?” He shook his head vertically. “Good.” She paused, looking him the eyes deeply. Wanda needed him to understand how important that this was, how important you were. You and Peter may have known each other since you were little, but he didn’t KNOW you. Not like she did. When he looked at her like a deer in headlights, it didn’t make her too confident that this was going to work. Inhaling deeply, she stared him down. “You realize her life is on the line?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Because you don’t look to enthusiastic.”

Something snapped in Peter. He had been up all night and day for who knows how long and no Wanda was questioning his reliance. “Listen, Y/N is in this mess because of me. And that means that I’m gonna get her out of it. You know her more than anything, and as much as it pains me, even more than me. But do you really think that I would be down here risking my future just to ensure that she gets hers?” He stopped and looked around the room, realizing the volume he was speaking at and making sure that there was no one woken up from his outburst.

Wanda laid her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “If Y/N trusts you, that’s enough for me.” She gave him a small smile. “Good luck.”

“Good luck to you too.”

“You’ll need it more than me,” Wanda admitted.

The prince gave her back a small smile. He turned around once before pausing. “That jacket. Can you make sure that it gets back to me? I know it’s asking a lot, but it technically belongs to Y/N?”

“You’re asking me to endanger myself more than I already have?”

“Yes?” his voice scooping up at the end.

She smiled slightly. “I’m kidding. Now go, we won’t have much time.”

You had been wide awake since you received the ring from Peter. You continued to twirl it around your finger, feeling the engraving that you had gotten special for him. Your butt was starting to get sore from sitting on the hard bed. But you weren’t ready to move or fall asleep, afraid that you would miss Peter coming in the second you closed your eyes. The prison was silent, only the sound of the torches crackling at the end of the hall, and the faint sound of guards giggling at the end. Every moment that ticked by was a nightmare, scared that Peter had gotten caught or something worse happened to him and that all hope was lost. But a faint smoke appearing from where the guards were, made you step back from the bars, scared of the unknown gas. You stayed a fair distance away and slipped your dress over you mouth so as not to inhale the smoke. There was a clang, like the drop of a sword, heard from the end of the corridor and someone emerging from the smoke. Your heart began to race. What if it was MJ or Lord Stark? What if it was a guard coming to take you away so that Peter couldn’t find you? Relief flooded your features when the face molded into one you knew. Before thinking, you raced over to him, forgetting about concealing your features to protect yourself from the smoke.

“Y/N!” he whisper shouted as he messed with the lock on your cell, waiting for the click.

You quickly lifted the thin clothes on your body over your face, but it was too late, you could feel the effects of the smoke hitting, not strongly, but enough to make you feel dizzy.

It was nice to feel you in his arms again. After days apart, you both felt deprived from one another. He began to scan your skin for marks and bruises. You could feel his fingertips grazing your skin, not failing to miss a single blemish. You were drowsy, but you managed to pull his gaze to your face and look him in the eyes. Planting a weak kiss on his lips, you managed to get him to focus on you. He couldn’t believe that this was happening. All of this had been his fault. If he had just stayed away from you like he knew that he should have, he wouldn’t be holding your shaking hand, looking into your empty eyes, hearing the shallow breaths. You would have been safer without him. Now, he was risking both of your lives on top of countless others to unsure that the two of you were together. It wasn’t hard for him to decide to come save you, but it was difficult for him to convince himself to come along for the ride.

“Y/N, love, we need to go. Now.”

You shook your head in agreement, but your feet wouldn’t move on their own accord. Peter felt your grasp tighten on his arm and saw how your eyes seemed to droop.

“No, no, no…” he mumbled. “Y/N, please, we have to get moving.”

“I-I can’t, Peter. My l-legs.”

No matter how hard you tried, whatever smoke you seemed to be inhaling was making you feel limp. You knew that this was going to slow the both of you down, but the material against your face just wasn’t thick enough for you to avoid inhaling the fumes.

In a swift movement, you were suddenly in Peter’s arms, his cloth no longer around his nose. He was inhaling it just as much as you now, but he made a quick effort to get out of the prison. Everything was a blur. You could hear Peter breathing heavily, only praying that whatever the smoke did to you wouldn’t befall Peter too. This was likely your only chance to get out. Another chance wouldn’t arise when MJ realized what the two of you had done.

It didn’t seem like the two of you had gotten far, but when you heard the sounds of water splashing beneath Peter’s footsteps, you knew you were further than you thought. You had been slipping in and out of consciousness. You were shocked that it didn’t seem to be affecting Peter more than it did. He must not have had enough time to inhale it properly because he wasn’t stumbling or coughing anymore. Peter began to fumble with something on his person, letting his hadn fall from under your legs momentarily. More metal could be heard before a click sounded through the dark tunnel. The small gate opened and you were busy trying to keep yourself awake in case you needed to be aware of your surroundings. Your eyes were closed, but you could tell that you were outside the palace now, the light from the moon illuminating through your eyelids. Crickets were chirping around you and Peter, but whatever noises you were making were louder. Evidently, you had been whimpering because he turned to you, shushing you softly and kissing your forehead that was leaned against his shoulder. The more that you tried to keep your eyes open, the more the exhaustion crept over you. You didn’t want to become a burden in your own liberation, but whatever concoction that Peter whipped up to knock the guards out certainly had done a number on you.

“Is she okay? You didn’t let her inhale it, did you?” you heard a familiar voice ask.

“I tried to stop her but she got too close too fast. I didn’t have enough time to warn her.” He paused. “I got some of it too, but I don’t think I had enough to knock me out like her.”

You loosened your arms from around Peter’s neck enough to get your head out of Peter’s chest. One look at the red hair was enough to know that you should have figured she’d still have a hand in assisting your escape.

“W-wanda?” you managed to slip out.

She must have heard your small voice, coming over and immediately combing her hand over your hair, pushing whatever was in the way out of your face.

“Hey, Y/N,” she calmed you.

“Where are we going?” you managed to ask softly.

“Peter’s gonna take you somewhere. Even I don’t know. But it’s for your safety.”

You nodded along, feeling as if you were understanding everything the moment the words left her lips, but the more you let the words soak in, you realized what she truly meant. Blinking a few times, you could see the tears falling from her eyes.

“N-no, no, no, no, no…” you began to cry, sounding more like a child as you hurried out your oppositions.

“I know, I know. But it’s for your safety. For all of our safety.”

“But I don’t want you to go,” you whined.

“I-” Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but her voice failed her, threatening to show you just how upset that she was. But she couldn’t let you see that. Turning around, she moved to the horse, making sure all of the straps were secure.

Peter let her have a moment, responding to you himself. “Love, it’s okay. You’ll see her again. I just need to make sure you’re safe.” His hand slipped under your chin, wiping the tears off with his thumb. He followed your best friend towards the horse, calming you down in the process.

“I’ve got everything set. You know where to go?”

“Once she’s safe, I’ll let you know. I just… can’t risk it right now.”

She shook her head in response. “Make sure she gets my letter when she feels better.”

“I will.”

Wanda stepped away from the horse, ready to take you while Peter mounted. He handed you off gently, making sure that your feet were steady on the ground and Wanda was supporting you enough before letting go. Getting on the horse, made him anxious to be separated from you. While he knew that he could trust Wanda, he felt that you weren’t safe unless you were with him. At the same time, though, you were probably in the most danger with him. The red head supported you when Peter reached out for you. With every bit of your strength, you pulled yourself up and into Peter’s lap and fell back into his arms, just as you were moments ago, curled up into his chest. Once he felt comfortable that you were settled, he bid a short farewell to Wanda, riding off into the forest.

“Pete,” you muttered. He looked down at you, keeping one hand on the reigns and the other around your back. “Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry about that, just sleep.”

And you did.

“I want to know where they are! How could he slip right under your noses?”

“Your Majesty, if I could-”

“Shut up! You have been no help to me, Stark,” MJ’s voice thundered through the room. “Maybe your soft spot for the boy is more prominent than I thought.”

“Princess, I can assure you-”

“Assure me what? Assure me that my only collateral has run away? Assure me that you’ll never see the light of day again? Cause you’ve done a fine job of that so far.”

Lord Stark stayed silent this time, cowering at the creature that was seated on Peter’s father’s throne. The throne room had been transformed into a room of chaos. Whatever magic that had a hold on the princess seemed to radiate through her anger. The curtains that shaded the windows were in tatters, the pillars holding up the ceiling now littered with cracks that only seemed to be growing.The doors burst open, making the princess stand.

“Your Majesty, we have someone who assisted the prisoner and prince.”

Followed shortly after the messenger, to soldiers began dragging a girl into the room, one that bore an all too common head of red hair.

“Get off of me! I haven’t done anything!” she screamed.

The guards grip on her arms didn’t loosen until she was right in front of MJ’s feet, dropping her like a dead weight.

“And who might you be?” she asked coyly.

“Someone who serves the prince, not whoever you are.”

A flame of red rushed around Wanda’s neck, making her grasp at her neck and search for air. She could see the red in the princess’s eyes, brighter than the ripped curtains.

“I won’t ask again. Who. Are. You?”

Just as it appeared the red wisps were gone, allowing the serving girl to breathe again.

“Wanda. I’m a servant.”

“Well, Wanda, someone tells me you had a hand in the prince’s escape from the palace. Might you have any idea where they went?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” the princess asked, stepping down the stairs, closer to Wanda.

“Are deaf or stupid? I said I don’t know.”

“Ooh. Someone’s got a little fire in her,” MJ laughed, sending shivers done your best friend’s spine. Her conniving laugh didn’t stop until she reached the bottom of the stairs and grasped Wanda’s chin, pulling her up to meet in the middle. “Too bad it’s gonna cost you your life,” she spit.

Realization flooded through Wanda as she felt the guards pull her back, she didn’t try to scream or resist this time, feeling numb to the fate she was befalling. She would never see you again, only hoping that you found comfort in her last letter. They had about dragged her out the door completely when she spoke again.

“You’re not going to win.”

MJ’s feet stopped from ascending the stairs and turned around to face the girl once more. “I think you overestimate how much you puny prince can do.”

Without another word, Wanda was escorted out of sight and MJ kept walking.

“Stark, we only have a few hours left. Ensure that Peter doesn’t get in the way. But if he doesn’t give me what I want,” she paused, taking a seat once again, “people are going to start. Getting. Hurt.”

The sun was blinding and nothing you were used to. You hadn’t seen the sun in days and waking up to the bright light was in some ways comforting. Your fingers reached beneath you to feel cloth and a mattress, making you shoot straight up. The room was small, but it was the perfect cottage bedroom, only a small curtain separating you and whatever was making a crackling noise on the other side. You threw the sheets off of you and stepped onto the wood floor. Taking a look around the room, you were sure to be quiet, unsure if anyone else was in here.

But Peter… Where was he?

Stopping your tour of the room, you made your way to the curtain, bunching it up to see the other side. It was a small kitchen, a wooden table in the middle and cupboards that held food and dishes. There was a small oven with something cooking inside. Peter stood near the window, looking outside. He had yet to notice you, so you decided to let him know that you were awake. You had so many questions.

“Pete?”

He turned, startled by your voice. “Y/N, you’re awake.” Hurrying toward you, he engulfed you in his arms, picking you up and twirling you around. “You’re okay. How do you feel? Are you hungry? I'm assuming they didn't feed you much. Is your head okay? I know you inhaled a lot of smoke when I got you out.”

Peter continued to rant and ask you questions and all the while, you couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. He got you out. He saved you. He stupidly put his life and his whole kingdom at risk for you. There was nothing but adoration and love shining in his eyes and you didn’t want to look away. You still didn’t understand how the two of you had gotten here. It seemed like only hours ago, he was kicking you out of his room in the palace, too caught up in grieving to care about anyone else but himself. Now, here you both were, in the middle of who knows where, holding one another. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for the boy in front of you and now you were sure that he would do the same. Not that you doubted him before, but because you didn’t want him to. You were - are - nothing compared to him. You didn’t want him to risk a future for you, but you knew that if you told him, he would just tell you that he didn’t want a future without you in it. You knew it was cheesy, but it made you feel a comfort that you hadn’t in a long time. You hadn’t realized that Peter had stopped talking, now silent as he stared back at you.

“Y/N?”

Crashing his lips onto yours, you savored the moment that you two were finally, both consciously in one another’s arms once again. You couldn’t get enough of his taste, one that felt familiar, that felt like home. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you into his body. You broke the kiss with a smile, encircling your arms around his neck.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi.”

“I don’t mean to sour the mood, but…what happened?”

He chuckled at your first statement. “You, uh, fell asleep. Whatever Wanda used in the knock out stuff got you too. The moment you were on the horse, you were out. And I didn’t want to wake you.” He reached up to grab a stray piece of hair falling in front of your face. “I got all of the stuff off the horse. And let you sleep.”

“Have you slept?”

“I don’t think I could’ve anyways,” he admitted. He was going to continue, but didn’t know if he could put the extra strain on you after the past week.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s the princess. She gave me an ultimatum.”

“I know. Twenty-four hours. Wanda told me.”

“Ho-”

“Peter, look. If you wanna do this thing alone, be my guest. I won’t interfere if that’s what you want. But know that you don’t have to. Who do you think the people would rather have lead them? Some princess they hardly know or the prince that has been looking after them since he was a little boy?”

He wanted to disagree with you, but he knew there was no point. You were right. He knew that it was safer to do this alone, but the thought of anyone else getting hurt on his behalf felt like too much of a burden.

“Y/N, I don’t have a lot of time. MJ…she isn’t who she says she is, at least I don’t think so. There’s this…aura to her. It’s not normal, almost as if something is controlling her. She’s dangerous.”

“If you don’t want me to deal with her, Peter, then I won’t. But please…let me help.” You paused. “What can I do?”

Giving in was going to be easier than withholding things from you. Trust had become a fragile thing in Peter’s life, but he knew that if there was anyone in the world that he would never doubt, it would be you.

“I don’t have an exact idea, but I’ve got some clue on where to start.”

When you and Peter got into the armory, you both assumed that there would be someone in there, but apparently, MJ had the soldiers occupied elsewhere. You had completely expected the need for weapons, nevertheless, you were shocked when Peter handed you a sword.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Use it."

"You know what I meant."

Peter placed his sword in its place on his side. "To protect yourself. Look, this is a dangerous situation and I might not always be able to help. If I'm to go head-to-head with the princess, you can't be anywhere near me. She'll use you as leverage, I just know it. I'm not - I WILL not - lose you again."

You nodded, pushing down the argument that you wanted to help. It was a given that you were going to be an inconvenience, but you couldn't just let him waltz into the castle alone. While you hadn't seen what MJ was capable of, you still feared for his safety. Any protection you could provide for him was better than nothing.

"Peter, I'm not going anywhere."

You stood on your tippy-toes to plan a kiss on his cheek. It seemed to calm him down for the time being while you finished preparing your weapons. You had yet to run into anyone in the castle, but the sooner you got out of the armory, the more you had to worry about running into people.

"When we make it up to the main hall, I want you to go to my room," Peter began. "I want you to stay hidden until I come back to find you."

"But-"

"No, no 'buts.' Stay hidden until I come back, understand?"

You shook your head, following Peter as he ascended the stairs in the corner of the armory. They led through the kitchen towards the main hall. When you reached the top, you were to go right while he traveled in the opposite direction. He wanted to say goodbye, but wasn't sure if he should. He didn't want this to be the last one, but he also didn't want to leave you with nothing. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the little necklace that he'd given you only days ago. He had his ring on the chain as well, taking its place next to his mother’s pendant. You shared a look, yourself not knowing what was happening. Before you knew it, Peter was reaching behind your neck to clasp the necklace. When it was connected, his fingers retraced the chain to the simple pendant hanging on the front.

“Keep it safe for me?”

You had vowed that there would be now tears, but looking at Peter for what could be the last time made your heart want to break. You had considered the possibility of one, if not both, of you not making it out of here alive. But your heart yearned for that not to be true. Peter had always told himself that he could never go on if something were to happen to you. At first you had dismissed it, but the more that you had fallen for the boy, the more that you realized you felt the same way. A life without Peter seemed pointless now. You probably sounded ridiculous, some servant girl in love with the prince, her life doomed without him by her side, but it was anything but. It was your reality.

You placed your hand on top of his resting on his chest. “You’ll have to kiss me to get it back,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Thankfully, he smiled, keeping his hand under yours for a moment. When he began to pull away, your fingers subconsciously tightened around his, but they weren’t strong enough to keep him from backing away. The throne room was yet another corridor away, where Peter would wait to encounter the princess. He began to walk backwards, keeping his eyes on you. When he turned around to begin running, it felt like your heart was going to shatter into a million pieces. Trying to be strong, you turned too, making your own trek towards the all too familiar bedroom. Your fingers had yet to leave the ring sitting on the chain of your necklace. You twirled it around like you had done less than twenty four hours ago, sitting in a jail cell. Only prayers would allow you to return the ring to him.

When you rounded the corner, your hand fell from the piece of jewelry to the sword on your side. There was no one in sight but you wanted to be prepared in case there was anyone uninvited in Peter’s room. The door wasn’t ajar and you didn’t want to make much sound so as to alert anyone of your presence, so you only opened the door enough for you to fit through. Your mistake was not taking a loot inside first. One step into the room and there was a figure standing behind Peter’s desk, staring out through the windows into the courtyard.

“Ah, yes. Y/N, I’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

You cleared your throat, so as not to let the fear show. “Lord Stark.”

When Peter entered the throne room, he was expecting anything but the chaos he encountered. The room that his parents had kept pristine, in perfect condition was in ruin. Curtains torn, metal posts knocked over, cracks in the foundations and pillars. But the thing that made him want to throw up the most was the sight of his fathers’s throne aflame. But it wasn’t just any fire. It was a fire that had a red tint to it, almost unnatural. He quickly had his way up to try and extinguish it, but the flames weren’t burning the throne like they seemed to be. In curiosity, he moved his hand threw it and was surprised when he felt no burning pain on his skin.

“I was wondering how long you’d wait.”

At the sound of her voice, Peter drew his sword. Turning around, he as quick to place her walking through the doors, wearing a simple gown his mother had worn often.

“That doesn’t belong to you.”

“You were always one to make an entrance, though,” she voiced, completely ignoring his comment. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show. But then, again I knew you’d come back to protect your people. Or should I say my people? Are you ready to give up?”

“Not quite.” Lunging forward quickly, he swung his blade, preparing to strike her when the red wisps began to encircle them both. After a few seconds, they evaporated, allowing the prince to see that the princess was no longer in front of him, nor was he standing in the same spot.

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to draw blood, Pete.”

He ran towards her again, swinging the sword towards her head, but the same thing happened again and suddenly he was in a different corner of the room. Aimlessly, he continued, hoping that a strike would finally hit. But once he took too many steps forward, he sent himself flying into the stairs, his sword flying out of his hand. He would have moved but he could only feel something circling his wrists and pulling him back towards the ground. MJ was standing over him, his sword in hand.

“How fitting for you to die for your people? They really don’t deserve you.” She laughed as Peter began to pull against the red restraints keeping him held down. Placing the sword on his forehead, she began to trail it down his face, his abdomen. “Any last words?”

The doors to the throne room suddenly flew themselves open, with you and Lord Stark walking through. “Let him go or the necklace goes!”

The princess looked up at you, the necklace in your hand, with a look of panic. “NO!” She launched herself at you, but before she could, a sword was pointed towards her, Stark defending you. “Ah, ah, ah. You heard her. Let the boy go…”

“Y/N, what’s going on? The necklace?” Peter asked.

“Is a little bit more than one of your mother’s trinkets?” you started. “Did you ever wonder why MJ conveniently showed up after your parents deaths? Your mother knew what this could do.”

“Enough. I’ll let him go!” The restraints holding Peter down were suddenly gone. He scrambled to his feet quickly, making his way around MJ and towards you.

“The necklace that Peter gave me was more than just a piece of jewelry to hang around my neck. It was a symbol of love and protection as it was for his mother. In the hands of the wrong person, it could become a beacon of destruction.”

“But in the hands of the right people,” Tony continued, “it could protect those around them from the dangers that magic possessed.”

Without another word, you dropped the necklace, stepping on it with your heel before the princess could stop you. Both Peter and MJ yelled out opposition, but there was nothing to stop the now rising gold dust. Stark held Peter back when you blew the dust in MJ’s direction. The gold dust seemed to form a similar pattern to the red wisps of MJ’s magic, encircling her. There was bits of red getting caught in the gold when a loud scream broke across the room, deafening all of you. Peter grabbed hold of you, pulling you into him and keeping your head against his chest. Both of you kept your eyes closed, waiting for the madness to be over.

When the room was silent, you turned your head to where the princess was moments ago. In her place was a girl. She was crouched on the floor, cuddled into herself, and rocking back and forth. You moved out of Peter’s grasp and towards the girl. The closer you got the more clear it was that she was whispering to herself. You kneeled down next to her and placed a hand on her back. She flinched at your touch, getting out of her previous position and backing away. It was still the princess, only looking broken and dull. Her eyes were dark with circles underneath and her skin was pale. Was this really the same girl in front of you only moments ago?

“MJ?” you asked.

She took a moment before speaking up. “W-what have I-I done?” she whimpered.

You didn't respond, only held your arms out for her and waited. She looked at you with a questionable look. Why would you want to help her after she had caused so much pain? When you didn't seem to shy away, she crawled back towards you and fell into your arms. You could feel her tears falling onto your skin as you looked up at Peter. He didn't say anything either, just watching the scene unfold before him. The throne room was silent besides the cries of the broken princess.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to be out in the gardens. Working and living at the palace for years, you had come to find peace within sitting in the flowers. There was something about the scents that relaxed you, allowing you to daydream about a life beyond the castle walls. Wanda would join you whenever you both had a chance, reading stories to one another, playing games at a younger age, and gossiping about the court. Her favorites were wishbone flowers. They symbolized happiness, reminding her that even though she may not have the life that she wanted, she was truly happy. Friends, you, people around her were what gave her a life of joy. You had plucked a full bouquet of wishbones which now took their place in front of her gravestone.

“I miss you, Wanda. So much.” Tears were falling from your eyes, leaving warm wet trails down your cheeks. “I got your letter. Peter gave it to me when…when I found out. There’s no way to tell you how much I love you. I wouldn’t be here without you and it’s going to be so hard now that you’re gone. I promise I’ll keep visiting whenever Peter actually lets me out of his sight.” You chuckled to yourself, knowing that she would’ve laughed too. You turned around to look at Peter, who was waiting by the horses. He gave you a look of concern, but you returned it with a smile, letting him know that you were okay. “You don’t have to worry about me, though. He’s got me. He loves me. And I love him.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #prince peter parker #royal peter parker #peter parker series

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bazwillendinflames · 2 years

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Second Chances (Dylan/Ryan)

When Dylan accidentally overshares his meet cute on his college radio show, the listeners are suddenly invested in his love life. Meanwhile, Ryan is intrigued by his not-so-secret admirer.

When a second chance meeting occurs, will they be able to work it out?

Read on Ao3

Word count: 2423

“I’d take you a lot more seriously if you didn’t fall in love with a hot stranger every week.”

“Um rude.” It had been at least two weeks since Dylan had last shared his romantic woes with Kaitlyn. “Anyway this wasn’t any hot stranger. He was the one, I could tell.”

“Oh boy,” Kaitlyn said, taking a long, noisy sip of her iced coffee. “Did you actually talk to this mystery stranger? Or did you just stare like a creep whilst planning your wedding?”

“Yeah. I mean, words were exchanged. And no one talks on the subway!” Dylan found himself smiling again. Sue him, he was a hopeless romantic.

“Holy shit. That’s a big step for you.” Kaitlyn seemed genuinely proud of him, which hurt more than her usual sarcasm. “Fine. Tell me about this guy.”

That was all the encouragement that Dylan needed. He leaned forward. “So, we’re on the train and it comes to a stop with a big screech. And the train announcement says some crackly garbage. And I go ‘anyone able to translate?’”

“Hilarious,” Kaitlyn said dryly.

Dylan waved a hand in her direction. “Shush. Let me finish. And then this guy sitting on the other side of the carriage laughs. He laughs at my joke and we make some pretty intense eye contact.”

“Oh boy.”

“By the way, this guy, absolutely gorgeous. We’re talking tall, dark and handsome. We’re talking cool punk vibes. He was even wearing a Cult Damage shirt. Hello, hot and good taste in music. We were meant to be.”

“That’s it?” Kaitlyn asked. “Someone laughed at your lame joke.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “No. He also said ‘bad day to forget my earbuds’. And then the train started up again.”

“And now he’s the one?” Kaitlyn asked. “Dude, no.”

“You mock me now, but…” Dylan stopped half way through his sentence, noticing the red on air sign. “Oh fuck.”

“What?” Kaitlyn asked. She looked over at the sign too. “Uh, how long has that been on?”

Dylan had already pressed the nearest button and the next queued up Arctic Monkeys song played. Double checking the mic was actually off this time, he ripped off his headphones and buried his head in his hands.

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No,” Kaitlyn said. She patted his back. “It was just a little mistake. Look, it’s live college radio, how many people will have actually heard… all that?”

“I quit.”

“No you don’t,” Kaitlyn said. “Put your headphones back on, the song is almost over.”

Dylan pulled himself together, taking a deep breath and getting back into the mindset of funny radio host Dylan.

“Sorry about that guys,” Kaitlyn said smoothly, “just a few technical problems. But next up we’ll be playing ‘guess that professor’ so get ready…”

“So, I’ve heard you are quite the heartbreaker.” Laura grinned at him. “One look and you have them enamoured.”

She had heard the radio thing too then. “It might not have been me he was talking about.”

“We both know that it totally was,” Laura said. “It’s fine, I’ll keep you anonymous. Take it as a compliment. You have a secret admirer.”

“Who does?” Max joined them a moment later, dropping a pile of books on the table with a thud. “Should I be jealous, hun?”

“You haven’t heard? Ryan has a secret admirer.”

“It’s not exactly a secret. He said it on the radio and everyone knows who runs the station. It’s on the school website.”

“Oh wait, you’re the stranger on the train that Dylan Lenivy is in love with?” Max asked. “Good for you dude.”

“Maybe you should call in?” Laura suggested.

Even the idea left him modified. “Absolutely not.”

She smiled. “I’m just teasing.”

“Anyway, it’s not like he’s not in love with me,” Ryan said. He picked at the black nail varnish on his fingers. He would have brought his fidget cube if he knew she’d bring it up. “It was more of a funny story, ‘oh I’m so hopeless, I’m thinking about someone I met once’ thing.”

“Take it as a compliment,” Max said, “of anyone he could have chosen to gush about on the radio, he chose you.”

“It’s probably worse for him,” Laura added, “no one has figured it out but us.” “How did you figure it out?” Ryan asked.

“The band he mentioned. You’re probably the only two people our age who listen to your indie 70s rock.”

“Hey, for that reason alone, you’re probably soulmates,” Max joked. “I’m going to grab a coffee, you guys want one?”

Ryan already had one but Laura followed Max up to the counter, the two of them laughing together at something. They made the high school sweetheart thing look easy. It did leave him feeling a little like a third wheel.

As he waited alone, he found himself thinking back to the radio show. Beyond it being embarrassing to be called out like that, even accidentally, he was intrigued.

Ryan remembered the moment. He had been trying to figure out the tattoo on his arm, left with nothing to do but people watch with his headphones back at his dorm. He’d thought he been caught out staring, but the cute stranger had smiled at him and made a dumb joke. Maybe Ryan would have said something if he had connected the moment to the same radio station he liked listening to during his morning shifts. He always liked the music they played.

Not that it would have gone well. He wasn’t good at talking to people. Maybe Dylan would have told the story with the added twist of him ruining any allure with his awkwardness.

Ryan doubted it, Dylan always seemed so nice. Not that he actually knew him beyond hearing his show. But maybe he wanted to.

Not that he’d admit it to Laura.

Dylan’s little college radio project had started when he was a freshman. He’d always like technical stuff and the idea of getting paid to goof around for a few hours every morning had seemed fun. Kaitlyn had been running it for the last two years and had given a surprisingly intense interview before announcing he started the next day. The forced proximity of having to spend four hours a day had made them fast friends.

He knew they had some regular listeners, half of his conversations at parties started with ‘aren't you that radio guy’ or ‘I know your voice’. Kaitlyn basically bullied all their friends into tuning in at least once a week and occasionally joining them.

But now it seemed like half of campus had listened to his embarrassing rant about his crush. Emma had started calling him Romeo and it had quickly caught on. And once Kaitlyn had used the same corny nickname on air, that’s all he was known for.

Even Mr H, the radio manager, had picked it up.

“Remember what I said about swearing on air Romeo.”

So literally everyone knew.

“I brought you a coffee.” Kaitlyn practically shoved the cup at him. “It’s got oat milk.”

“You’re being nice to me,” Dylan noted suspiciously. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because it sucks to wake up at six in the morning.” Kaitlyn sipped her own coffee. “Also, sorry about not being supportive.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure all the teasing will pass.” Dylan could only hope. “I mean it’s good for ratings right?”

“Yeah. I keep getting suggestions to record our programme. I guess people are invested.”

“Well I don’t have updates,” he said. His subway experience had been hot stranger free, which was probably for the best.

“Best not to encourage it,” Kaitlyn agreed. “Come one, we start in ten, we better pick the songs. No more Mitski though.”

“She’s my comfort listening,” Dylan said.

“One song,” Kaitlyn agreed, “and that’s only because I feel sorry for you.”

“I’ll take it.”

Ryan spent most of his shifts with one earbud in, stacking books at the campus bookstore whilst a steady mix of podcasts, music and radio played. Although the latter was a new addition to his routine.

Ryan kept listening to the station. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for - he hadn’t seen Dylan again, even though he was trying to be more alert on the subway. He had been cataloguing all the music mostly, Max’s mention of musical soulmates in mind.

From their banter, he could usually guess who picked which song. Kaitlyn seemed to like more pop music - she always played at least one Taylor Swift song, along with a rotation of other upbeat music. Dylan was into more indie bands. He had recognised Ryan’s Cult Damage shirt but as far as Ryan could tell, he hadn’t actually played any of their songs. Maybe obscure 70s grunge didn’t fit with the vibe of Walking On Sunshine.

Dylan wasn’t on air today though. Kaitlyn was joined by Jacob, who had hosted last year. The two of them were making some inside joke about an old cereal that Ryan had never heard of. Whatever the punchline was, he missed completely, because he just realised why Dylan wasn’t on air.

He was in the book shop. Ryan hid behind a shelf, which wasn’t very professional of him, but helped with his suddenly racing heart. He pulled out his earbud and tucked it into his shirt. He took a steadying breath. He considered hiding in the back and calling Laura, but Dylan had already stepped into the store and seen him.

Judging by the carefully masked expression he had, Ryan would bet Dylan was banking on him either not remembering him from the subway or having heard the radio, or the rumours around it. Unfortunately for Dylan, Ryan remembered both incidents well.

“Hi, can I help you find anything?” He asked. He shoved the books he was meant to be putting out onto the nearest shelf.

“Um…” Dylan dragged it out for a little too long. “Sciences?”

“It’s on the shelf behind you,” Ryan said. As soon as Dylan turned around, he sped walked away and stood behind the counter, tapping his nails against the plastic table.

Whilst Dylan was browsing the books, or at least pretending to, Ryan took out his phone and texted Laura.

I can’t talk right now but Dylan Lenivy is in the store

I might be panicking

Ok, just remember to breathe

It’s probably more awkward for him than you

Max says play dumb

I don’t know

I feel pretty awkward (unsent)

“Hey.”

Ryan jumped, almost dropping his phone in the process. He shoved it under a pile of loose postcards and hoped Dylan wasn’t the nosey type. “Hey. Did you find everything?”

“Yeah.” He seemed grateful for the small talk.

Ryan ran through his books, both on some kind of physics that was so complicated he wouldn’t be able to decode the title. He went through the process of ringing him up on autopilot. There was a long pause as the till slowly spat out his receipt.

“I heard you talk about me,” Ryan blurted out.

Dylan went pink in the face. “Oh fuck me.”

“Um. It was flattering I guess.” The receipt had stopped half way and Ryan punched the top of the till to get it going. “My friends keep calling you my secret admirer.”

“It’s not exactly a secret,” Dylan replied.

“Yeah. That’s what I said.” Ryan finally freed the receipt. “I like your taste in music.”

“Oh thanks.” Dylan crumpled the receipt into a ball and shoved it and the books into his backpack. “I’m sorry. About objectifying you on live radio. It was an accident and like Kaitlyn said, I’m kinda a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on the hopeless part.”

“I’m pretty hopeless myself,” Ryan said. “I didn’t mean to blurt out the whole thing earlier.”

“It’s fine. I’m the idiot who screwed up in the first place.” Dylan finally zipped up his bag. “Okay goodbye forever.”

“Wait,” Ryan said, before his brain could catch up. “I like you too. I mean I like your show. It’s funny. You’re funny.”

Dylan had gone past pink and was now very red. Ryan was certain he wasn’t helping. “Thanks. I’m pretty good at putting on funny Dylan. For the show. Obviously in real life I’m a hot mess.”

“I like hot mess Dylan,” Ryan said.

“It’s just Dylan Dylan,” he replied. “But feel free to call me hot again. Maybe even in public, you know, to even it out.”

“Does Dylan Dylan like coffee?”

He blinked and for a moment Ryan was concerned he had scared him off.

“Yes. I love coffee. With you. If you’re asking.”

Ryan wrote his number on the back of one of their free bookmarks. “Maybe call Ryan Ryan up to ask then?”

Dylan smiled, taking it from him. “I will. I might not even make it out of the store before I do so. Sorry, that was lame. Yes.”

He left the store and Ryan finally let out the nervous laughter he had been holding in. His phone buzzed. There were a few missed texts from Laura from ten minutes ago.

It’ll be fine

Ryan? Are you okay?

I can come cover for you if want

I can only assume the worse from you not replying

He deleted his half finished text and sent a new one.

I’m okay

I think I accidentally asked him out

The most recent buzz was from an unknown number which Ryan saved as ‘Dylan Dylan’.

nice to meet you ryan ryan <3

i will try and be normal on our date

(it was a date right?)

“Okay, it’s time for our request hour. I have already been told that we’re uninvited to brunch if we don’t play Emma’s new favourite song, so let’s kick it off with Natalie.”

With the song on, Kaitlyn turned to him. “Um, spill.”

“Because that went well last time?”

“We’re off,” Kaitlyn said. “You are all smiles this week. What’s it about?”

“My platonic love for my favourite co-host?” Dylan winked at her.

“Nope.” Kaitlyn crossed her arms. “Dylan, you love telling me your stupid crushes. Who's the newest?”

“It’s an old stupid crush actually,” he said. “My little slip up actually worked out.”

Kaitlyn punched his arm. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Dylan rubbed his arm. “I’m telling you now.”

The song faded out and Dylan switched the mic back on.

“That was Milk and Bone’s Natalie for Emma. Now, next up we have a request from a certain cute guy I met on the subway.”

#the quarry #Ryan Erzahler #Dylan Lenivy #Ryan x Dylan #radio heads #the quarry fic

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