#in my answer to your other ask for the character bingo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amethystarachnid · 5 days ago

Note

Hi, I wanted to ask you for some angst with Tony (but with a very happy ending). Tony is very worried and paranoid about the reader's safety, so he decides to break up with her so she can be safe away from him, and he's a little "mean" to her, saying things like "I don't love you anymore, I don't want you in my life" just so she doesn't want to go after him, but he still loves her more than anything, they both become very miserable and sad without each other... the reader decides to move to another city, but before leaving she discovers that she's pregnant and decides not to tell him... after four months of a lot of suffering, the Avengers talk to Tony and convince him to get back with her because in fact she is safer with him and they love each other... so he decides to look for her and when they meet he is very happy to discover that he's going to be a father and asks her to marry him and of course she accepts ❤️

SAFETY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff and angst

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said <3

ᯓ★ TW(s): none I think (?)

ᯓ★ angst my beloved

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The city hums with life below the skyscrapers, a symphony of horns, chatter, and footsteps. High above it all, in the shimmering confines of the Stark Tower penthouse, you sit cross-legged on a sleek couch, flicking through channels on the obscenely large flat-screen. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself alone here while Tony tinkers in his workshop, but tonight feels different. He hasn’t said much, which, for Tony Stark, is like a flashing neon sign of distress.

You sense him before you see him. The faint whir of his elevator, the telltale shuffle of bare feet across the polished floor. Then, the deep sigh—tired, weighted. You glance over your shoulder as he steps into the room, disheveled but still somehow annoyingly attractive. His dark T-shirt clings to his chest, faint streaks of grease smeared across the fabric, and his hair is a chaotic mess that screams of hours spent running his fingers through it.

"Hey," you call softly, setting the remote aside. "You okay?"

Tony doesn’t answer immediately. He crosses the room with purpose, heading straight for the bar. You watch as he pours himself a drink—a double, by the look of it—before leaning against the counter, staring at the amber liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe.

"I’m fine," he finally mutters, though the tension in his jaw tells a different story.

You stand and approach him, bare feet silent on the cold floor. He doesn’t flinch when you slide a hand over his, gently nudging the glass away from his lips before he takes a sip. "Liar," you whisper, your voice laced with concern.

Tony smirks faintly, though it’s devoid of his usual arrogance. "You’ve got me figured out, don’t you?"

"Something’s wrong," you press, studying him intently. "What is it?"

He exhales sharply, the sound almost a growl. His free hand rakes through his hair again as he straightens up, pacing a short, tight circle. "It’s nothing," he insists, though the way his shoulders twitch says otherwise. "Just… work stuff."

"Work stuff," you echo, crossing your arms. "You’re not a very convincing liar tonight, Stark."

He stops mid-step, turning to face you. The flicker of something raw and unguarded flashes across his face before he schools his expression. "I’m just trying to keep my head above water," he admits, voice low. "It’s been… a lot lately."

You step closer, resting a hand on his chest, right over the arc reactor that hums faintly beneath his shirt. The light pulses gently against your palm, a comforting rhythm. "You don’t have to do it alone, you know."

His hand covers yours, warm and calloused, though his grip is light, almost hesitant. "That’s the problem," he murmurs, eyes locking onto yours. "You’re not part of the equation. You’re the damn variable. The wild card I can’t control."

"Tony…" You try to pull back, but he holds your hand firmly now, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

"I can’t lose you," he says, the words spilling out like a confession he’s been holding back for far too long. "I can’t—God, do you even understand what you mean to me?"

Your heart clenches at the raw vulnerability in his voice. You’ve seen Tony Stark in many forms: the cocky genius, the billionaire philanthropist, the reckless hero. But this—this is uncharted territory. This is the man behind the mask, stripped bare and painfully human.

"I’m not going anywhere," you promise, though the words feel fragile in the face of his fear.

"You can’t guarantee that," he snaps, pulling away abruptly. He stalks to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city below. His reflection in the glass is fractured, distorted by the faint glow of the arc reactor. "You have no idea how dangerous this life is. How dangerous I am."

You follow him, stopping a few feet away. "You think I don’t know the risks? Tony, I’ve seen you come back battered and bloody, half-dead. I know what’s out there."

"Then you should know why I’m scared," he retorts, turning to face you. His voice rises, trembling with anger—or maybe desperation. "Every time I suit up, every time I step into a fight, I’m thinking about you. About what happens if someone comes after you because of me."

"That’s not your call to make," you argue, stepping closer. "I’m not some fragile thing you need to lock away in a tower."

"Yes, you are!" he yells, and the sheer force of his words makes you freeze. His chest heaves, his fists clenched at his sides. "You are, and that terrifies me. You don’t understand—"

"Then make me understand," you interrupt, your voice firm. "Talk to me, Tony. Don’t shut me out."

He stares at you, his gaze flicking between your eyes, searching for… something. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, almost broken. "They’ll come for you. Sooner or later, someone will figure out that you’re my weakness, and they’ll use you against me. And when that happens, I won’t be able to stop it. I’ll lose you."

The raw honesty in his words slices through you like a knife. You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "You won’t lose me," you say fiercely. "I’m not some damsel in distress, Tony. I can handle myself."

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You don’t get it. This isn’t a fair fight. The people I deal with—they don’t play by the rules. They’ll hurt you just to hurt me. And I can’t—" His voice breaks, and he looks away, swallowing hard.

You step closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your forehead against his chest. The arc reactor hums steadily between you, a faint beacon in the darkness. "You’re not alone in this," you whisper. "We’ll figure it out together."

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, slowly, his arms come around you, holding you as if you might vanish if he lets go. His chin rests on the top of your head, and you feel the tension in his body begin to ease, though it doesn’t disappear entirely.

"I don’t know how to protect you," he admits, his voice muffled against your hair.

"You don’t have to," you reply softly. "Just let me be here. Let me stay."

He doesn’t answer, but the way his grip tightens around you says enough. The weight of his fear lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating, but in this moment, neither of you pulls away. It’s a fragile truce, a tentative step forward in a battle neither of you fully understands.

Tony Stark is good at a lot of things. He’s good at building impossible machines, at calculating risks, at charming a room full of strangers. But he’s terrible at this—at pushing you away. And yet, for weeks now, he’s been trying his hardest.

It starts with small things. Coming home later than usual, burying himself in his work even more than normal. He stops joining you for lazy mornings on the couch, starts making excuses when you suggest dinner or a night out. At first, you tell yourself it’s just Tony being Tony—his mind has always been in overdrive, and sometimes, he simply gets caught up in the chaos of it all.

But then, the distance grows. The way he looks at you shifts. There’s a coldness in his gaze that wasn’t there before, an edge to his words when he bothers to speak at all. He brushes off your touches, sidesteps your attempts to reach him, until finally, the man who once held you as if you were his lifeline feels like a stranger.

You try to ignore it. You tell yourself he’s just stressed, that it’ll pass, but deep down, a sinking feeling gnaws at you. Something is wrong. And tonight, you’re about to find out what.

He’s waiting for you in the living room when you come home, standing by the windows with a glass of scotch in his hand. The city lights cast sharp shadows across his face, making him look older, more worn. The sight sends a pang through your chest, but you push it down, determined to break through whatever wall he’s built between you.

"Tony," you say softly, setting your bag down on the counter. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, we do." His voice is clipped, almost flat, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns to face you, and for a moment, you swear there’s something in his eyes—something raw and painful—but it’s gone before you can be sure.

You take a step closer, your heart pounding. "What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant, and I—"

"Stop." The word cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and final. He sets the glass down on the counter with a deliberate slowness, then looks at you with an expression so cold it makes your blood run cold. "Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be."

"Harder than what needs to be?" you ask, your voice trembling. "Tony, what are you talking about?"

He exhales heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. When he finally speaks, his tone is laced with a cruel detachment that feels so foreign coming from him. "This. Us. It’s over."

The words hit you like a freight train, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You stare at him, waiting for the punchline, for the smirk that says he’s just being an asshole because that’s what Tony Stark does when he’s uncomfortable. But it doesn’t come.

"You’re joking," you say weakly.

"I’m not."

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the air thick and suffocating. "Tony, what the hell are you talking about? You can’t just—"

"I can, and I am," he interrupts, his voice hard. He steps closer, towering over you, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders. "I don’t love you anymore, Y/N. I don’t want you in my life."

The words are like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last. You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes as you try to process what he’s saying. "You don’t mean that," you whisper. "You can’t mean that."

"I do." His tone is icy, emotionless. "I’ve been trying to make it work, but I can’t do this anymore. I need you to leave."

Leave. The word echoes in your mind, hollow and final. Your legs feel like jelly beneath you, and you reach out to steady yourself against the counter. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, your voice breaking. "What changed?"

"Nothing changed," he snaps. "That’s the problem. This… whatever this is, it’s not working. It’s not what I want."

The tears spill over now, and you don’t bother wiping them away. "You’re lying," you say, your voice trembling. "I know you, Tony. I know when you’re lying."

He flinches, just barely, but it’s enough to make your chest ache. He looks away, his jaw clenching as he steps back. "You don’t know anything," he mutters. "You don’t know what’s best for you, for either of us."

"You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!" you shout, the anger bubbling up now, cutting through the haze of pain. "If you’re scared, if you’re pushing me away because of your own issues, then—"

"I’m not scared," he growls, his eyes snapping back to yours. "I’m done. That’s it. I’m done, Y/N."

The finality in his tone sends a fresh wave of pain crashing over you, and you stumble back, clutching your chest as if you can physically hold yourself together. "You don’t mean that," you whisper again, your voice breaking. "You love me. I know you do."

"Not anymore," he says, the words landing like a death knell.

For a moment, the silence is deafening. You stare at him, searching for any sign of the man you love, the man who once looked at you like you hung the moon. But all you see is a mask—a cold, unfeeling facade that makes you want to scream.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice shaking but resolute. "You want me to leave? I’ll leave."

You grab your bag and head for the door, your vision blurred by tears. He doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t say a word.

You don’t look back.

Two days later, you send someone else to collect your things.

The apartment feels strange without you. It’s quiet, too quiet, and the absence of your laughter, your scent, your presence is like a black hole, sucking the life out of the space. Tony tries to ignore it. He buries himself in his work, drowns himself in scotch, anything to keep from thinking about you.

But when your friend arrives to pick up your things, it hits him like a punch to the gut. The sight of your clothes, your books, your little trinkets being packed into boxes is unbearable, and he has to leave the room, retreating to the workshop like a coward.

He doesn’t deserve to feel this way, he tells himself. He’s the one who ended it. He’s the one who pushed you away. But the truth is, he’s been lying to himself just as much as he lied to you.

He loves you. He’ll always love you.

But you’re safer without him.

The days without Tony bleed into weeks, and the pain doesn’t lessen; it only festers. The apartment you moved back to—the one you never sold—is suffocatingly quiet, devoid of life. It’s far too small compared to the penthouse at Stark Tower, where everything was expansive, open, and filled with his presence. Here, it’s just you and the echoes of what you had.

You’ve tried to move on. Really, you have. But it’s impossible. Every little thing reminds you of him. The way the morning sun filters through your blinds reminds you of how he used to grumble about the light waking him up. The sound of a passing car with a bad muffler on the street outside makes you think of his ridiculous cars, the way he used to rev the engine just to tease you. Even your favorite takeout spot feels like a betrayal; you can still hear his voice arguing with you over who got the last bite.

But you’re stubborn. You refuse to let yourself break, not completely. You threw yourself into work, taking every shift and every project you could get your hands on, hoping exhaustion would drown out the heartbreak. It doesn’t work. Nothing does.

And then there’s him.

Tony is just as miserable, though he hides it better—or at least he tries to. The penthouse is eerily empty without you. The space that once felt like home now feels like a mausoleum. He doesn’t sleep in the bed anymore; it’s too cold, too hollow without you beside him. Instead, he crashes in the workshop or on the couch, surrounded by empty scotch glasses and the flickering blue glow of the arc reactor.

He hasn’t told anyone the truth. Not Rhodey, not Pepper, not anyone. They ask, of course. They know something’s wrong. He deflects with sarcasm, brushes off their concern, but deep down, he’s barely holding on. He threw away the best thing that ever happened to him, and he knows it. But he can’t take it back. He won’t risk your life, no matter how much it destroys him.

The nights are the worst. That’s when the memories come, unbidden and relentless. He sees your smile, hears your laugh, feels the phantom weight of your hand in his. It’s torture, but he doesn’t stop it. It’s the only way he can feel close to you now.

Weeks turn into months, and the pain doesn’t fade—it deepens, sharpens, becomes a constant ache in both of your chests. You wonder if it will ever go away.

Then, one morning, everything changes.

You’ve been feeling off for days. At first, you chalk it up to stress and exhaustion. You’ve been working too much, not eating properly, and the emotional strain of the breakup has taken a toll on your body. But when the nausea hits hard enough to send you running to the bathroom for the third time that week, you know something’s wrong.

You take the test, your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold it. The seconds feel like hours as you wait, pacing the tiny bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

Two lines.

The world tilts beneath you.

You sink to the floor, the test clutched in your trembling hands. You’re pregnant. With Tony’s child.

The realization crashes over you in waves. A mix of fear, shock, and something else—something softer, more fragile—swirls in your chest. You press a hand to your stomach, the weight of it sinking in. There’s a life inside you. A piece of him.

Your first instinct is to call him, to tell him, to share this life-changing news with the man you once loved. But the thought dies as quickly as it comes. Tony doesn’t want you in his life. He made that painfully clear. And you can’t stomach the idea of facing him again, of reopening that wound.

You make your decision then and there. You won’t tell him.

It’s not an easy choice. In fact, it feels impossible. But you tell yourself it’s for the best. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t love you. You can’t drag him back into your life just because of this. You’ll do it on your own. You have to.

The next few weeks are a blur of emotions. You throw yourself into preparing for the baby, researching everything you can, but the reality of it all is overwhelming. You’re going to be a single mom. You’re going to have to juggle work, bills, and raising a child. The weight of it all feels crushing, but you refuse to give up.

You tell yourself you’re strong. That you can do this. That you don’t need him.

But late at night, when the world is quiet and the ache in your chest is too much to bear, you lie in bed and cry. You cry for the life you thought you’d have, for the love you lost, and for the child who will grow up without their father.

Tony doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop thinking about you. He’s tried to bury himself in work, in distractions, but nothing works. You haunt him. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees your face. Every time he takes a breath, it feels like his chest is being crushed.

He’s barely functioning, and everyone around him knows it. Rhodey corners him one day, demanding answers, but Tony brushes him off with a half-hearted excuse about being busy. Pepper isn’t fooled either. She keeps pushing, trying to get him to talk, but he shuts her out.

Because what can he say? That he’s dying inside? That he regrets every word he said to you but doesn’t have the guts to fix it? That he’s terrified of what would happen if he did?

So he suffers in silence, throwing himself deeper into his work, even as the emptiness inside him grows.

But no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, one thought keeps clawing its way to the surface: he misses you. Desperately.

You decide to leave the city. Staying here is too painful, too suffocating. Everywhere you go, there’s a reminder of him—of the life you had together. You can’t keep living like this. You need a fresh start, for yourself and for the baby.

It’s not an easy decision. Moving means uprooting your entire life, starting over from scratch. But you know it’s the right thing to do.

You find a small apartment in another city, far enough away that the ghosts of your past can’t follow you. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s yours. You spend your days packing up your things, making plans, and trying not to think about how much you’ll miss the city you once called home.

But no matter how hard you try, there’s one thing you can’t stop thinking about: Tony.

You wonder if he’s moved on. If he’s happy. If he even thinks about you anymore.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s better this way. But deep down, you know it’s a lie.

Because no matter how much time passes, no matter how far you go, a part of you will always love him.

Four months pass, and you’ve built a new routine in your new city. It’s not easy, but you’ve always been resilient. Your days are full, juggling long hours at work, studying courses online to make a better future for your child, and preparing for the baby’s arrival. Your belly is round now, unmistakably carrying a life within it. You catch people staring sometimes—coworkers, strangers on the street—but you don’t care. Every time you feel the baby kick, it reminds you why you’re doing all of this.

You haven’t told anyone much about the father. Your coworkers and neighbors assume you’re single, and you’ve never bothered to correct them. It’s easier this way. The pain of thinking about Tony, of what could have been, is still too fresh.

The apartment is small but cozy, and you’ve started turning one corner of the bedroom into a nursery. There’s a secondhand crib you found online, freshly painted in soft cream. Baby clothes are folded neatly in a small set of drawers, and a mobile hangs from the ceiling, its delicate stars swaying gently whenever you walk past.

But it’s hard. So hard.

There are nights when exhaustion grips you so tightly you can barely breathe. Nights when you wonder how you’ll manage everything on your own. And nights when your heart aches for Tony so fiercely you have to press a hand to your chest to calm the storm within you.

Still, you don’t let yourself dwell. You keep going, for your baby.

Meanwhile, Tony is unraveling.

The cracks have become impossible to hide, even from himself. He’s snapping at everyone—at Pepper, at Rhodey, at anyone who tries to get close. He spends most nights in the workshop, working on projects he doesn’t care about, just to keep his hands busy. But no matter how much he distracts himself, the void inside him only grows.

The team notices, of course. They’ve been noticing for months. And finally, they confront him.

It starts with Pepper.

“Tony, this has gone on long enough,” she says one evening, her arms crossed as she stands in the doorway of the workshop.

“I’m fine, Pep,” he mutters without looking up from the piece of tech he’s tinkering with.

“No, you’re not. And we both know why.”

He freezes, his hands stilling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, tough,” she snaps. “Because this isn’t just about you anymore. You think we don’t see what’s happening? You’re falling apart, Tony. And the only person who can fix this is you.”

He doesn’t respond, but the words hit him harder than he wants to admit.

The next day, Rhodey corners him during a training session.

“Stark, we need to talk.”

“Unless it’s about the mission, I’m not interested,” Tony replies, dodging Rhodey’s gaze.

“Bullshit,” Rhodey says bluntly. “You’re miserable. And we both know why. So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep running from her forever?”

Tony clenches his jaw, his hands tightening into fists. “She’s safer without me,” he mutters.

“Safer? Or are you just too scared to fix what you broke?”

The words sting, but Tony doesn’t argue. He can’t.

The final push comes from Steve, of all people.

“You know she loves you,” Steve says one evening as they sit in the common room, the quiet weight of his voice cutting through Tony’s defenses.

“She’s better off without me,” Tony mutters, but his voice lacks conviction.

“She’s not better off if she’s as miserable as you are,” Steve replies. “You think you’re protecting her by staying away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting her—and yourself.”

The words linger long after Steve leaves, echoing in Tony’s mind until he can’t ignore them anymore.

By the end of the week, he’s made up his mind. He’s going to find you.

It takes him some time to track you down. You were smart, cutting ties and keeping your location a secret. But Tony Stark is nothing if not resourceful. When he finally gets a lead, he wastes no time.

He flies to your city on a private jet, his heart pounding the entire way. He’s rehearsed a hundred different things to say, but none of them feel right. All he knows is that he needs to see you, to fix what he broke, even if you slam the door in his face.

When he finds your address, he barely recognizes the street. It’s a far cry from the luxury of Stark Tower, and the thought of you living here makes his chest tighten. He doesn’t knock right away. Instead, he stands there for a moment, gathering his courage.

Finally, he raises a hand and knocks.

When you open the door, the world seems to tilt beneath him.

He’s prepared for a lot of things—anger, hurt, indifference—but he’s not prepared for this.

You’re standing there in a simple dress, your belly round and unmistakable. His heart stops, and for a moment, he can’t breathe.

“Tony,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stares at you, his mind racing. Your belly… it can’t be.

But then, his mind jumps to the worst conclusion. You’ve moved on. Of course, you have. It’s been months. You’ve found someone else, someone who could give you what he couldn’t.

His stomach twists painfully.

“I… I didn’t know,” he says finally, his voice hollow.

You blink, confused. “Didn’t know what?”

“That you were… that you… had someone else,” he says, his gaze dropping to your belly.

Realization dawns on you, and your heart sinks. He thinks the baby isn’t his.

“I don’t—” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

Tony runs a hand through his hair, his emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. “Look, I didn’t come here to make things harder for you,” he says, his voice strained. “I just… I needed to see you. To tell you I was an idiot. That I was wrong. But it’s clear you’ve moved on, so I’ll go.”

He turns to leave, but your voice stops him.

“Tony, wait.”

He freezes, his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn around.

“The baby…” You swallow hard, your voice trembling. “The baby is yours.”

He turns slowly, his eyes wide, his face pale. “What?”

You press a hand to your belly, tears welling in your eyes. “I found out a few weeks after… after you ended things. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to see you again. But this baby is yours, Tony.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, he takes a step closer, his gaze flicking between your face and your belly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“Because you made it clear you didn’t want me,” you whisper, the tears spilling over now. “You told me you didn’t love me anymore. I didn’t want to go through that again.”

His face crumples, and he sinks to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling. “I lied,” he says, his voice raw. “I lied to protect you. Because I love you so much it scares the hell out of me. And I was stupid enough to think you’d be safer without me.”

You stare at him, your heart breaking all over again.

“I was wrong,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I was so wrong, Y/N. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. Please.”

You don’t know what to say. The pain, the anger, the love—it’s all too much.

But when he reaches out, his hand trembling as he rests it gently on your belly, you feel something shift.

The walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack, just a little.

Tony's hand trembles as it rests gently on your belly, his touch hesitant, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. You should—you’ve been carrying months of pain and anger, all because of him. But standing here now, with his eyes full of something raw and broken, you can’t bring yourself to move.

“Say something,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Please, Y/N.”

You press your lips together, trying to gather your thoughts. There’s so much you want to say—so much hurt, confusion, and love tangled up in your chest that you don’t know where to begin.

“You broke me, Tony,” you say finally, your voice trembling. “You told me you didn’t love me. That you didn’t want me in your life. And I believed you. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been? How much it hurt to hear those words from the person I thought would never hurt me?”

His face crumples, and he looks away, guilt written in every line of his body. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmurs. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I—God, I was so scared. Scared that being with me would put you in danger. That one day, I’d lose you because of what I do—because of who I am. I thought pushing you away would keep you safe.”

“You didn’t protect me,” you say, your voice growing stronger. “You destroyed me. And you didn’t even give me the chance to decide for myself if I wanted to stay or not. You took that choice away from me.”

He winces, his head hanging low. “I know. I know I screwed up, Y/N. And I hate myself for it. Every single day without you has been hell. I thought I was keeping you safe, but all I did was push away the only person I’ve ever loved.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. He looks so different from the man who broke your heart months ago. His eyes are tired, his shoulders slumped, as if he’s been carrying the world on his back.

“I never stopped loving you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not for a second. And if I could take it all back, I would. But I can’t. All I can do now is tell you the truth and hope it’s not too late.”

You close your eyes, the weight of everything crashing down on you. You’ve missed him so much, even when you didn’t want to admit it. And deep down, you know you never stopped loving him either.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you say finally, your voice breaking.

He nods, his jaw tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Whatever you need, Y/N. Just… don’t shut me out. Not now. Not when we have a chance to fix this.”

You look down at his hand on your belly, at the way his fingers tremble slightly against your skin. There’s so much at stake now—not just for you, but for the baby too. And despite everything, a part of you wants to believe him.

“You hurt me, Tony,” you say quietly, your voice laced with both anger and vulnerability. “But I can’t keep doing this alone. I can’t raise this baby by myself. And I don’t want to.”

His eyes snap up to meet yours, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. “You don’t have to,” he says quickly. “I’ll be there for you—every step of the way. I promise.”

You take a shaky breath, your emotions swirling inside you. “If I come back, it’s not going to be easy. We can’t just go back to the way things were.”

“I know,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Whatever you need, Y/N, I’ll do it. Just… come home. Let me take care of you. Let me take care of both of you.”

The word “home” catches in your chest, and for the first time in months, the idea doesn’t feel so far away.

When you finally agree to go back with him, Tony looks like he might cry. He helps you pack up the few belongings you’ve gathered in your time away, his movements careful, as if he’s afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. You can see how hard he’s trying, and while it doesn’t erase the pain of the past, it’s a start.

The drive back to Stark Tower is quiet, but not uncomfortable. He keeps glancing over at you, his expression a mix of relief and nervousness, as if he still can’t believe you’re here.

When you arrive, the elevator ride up to the penthouse feels surreal. You step into the space that used to feel like home, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the memories.

“I know it’s a lot,” Tony says, his voice soft as he watches you. “But I want you to feel comfortable here again. We can make changes—whatever you want.”

You nod, unsure of what to say.

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into making the penthouse feel more like a home for the three of you. He clears out one of the spare bedrooms and starts turning it into a nursery, asking for your input on everything.

“What color do you want for the walls?” he asks one evening, holding up paint swatches.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re seriously going to paint it yourself?”

He grins, a spark of his old charm returning. “I may be a genius billionaire, but I’m not above rolling up my sleeves for my kid.”

Despite yourself, you smile.

He keeps surprising you, showing up to doctor’s appointments, researching baby gear, and even cooking dinner when you’re too tired to move. It’s clear he’s trying, and while it doesn’t erase the hurt, it does start to rebuild something fragile and new between you.

One night, as you’re sitting on the couch together, your hand resting on your belly, you feel the baby kick.

Tony’s eyes widen. “Was that…?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Here,” you say, grabbing his hand and placing it on your belly.

His eyes soften as he feels the movement beneath his palm. “Hey, little one,” he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder. “It’s your dad. I can’t wait to meet you.”

The sight of him, so vulnerable and full of love, makes your heart ache in the best way.

For the first time in a long time, you start to believe that maybe you can build a future together.

The moment you step into the new doctor’s office, you can tell the change was worth it—though you’d never admit that to Tony. The place is immaculate, modern, and soothing, with soft music playing in the background and staff who seem genuinely happy to help. You still feel a little guilty about leaving your old doctor behind, but when you see Tony’s proud smile as he hands over your file, you know he just wants the best for you and the baby.

“This is where you’re supposed to be,” Tony says as you sit in the plush waiting room. He’s bouncing one knee nervously, glancing over at you every few seconds as if to gauge your reaction.

“Don’t let this go to your head,” you tease, rubbing your belly. “But it’s… nice.”

“Nice? Please. It’s state-of-the-art.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “The OB here is one of the best in the country. I made a few calls. Okay, a lot of calls.”

You smirk, resting a hand on his knee to calm his fidgeting. “Thank you, Tony.”

His expression softens, his hand covering yours. “Anything for you. For both of you.”

The new doctor, a calm and professional woman named Dr. Latham, immediately puts you at ease. She reviews your chart thoroughly and listens to all your concerns without rushing you, which feels like a luxury after your previous appointments. She even arranges for an in-depth ultrasound during your visit, mentioning that you’re far enough along to determine the baby’s gender if you’d like.

Tony practically lights up at the suggestion. “Oh, we’d like,” he says enthusiastically, glancing at you for confirmation.

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly just as curious as he is.

The ultrasound room is dimly lit, with a large screen positioned to give you a clear view. As the technician applies the cool gel to your belly and begins the scan, Tony grips your hand tightly.

“There’s the baby,” the technician says with a smile, pointing to the image on the screen.

You and Tony both lean forward, mesmerized by the sight of your little one moving around.

“Everything looks great,” the technician continues. “And… if you’re ready, I can tell you the gender.”

Tony’s fingers tighten around yours, and you can feel the tension in the air. “We’re ready,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

The technician smiles and turns to look at you both. “It’s a boy.”

Your breath catches, and you glance at Tony, whose face is a mixture of awe and joy.

“A boy,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re having a boy.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch the screen. “Liam,” you whisper, the name you’d been toying with finally feeling real.

Tony leans over and kisses your temple, his lips lingering for a moment. “He’s going to be perfect,” he says softly.

The news of Liam’s gender spreads quickly, thanks to Tony’s inability to keep anything a secret. Within hours, the Avengers are calling and texting, all of them eager to congratulate you and ask about baby names.

“Are you sure you don’t want a gender reveal party?” Tony asks a few days later, holding up a brochure for some extravagant event planner he’s clearly already been in touch with.

You give him a look. “Tony, I don’t need fireworks and a light show to announce we’re having a boy.”

“But think of the drone possibilities,” he says with a grin.

You shake your head, laughing. “How about we just tell people? Like normal humans?”

“Boring,” he mutters, but he lets it go, content to simply bask in the excitement of preparing for Liam’s arrival.

As the weeks pass and your belly grows, you start noticing the changes in your body more acutely. You’ve always been confident, but pregnancy has brought a whole new set of challenges. Your back aches constantly, your feet swell, and your once-favorite outfits no longer fit.

One evening, you’re standing in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, studying your reflection. Your belly is round and prominent now, and you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I look like a balloon,” you mutter under your breath, running a hand over your bump.

“What did you just say?” Tony’s voice startles you, and you turn to see him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, but he’s already walking toward you.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone serious. “You don’t look like a balloon. You look… incredible. You’re growing our son. Do you have any idea how amazing that is?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I just don’t feel like myself anymore.”

He steps closer, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you to face him. “You’re still you. You’re strong, beautiful, and the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. And if you don’t believe me…”

He trails off, reaching into his pocket.

“Tony, what are you—”

But before you can finish your sentence, he’s kneeling in front of you, holding a small velvet box.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the one thing I know I got right is loving you. You’ve given me so much—your trust, your love, and now, our son. I don’t want to waste another second without making this official.”

He opens the box to reveal a stunning engagement ring, the diamonds catching the light.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

Tears fill your eyes, and for a moment, you can’t speak. But then you nod, a smile breaking through your tears. “Yes,” you whisper.

Tony grins, sliding the ring onto your finger before standing and pulling you into a gentle hug, careful of your belly.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice full of emotion.

“I love you too,” you reply, resting your head against his chest.

As he holds you close, you can’t help but think about how far you’ve come—from heartbreak and doubt to this moment of pure joy. And as Liam kicks gently in your belly, it feels like a promise of all the good things yet to come.

I'm so sorry if the ending sucks :(

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beneathashadytree · 1 year ago

Text

MESSING AROUND - JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA X READER

Warnings : just two teens being in love and all over each other, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : puppy love n fluff <3

Word count : 1.1K words

Additional notes : This came to me in a dream. Love the idea of teenagers being sneaky and lazy teehee

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

They tiredly rubbed at their eyes. What was this, the tenth, or the hundredth time at this? In all cases, it felt like it was a never-ending cycle that they were doomed to stay in.

“Josuke, would it really kill you to study for an hour straight?” Nudging the textbook on the coffee table, they tried to bring his attention back to the long-forgotten syllabus. “We’ve got a quiz in 3 days.”

“Still plenty of time, if you ask me,” he shrugged, not looking away from the television screen where he was trying to beat his high score (again) in one of his video games. “That’s a whole, uh, 72 hours.”

“If you hesitated while doing simple math, then I fear how you’ll face a few calculus problems.” Rolling their eyes, they sidled up to his back. “Come on. Didn’t Miss Tomoko threaten to smash the console if you don’t get at least a B+? With the looks of things, we’ll be lucky if you pass at all.”

Still without looking at them, he scowled. “First off, thanks for your obvious belief in me.” He could be petty when he wanted to, and this seemed like one of the times he wanted to pout and get snarky. “Second of all, she wouldn’t.”

At that, they arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? Did you forget that time she threw the television out of the window to keep her word when you flunked that history test?”

A few moments of silence, save for the sound effects coming from his game, and the furious tapping of buttons. “Alright, maybe she will. But still, we have a lot of time to go through the material.”

“Three days. Half of one you’ve already wasted, mind you.” They sighed, carefully wrapping their arms around his midsection and snuggling up to his broad back. A cheap trick, yes, but how else would they grab his attention without outright snatching the controller from his hands? “C’mon, Josuke. Miss Tomoko asked me to come over while she was out for this reason. I don’t wanna let her down, y’know?”

Josuke audibly swallowed, and they had to hold back a smug laugh. They had him right where they wanted him. “H-hey, who are you dating, me or my mom?”

They snorted, teasingly squeezing his waist. “My supposed-boyfriend’s got me right with him, and he’s been practically ignoring me for two hours. I’d say the answer’s currently neither of you.”

Instantly, the controller flew all across the room, landing somewhere unknown as his character on the screen crashed into explosives and died. Bingo, they wickedly thought to themself as Josuke finally turned around in their arms, his handsome face blocking out the ��GAME OVER!’ flashing behind him.

Heavy eyebrows furrowed and lower lip jutted in a subconscious pout, he leaned in, caging them against the back of the sofa with his arms. “Dirty move.”

“You fell for it, though.” Grinning, they hooked their arms around his neck, tugging him a little closer. “Can’t believe I had to fight for your attention this long.”

“It slipped my mind that we’re finally alone,” he moaned pitifully, nudging their nose with his. “Next time I get distracted from you, punch me in the balls.” At the sinister look he saw in their eyes, he pulled back for a second, alarm on his face. “On second thought, I take that back. Don’t.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Cocking their head to the side, they toyed with a few loose strands of hair at the nape of his neck. It was so rare to see his hair anything other than immaculately styled, so the rare chances that they got to touch the soft strands were deeply cherished—by the both of them, it seemed, if the current redness of Josuke’s cheeks was anything to go by. “Or would you rather I keep my hands on you?”

Their boyfriend buried his face in their neck, partially out of embarrassment, and partially out of a desire to press achingly gentle kisses against their exposed skin. “Mm, I don’t know,” he mumbled, “So long as you’re not too rough with me, I’d prefer that, yeah.”

“Oh? So you like to be treated gently, big guy?” Their voice came out a little breathy as he lightly nipped at that one spot on their neck, and they hoped that it wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had them weak in his arms. Just a little more…

More kisses rained down on them, trailing up to their jaw and sucking at the skin there, just lightly enough to tease them without leaving a mark. A sigh escaped their lips, and their hands trailed down his back, gripping at his yellow tank top in hopes of regaining their sanity. Strong arms embraced them tightly, and arched their back into him.

“Yeah, so what?” he mumbled against the corner of their lips. “Got a problem with that?”

At the very last second before their lips met, they turned their face to the other side and pulled away. “Actually, I do. Because we’re not doing anything at all until you finish studying chapters one through four.”

Groaning, Josuke made to reach out for them as they slipped from his embrace and began to walk off. “Babe, you can’t be serious—“

“I am,” they coolly said, as if they hadn’t been seconds away from pulling him ontop of them. “Would you like me to call your mom and tell her you’re fooling around instead of getting your shit done?”

He shuddered, visibly recoiling at the thought and slumping back in place. “Don’t. She’ll probably put a ban on you ever visiting me when she’s out.”

Still a little shaken up and their nerves slightly tattered by the onslaught of intimacy, they hurried to his room, calling out behind them in a sing-song voice. “Well, these calculus problems aren’t gonna solve themselves!”

Collapsing onto his bed, they muffled a laugh as they heard him swearing and slamming his heavy notebook open, grumbling under his breath the entire time. In the meantime, they curled up into his freshly-made sheets and snuggled their head into his fluffy pillow.

“It smells like him,” they whispered to themself, their face flushed as they squeezed the pillow a little. Somehow, having their boyfriend’s familiar scent surrounding them from everywhere warmed them up to their fingertips, and sent their heart racing in their ribcage. “Wish he’d hurry up and join me before Miss Tomoko gets home…”

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @boorishbrambling

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princessmisery666 · 1 year ago

Text

Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending.

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester.

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

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

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

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

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day.

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again.

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him.

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.”

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours.

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will.

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise?

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later.

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.”

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?”

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.”

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension.

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.”

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first.

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both.

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play.

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.”

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests.

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks.

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.”

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.”

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh.

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.”

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.

“That hurt?” he asks.

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.”

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial.

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s.

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him.

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone.

“Hey, hi,” you answer.

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?”

“Yeah, sure, okay.”

“You okay?”

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.”

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine.

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.”

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.”

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.”

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.”

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.”

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?”

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better.

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair.

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.”

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes.

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard.

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.”

“They seem like a good bunch.”

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door.

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you.

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them.

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you.

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction.

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls.

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?”

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.”

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer.

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?”

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own.

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you.

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you.

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.”

“Good for them.”

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards.

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong.

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you.

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…”

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.”

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly.

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away.

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again.

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return.

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop.

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door.

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

Tags info

/ @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @pank0w / @kmc1989/ @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

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

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itficlibrary · 1 month ago

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This week's fic rec theme is 2024!

The following are recs for some of your + our favourite fics to come out within the last year (with a bonus bingo board at the end)! Thanks so much to anyone who sent in their faves!

For fans of soulmate aus & richie tozier’s crippling self-loathing, try:

• Three weddings (and my funeral) by witchietozier (@witchiewitchie)

(23k words + ongoing)

This is a soulmate au (although it very much feels like its own thing), wherein Richie and Eddie are set up to pretend to be soulmates for stanpat’s wedding. Featuring unique & bubbly prose, several awkward situations and musings on a delightfully pathetic Richie’s psyche.

For fans of kid fic & family feels, try:

• It’s a cruel summer with you by eddiekaspbrakirlsblog (@eddiekaspbrakirlsblog)

(21k words)

A series of seven short fics centered on the toziers having a beach house and eddie spending summers with them there, following reddie from age 4 to adulthood. This dedicates a lot of time to characterising Maggie & Went Tozier (as good parents!) and is packed with fluffy childhood innocence & found family themes.

For fans of fix-its & tenderness:

• Hold on and hope we’ll find our way back in the end by rcdwings

(27k words)

A good old fashioned rewrite & fix-it of IT 2019, through Eddie’s eyes and then Richie’s. Featuring all the missing scenes & extra character beats you could want from the movie, a very sweet Maggie Tozier portrayal and a pretty, elegant writing style.

For fans of teen fic & pining, try:

• Well, that’ll be the day, when you say goodbye by thewayilovetheocean (@derrypubliclibrary)

(4k words)

A look at Richie’s in-full-bloom feelings for Eddie and all the angst surrounding that, set before he leaves Derry around 1991. Featuring plenty of internalised homophobia, classic teenreddie banter and a gently hopeful ending.

For fans of lucky 7 ensemble pieces & balls to the wall fun:

• If love is the answer, you’re home by kissbrak and richiebeepbeep (@toziers)

(55k words)

A fic based on Tag (2018), wherein the losers play an annual game of tag and fall in love along the way. It switches focus around all of the losers, gives so much depth & complexity to every single relationship and is all round a deranged & extremely fun romp!

For fans of t4t reddie & awkward meet-cutes, try:

• Switch-hitters by sheepknitssweater

(16k words)

This follows a t4t reddie who meet via softball to the face, and the rest is history. This fic’s style is snappy and lively, its characterisation (especially of Richie) is uber charming, and it deals insightfully with its themes of internalised transphobia and identity.

For fans of funny meet-cutes & haters of sonia kaspbrak, try:

• Come for aunt Brenda’s green beans, stay for the drama by asexual_asshat (@asexualasshat)

(5k words)

Richie meets Eddie on Tinder and they conspire to ruin the Kaspbrak family thanksgiving (to piss off mrs k of course). Featuring these two being absolutely crazy about each other, plenty of hijinks & comedy and eventual smut.

For fans of college fic & heavy angst, try:

• Go on and on and on until by tozierlvr (@tozierlvr)

(160k words)

A series wherein Richie and Eddie (unknowingly) reunite at college after the events of IT chapter one, documenting their entire relationship from start to…uh…end. It’s got super realistic 2nd puberty, eventual gut-wrenching angst, and stays ‘canon compliant’ while adding the most unique tweaks.

For fans of pining & domesticity, try:

• Don’t want to let you go (‘til you see the light) by nonbinary (@oshaskell)

(6k words)

This oneshot sees reddie in a roommates scenario, wherein Richie is working up the nerve to finally ask Eddie out. reddie’s weird little dynamic in this is natural and endearing (Eddie bites Richie at one point), there are cute flashbacks via old videos, and overall this is an extra warm and cozy read.

For fans of soft, happy endings & richie tozier’s wooing attempts, try:

• Take a right at the light by moichi (@clownbrainrot)

(6k words)

This follows Richie on an odyssey to shoot his shot with Eddie, and the mounting obstacles he faces on the way. It’s got bevchie best friendship, a sweet ending and is extra generous with its low-stakes-high-comedy Richie suffering.

For fans of short-but-sweet fics in a corporate setting, try:

pour myself a cup of ambition by searcher_of_amroth (@spagedster)

(8k words)

Richie and Eddie meet by chance because they both have been mandated to see a HR counsellor at their workplace. Featuring oh-god-he’s-cute on both sides, with alternate points of views (a personal favourite!), and plenty of cute moments as they both try to woo the other!

For fans of time loops and happy endings, try:

again, again, again by watchoutforthefanfics (@watchoutforthefanfics)

(12k words)

Richie gets stuck in a time loop and has to save both Eddie and Stan. It goes about as well as you think it would! Features emotionally constipated Richie Tozier (as he should be), angst (as there should be), and healing (as there should be).

For fans of fics set during the 27 years in between and bittersweet endings, try:

familiar by fredastaire (@it2017)

(23k words)

During the 27 years, Eddie returns to Derry once: for his mother’s funeral. Mike is there to help him through it. I love this fic so much! This fic contains Kasplon relationship dynamics, Remembering Your Childhood, and Dealing With Your Emotions About Your Mother.

For fans of Reddie bickering and Benverly, try:

double date by beefcakebeetle

(17k words)

Richie, Eddie, and Ben come to Chicago to help Beverly move her stuff out of Tom’s house. Then, Ben and Bev trick Richie and Eddie into going on a double date! Featuring a lot of cute dynamics between these four, and alternating points of view!

For fans of communication and character studies, try:

remembering you by loelight

(13k words)

Richie and Eddie have a long conversation. Set post Chapter 2. A really cute, fluffy fic! Featuring The Kissing Bridge(™), very little emotional constipation, and a happy ending.

For fans of the Awkward Teenager Drama and slice of life genres, try:

crosseyed & painless by bellbawttoms (@gaylittlerichie)

(58k words)

Eddie gets a girlfriend and Richie loses his absolute mind. Featuring the Authentic Pathetic Teenager Experience, You Guys Just Wouldn’t Get It, Nobody Understands Me, a slice of life in the 80’s in every chapter, and self discovery.

For fans of character studies and introspection-heavy fics, try:

Octopus’ garden by searcher_of_amroth (@spagedster)

(16k words)

Character study fic with a focus on mental health set post Chapter 2 events. Featuring a chapter for each loser (two for stan!), and a whole lot of resolutions and tying up loose ends.

For fans of coming of age fics with plenty of slowburn, try:

that teenage feeling! by fredastaire (@it2017)

(50k words)

Explores Eddie coming to terms with identifying as a trans woman. Set during the 27 years, and features plenty of miscommunication, introspection, and character and relationship analysis, as well as Richie Tozier as a narrator(™).

For fans of character-accurate communication and post-canon fics, try:

Dance slow decades by xosmia

(16k words)

Eddie shows up in Los Angeles in the middle of the night without any warning. Richie and Eddie have a couple of long conversations and reconcile their relationship, both platonic and not.

For fans of fix-it fics, try:

a murmur beneath my skin by mikripetra

(26k words)

Richie and Eddie bump into each other randomly at a grocery store in their thirties. It triggers a butterfly effect that neither of them could have seen coming. Featuring character studies, hurt/comfort, and psychological horror.

Here’s a bingo board for you to cross off, with bonus spaces to find more! Check out these resources to help you leave some comments along the way!

#themed lists #2024 #it chapter one #it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 2 #it chapter 1 #it chapter two #it fanfiction #it stephen king

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asterias-record-shop · 2 years ago

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Can i have a full song with…ethan landry

dark romance, stalker!ethan, ghostface!kink

Had this idea that reader gets gifts to her apartment and it’s always anonymous, at first it’s cute gifts like flowers, chocolate or custom made playlist but then it starts to get darker like some pictures of her she wasn’t aware of or even things she lost MONTHS ago like panties, jewelry’s….it can even go darker that at some point he just snap and he send her sperm or something and he get her voice messages to confess his love and say he would kill for her (like post murder adrenaline) and one time she gets to her apartment and there’s no gifts because ethan is inside (and he’s basically the gift) and he has his ghostface costume on and maybe he makes a reveal and like he’s giggling and shit and maybe after some smutty scene ? like ugh i’m dying for this

—��[secret admirer]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Ghostface! Stalker! Ethan Landry x Fem! Naive! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - smut, fluff, maybe slight angst?

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 5.1K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Ethan knew you were the perfect target whenever he met you. Oh you were perfect; beautiful,, sweet, funny, smart… but at the same time, so fucking stupid. He started sending you small things at first, your favorite candy and a CD with music that reminded him of you with a record player, but he needed more. He needed to make you know who he was, he needed you to love him. He couldn’t stay in the shadows anymore, and now that he’s finally sent you the biggest thing ever, he’s ready to reveal who he is - right after his first kill.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - THIS IS A DARK FIC, PLEASE BEWARE! || HEAVY MANIPULATION || READER IS EXTREMELY NAIVE || ETHAN IS VERY MANIPULATIVE || cursing & foul language || reader again is very naive || if i need to explain it, I took Kris from his real last name Kirsh || you both know each other out of this, but it’s not really mentioned until the end || voyeurism kink || toy usage || sleepy-fuck || blindfold || you’re a heavy sleeper now || creampie || cum eating || virginity loss || multiple rounds || raw sex || unprotected sex || creampie || multiple orgasms || dacryphilia || rough fuck ||

It started with a burner phone.

You were confused at first, especially because you had never seen one in real life since you had no use for one, but you kept it. You had thought maybe you could find out who it belonged to, so when it rang, you answered.

“Hi! My name is Y/N, I found this phone on my doormat, are you looking for it?”

Oh, Ethan wanted to laugh. Were you that nice? “No, I’m not… it’s a gift - for you.”

“I’m sorry?” You asked, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a gift… from me, your secret admirer.” Ethan smiled, the voice editor on his end making his voice come out deeper and more playful. With this new secret admirer personality, he could take on a new persona, someone confident and forward that you would fall in love with easily. “Just so I can reach you quicker.”

“Oh,” you say, smiling as you play with the burner phone. “I-I’ve never had one of these before.”

“A burner phone?”

“We-Well that too,” you say, giggling. “I meant… a secret admirer.”

“Oh,” Ethan spoke, smiling. “Well then, I’m glad to be your first.” He knew damn well you had never had a secret admirer, and it made him love it that much more.

“O-Oh… well what do I do now?”

“You take my gifts,” he responded, smiling. “I know you’ll love them, all of them. I think it will be pretty fun too.”

“Well… it won’t get like obsessive, right? Stalker-ish, I mean.” You asked, knowing that it had happened to some women in TV shows.

“Of course not, honey. Everything I send you will be harmless, I promise. I never break a promise.”

You smiled widely, nodding. “Good. I trust you… what should I call you?”

Ethan paused, humming slightly. What could you call him? “You can call me… Kris. With a K.”

“Is that your name?” You ask, tilting your head to the side as you slowly look inside of the box that the burner came in. “Oh, what’s this?”

“No, it’s not. But that’s a Polaroid of you. I know you like them, you can start a little album,” he responds, smiling. “My next gift to you will be an album. So you can keep all of the Polaroids I sent you.”

“I’d like that,” you respond, smiling as your finger goes over the picture of you getting your normal coffee at your favorite shop. “Do you know my coffee order?”

Ethan paused, smiling. Of course he knew your coffee order, he wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t want to seem that stalkery off the bat. “I’ll learn it,” he told you, his hand grazing over the to-go copy cup with your order scrawled on the side. “Get it delivered to you every morning.”

You laughed, biting your lip. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The next few months were amazing, beautiful even. It might’ve gotten a little weird, but Kris assured you that he was just moving your relationship to the next level. You’d never had a secret admirer before, so when he told you that there was nothing to worry about whenever the gifts started getting more intimate, you believed him.

“Kris, are you sure that this is okay?” You asked as he positioned himself on a nearby fire escape in an apartment he was renting. “I don’t… I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this.”

“Hey, don’t you worry about it,” Kris said, smiling as you walked out of the restroom with the lingerie he bought you on show. “I’m not asking you to do anything in it, just try it on… do you have it on?”

“Yeah, I do,” you whisper, staring at yourself in the mirror. It was nice, a beautiful corset lingerie top and some skimpy underwear that actually fit you perfectly because it was the same one you tried on in the store. “H-How did you know I was looking at this one?”

“I think I know you well enough, my love,” Ethan lied, knowing damn well he followed you into the store you went into and watched you grab it before putting it back on the display after trying it on. It was too risky to try and follow you into the dressing rooms. “Does it fit?”

“Y-Yeah…” you whisper, inhaling deeply. “Yeah, it fits perfectly.”

He could tell that it fit perfectly, pushing up your tits and wrapping around your perfect body tightly, your ass on display from the tight g-string. He stared at you as you spin around, watching you check yourself out in your mirror. He loved the way you looked at yourself, confident with that spark in your eye.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you whisper, smiling. “I love it so much.”

“Good,” Ethan smiled, cursing as his alarm went off.

“Kris? Is everything all right?” You asked, his voice getting lower as you heard dinging. “Kris?”

“Yeah, I’m okay darling, just have to go do something,” Ethan responded, shaking his head. “You just take a few pictures for me and send them, got it? I’ll give you another present tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, sighing in disappointment before smiling, trying to fake some happiness. “I hope whatever you have to do goes well.”

Ethan smiled, rubbing his hand against his growing bulge as you slowly set down your phone, going to your drawers. He had been in your room before, not that you knew, and always stole your underwear - whether they were the cotton ones or the more skimpy ones - but you opened a drawer and pulled out a book he always ignored that never seemed too interesting. Who would have a book with no title on it?

“Thank you, honey,” he responded, humming. “Just send me those pictures and I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, opening the false book to pull out the silicone vibrator you hid inside of it. “I will. Have a good day, Kris.”

Ethan choked as you pulled out the vibrator, covering his mouth as you looked at the phone you had put on speaker. “Kris? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine!” Ethan closed his drooling mouth, shaking his head. “Just send me those pictures, okay my love?”

“Okay, Kris,” you respond, humming. “W-Wait.”

“Yes?” Ethan was getting impatient, already pulling out his cock as he grabbed the Polaroid camera next to him.

“I-I uhm…” you whispered this time, clearing your throat. “I-I’ll miss you.”

Ethan paused, smiling as he slowly pumped his cock. “I’ll miss you too, Y/N. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Ethan hung up, turning off his alarm that told him to start getting ready for class. At this moment, fuck his professor.

He watched as you slowly laid on the bed, the exposed crotch area of the underwear allowing you to easily slip it up and down your slit.

You gasped, groaning softly as you felt the cold silicone against your clit. It had been a while since you had last used this toy, or any toy for that matter, but that didn’t matter right now. You felt so pretty and desirable in this lingerie, you deserved this.

You gasped as you held the button at the end, whimpering when it started vibrating loudly and with a force you didn’t remember it having. Quickly, you pressed it a few more times to get it to a slower setting, soft vibrations filling the room as you swiped it up and down your cunt. It felt weird at first after you had been without it for so long, maybe even slightly uncomfortable before you slipped your fingers down to join the toy, groaning with an unconscious rut of your hips into the toy.

Your fingers slide over your wet cunt, gasping as you pressed the tip of the vibrator to your clit, groaning as you lifted your hips just a bit to get that perfect angle. It doesn’t take you long to slip a pillow under your hips just as you slide a finger into your cunt, groaning loudly as you slowly turn the vibrator in a firm circle against your clit.

It wasn’t enough though, not for what you wanted, making you tilt the vibrator to an angle to push it down so the tip was against the top of your entrance. Your other hand pushed another finger into your cunt, the end of the vibrator pressed firmly to your clit as you rolled your hips into the toy.

Would he fuck you like this? Would he use a toy until you’re a blubbering mess underneath him and begging for his cock?

The answer was yes. Kris would torture you with a toy until you’re sobbing from overstimulation, but Ethan? The Ethan that you would bring out? He wouldn’t stop when you’re overstimulated, pressing the vibrator to your swollen clit as he used your pussy like a fleshlight for his own pleasure until you were sobbing and your mascara was running down your face.

He watched through the Polaroid camera, taking a few pictures and was grateful for the fact that he changed the film case so he could take as many pictures as he wanted while his other hand pumped his cock. He groaned, watching as you pulled out your fingers and pushed the vibrator into your cunt, pumping his cock harder as he shifted his hips and pulled the camera farther back, getting both his cock right at the moment he came and the image of your pinched face as you came around the vibrator.

Your eyes rolled back, groaning loudly as your hips buck uncontrollably into the vibrator, whimpering slightly as it pushed against your sensitive cunt, holding the back of the vibrator to try and turn it off, eyes rolling back when it took too long. You panted, inhaling sharply as you let it stay inside of your cunt for a few seconds before your phone dings.

Reaching for your regular phone, you tilted your head slightly in confusion when there was no notification until another ding made you look to the side, smiling as you slowly took out the toy and walked over and grabbed it.

Kris 3:23pm

Don’t forget those pictures for me, darling.

Later that day, when you were asleep, Ethan easily snuck in through your window from the fire escape. He was a bit paranoid since last time you woke up to use the bathroom and he had to hide underneath your bed, but he had run out of your underwear from cumming all over them. He had planned to wash them, but it never worked out because there were no washing machines and dryers at the dorms and it’d look very weird doing that in a washateria.

With that though, he slipped a blindfold over your eyes and headphones over your ears, watching as you twisted slightly. He grabbed his burner phone with the voice modifier, calling you as you hummed softly. You don’t question the blindfold over your eyes, or the headphones on your head, only focusing on answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey honey,” Ethan spoke, his voice edited as he slowly kneeled over the bed. “Guess who?”

You giggle, shrugging as you go to twist on the bed before he holds your hips. You gasped making him laugh, your voice echoing in your ears before his thumbs firmly slid over your pelvis bone. “Hey darling… darling, it’s me. It’s me.”

“Wh-Why are you here, Kris? Y-You’re scaring me,” you say, his shushing making you shiver as his thumbs slide down to your wet cunt covered only by your thin cotton panties. “Kris?”

“I’m here, honey, it’s me,” he said, licking his lips as he pressed his thumbs down firmly. “Got my hands here, baby. Rubbing you nicely. I just… I couldn’t hold back anymore, my love. Do you want me to leave? I’ll… I’ll leave if you want me to.”

He really wasn’t going to, honestly — if you wanted him to leave.

“No,” you respond, your hands swatting at the air before he caught your wrist and guided it to his chest. “Why did you wait so long? Why now?”

“Because,” Ethan whispered, his voice cutting out slightly as he slowly slipped down your panties. “I couldn’t hold back.”

“A-Are you… are you going to do something?”

“Like what?” He asked you, his lips softly pressing to your hip bone. “Can I… do something? I’ll be nice. I’ll be so nice, honey, nice and gentle.”

“Yes… yes, please,” you whispered, groaning as his thumbs slowly pulled apart your pussy lips and he stared at the wetness already leaking out.

He groaned as he stood, going into that same drawer you put the hollow book and taking out your vibrator, pushing it into his mouth with a loud groan.

“K-Kris? Is everything okay?”

“Don’t say that name,” Ethan’s voice came out more rough then he meant it to when he pulled the toy out of his mouth, cursing softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound that way… I just… it’s not my real name and I’d rather you moan my real name rather than that one. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes, I understand,” you whimpered as he slowly kneeled in between your spread legs, taking the vibrator and slowly turning it on. “Wh-What’s that?”

“You don’t know?” Ethan laughed, pushing the vibrator between your folds and easily sliding it up and down your soaked cunt. He watched your face pinch, mouth falling open as your nose scrunched, wishing he could see your pretty eyes. Were they snapped open or squeezed shut?

They were squeezed shut, your thighs already shaking as your hands squeeze the sheets and your hips buck into the silicone. You gasped, the vibrations clear over your headphones as his mouth sucked on your clit, tongue lapping as he let his saliva gather.

On the other hand, Ethan was focusing on not cumming. He watched your hands dig into the sheets, your hips bucking with each flick of his tongue to that sensitive bundle of nerves that was just fucking delectable right now. Ethan was enjoying the fact he was making you feel good without even touching you, the vibrator doing all the work as he easily slipped it inside of you, thrusting it in and out as you moaned loudly.

He wasn’t even sure if you knew how loud you were being, your hands quickly finding their way to his hair and pulling him closer as his other hand held your thigh over his shoulder. He could feel you rocking your hips into the vibrator, your fingers threading through his curls and tugging slightly to hear him groan against your cunt.

It makes you gasp, the vibrations traveling straight through your clit to your spine, your stomach clenching as you rut your hips into the air. He groaned, gasping as he nudged his nose to your low puffy clit, pushing his tongue down to your entrance where the vibrator was handle deep inside of you.

He could hear your moans filling the room, unable to see the tears pricking your eyes from pleasure. You had never taken the vibrator this deep, his hand movements languid and lazy making you desperate.

Ethan was desperate so see the way your cunt clenched and fluttered, staring at each erotic movement. He was so tempted to stick his tongue in there with the toy, but he knew it would leave that unfamiliar feeling on his slick muscle, so he decided against it. Besides, he took enough pleasure listening to your moans and watching your cunt flutter when you started to get closer to your release.

Still though, as much as he loved watching you get off for something he was doing, he couldn’t cum. He wanted to, but he couldn’t, not if it wasn’t going to be inside of you and if you weren’t looking at him.

“Are you close, darling?”

“Y-Yes!” You screamed out, groaning. “Fuck, yes!”

You could feel the vibrator press to the perfect spot inside of you, your mouth falling open when the knot finally snapped and you came around the toy, screaming so loudly you could hear yourself. Your voice was definitely deeper than you thought it would be.

“K-Kris? Was that me?”

He turned off the toy with a soft curse, pressing a kiss to your clit as he slowly pulled it out. He watched your hands slowly pull out of his hair as he turned off the vibrator, thumbs pressing against his face as you pressed your lips together firmly. It makes Ethan’s brows pull together as his face scrunches, confused before you start to giggle.

“Well, I can’t see you… so I wanted to try to memorize your face with my hands,” you say, smiling. “Your skin is soft.”

“You can see me soon, my love,” Ethan whispered, slowly leaning forward so that his face was close to yours. You smiled as he nudged his wet nose against yours, his lips softly ghosting over yours as you inhaled shakily. “I promise you.”

You inhaled as you pulled him closer, humming as his fingers trail over your hips, his lips softly pressing to yours. His lips make you gasp, soft but slightly chapped, perfect against yours as you wrap your legs around his waist, softly rolling your hips against his hard cock making him groan loudly against your mouth.

“Won’t you fuck me, Kris? Please?”

“I can’t,” Ethan mumbled, humming. “I want you to see my face when I fuck you.”

You inhale, nodding as he pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “Uhm… if you don’t want me to call you Kris, what should I call you?”

“You won’t have to call me that anymore, I’ll give you my real name soon, I promise.”

And with that, he pushed the vibrator right back into you, turning it onto its highest setting to watch your face scrunch, determined to stare at your face until he could see tears.

The next morning, Ethan gave you your usual coffee and pastry at your doorstep, a smile on your face as you called him while you ate.

“You should come by again tonight,” you suggest, biting into your pastry. “I could uhm… I could do something for you.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughed, pumping his cock. He had been edging himself since yesterday when he saw you, humming. “You’re already doing something for me, darling. You just keep talking.”

You paused, gasping. Was he… masturbating?

“Kr-Kris, are you-”

“What’d I tell you about calling me that?” Ethan almost got turned off, if it wasn’t for you stuttering. “What do you think I’m doing, baby?”

“I-I… I don’t know.”

“I’m getting your present ready,” he smirked down at the acrylic container already almost filled up with his cum, the last few releases already almost filling it up. “I think you’re going to like it.”

“What is it?” You asked, perking up as you finished up your coffee. “I-Is it something nice?”

“Oh yeah baby,” he laughed, cursing as he finally came, spurting it inside of the container as he grunted, cleaning up the side and sliding his finger over the side. “I think you’ll like it. I’ll have it at your door soon, my love.”

You smiled, nodding. “Right… right, okay. I’ll see you soon… darling.”

“We’ll see.”

You waited by the door as soon as he hung up, pacing desperately to be there as soon as he knocked. You gasped when there was a soft knock against your door, quickly opening the door and looking around to try and see if you could see someone in the hall, but there wasn’t.

You sighed when you looked down, a small box tied with a bow that you slowly grabbed and set on your table after locking the door. You answered it as you started opening the box, confused when you saw a small container. “What is it?”

“Oh, you already opened it, you’re so impatient,” he laughed, leaning against the wall of the room he rented right next to yours. “Are we going to act like you didn’t try to look for me? Running to the door like that.”

“H-How did you know that?” You asked, staring at the door. “I… did I miss you?”

“Just about,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Why don’t you open that container for me?”

“Oh… okay,” you whisper, slowly opening it and taking a slight sniff, nose scrunching. “Is it a lotion?”

He laughed, staring down at his cock that was already getting hard. “I mean… I guess it’s more… edible.”

“I can eat it?”

He hummed, listening to your actions as close as he could.

You lift it to your lips, slowly dipping your tongue inside and your nose scrunching when you tasted the salty substance. “What is it?”

“Something special I made for you,” he laughed, shaking his head. “You enjoy that, alright?”

“Can I cook with it?”

Ethan laughed again before his phone dings, cursing. “No, honey, it’s meant to be eaten on its own, but I have to go, okay? I’ll see you tonight.”

“Can I see you?”

He paused, sighing. “We’ll see. I love you.”

“I… I love you too.”

He hung up, groaning when he saw a text from his sister. At least you had a class today, so you wouldn’t be suspected as the murderer.

That night, you still couldn’t figure out what that thing Kris gave you was, or you didn’t want to figure it out. You had an inference after you dipped your finger inside and scooped more into your mouth, but you blocked it out as soon as you thought of it. He wouldn’t be like that, would he?

When someone knocked, you looked at your phone, the number 10:32 bright on your normal screen. He wouldn’t leave a gift this late, would he?

Slowly, you walked over and peaked out the hole, face scrunching in confusion when you didn’t see anyone. It was stupid, yes, opening the door, gasping as you were pushed inside, face forward against your wall. For fucks sake, what kind of luck was this?

“Stop! Please, stop, I’m a college student – I don’t have anything!” It was true, you were waist deep in student debt, what could they want from you?

You could feel tears pricking your eyes as his hands paw at your waist, red stained fingers making you whimper before he starts to laugh. You had definitely heard that laugh before.

“Kr-Kris?”

“What did I say about that name?” His hands push into the front of your underwear, a gasp falling from your lips before it turns into a loud groan when his fingers graze your still sensitive clit. “I guess… now you can know my real name.”

You gasped at his voice, groaning as you pressed your forehead to the wall, his lips grazing your ear. “Wh-What is it?”

“Ethan.”

You paused, quickly turning around with a gasp when you saw the pretty face of the guy from one of your classes that you always looked at for a little too long. “Ethan… Ethan.”

“You like saying it, don’t you? Then you’re going to love moaning it,” he mumbled, watching your hips rut from his fingers grazing over your clit again, your body squirming against the walls as he laughed, easily pulling off your bottoms and underwear. “I’m so glad I used this pussy until you were sobbing last night, preparing you for my cock. Gonna use you until you’re a sobbing mess and you’re addicted to my cock. I’ve waited way too long to fuck you, and right now, I really need it.”

“E-Ethan-!” You screamed out as he picked you up, gasping as he threw you over his shoulder, walking straight to your room and throwing you onto the bed. “Wh-What happened?”

He looked down at the stupid Ghostface robe he’d have to take off to fuck you, with more clothes underneath, cursing. “Don’t worry, honey, you don’t have to worry about that. I took care of it.”

“Are you all right?” You asked, sitting up as he took off his clothes, stripping down to nothing as he crawled over your body.

“Don’t worry about that, my love,” he whispered, smiling down at you. “You just get ready to feel the most pleasure you’ll ever feel in your life, okay?”

“W-Wait!” You pressed your hands to his chest, panting underneath him. “I’m… I’m a virgin, Ethan. Please, please be gentle.”

He pressed his lips together, holding back a smile as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours as he held your face with one hand, the other pushing down to your cunt and sliding down your folds, gathering your wetness. He groaned as he easily slipped a finger into your cunt, your walls immediately clamping down as he imagined your pussy fluttering like he saw last night.

“I promise you baby, you don’t want me to be gentle. I’ll make you feel so good, I swear.”

You inhaled, nodding as he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

You gasped as he pulled his fingers out of you, watching as he slowly grabbed his hard cock, his tip an angry red and dripping precum, wasting no time pushing into your cunt. You gasped, groaning loudly as he slowly pushed into you, eyes rolling back as your eyes prick with tears of pain. It felt weird and hurt slightly, but it wasn’t anything compared to when he pushed the vibrator into you last night and watched you cum over and over again last night, so many times you lost count.

“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” he groaned, pulling out to watch the moonlight reflect off his arousal covered cock, a choked sound leaving your mouth when you saw it. Were you really that wet? “You feel better than I could ever imagine, fuck!”

You were too overstimulated from yesterday, his thrusts rough and quick though still sloppy, his first time being in your cunt making him unhinged. How could he hold back when you were so wet and tight, clamping down on his shaft perfectly and barely letting him pull out? Fuck, he couldn’t stop now.

You held onto his shoulders, groaning loudly as you rut your hips into his, Ethan’s hands finding the backs of your thighs and pulling them around his waist with a loud grunt. Your nails drag down his back, loud whines leaving your lips as his tip abuses your cervix, hitting with each rough thrust as he pressed his mouth to your neck. “Fuck!”

His voice was broken and strained as your hips begin to move unconsciously, desperate to hit that high as his tongue dragged down your neck, already marking your skin up with hickies. He was so desperate, hips speeding up as he neared his climax, loud groans falling from his mouth as you cursed.

“F-Fuck, fuck Ethan! Please, please, it’s too much!” You sobbed, desperate for more just as much as you were desperate for a break. Your mind was blurry and hazy, mixing the wires of pain and pleasure, unsure whether to stop or keep going.

He laughed as he pulled away, leaning forward to kiss your lips, wiping your eyes as he paused his hips just for a second, desperate to control himself. He inhaled, finally finding a steady rhythm even though he was so close to cumming, desperate to make sure you found pleasure. "It's okay to cry, darling, I know it's out of pleasure. Come on, show me how good I make you feel. Cry for me."

Oh, that’s all you needed.

You sobbed as he finally thrusted one last time, a loud groan falling from his lips, his cum filling your deepest parts and pushing past your cervix enough to make your vision go white and a scream of his name fall from your lips. He doesn’t let you take a breath, easily flipping your limp body over to thrust his hips against your ass, turning into rolls in desperation as he pushes his fingers over your arms to follow up to your hands, intertwining your fingers as you sobbed from pleasure.

It was too much, his movements never stopping as he squeezed your hands, tongue trailing over your cheek. He smeared blood across your skin, not that you noticed, his mouth and teeth marking up your skin with hickies and bite marks, determined to show everyone else in the world you were his.

He pulled one hand away from yours, pushing it down to squeeze your ass in his hand, giving you a soft slap to make you regain focus back on him. “What are you thinking about, my love? You should only be thinking about my cock.”

Oh and you were. How long had you been in this position, how many times had you come and clenched around his cunt in desperation, signaling your body cumming around his length?

“I am, I am! I am, holy fuck you feel so good, fuck Ethan!”

He leaned down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as your knuckles go white, eyes rolling back as previous tears fall into your open mouth making you taste the salty liquid, his teeth marking you once again. “You’re mine, darling. You belong to me.”

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

“I’m going to show you, darling, and I’m going to show the whole fucking world – starting by your neighbors knowing my name.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡

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pink-sparkly-witch · 1 year ago

Text

The Widow Timestamp: I Love You

Summary: Sam tells Y/N that he loves her for the first time. This is basically PWP.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Jared Padalecki Character for @j3bingo

Warnings: flirting, kissing, smut, fingering, hand job, p in v.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: My first journey into Sam smut… please be kind 😅 Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up with The Widow here!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

SAM’S POV

“Hey, Dean,” Sam says as he answers his phone.

“Sammy, you better not bail on me tonight,” Dean grumbles, getting straight to the point as always.

“I’ll be there,” he responds. Honestly, the week he’s had at work, meeting his dad and brother at a bar on a Friday night is the last thing he wants or needs right now. A night lounging in sweats, eating Chinese food, and watching a movie he didn’t need to use too much brain power for, is what he really wants to be doing.

“Good. Just checking. Can only get you away from the office if it’s for your girl these days, so…” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckles. “Sorry about that. She, uh…” he trails off with a chuckle, lost in thoughts of his girlfriend.

“I know, Sammy,” Dean says, and Sam can hear the smile in his older brother’s voice. “She can’t come, right?” he checks.

“No, it’s her friend’s birthday, so they’re having a girls night,” Sam says, sounding slightly less enthusiastic than he meant to.

“What’s the matter? Y/N got you so pussy whipped already that you can’t stand the thought of being away from her for one night?” Dean laughs, and Sam chuckles along with him.

His brother isn’t completely wrong. He and Y/N have been dating for almost three months and are blissfully in the honeymoon period of their relationship, where they can’t get enough of each other or bear to be apart for too long.

“No, it’s… I’m just tired, is all. It’s been a long week at the office. And it’s the firm’s family day tomorrow, so I’ll see Y/N then, anyway.”

“That’s right. She’s meeting all the big guns for the first time! Are you nervous?” Dean asks, and Sam sighs loudly.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t be. I mean, who cares if they like her, right? Because I do, and that’s all that matters. It’s just… if I want to make partner one day, things like stable relationships and who your other half is seems to have a say in it,” Sam admits.

“They’re gonna love her, man. I think it’d be hard for anyone not to fall in love with her,” Dean reassures him. “You found a good one, Sammy. Hold onto her.”

“I know, I will.”

Despite his earlier reluctance to spend the night in a bar with his dad and brother, Sam is having a great time. With work and Y/N, it’d been a while since he’s spent this much time with them, making him feel a little guilty.

Sam’s worries about his dad and Dean teasing him about ‘his girl’ are quickly dampened when his dad asks if things are serious between them. Both men had smiled and clapped him on the back at his confirmation that it was and that he was confident she was it for him. The only slightly teasing remark so far has been from his dad.

“Better start saving for a ring, son,” John chuckles.

With both men grinning at him like idiots, Sam feels a hand slide across his shoulders. “I’m flattered, but I have a girlfriend,” he says without turning around.

“No, I’m flattered,” Y/N responds, and he smiles before turning to face his girlfriend. “And very reassured.”

“Hey, baby. What are you doing here? I thought girls’ night was across town?” Sam asks as he stands to kiss her.

“Well,” Y/N huffs with a roll of her eyes. “It was, and we were having a great time, but Charlie dragged us all the way over here because she found out the girl she’s crushing on works here. And, you know, can’t say no to the birthday girl!”

“Well, can’t say I’m not happy about that,” Sam chuckles, placing his arm around her shoulders. “You look beautiful, baby.”

“Thank you,” she smiles and glances down his body before she speaks again. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear plaid before. I like it. It’s a good look on you,” she stretches up on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

“Noted,” Sam chuckles, and Y/N giggles.

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this lovey-dovey bullcrap. Makes me wanna vomit,” Dean winks to show his jest and stands from the table. “Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?”

“No, thanks,” Y/N shakes her head. “I have one waiting for me at my table and probably three tequila shots by now. I just wanted to come over and say hi.”

“Do you, uh, wanna come to my place when you’re, you know?” Sam asks quietly, hoping it’s quiet enough that only she can hear him. His dad’s chuckle and Dean’s slap on the back, and a “Get it, Sammy!” make him want a hole to open in the ground and swallow him.

Y/N laughs, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment before he watches her take a deep breath and pull herself together.

“I’d love to, Sam. But the cardinal rule of girls night is that you can’t bail on girls night. Especially for a guy. You know that, right? It’s the whole ‘chicks before dicks’ thing. So, there is no way I’m getting to sneak away from that,” Y/N points to the table of women laughing loudly and downing shots, “before midnight.”

“I’ll wait up,” Sam grins charmingly with a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, watching Y/N’s facial expressions intently as she takes in and interprets his meaning.

“Well, alright then. Guess I’ll see you later,” Y/N said, biting on her plump bottom lip.

“Yeah, you will. Have a good night, baby,” Sam leans down and presses another kiss to her lips.

“You too,” Y/N smirks, pulling Sam down by the lapels of his shirt for one last kiss. “It was good to see you again, John,” she smiles as she reluctantly parts from Sam.

“And you, sweetheart,” John smiles. “You’ll be over for dinner on Sunday, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Y/N returns his smile before turning her attention to the eldest Winchester son. “Dean, that table,” she gestures in the general direction of where her friends are, “is out of bounds.”

“What? But why? Come on, Y/N! There are some real hotties over—” Dean tries, but Y/N’s warning scowl and raised eyebrow make him back down.

“I mean it, Dean! I don’t want my friends badgering me for your number, or with questions about what they did wrong, or asking me to ask Sam to ask you why you didn’t call,” Y/N chuckles.

“Fine,” Dean huffs in resignation before walking over to the bar.

“Good. I’ll see you later, Sam.”

Y/N’S POV

12:45am

The cab pulls away from the curb, and you walk up the path to Sam’s house. Stopping at the door, you take a second to fluff your hair. You’ve never been like this before; never bothering too much about your appearance and certainly never for a guy. Still, you found yourself touching up your makeup and perfume before leaving the bar to come over here, making sure you look perfect for him.

You ring the doorbell and nervously shuffle from foot to foot, wondering if the butterflies you feel with Sam will ever go away. You hope not, as the flutter turns into a swarm when you hear the door unlocking.

“Hey, baby,” Sam smirks, eyes slowly taking in every inch of you. “Glad you came.”

“Well,” you grin as Sam steps to the side, inviting you into his home. “I know what kinda night I’m in for, and I would be a fool to miss out on this.” You trail your fingers up his chest, grab the neck of his t-shirt, and pull him down to meet your lips, kicking the door closed behind you.

Sam pushes his tongue into your mouth and shoves you against the door. He quickly turns the lock, shutting you in for the night. The kiss is hot and heavy, and you whimper as his fingers tug at the zip of your dress.

You shimmy the material down your body and let it pool at your feet, leaving you only in cobalt blue lace underwear. Sam growls, grabbing your thighs and pulling you up his body. You wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, as his lips find their place on your cleavage, licking and sucking your skin.

Sam’s hand trails up your back and into your hair, pulling it hard enough to force your head back and gain access to your neck. He sucks and nips gently, cautious not to leave a mark, knowing tomorrow is an important day for both of you.

“Sam,” you groan, and fuck, is it the neediest and most pathetic you’ve ever heard yourself. “Need you.”

“Yeah?” Sam rasps, his voice deepened with lust. “Right here, baby?”

“Yes,” you gasp, already breathless, and he’s barely touched you yet.

Sliding his hand over your thigh and pushing it between your bodies, Sam pulls your underwear to the side and, without warning, shoves two fingers inside you. He barely lets you adjust to the intrusion as he immediately begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your tight, wet channel, smirking as you moan his name.

Curling his fingers inside you, he watches your head fall back and thump against the door. “Fuck,” you grunt, your hands dropping from his shoulders and desperately fumbling with his belt. You love it when Sam builds the pleasure and teases you, but you can’t, not tonight. Tonight you need him now.

“Hey, what’s the hurry, baby? We’ve got all night,” Sam chuckles, but you don’t stop undoing his pants, finally pulling his belt loose and moving quickly to the button on his jeans.

With his jeans finally undone, your hand delves into his boxers and finds their prize. Sam is already fully hard, and you grip his cock and pump your fist as best you can while pinned against his door.

Sam growls when your thumb swipes over his sensitive head, turning you on even more. The wet sound that gets louder and louder with every pump of his fingers inside you should embarrass you, but instead, you moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Sam groans lowly into your ear. “I need to be in you.”

“Yes! Please, Sam,” you whimper as his fingers suddenly leave you empty and wanting. He pulls your hands off his cock and teases your clit with its tip before he pushes inside you in one slow thrust.

“Shit,” you whine, still not used to his generous length stretching and filling you so completely. You’ve never had anyone reach so deeply within you, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

Sam holds himself fully sheathed inside you, this time allowing your fluttering walls time to stretch to accommodate him, and his lips find yours in a passionate kiss that’s all teeth and tongue.

The second you feel yourself relax around him, he pulls out to the tip and slams back in, punching the air from your lungs. He doesn’t let up, pounding into you ferociously, and your high builds quickly.

Sam’s large hands grip your thighs, and you groan loudly, trying to remember to choose a long dress or pants to wear tomorrow because you can already feel bruises forming where his fingertips are digging into your soft muscle.

It’s become one of your favourite things; the colourful little bruises that litter your skin thanks to his groping hands. He’s an animal in the bedroom, but when it’s over, he always places soft kisses on every mark he leaves in his carnal state.

“Sam, I’m close,” you whine as you slide your hands into his hair and tug on the long strands.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know. I can feel it,” Sam says through gritted teeth. Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you, and you growl in frustration, tugging his hair harder to emphasise your displeasure.

“What the—? Sam, come on! I was nearly there!” You whine, pouting at him when he chuckles, tightening his grip on you and walking towards the sofa.

“I know, and I wanna watch you,” Sam smirks, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

“Watch me?” you murmur breathlessly.

“I wanna watch you come, and I wanna do it while you ride me.” Sam’s lopsided smirk creates another pool of wetness in your core, and you seem to have lost the ability to speak. “Is that alright, baby?” You nod and gulp, your words still failing you.

“Alright,” Sam says as he unwraps your legs from his waist and puts you down on shaky legs. He pulls your underwear down enough that it falls to your feet before ridding himself of all his clothing.

“Then get riding.” He smacks your ass, sits on the couch, and waits for you to climb onto his lap. You stretch your arms behind your back, ready to unclasp your bra, but Sam clicking his tongue stops you.

“Uh uh, baby. Leave it on,” Sam grins, and you smirk as you finally climb onto his lap and take his cock in your hand, placing it at your entrance and sinking down slowly. When your skin meets his, your head falls back with a gasp.

Sam’s hands drag up your body, pausing to toy with your nipples behind the blue lace. He slides the straps down your shoulders, exposing your hardening buds to the cool air briefly before his lips cover one and his hand the other.

Raising your hips up and down his length, you find a rhythm and angle that lets you feel every ridge of him glide perfectly between your walls, hitting all the right spots and making you see stars.

“Sam, baby, I…” You grind your hips through your orgasm, and Sam grunts as your walls clench him.

“That’s it, good girl,” Sam murmurs, kissing your sweat-slicked chest. “Hold onto me, baby.” He takes your arms and wraps them around his shoulders; you know it’s his turn now, and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

Sam lifts you and lays you on the couch, moving your hands from his shoulders and placing them above your head, trapping them with just one of his own. His other hand grips your thigh and pushes it, forcing your legs to open wide for him.

The first thrust is heaven, hitting everywhere all at once, and you and Sam’s grunting confirms that your walls are still fluttering, clenching, and sucking him in.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” Sam groans, his hips moving impossibly faster and pushing in deeper and deeper.

Your eyes roll, and you scream Sam’s name as he sends you soaring over the edge again, taking him with you.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Sam gasps, grinding himself into you, and you feel his release coat your quivering walls. “Fuck, my girl’s got a good pussy. So fucking good, baby.” You’d giggle at his praise if you hadn’t lost the ability to breathe, let alone speak.

Sam drops his head to your chest, kissing over every inch as he grinds against your cervix. You moan with every twitch of him inside you, and when his kisses turn to bites and sucks, you add a high neckline to the list of requirements for tomorrow’s outfit.

He lets go of your hands, and they instantly go to him, wrapping around his back and holding him against you for a little longer.

“I love you,” Sam says, leaving your breasts alone to look at you.

“Yeah?” you smile widely. It’s the first time either of you has said it, and it feels good. It feels right. “You’re not just saying that in your post-orgasmic haze?” you chuckle.

“No. I have for a while now. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Sam.”

Tags: @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @octoberclidan @nelachu2423 @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

#j3bingo #the widow #timestamp #au sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester

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hurtcomfort-bingo · 1 year ago

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All the Hurt and Comfort You Need

Hurt and Comfort is a fanwork genre that includes the physical pain or emotional discomfort of one character, who is then cared for by another character or by themselves.

Our main event is the Hurt and Comfort Bingo, where you can sign up and receive a 1x5, 3x3, or 5x5 bingo card. This bingo event is for creators who wish to create under this genre! It can also be used to explore variations of it, such as Hurt No Comfort, and Comfort No Hurt.

Our mini event is the Pick Your Poison, where you can receive a 2x3 bingo card. And where you get to choose your prompts under three categories: Poison, Symptom, and Result.

Want to sign up for the bingo?

Head here for the Hurt and Comfort Bingo!

Head here for the Pick Your Poison Bingo!

Other stuff!

Curious on a TLDR of everything? Peak into our Carrd!

Want to know more about the bingo? Read our About page!

Curious about our rules and guidelines? Take a look here!

Do you have a question? You can check here first!

Got a question not answered in our FAQs? You can send in an ask!

Wondering what's my production progress? Refer to my queue!

If you are interested in posting your work to the Archive of Our Own Collection, you can add it directly here or use HC_Bingo!

@thebigbangblogproject

#admin post

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 8 months ago

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I Love You

Summary:Written for the Sweet & Spicy Hurt/Comfort Bingo.

Set after Httyd 2. Hiccup has a minor accident in the forge and Astrid is there to help.

Warnings: Blood

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 636

Prompts: Blood Loss to Words of Affirmation

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid, Toothless, Stormfly

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Author's Notes: Been thinking a lot about Hiccup's self-esteem issues as of late.

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

He was working in the forge, sharpening a dagger for his betrothed. She sat nearby, waiting for him to finish so she could accompany him to his home for dinner, where the other Dragon Riders were. Their dragons waited for them outside.

It was peaceful and rather quiet until the moment something went wrong and he cut himself.

Hiccup shouts, pulling his hands back. The dagger drops to the floor. Astrid is on him immediately and Toothless just as fast. Stormfly squawks from outside.

“Come on, you stupid, stupid-! ARGH!” He doesn’t finish that sentence before shouting again. He knows Astrid wouldn’t have liked what he has to say. He holds his bleeding right thumb. Somehow, he cut himself near his palm.

While Toothless is still trying to take a look with his Rider pacing around the forge, Astrid searches for a clean cloth.

“Of all the stupid, dumb, idiotic things!”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” Astrid tells him and takes his hands in hers, cloth pressed to the profusely bleeding cut. It’s rather long.

Pulling a chair closer with her foot, she manhandles him onto it without releasing her hold on him once. She stands behind him, using him to lean on, her chin resting on his shoulder. They put pressure on the bleeding together, his hand on fire.

“Stupid…” He shakes his head.

“Stop that,” Astrid chastizes him. “That’s my future husband you’re talking to.”

After that, he doesn’t make another comment like it again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“It’s just an accident. It can happen to anyone and you’re not the worst person ever because you had one,” a deep sigh leaves him afterwards.

He doesn’t have much of a self-esteem. Hasn’t had one for as long as she can remember. Sadly, she knows exactly why that is. It’s gotten better throughout the years, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still say some ugly and downright cold-hearted things about himself. Like seconds ago, when he tried to call himself every word of “stupid” that he knows because the knife he was sharpening accidentally slipped a little in his grip.

The Dragon Riders have heard him open up about his insecurities, but only she and Toothless know just how bad it can be.

And as Stoick recently passed, he’s at the lowest point he’s been in years.

Valka leaving for the Wingmaidens hasn’t helped much either. She stated she wanted to confer with Atali about something, but apparently, all her son heard was that she wanted to get as far away from him possible and as quickly as she could.

He’s not doing so well.

It’s quiet as minutes pass and they hope the bleeding will stop on its own. Toothless sits in front of them, watching them and Hiccup’s hands.

Astrid places a soft kiss on his cheek. He wipes it and the other one on his sleeves, they’re wet with tears. There’s an ache in his throat and some managed to slip free, despite his efforts to repress them.

“You know I love you, right?” She asks him. The silence tense with self-deprication.

“I love you, too.”

“No, that’s not why I’m asking,” she starts. “I’m asking because I love every part of you. I love how caring and attentive you are. How passionate and smart you are. How good of a person you are. I love you right now as we’re holding your thumb and hope it stops bleeding soon. I love you and I wonder if you know that.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“I know,” eventually, that’s his answer.

Astrid kisses his cheek again as more tears fall. He doesn’t sob or sniffle, but he does take a shaky breath. Releasing his thumb, she captures him in a hug instead and holds him tight, rocking him side to side.

#httyd fics #httyd movies #httyd 2 #how to train your dragon 2 #hiccup haddock #hiccup whump #toothless #hicctooth #astrid hofferson #hiccstrid #stormfly #stormstrid #hiccup and the dragon riders #my fanfics #i love you

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nekoannie-chan · 3 months ago

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Touch me

Title: Touch me.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 974 words.

Square: 18 “Touch me.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve doesn't dare touch you.

Major Tags: Kisses, Shy!Steve, implicit smut.

Additional tags: This is my entry for the @fandom-free-bingo Valentine’s edition.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish, so I wanna improve my writing skills in English. Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

Sunlight streamed through the curtains of the small coffee shop where you and Steve Rogers used to meet.

That day, however, something about him was different. You noticed it in how he kept his eyes fixed on his mug, his fingers playing nervously with the rim of the ceramic cup. It wasn't unusual for Steve to be quiet, but today he seemed more distant than usual.

“Steve, are you all right?" You asked softly, leaning a little closer to him.

“I'm fine,” he finally replied after a while.

You didn't believe him. You knew Steve too well to accept that answer. So, you reached out a hand toward him, placing it gently on top of his. However, Steve immediately tensed up. His eyes dropped quickly to where your hands were, and then, with an almost imperceptible movement, he withdrew his.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

You frowned, confused by his reaction, and slowly withdrew your hand.

“Why are you apologizing? “you asked in a gentle but concerned tone.

Steve sighed; his gaze still fixed on the table. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he made whenever he was nervous.

“Because...” he hesitated for a moment. Because I'm not what you deserve.

“Steve...” you began, leaning a little closer to him. Don't say that. I love you just the way you are.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

“But I want to give you more,” he finally confessed. I want to be someone who can protect you and who can make you feel safe. But look at me... how could I even touch you without feeling like I'm failing you?

Without thinking, you got up from your chair and walked over to him. You bent down slightly to be at his level, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. This time, he didn't pull away, though you could feel the tension in his jaw.

“Steve, you don't need to be more than you already are. I don't care if you don't think you're not enough; to me, you always will be.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to respond. But instead, she simply nodded, leaning her face toward your hand.

Your hand was still on Steve's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingers.

Without another thought, you leaned your face toward him, letting your lips brush his gently. Steve was frozen still at first, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

But then, little by little, he began to reciprocate.

When you pulled away slightly, his eyes remained closed for a second longer, as if he wanted to prolong the sensation.

“Y/N...” he whispered, his voice still trembling. ”Why...?”

You interrupted him softly, with a quiet smile.

“Because I love you, Steve. And because I want you to know it, not just with words, but with every part of me.”

“But I... I don't want you to settle for me. I want to give you everything, and I don't know if I can.

You caressed her face again, your thumb tracing soft circles on her cheek.

“I'm not settling, Steve. I'm choosing you. I want a man who gets up again and again and who doesn't give up. I want the Steve who stands here, in front of me, no matter what he thinks he's missing.

They left the coffee shop and headed for Steve's apartment; just as he was opening the door, he let out a shaky sigh. You walked in and sat down on the couch, and then his hands, trembling slowly rose to wrap around you. He allowed you to snuggle closer to him, resting your forehead against his.

“I never thought anyone could see me like this,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

“I've always seen you like this, Steve. Always.

At that moment, as his arms closed a little tighter around you, you knew you had to give him one more push.

Steve held you in his arms,

“Y/N,” he whispered again, ”I don't know how to thank you for... for this. For everything.

“You don't have to thank me, Steve. All I want you to understand is that you're not alone. You never will be as long as I'm here.

Steve nodded slowly. Slowly, one of his fingers traced a gentle line down your cheek, as if he were memorizing every detail. You stroked his hair gently, letting your fingers glide through his blonde hair.

“All I want is for you to be you. That's more than enough for me.

When he kissed you again, it was different from the first. More confident, more determined. His lips moved sweetly.

You clung to him; the kiss slowly began to intensify. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his neck, caressing it as you leaned closer. Steve responded in kind; his trembling hands now clasped around your waist as if afraid to let go. His hands slowly moved up, his fingers brushing the curve of your back.

“Y/N...” he murmured.

“Touch me,” you commanded.

Before he could say anything else, you silenced him with another kiss, this time taking control. Your tongue brushed against his gently, and you felt his hands cling to you tighter as if he wanted to make sure you didn't pull away.

You began to caress each other over your clothes until you began to take them off. When he entered you, you felt him tremble, and you kissed him again to give him confidence.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, your foreheads touching as you tried to catch your breath.

“You don't know how much I've dreamed of this,” he confessed.

You smiled, gently caressing his face.

“Then it's time we stopped dreaming, Steve. I'm here with you, and I'm not going anywhere.

He held you tighter.

#fandom free bingo #valentine's edition #steve rogers x reader

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amethystarachnid · 4 months ago

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BABY LIGHTNING

⤷ THOR ODINSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Thor Odinson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of sex (that’s how babies are made lol), a little himbo Thor, bad nordic mythology I’m sorry,

ᯓ★ Request: Thor & Secret Baby where Thor doesn’t know until a friend of his tells him and wants to be a part of their lives. ( @rihannabale )

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language, feel free to correct me kindly please

You can remember the first time you two met vividly: it happened when the Avengers were formed, you saw him stand next to Fury while you were sitting at your desk, doing your boring job behind a computer.

He was, literally, a God so you didn’t even bother to think that he was going to notice you, but he did.

Your eyes met for the first time and you fell in love with those blue eyes almost instantly, how stupid of you! You are an adult, you shouldn’t fall in love at first sight with a God.

“Who’s that?” Thor asks Fury, his head nodding towards you and you quickly look away.

“Oh that’s Y/N Y/L/N…Anyway…” Fury leads Thor on the other side of the room and it doesn’t really surprise you, instead, you’re surprised that Fury remembers your name.

When your shifts ends you enter the elevator with a tired sigh and as the door close you hear a voice asking you to stop them.

As the doors reopened you see Thor standing just behind them with an awkward smile, “Sorry, I don’t really understand how these things work…” He chuckles and enters the elevator, making you feel small suddenly, and it isn’t just because he’s a God but because he is big, in every direction.

“I-It’s not a problem…” You stutter, then look at him confused when he doesn’t push any button, “Which floor are you headed to?” You ask politely, not knowing how to properly refer to a God.

“Oh I’m leaving.” He simply says.

“Then you need to push the floor zero.” You explain as you push the button.

“Where are you going?” He asks, glancing at the buttons, “Inside Midgard?” You hold back a chuckle at his confused expression when he notices that you are headed to the floor -1.

“It’s the underground parking lot, I have my car there.” You smile, glancing at the screen that tells you which floor you’re currently on: 12 and after a few seconds it becomes 11.

“You humans created a lot of things, they’re cool.” Thor looks around.

You simply smile, not knowing how to answer that.

“So you uh…Work here? With the strange machine?” He asks awkwardly.

You feel your cheeks heat up, “The computer, yes, but it’s a boring job really…Saving the world must be more satisfying.”

“It is, helping people makes you feel good.” He smiles at you and you find yourself thinking how can a man that big and menacingly looking be such a soft and gentle person?

A few more moments pass in silence, as you try to steal glances at him, in doing that you find him doing the same.

“A friend told me that here on Earth when you like a girl you need to ask her on a date…” Thor starts when the elevator is at the fourth floor. “So, forgive me if I’m too straight forward, but would you like to go on a date with me?”

Your eyes widen at his words, a God is asking you out? Thor, God of Thunder, is asking you out?

“Yes!” You immediately, even though it probably makes you sound impatient. You couldn’t care less.

After that everything started moving forward quickly, super quickly.

In a month you have you have gone on more than 20 dates and you have lost count of all the sex you two had.

At first he stayed at the Stark Tower when he was on Earth but soon your apartment became his too.

You had never moved so quickly with a man, you have always been careful, but with Thor everything came naturally.

In a month you were completely in love with him and he seemed in love with you too, always bringing you flowers and jewels from Asgard.

“Why don’t you come and live at Asgard with me?” He suddenly asks one night, with you cuddled up by his side after yet another incredible night together.

“On Asgard? But I know nothing about it.” You answer, moving your fingertips over his toned torso.

“I will teach you everything you need to know.” He says, kissing the top of your head. “Sooner or later I’ll be King…And I want you to be my Queen.”

At his words you look at him shocked, “Me? A human becoming the Queen of Asgard, your people would hate me.”

“They will not.” He cups your cheek in his hand, caressing the soft skin with his thumb, “They don’t choose their Queen, I do, and I choose you.”

“Thor that’s…You’re asking me a lot.” You look away, the rational part of you is screaming at you that even just thinking about that is stupid.

But the bigger part of you, the once filled only with love for him, is telling you to screw everything and go with him.

“I know, but I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He smiles gently at you, “Be my Queen, Y/N, let me be your King.”

You look into his eyes and the only thing you see is pure adoration for you.

“Okay, I’ll come to Asgard.” You smile and he kisses your lips gently.

“I’ll make you the most loved and worshipped Queen Asgard has ever seen.” He lays you down on the bed while peppering your face with soft kisses.

“Thor we just stopped.” You chuckle.

“But we should celebrate, don’t you think?” He kisses your neck, “I have one last mission to go on, after that I’ll come to you and bring you to Asgard, my Queen.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

Three days later Thor leaves you to go on a mission to save the world, fighting who knows what type of aliens and bad people.

A week after he still hasn’t returned, but you know that missions can be unpredictable so you don’t worry too much.

You patiently wait for him to come home so you can show him the positive pregnancy test, you chuckle when you think about how confused he will be at first.

Another week pass, then another.

Then it’s a month.

Then another.

Soon your belly is too swollen to hide, you go in maternity leave, focusing on taking care of the little girl in your belly.

You have lost all hope that Thor would come back, he probably knew this since that night.

He knew he was going to leave you, you’re sure of it.

So now you have a baby girl to raise alone, sure, you thought about abortion but you simply couldn’t.

You loved Thor even though he probably didn’t love you back, and the little girl was a part of him too.

That’s why you named her Andora, according to Google it meant Thor’s Eagle.

That’s why you always read her stories about the Nordic Mythology, you wanted her to know her father even though he didn’t know about her.

What you didn’t expect was for her to have powers, you should’ve expected that — her father could control lighting after all.

Having a newborn who can control water but doesn’t know how to control it is a mess.

But you may know who can help you.

Two years later

“Stark! My friend, how have you been?” Thor asks as he enters the living room of the Stark Tower, where Tony is sitting, drinking whiskey.

“Look who shows his face around from time to time!” Tony chuckles, glancing up and down at Thor.

“How long has it been since I came here? One year and half I believe.”

“Yeah, while you were out on the galaxy we fought aliens again, why didn’t you come back? We could’ve used some help.”

“I came back…Like a year and a half ago, I went to see Fury, we had a little chat and…I didn’t find any other reason to come back after that.” Thor looks away.

“What do you mean?” Tony walks towards him confused.

“He told me that Y/N died during the alien attack.” Tony chokes on his whiskey as he looks at him, “She was the love of my life, why should I protect a planet that doesn’t have her in it?”

“Thor.” Tony places and hand on Thor’s shoulder, “Y/N is alive and well.”

“Don’t joke on this, Tony.” Thor brushes his hand off.

“I’m not joking, listen.” Tony places the glass on the table “I don’t know why Fury lied to you but Y/N is alive and living on the floor just above us.”

“What?”

“Two years ago she came to me asking for help with her daughter, who could control water.”

“Daughter?” Thor’s head is spinning.

“That little girl is the spitting image of you, man, if I were Y/N I’d sue you and the baby girl.” Tony shakes his head, but before he can add anything else Thor is already running on the upper floor.

Why did Fury lie to him? Why didn't you search for him?

He knock on the door of one of the apartments on the floor.

"Coming!" Oh, your voice is the same sweet melody he remembers. He hears giggles from behind the door and then you open the door.

Your smile immediately fades as you see the man standing right outside your door.

You knew that living in the Stark Tower meant that you were going to meet him sooner or later but it's been one year and half since you moved here and he never showed up.

"Oh, Y/N you are as beautiful as I the day I last saw you, you haven't aged a bit." He looks at you with a smile, sure, your body has changed a little - you gained some weight because of the pregnancy - but you're still the woman he loves.

He tries to wrap his arms around you and hug you but you push him away.

"What do you think you're doing?" You ask, your hands on his pecks as you push him away. "You disappeared for two years now you suddenly come back and act all friendly?"

"Y/N, my love, I'm so sorry but I did come back! Fury told me you were killed in the alien attack." He looks at you with his sad puppy eyes, the same eyes you loved.

The same eyes as your daughter's.

"Why would he tell you that?" You ask skeptical.

"I don't know, but believe me when I tell you I was completely destroyed by that." He takes your hands in his, "So I decided to never come back on Midgard because you were the only reason I kept coming back...If only I knew that you were alive and carrying my daughter I would've never, ever, left." He gently kisses the back of your hand.

"Who told you about her?" You ask, not having the heart to move your hand away from his hold.

"Tony did, five minutes ago." Thor glances behind you, "Can I see her?"

You look at his waiting eyes, trying to decide whether you should let him meet Andora or not.

But from the look in his eyes you can tell that he already loves her, you nod and move to make him enter.

"Andora! Come here, baby." You gently call for her, you can see Thor's eyes widening more as he hear the name.

"You called her Andora?" He repeats in a whisper, "Does...Does she know who I am?"

You nod, "I told her stories about you and told her that her daddy was on a long mission saving the galaxy but that he would come back eventually...I didn't know if you'd actually come back but it was easier to let her believe that way."

"Mommy!" You hear a small voice call for you, followed by small but quick footsteps.

Once he sees her Thor can't help but agree with Tony, that little girl looks just like him: blonde hair, blue eyes, same lips and she's slightly taller than average.

Andora stops as she sees the man standing next to you, then smiles and runs towards him.

"Daddy back!" She says happily, Thor picks her up and holds her against his chest.

"Yeah, daddy's back." He says gently, caressing her head as she wraps her legs around his waist.

You can't hold back the smile that forms on your face in seeing the two of them finally together, you wouldn't admit it but you hoped this day would come, letting your baby girl meet her dad.

The hours slip by since Thor walked back into your life.

Now, you're sitting in the living room, the low hum of the city outside barely a distraction from the tension between you and Thor. He sits across the room, his large frame somehow hunched, shoulders heavy with guilt. Andora is in his lap, babbling happily, her tiny fingers gripping a strand of his golden hair.

“Daddy! You have long hair! Mommy cuts mine. Maybe I cut yours?” she says, her words coming out in the sweet, muddled way toddlers speak.

Thor chuckles softly, a sound you haven't heard in so long. “Maybe not, little one. But I’m glad you like it.”

You watch them from the couch, arms crossed tightly over your chest, unsure of what to do with this scene. It’s surreal, seeing them together. Andora has taken to him faster than you thought, almost like she always knew he was meant to be here. After all the stories you’ve told her, the drawings you showed her, it’s as if she’s just meeting a long-lost friend.

But for you? This feels… complicated.

“Thor,” you say, breaking the relative silence. He looks up at you, eyes still soft with wonder as he holds his daughter. “Can we talk?”

He nods, and carefully lifts Andora off his lap, setting her down on the floor with her toys. “Why don’t you play with your dolls for a little while?” he suggests, ruffling her hair.

“’Kay!” she chirps, already distracted by her stuffed animals.

You watch her for a moment before turning your gaze back to Thor, your heart heavy. “This doesn’t change anything, you know.”

He looks at you with a mix of pain and hope. “I know,” he says quietly. “But I’m here now, Y/N. I’m not going to walk away again.”

Your fingers clench, tension rising in your chest. “You did walk away, though. You left. I needed you. She needed you.”

Thor’s expression crumbles a bit as you speak, and for a moment, the god of thunder looks as vulnerable as anyone else. “I thought you were dead, Y/N. Fury told me… he told me you were gone. I had no reason to come back.”

“And you didn’t question it?” Your voice trembles with the frustration you’ve been holding in for two years. “You didn’t try to find out more, to… I don’t know, feel something?”

He shakes his head, his blue eyes pleading for you to understand. “I was devastated. Losing you, believing I lost you, was unbearable. I didn’t have it in me to question anything. I…” He pauses, his hands tightening into fists. “I left because I couldn’t face a world without you.”

You close your eyes, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. “You left me, Thor. You left us.”

There’s a silence that stretches between you, heavy and sharp. You feel him watching you, and it’s clear that this isn’t easy for him. But it wasn’t easy for you either. Raising Andora alone, carrying the weight of his absence… You’ve been strong for so long, but now, faced with him again, all of it is unraveling.

“I know I failed you,” Thor says softly, his voice thick with regret. “I failed you both. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but please… let me try to make it right. Let me be a father to her.”

His words hit you hard, and you glance over at Andora, who is now giggling softly as she talks to her toys. She’s only two, but she’s smart, more perceptive than you’d expect for her age. And she’s already fallen for Thor, without hesitation.

“Mommy?” Andora calls out, looking up at you with her wide, curious eyes. “Daddy stay? He read me stories?”

You swallow, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. She’s been asking for a real bedtime story from Thor since the moment she realized he was her father. And now she looks at you, her little face full of hope, so much like his.

“Maybe just one,” you finally say, your voice softer than before. You feel your resolve crumbling, just a little.

Thor smiles, his eyes glinting with gratitude as he stands up. “One story, then,” he says gently, moving over to where Andora sits. He lifts her into his arms with such care, holding her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she probably is.

You follow them down the hall to Andora’s room, leaning against the doorframe as Thor settles into a chair, Andora perched on his knee, listening intently as he begins to tell her one of the stories you’ve read to her countless times. But this time, it’s different.

This time, it’s coming from him.

“Once, in the great kingdom of Asgard,” Thor begins, his deep voice soft but powerful, drawing Andora in completely. Her tiny hands clutch his arm, her blue eyes—so much like his—wide with fascination. You can’t help but watch, your heart torn between the pain of the past and the warmth of seeing them together now.

As the story goes on, Andora starts to yawn, her eyelids growing heavy. Thor’s voice quiets, and he gently places her down in her bed, tucking her in with a tenderness that surprises you. He brushes a kiss to her forehead, whispering something you can’t hear.

When he stands up, he glances at you, and for the first time tonight, you don’t feel the anger burning as fiercely inside you. You’re still hurt, still unsure if you can trust him. But you can see the love in his eyes—for Andora, for you—and maybe, just maybe, it’s enough to give him a chance.

“We’ll see,” you whisper, your voice steady this time, as you meet his gaze. “But it’s going to take time.”

Three Months Later

Thor stands on the balcony of Stark Tower, watching the city lights flicker like stars beneath him. The wind whips through his long hair, but his mind is far from the bustling streets below. He’s thinking about you—how much has changed in these past three months and how much still hasn’t.

You’ve let him be part of Andora’s life, and for that, he’s grateful beyond measure. He never tires of spending time with his daughter, watching her discover the world around her, a world she’s already learning to shape in ways neither of you expected. The first time she summoned water from the sink to swirl around her tiny hand, she had giggled, thinking it was a game. But Thor knew what it meant—Andora had inherited powers, like him, but tied to water.

It was a gift, one that both scared and amazed you. You’ve been trying to help her control it, and Thor has been there every step of the way, guiding her when she calls the rain or forms droplets into little shapes to show you. He loves seeing the pride in her eyes when she succeeds, and the way she lights up when she knows her father is proud too.

But his heart aches for more.

He knows you still hold back, keeping a wall up between the two of you. The pain from his disappearance lingers, even though you’ve allowed him back into Andora’s life. You’re kind, even friendly sometimes, but you’re cautious, and he understands why. Thor wants to fix it—no, needs to fix it—but he isn’t sure how.

That’s where Tony Stark comes in.

“You’ve got that brooding god face again, Blondie,” Tony’s voice breaks through Thor’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present. He turns to see Tony stepping onto the balcony, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his signature smirk in place.

Thor sighs, leaning against the railing. “It is not so simple, Stark.”

Tony takes a sip, then looks at Thor with a raised eyebrow. “Let me guess. You’re thinking about Y/N.”

Thor grunts in agreement, his gaze shifting back to the city. “She has allowed me to be part of Andora’s life. But with her… things are still… strained. I fear I’ve lost her.”

Tony lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You haven’t lost her. She’s just… you know, dealing with the whole ‘you thought she was dead’ thing. Which, if I’m being honest, is a pretty big hurdle to get over.”

Thor doesn’t argue. He knows Tony is right. Still, there’s a flicker of hope deep inside him, and he refuses to give up on the love he once had with you.

“I want to make things right,” Thor says, his voice low. “But I do not know how to win her heart again.”

Tony taps his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “You’re asking for my help? You want the great Tony Stark to play matchmaker?”

Thor rolls his eyes. “I seek your advice, not your… matchmaking skills.”

Tony grins, leaning against the balcony next to Thor. “Well, lucky for you, I happen to be an expert in charming the ladies.”

“I believe Pepper might disagree.”

Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Details, details. What I’m saying is, Y/N doesn’t need some grand gesture or heroic display. She’s already seen you in battle, she knows you’re a god. What she needs is to see that you care about the little things—the human stuff.”

Thor frowns. “The… human stuff?”

“Yeah, you know, things that show her you’re paying attention to her, not just showing off your lightning powers.” Tony pauses, then his face lights up. “Start small. Do things that’ll make her day easier. Watch Andora when she’s busy, cook a meal. And for God’s sake, talk to her. Like, really talk.”

Thor considers this for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. He’s always been a man of action, of grand gestures and battles fought. But this—what Tony is suggesting—seems almost… simple. And yet, maybe that’s what you need.

“Show her you’re here for the long haul,” Tony adds, clapping Thor on the shoulder. “You’re not the guy who left. You’re the guy who’s staying. You want her to fall in love with that version of you.”

Thor looks at Tony, a spark of determination flickering in his chest. “I will try your way, Stark. But if this fails—”

“If this fails,” Tony interrupts, “then we’ll regroup and come up with Plan B. But trust me, this is a good start.”

With renewed resolve, Thor nods, already imagining what small things he could do for you. He’s going to show you, step by step, that he’s different now. That he’s staying. He watches Tony head back inside, his mind racing with possibilities.

Suddenly, a small splash of water hits his foot. He looks down to see Andora toddling over, a grin on her face as she holds her hand up, a little ball of water swirling around her fingers.

“Daddy! Look!” she squeals, the ball of water growing a little larger before she accidentally loses control of it, splashing them both.

Thor laughs, scooping her up into his arms. “Very impressive, little one.”

“Mommy says I gotta practice,” she babbles, resting her head against his shoulder. “I gonna make a big water dragon someday!”

Thor smiles, holding her close. “I’m sure you will. But for now, perhaps we keep the dragons small.”

Andora giggles, and Thor can’t help but feel a surge of love for the little girl in his arms.

He glances toward the living room, where you’re sitting, unaware of the plan forming in his mind. It’s time for him to win back your heart, not as the god of thunder, but as the man who loves you. The man who’s staying.

Time skip

You never thought you'd see Thor again, much less have him back in your life, trying so hard to be part of it. At first, you were cautious, walls built high around your heart to protect yourself from the hurt he caused when he left. But he’s been… different since he came back. Patient, steady, and genuinely trying to make amends.

At first, it was little things. He’d take over watching Andora when you were swamped with work or needed a break. You’d find him and your daughter sitting at the kitchen table, her face lit up with glee as he conjured tiny rainstorms to entertain her. Once, you walked in to find him brushing Andora’s hair and telling her stories about his adventures in Asgard, his deep voice soothing as she giggled at the funny parts.

It warmed your heart, even though you resisted. You couldn’t let yourself fall for him again so easily, no matter how much seeing him with Andora softened you.

Then, there were the moments that took you by surprise. One evening, after a particularly rough day, you came home to find dinner already prepared. Thor stood in the kitchen, awkwardly stirring a pot of stew. It wasn’t perfect—he had clearly overcooked it, and there was a mess of flour and spices all over the counter—but it was the thought that floored you.

“You made this?” you asked, half-amused, half-shocked.

He looked at you sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to help. You’ve done so much already. I thought I could… make things a little easier.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you sat down at the table, watching him try so hard to do something that came so naturally to you. It was messy, imperfect, and yet… it was endearing. You didn’t say much that night, but something inside you softened.

Then there was the day Andora first lost control of her water powers in a big way. She had been excited, showing you how she could make water rise from her cup, but it spiraled out of control quickly. Water splashed across the floor, soaking the both of you. You were already tired and overwhelmed, and the last thing you needed was another mess to clean up.

Before you could even react, Thor swooped in, kneeling beside Andora with a gentle smile. “It’s alright, little one,” he said softly, as Andora’s lip quivered. “We’ll clean it up together. You’re doing so well.”

He didn’t reprimand her, didn’t get frustrated. He just helped her calm down, his presence soothing her like magic. And then, he cleaned up the mess himself, all while making sure Andora felt safe and proud of what she could do.

You watched him with your daughter, feeling that wall around your heart crack a little more.

Little by little, Thor chipped away at the barriers you’d built between you. He never pushed, never demanded your forgiveness, but he was always there—steady, dependable, the man you’d fallen in love with so long ago.

There were nights when you’d sit together on the balcony after Andora went to bed, the city lights stretching out before you. Sometimes, neither of you said a word. Other times, he’d tell you about his travels across the realms, how he had thought of you every day, and how lost he felt when he believed you were gone. He didn’t ask for anything in return—just your company. And slowly, you found yourself wanting to be there with him.

One evening, after Andora had fallen asleep in Thor’s lap, her little hand clutching his, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d spent the evening together, the three of you, and it had felt… natural. Like a family.

As Thor carried Andora to bed, you watched him tuck her in with such care, brushing a kiss to her forehead before turning to leave her room. When he saw you standing in the doorway, a warm look passed between you, one that made your chest tighten.

Later that night, as you sat beside him on the couch, the quiet between you was comfortable, not strained like it once had been. You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Thor?”

He looked at you, his eyes soft and filled with that familiar warmth. “Yes, Y/N?”

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to say what had been weighing on you for so long. “I’ve been trying to figure this out… figure us out. And I’ve realized something.”

His expression tensed slightly, as if bracing himself for what you were about to say. “What is it?”

You hesitated, then reached out, your hand finding his. “I don’t want to hold onto the past anymore. I don’t want to keep punishing you—or myself—for what happened. You’ve changed. You’re here. And… I’m ready to try again. If you are.”

The relief that washed over his face was palpable, his grip on your hand tightening. “I never stopped wanting to try, Y/N. I never stopped loving you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in so long, you let yourself truly feel it again—the love you had for him. The love that had been buried under hurt and fear but had never really gone away. You leaned in, resting your forehead against his, the closeness grounding you.

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words freeing in a way you hadn’t expected.

Thor closed his eyes, his breath shuddering as if he had been holding it for years. And when his lips met yours, it was gentle, almost tentative, like he was still afraid of breaking something fragile. But the kiss deepened, and with it, the certainty that you were no longer broken. You were healing—together.

Six Months Later

The sound of Andora’s laughter fills the air as you sit together in the park, watching her chase after a small stream of water she’s controlling with her tiny hands. She’s gotten better at it, thanks to Thor’s guidance. Now, instead of accidents, she’s able to play, the water swirling in graceful patterns around her.

“Daddy! Mommy! Look!” she squeals, sending the water into the shape of a dragon, just as she had promised months ago.

Thor grins, standing beside you with an arm draped over your shoulder. “That’s my girl,” he says proudly, watching as Andora beams with pride.

You smile, leaning into him, feeling the weight of everything that’s happened between you lift away. You’re not perfect—there are still moments when the past catches up, when doubts creep in—but you’re moving forward, together.

And as you watch your daughter run toward you, her little face full of joy and confidence, you know that this is the family you always dreamed of. A family that wasn’t just held together by love but built on trust, forgiveness, and the decision to keep trying.

Thor presses a kiss to the top of your head, his voice soft in your ear. “I will love you both for all of my days.”

You smile, resting your hand over his. “And we’ll love you for all of ours.”

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