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prentissluvr · 6 months ago

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forget-me-nots — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : soulmate!au, fluff, very light angst ➖⟢ cw : light mentions of canon typical death, violence, and monsters, shirtless sam aaaaa, light descriptions of injuries and blood, reader believes in ghosts before knowing about the supernatural, drinking/alcohol mentions, silly criminal minds reference to my gf elle, kissing, poor editing ➖⟢ wc : 5.6K summary : in a world where flowers grow on your skin in the exact places your soulmate is injured, you’re constantly covered in forget-me-nots.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

heartache is one thing. heartache for someone you don’t know, someone whose face you’ve never seen or who you’ve never met, is another, stranger thing. it’s common for many to feel this heartache before they know their soulmate, but sometimes you feel as though you have to worry much more than most.

you try not to let thoughts of your mystery soulmate consume you, but you seem to have constant reminders of them litered on your skin in the form of tiny blue flowers. admittedly, you find it romantic that forget-me-nots are your soulmate flower, with their symbolism of true love, respect, and fidelity. the flowers themself feel like a good omen, a sweet promise of a steady love waiting for you. but, the frequency with which they appear on your skin feels far less lucky and always feeds you so much worry for this person you’ve yet to meet.

this morning, you wake with new blooms snaking along your left collarbone, peeking out from the seam of your sleep shirt. and when you change into new clothes, you find a few more growing on your bicep and the side of your ribs.

sighing, you stand at the mirror lightly brushing your fingers over the small flowers and wonder what sort of trouble your soulmate got into last night. as always, worry floods your chest, but you do your best to tamp it down considering the fact that you only bear a few new blooms. the more severe the injury, the more flowers appear on your skin. today, your soulmate must only be dealing with small surface cuts.

sometimes, you’re covered in so many forget-me-nots that you’re too worried to do much of anything at all. more than once, you’ve wondered how your soulmate could still be alive, and the continuous flowers on your skin serve as your only proof that they're still around. there were a few years where you barely had any blooms, just the usual flower on a fingertip to signify a papercut or the occasional few because of a small accident. but one night the flowers came in bunches and never stopped.

you imagine what you might say or do when you meet them. maybe you’ll want to check on whatever wounds they have, be sure it’s not too bad, or maybe you’ll scold them for making you worry so much. you’ll certainly ask what they do in their life that gets them so injured so often. maybe you’ll do it all.

but for now, you’ll have to move on and get ready for the day. the flowers always linger, though.

⟢⟢⟢

it’s been a rather strange week. the flowers from last thursday have completely faded, and you’ve gone a day or two without any new forget-me-nots appearing on your skin. the strange part has been at work. on monday night, one of your coworkers died in the building, but you still had to come in to work the next day. one of the rooms was taped off, but that was the only evidence of the misfortune. the same thing happened last night, thursday, and you’re ready to do everything you can to get at least the next several days off of work. you don't want to risk anything.

and now, it seems the goddamn fbi is interested in whatever has happened. you’re not a huge fan of the federal government, but you have to admit that the bureau has sent two of its most attractive agents. normally, you’d keep your head down, but you feel inexplicably drawn to one of them. he’s the taller of the two, which is impressive because the other is already tall, and he has pretty brown hair and dimples that you catch a glimpse of as he talks to one of your coworkers.

he looks away from her as he moves away, seemingly done with the interview. he catches your eye, and your breath gets caught in your throat for a moment. he’s a beautiful man; pretty and sweet looking at the same time as he’s traditionally handsome and slightly imposing. you’ve never loved a stranger’s eyes so much.

he approaches you and you can’t help but watch as he grows closer.

“hi,” he greets with a small smile, “i’m agent greenaway with the fbi. can i ask you a few questions about the deaths from this week?”

“i’m not sure i’ll be much help, but sure,” you nod, folding your arms over your stomach. agent greenaway doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but the topic at hand certainly does.

“that’s alright. sometimes the smallest things can really be helpful,” he reassures, keeping the kind look on his face. “have you noticed anything strange about either of the deceased or the building this past week or so?”

you shake your head. “not really. i mean i didn’t work closely with macy, and i never noticed anything off about lex.”

“and the building? any strange cold spots or flickering lights?”

you find the question sort of odd coming from an fbi agent, but you instintually feel like you should take it seriously. “um, yeah, actually. it was really cold by the bathrooms last night when i left. at first i thought the ac finally got fixed, but it was still sort of warm over here. in this area”

“okay. thank you for your help,” he smiles at you again and for a reason you can't quite place, you don’t want the unusual conversation to end. you have to hide a hint of delight from your expression when he hands you his card. “call me if you think of anything else.” you accept the card with a nod. he looks like he’s about to walk away, but he pauses. “and, uh– be careful. you should go home early tonight.”

“oh. okay, i will.” without knowing why, you trust him. you want to see him again.

⟢⟢⟢

saturday night is the second busiest night at the bar, but you’re glad it’s not as crowded fridays normally are. you walk straight to the bar to order your go-to drink. as you wait for the bartender to make it, you stare at yourself in the mirror behind the counter out of the corner of your eye. today, there’s two little forget-me-nots right on your left cheek. they look sort of cute there, and you guess you should be grateful that it’s such a small wound. there’s no other flowers on your body yet, which feels like a good run for your soulmate. that’s a little over a whole week in between different injuries, even small ones.

the bartender slides you your drink and you thank them. there’s a small red carnation on their thumb, and you wonder if they’ve met their own soulmate yet. you suppose that at the end of the day, you’re scared of what just about everyone else is. without trying, you worry about not meeting your soulmate until you're old and left without much time together. you want to meet them, and you think the sooner the better. the idea’s been particularly stuck in your mind since last night.

agent greenaway’s words echo in your head. “be careful. you should go home early tonight.” he seemed so sweet, so genuine and caring, and all you’ve been able to think about since then is meeting someone like him. finding someone kind with a little red mark on their cheek and a forget-me-not on their right pointer finger to match the papercut you got earlier this afternoon.

and simply, you’ve been feeling a little lonely these days. how nice would it be to have your literal soulmate by your side?

you sip slowly at your drink, and when the cup’s empty, you pay the tab. the bar isn’t quite serving as the distraction you hoped it would. as you head for the door, your gaze snags on a mop of brown hair that wouldn’t be considered familiar for the fact that you’ve only seen it once, but feels that way regardless. quickly, you scan the rest of the bar, and sure enough you catch sight of agent greenaway’s partner, across the way and very obviously flirting with a pretty brunette.

for a moment you pause, wondering if it would be weird or too out-of-the-blue to approach agent greenaway, but the pull you feel towards him overrides all else, taking your hand and guiding it to throw all caution to the wind.

he’s facing away from you, and with a friendly smile, you slide into the seat across from him.

“hi,” you greet over the noise of music and talking, “d’you mind if i sit here?” it takes him a moment to answer, like he’s lagging a little bit.

“uh– no, no i don’t mind,” he flashes a quick smile back at you, but his gaze and attention are clearly stuck somewhere on your face. for just a split-second, you’re confused by what he could be staring at, but it clicks not a moment later. you don’t know how you missed it: the red mark on his left cheek, so small that your eyes glossed over it when you sat down. eagerly, you drop your gaze to his hands, one casually wrapped around his beer bottle and the other resting on the table. and sure enough, so tiny and pretty against his big hand is a single forget-me-not on his right pointer finger, exactly where you have a bandaid wrapped around your own.

you suck in a sharp breath, eyes caught on the delicate flower and unable to drag themselves away to look back at his face. just like everyone else, you’ve thought about it a million times over, what it would feel like to meet your soulmate, what you would do, how you would act. in this moment, you feel frozen, but you feel right and you feel a million questions and urges rise up in your heart and mind. you desperately want to reach out to him, to touch his hand and the little flower and make sure that they’re both real.

but you absolutely cannot keep your gaze away from his face for long at all and when you meet his eyes, an irresistible smile stretches across your face. you look at him with nothing short of wonderment. he’s just stunning and you can’t believe that he’s supposed to be… well, yours.

just staring at each other, you feel a little flustered and awkward, unsure what to say to him. then you realize he should probably know your name, and all you know is his last. so you stick your right hand out and tell him your name. he takes your hand with a smile and repeats it back, saying it carefully and savoring the sound and feel of it on his tongue.

when you touch him for the first time, your breath gets caught in your throat and it feels so right that you never want to let go.

“i’m sam,” he says, only letting his hand fall away from yours after a few moments. even then, your fingertips are merely inches apart now.

“sam greenaway,” you echo, easily remembering how he introduced himself yesterday. then you puzzle at his reaction and the way that the name doesn’t feel quite right as you look at him. he cringes slightly, like he’s done something to be guilty of. “or… not?” for a minute, things were starting to add up to you. the way you felt drawn to him yesterday and his job as an fbi agent finally explaining all of his many injuries. you figured he must be in fights often.

“i– i’m sorry, this is so– i mean if we’re really,” he takes a deep breath, trying to reset and figure out how to say things right. “if we’re really, you know, soulmates… well, there’s just a lot– a lot for me to explain. i’m not an fbi agent and my real name is sam winchester. but i swear, there’s a reason for me lying and i promise that i’ll explain it to you if you’re willing to hear it. which i understand if you don’t–”

“i do,” you say in earnest, finally cutting him off. it took you a second because, for a moment, you were too stuck on him saying the word soulmate aloud in reference to the two of you. it felt special and you were only half paying attention to the things he said after because of that. then all you were thinking about was how endearing he seems when he’s flustered and worried. “it’s okay,” you reassure him, “i want to hear it. i– i mean, sure, it’s sort of strange that you lied about, you know, all that, but… i’m not– i’m not gonna just meet my… my soulmate and not give you a chance.” he still looks a little tense, but his shoulders have dropped a bit in relief and there’s the hint of a grateful smile on his features.

“thank you,” he says, glad for your reassurance but still worried about how you might take the rest of the far weirder explanations that he has left to tell you. “can i maybe get you a drink?”

you smile at the offer, but shake your head a bit. “i was actually just heading out when i saw you. would you maybe wanna get out of here? my apartment’s less than a ten minute walk away.” for a moment, you wonder if that’s too much for just having met, but sam visibly relaxes just a little bit more.

“that would be nice,” he smiles. he’s getting ready to stand when he glances across the bar, seemingly remembering about his partner. or not partner. you’re not quite sure. “my brother, dean,” he explains simply when he catches your gaze on the other man. “i should tell him where i’m going.”

“okay,” you nod, filing the new information away in your mind and watching him weave between tables and flirting couples to reach his brother. the exchange is a bit funny to watch. at first dean looks annoyed at being interrupted by sam. then he glances at you with a sly smirk and makes some comment that is probably less than appropriate judging from his expression. and then his face morphs into one of surprise before it’s taken over by a smile. he claps sam on the shoulder and sends him off. you almost miss the look that dean gives you as sam heads back towards you because you’re so focused on the sweet smile that sam’s now wearing. you only catch dean’s look for a second before sam is back at your side. it’s easy to assume dean as the older brother, with his eyes on you being protective, proud, careful, and happy all at once. and they’re close enough that sam told him about you right away.

walking home with sam at your side is both completely strange and familiar all at once. it’s strange for a number of reasons, the main being that you’d never invite any other unknown man to your apartment, especially not one with a cryptic identity and such an imposing build. and yet, you’re not afraid or worried because of how familiar and safe it feels. it feels familiar because it feels right, it feels like exactly what you should be doing.

on the way over, he asks about you a little bit, trying not to overwhelm you with questions or seem overbearing with how eager he is to hear what you have to say. his kindness and carefulness are clear to you, and you love it. you answer happily, despite knowing he’s partially asking to avoid talking about himself until you settle down.

once inside, sam follows you right to the couch in the living room, sitting when you motion towards it and plop down into a chair across from him. he takes in the space, eyes roaming over your furniture, decor, and every little detail. he wants to know about you, just like you do him.

“it’s really nice in here,” he compliments, sounding so sincere that it’s just sweet.

“thank you,” you respond softly, wondering exactly what parts of the room he likes. you let him look around a second or two more before speaking again. “so… can i ask? you know, about it all, i guess? about you?”

he doesn’t say it aloud, but he thinks the way that you ask is so lovely. half of him wants to make up some silly, somewhat believable explanation to spare you the truth, but he knows that would never work out well. not if you choose to stay together in some way or another. already, that’s what he wants. he doesn’t doubt that you’re indeed his soulmate, the one who he’s been sharing wounds and flowers with for as long as he can remember. sam has both yearned for and dreaded this moment. he tries not to be obvious about it or over do it, but he’s sort of a total romantic. he’s had doubts about how this whole idea of soulmates could really be real or make much sense, but those thoughts are eased with each moment he spends with you. he still wants to get to know you before he does anything with you, but the way that he wants to get to know you is something he’s never felt before. it’s undeniably special.

the dread is because he’s known ever since he got back into hunting that he’d never be able to hide the truth of his world from you. he has no idea how he’s going to get to you to believe him or convince you that he’s not completely insane, but he’s going to tell you the truth anyway. even if you do believe him, he wants to give you a choice. you shouldn’t have to get involved with this life in any way at all if you don’t want to. he’d never force you to try things with him if it’s too strange or too scary or hard or anything. and already, he knows that he’ll never stop thinking about you if you do choose to stay away, but he also knows that he’d never try to change your mind or force you to do anything else other than exactly what you want.

“of course you can ask,” he responds, matching the softness of your own voice. “i, um– i’m honestly not quite sure how to say all of this without sounding totally crazy, and i completely understand that, but just– try to bear with me, i guess. and if you need proof, which i also understand, i’ll do my best to get it for you, it’s just– sort of hard.”

honestly, you’re wildly confused as to what the hell he could possibly say that would make him this anxious. it worries you a little bit too. you don’t want him to feel afraid to tell you anything at all. so, you nod at him in encouragement, trying not to seem nervous yourself.

“my brother and i, we– we hunt monsters. real ones. ghosts, vampires, demons, the works. they’re all real. your coworkers who died, they were– they were killed by an angry spirit. we got rid of it last night,” he says those words like they’re a ten ton weight off of his chest, but he’s still got another ten sitting there as he awaits your response. he looks at you so carefully, trying to gauge any sort of reaction.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise, and probably disbelief and a million other things. “angry spirit? like a ghost?” you’re not sure why that’s the first question that slips out, but you suppose it’s an easier one than are you insane? or what the hell are you talking about?

he nods his head carefully, like he’s waiting for you to freak out or call him crazy and tell him to go. “yeah. the ghost, she had died there, near the bathrooms where you felt the cold spot, in the 90s. she was triggered to kill when the man suspected of her murder was granted parole.”

“okay,” you breathe out, sort of nervously. the craziest thing is that you don’t disbelieve him. you’re not convinced by any stretch, but when you look him in the eye and listen close to his voice, there’s nothing but sincerity there. “i mean… that is sort of a kinda crazy thing to say,” you begin, “but i’ve always sort of believed in ghosts, so i don’t think you’re completely, you know, insane.” you laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood a little. you don’t want him to stress, however unbelievable his words are. “the rest is a bit… shaky, i guess. it’s a hard thing to believe, i mean… vampires. and– and demons. it’s a lot. and honestly, i’m not sure how much i’ll really, truly believe until i see, i don’t know, something, i guess,” you admit, “but… but i don’t think you’re lying to me either.”

“thank you for that,” he says, voice as sincere as ever, “and i completely understand. honestly, part of me didn’t want to tell you at all, but… it’s sort of my whole entire life at this point and it wouldn’t be fair to hide from you. or– or to not give you a choice right off the bat of whether or not you wanted to be involved. it’s– it’s a lot and it’s dangerous. and if it’s what you want, i promise i’ll try to find a way to prove it to you, it’s just… hard to do that without putting you in danger. and i really don’t want to put you in danger.”

“that’s sweet, sam,” you say, not really bothering to hide the way you feel. “i’m not, you know, eager to meet any monsters anytime soon, but whenever it’s… the least dangerous, i guess, you can show me. until then… i’ll just trust you. and in the meantime maybe we can sort of just get to know each other?” you suggest, surprising yourself with how ready you are to trust him on this.

sam smiles at you sweetly. “that sounds perfect to me. i just– i don’t want to force you into something you don’t want for yourself. i live out of crappy motels and my brother’s car while hunting monsters that shouldn’t be real. i’m just… i’m sorry i’m not someone easier.”

you smile at him sort of sadly. “that’s not your fault, sam. i never asked for someone ‘easy’ anyway. just someone kind and respectful and you seem to be just that so far. besides, there’s gotta be a reason, right? that… we’re soulmates. honestly, if you were anyone else i wouldn’t trust you like this. an–and it’s not like i’m trusting you blindly because of something that we’re supposed to be. we just met. i’m only trusting you because it feels right to. and this whole soulmate thing never made too much sense to me until i met you. now it sort of does, because this feels right so far. at least, it does to me.”

“it feels right to me too,” he quickly assures, not wanting for you to misunderstand that for a second.

⟢⟢⟢

as two people who aren’t quite ready to jump into such a committed relationship with completely different lives, it’s a little bit strange to be soulmates. and yet, nothing about it is anything but honey-sweet to you. the night you met as soulmates for the first time, you ended up talking for hours. all you had to do was sort of ignore the huge and slightly unbelievable bomb he dropped on you within the first hour of talking. oddly enough, that was sort of easy. you learned that sam’s appetite for knowledge is just about insatiable, including when it comes to knowing about you.

he had words rolling off of your tongue, asking the best, most interesting questions and providing such sincere and in-depth responses. that night, he was just lovely, and that’s pretty much all he’s been since. he’s this adorable mix of confident and shy, awkward and knowing just the right thing to say. and he’s incredibly smart, an almost stanford pre-law graduate who was headed for bigger things before he was pulled back into hunting a little over two years ago. this explains the difference in all his injuries from the past two years versus the three beforehand. secretly, you mourn for the life that he, and subsequently you, might have had, but only because he gets a little wistful every time he talks about stanford.

mostly, you talk on the phone, only stopping late in the night when one of you catches the other yawning. he seems to sleep so little, yet he lives such a tiring life. you almost always seem to be the one who gets too tired first. one night, you fell asleep to his voice, and since then, you feel like it’s the single best way to drift into dreams.

sam tries to avoid the topic of the supernatural, but you ask him about it anyway. as you get used to the idea of monsters being real, you find yourself wanting to understand it all better. you want to understand him better. and you don’t want him to feel like he has to hide the biggest parts of his life from you or for him to have trouble fitting you into his world.

he always answers your questions, omitting any extreme gore or death, but it doesn’t take long for you to realize how many people he really saves. that’s his life; saving people.

it takes three weeks for you to see him again since the first night, and three more plus a whole lot of convincing on your end for him to bring you on a hunt with him. he tries to hide it, but he’s so worried for you, despite all the reassurances he’s made that this particular ghost isn’t really all that violent or dangerous. by now, you’ve already come to mostly believe all that he's told you, but to see it in real life is still the final confirmation that you need to be fully convinced.

sam keeps you by his side the whole time, one hand on you every moment that he can afford it. the second the ghost appears, he blasts it with a salt round from his shotgun, and he thinks he could cry when you flinch at the loud noise. yet, he feels comforted that you don’t seem all too scared. and strangely, you really aren’t. sam easily makes you feel safe. luckily, the next time the ghost appears, it bursts into flames moments later thanks to dean burning the bones.

the moment it’s gone, sam drops the gun to the ground and turns to you, accidentally ruining the now unnecessary salt line around you in his rush to check on you.

“are you okay?” he asks gently, a hand on your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek as he looks you up and down.

“i’m alright, sam,” you reassure. it’s true that you’re a little shaky, and just the tiniest bit scared, but to have your confirmation and sam by your side is much more important to you.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes anyway, pulling you into a hug that’s more for his peace of mind than yours. of course, you don’t complain, easily finding his arms to be your new favorite place in the world.

oddly enough, taking it almost slow works well. he kisses you the next time he sees you, a week and a half later, and you’ve never wanted anything more than to have him keep kissing you, over and over again. he just feels like yours and you feel like his and you’ve barely known him for long, but when he kisses you it’s like there’s stars hung from the ceiling and flowers made from nothing but love and healing growing all over you. when he kisses you it’s sunlight and moonglow bottled up and mixed with sweet, pure maple syrup. his lips on yours feel like lucky four leaf clovers, like it’s possible to taste heaven on someone else’s tongue.

and though it mostly works for him to just visit as often as he can, which sometimes isn’t often at all, and to call him at every moment you can, the yearning only grows. you swear that you’re addicted to his lips, to his big hands cupping your jaw all gentle and sweet or his bulky arms boxing you in as he kisses you so hard that you melt right into the sheets.

and some nights, though he tries to hide it, you can hear him struggling with what seems to be the weight of the world on his shoulders. his job is anything but easy or fruitful. before, you thought that you might worry less when you found out exactly why your soulmate was getting injured so often, but now every time new blooms appear on your skin, you spend all day fretting until you can get him on the phone to make sure he’s alright.

you suppose he gets just as worried as you, despite the fact that you’re never in nearly as much danger as he is. a week ago, a jagged edge on a metal wire fence snagged at your skin, drawing a very shallow, but long line of blood down your forearm. seconds later, you had a frantic sam on the phone, so worried about all the little blue flowers on his arm.

it’s not as hard as he thinks for you to tell how much fear and worry he lives in. you know that he doesn’t tell you the half of it sometimes, even when you ask. all you want is to have him a little closer, to be there for him and provide the sort of comfort that you’re sure he’s never really had before. and though he’s told you that having you to talk to, so receptive and encouraging for him, has been a complete blessing, you still wish for more. you want his arms enveloping you and his lips on yours and his warm body in your bed. really, you just miss him. all the time.

⟢⟢⟢

tonight is one of the glorious nights that you get to have him with you. his broad frame takes up so much space in your bed, and you love it more than just about anything. he props himself up on one elbow and you mirror his pose as you let your eyes roam over each other’s features and take turns rambling about every little thing from this past week. unable to resist, sam kisses you often. he just leans over, swiftly closing the small space between you and pressing his lips to yours. he looks so beautiful like this; at peace, his shirtless body and protective tattoo framed all prettily by clean white sheets.

eventually, comforting words turn into a comforting silence, and you drop your head to your pillow. your eyes droop a little as you play with the idea letting a few more words slip from your tongue. you want to say something to him, but you can’t tell if it’s the right time.

sam settles on his pillow, just like you. “what is it?” he whispers, inviting and respectful. his voice tells you that you’re welcome to say whatever you’re thinking about, but that it’s okay if you don’t want to quite yet.

you smile a little at how well he’s able to read you. since he asked so sweetly, you say it. “i can’t be away from you, sam. i love you, i really do.” this isn’t the first time you’ve said the three special words to each other, but his eyes grow infinitely softer than they were before each time you do.

this time, his eyes do soften, but he cringes a little too, because he feels sorry and because he feels the same exact way. “i can’t make you live like i do. i love you, too, so much. and i hate being away from you, but this? this life, it– it’s sort of awful, and it’s dangerous and hard and–”

you swiftly cut him off with a kiss that he more than willingly melts into. “i know,” you whisper against his lips, barely moving from him to speak. “but– but what if we tried something else? you still go on your hunts and all that, but you and dean can stay here in between. there’s this cabin in the woods i’ve been eyeing, it’s sort of small but it’s isolated and we could ward it. i’ve been looking into protection and warding spells, and i think we could make it work… only, you know, if you wa–”

this time he’s the one to cut you off with a kiss, passionate and sweet all at once. when your lips part, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours like he can’t bear to be any further from you.

“i want to,” he says, voice so sure and sturdy. “i really want to… but how’re we gonna get the house? it’s not like me or dean can buy property, and i can’t make you–”

“i want to,” you echo his words, just as sincerely. “please, sam, let me do this. i’ve been saving money for a long time and it’s a little run down so it’s not too expensive. and i’m getting sick of this apartment.”

“you’re gonna live there?” he asks, not bothering to hide his hope and sparkling joy at that idea.

you grin. “of course. there’s three bedrooms and it’s so pretty and i can’t, you know, pay for that and the apartment at the same time. and i– i wanna be there every time you get home.”

that word gets to him. sam doesn’t really have a solid or normal concept of home—the closest thing he has is the impala. but it sounds so right when it comes out of your mouth. “and– and you’re okay with that?” he asks, still needing to be reassured, “you said it was isolated, and–”

“i’m sure, sam,” you emphasize, “it’s only 20 minutes from town and the roads to and from are never busy. i’ve always wanted to live in the woods, i swear. and if it meant i could be with you more, i’d never ever say no to this. please… can we talk to dean about it?”

“yes,” he gushes. “yes, of course, i– you’re amazing.” he seals the deal with a firm, giddy kiss. “and if dean says he doesn’t like the idea, i don’t care. i’m gonna do this with you.” another kiss and your heart softens infinitely. “besides, he loves the pie from the bakery on morrison street, which means he can’t say no.” he gives you another kiss and pulls away again, and you know that he’s bound to keep rambling if you let him, so you wrap an arm around his neck and thread your fingers through his soft, pretty hair. then you kiss him hard until he can’t breathe. he returns the favor by tenfold, whispering through labored breath how much he loves you and wants you and thinks that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

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clawsmiic · 8 months ago

Text

"I had to talk to you."

Repost from other account

2.4k words

CW: Heavy flirtation, canon divergence (S4 end events didn't happen), College Student!Steve, Steve has shit eyesight

October 13th, 1989

Steve sighs, leaning back on the drivers side of his 1983 BMW. Burgundy paint starting to chip on the hood, the car becoming less appealing day by day. Girls passing by not even looking in his direction anymore. He was old news in Hawkins after people found out he had finally started at a college half an hour away in Fort Wayne. Just starting his life like everyone else did 4 years ago just wasn't appealing to most girls.

At least not Hawkins girls.

But at this point he didn't care. He was proud of himself for pulling his life together after all the bullshit he had been put through. With saving an entire town too many god damn times. Cutting his dad off when his parents divorced. Moving out to get a rented house with his best friend Robin. Just what he learned he needed over time.

Getting into a good school by himself with no help was just a cherry on top of the fuck you sundae he graciously served his past problems.

He was satisfied with what he had right now.

Dustin walks out of the new game shop in the newest strip mall to grace Hawkins. Steve looks up, pushing his Ray-Ban sunglasses onto his head.

"You made it out before, Robin. I'm surprised." Dustin glanced at the instrument shop a few doors down, then back to Steve. "You get what Eddie needed?"

"Mostly yeah. She's still getting her trumpet fixed?" Steve shrugs at Dustin's question and slides his sunglasses down in place again.

"She probably got distracted looking at something shiny and new. You know Robins crow brain sometimes." Dustin laughs, looking into his bag, shuffling a few things around inside.

Steve looked over at the liquor store at the end of the strip mall. Looking back at Dustin, he taps the top of the car. His head snapped up, eyes a bit surprised at the sudden noise.

"You want anything?" Steve asks, tilting his head back towards the store.

"Coke? If they got it." Dustin simply replied before getting in the back seat. Steve nods and walks to the liquor store.

The bell chimes over his head as he walks through the door. He takes in the warmth of the store and the radio playing over the speakers on the ceiling. Such a nice contrast to the crisp Autumn air outside.

He turns heading down an isle of assorted liquor bottles and bar accessories before finally stopping at the fridge. Humming along to the song over the radio, mumbling the lyrics to 'I wanna know what love is' absentmindedly.

Sliding his glasses down his nose, he squints at the selection. All the labels are blurry the farther he is, he steps forward rubbing his eyes and sure doesn't help with the florescent lighting blinding him from above.

God I need to get my eyes checked.

Opening the fridge, he grabs the 3 soft drinks and a 6-pack for later when he hears a metal scrapping and whoosh next to him. Followed by a muffled but panicked "Shit!"

Looking over, he sees the back of a squatting woman struggling with a metal shelf slipping out of one of the fridges.

Walking over, he quickly puts his things down and pushes the shelf back in. The metal shelf, cold against his warm skin as he reaches into the fridge, fixing the fasteners back into place.

An issue he's all too familiar with working at Family Video. The fridge racks always got loose and every time it happened he was always made to clean them up. He could only imagine the mess a bunch of glasses and beer would have made.

"Thank you so much!" The woman speaks as Steve stands up, slowly closing the door. Looking back, he finally sees your face. His lips slightly part as you continue talking, he can't hear a word you're saying right now.

All he can hear is the very oddly convenient Foreigner song playing over the store radio as he takes in every detail of your gorgeous face. From your shiny hair to your bright smile. The vibrant colored nail polish on your fingers you're waving as you talk. You're unfamiliar, he's never seen you before, but you're an absolute stunner of a woman.

Steve never thought of himself as a love at first sight kind of guy. But right now he was undoubtedly being proven wrong by the spark he was feeling, not to mention the nervous knot in his stomach.

"But really you're a life saver... Thank you." You stop talking, looking at him. Your face falls as he perks up, realizing he's just been staring like a complete idiot this entire time.

"You're welcome!" He spoke, choking almost over how inappropriately loud he was for a second. Feeling the effect of not talking to women for a while really hit him. You look down at his soon-to-be purchases.

"Full Sail Amber. Good beer." You comment, making him look at the floor and nod.

Crouching down, he grabs his things and stands cracking his head on one of the fridge door handles. His sunglasses fell off his face and onto the floor. He stands up wedging his soft drink between his side and arm. Rubbing his head with a hiss.

"You okay?" You ask with a slight chuckle. Bending down, you grab the sunglasses, Steve moves his hand, grabbing the bottom of the door handle to shield your head from injury.

"Yeah, thanks." Before he gets to put his hand out to take his Ray-Bans back, you slide them on his head with a soft smile.

God she's so fucking pretty.

"You're welcome. And thanks again for... Saving me from paying for a full shelf of beer." She turned down the isle to another part of the store.

Part of Steve wants to follow you and try chatting you up, but the slight embarrassment of hurting his head just keeps him from doing so.

He turns, goes to the front of the store and makes his purchases. Heading outside, he walks to his car, finally seeing Robin in her usual spot, the passenger seat. Opening the driver's door, he slips in.

"There you are!" Robin looked at him, her trumpet case in-between her legs on the floor of the car.

"What's with the face?" Dustin asks, Steve looking at him in the rearview, glaring.

"Shut up Henderson." He hands them their sodas, moving to close his car door when he hears the bell from the liquor store chime.

Out you walk, starting across the parking lot to a top-down red 86' Volkswagen Cabriolet. Steve freezes, staring again. He really can't help but stare.

"Oooh." Robin and Dustin both taunt him, making him sigh. He needs more friends, fewer annoying friends.

"She's pretty." Robin says looking at Dustin.

"Too pretty to talk to, apparently." Dustin adds, laughing as he looks back at Steve.

"I talked to her in the store." Dustin raised his eyebrows, pushing his baseball cap up a bit.

"You asked her out?"

"No." Steve watches you load your bag into the back seat and start pulling the top up on your car.

"Not too late!" Robin smiled, taking a sip of her drink. Dustin looked at her.

"He's not gonna do it."

"No, he's gonna do it."

Steve feels like he has a devil and an angel bickering on his shoulders right now. His foot meets the new asphalt of the parking lot as you open your driver's door.

He's quickly out of the driver's seat.

"Holy shit he's doing it." Dustin comments as he shuts the door on them.

He stops at the bumper of his car, hearing your car engine click over. Music pours out of your open windows before you turn it down quickly.

The universe is screaming at him to talk to you when he starts hearing that familiar Tears for Fears song, 'Head Over Heels'.

Please don't pull away, please don't pull away.

He nearly sprints across the parking lot out of fear of missing his chance. Upon reaching the car, he knocks on the back window, pulling you from looking for something in the console.

"Hi..." He says awkwardly, approaching the window. Leaning on the door, he smiles as you smile back.

"Hi. You need something?" He gets so agitated that you smirk up at him.

'Why'd you have to be so God damn pretty?'

"Sorry if this is weird, but I had to talk to you." He started, finally being able to say something. Your eyes go half shut with a soft nod.

"Talk to me?" He nods, clenching the door frame for a second. "Go ahead then. Talk."

His eyes go wide in surprise at your sudden confidence. Steve stammered for a second.

"Uh... At the risk of sounding crazy or desperate... You're probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life." You can feel your body warm up as he gives the most genuine smile you've seen on a man in a while.

"Mmhm, go on."

"Are you by chance single? Or like... Are you even attracted to men at all?" He asks, sheepishly smiling.

"Yes, and yes." Your smirk slowly turns into a grin as he squats to eye level now, feeling a bit more confident after your answer.

"I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington." He smiles again hearing you reply with your name. "Are you new to Hawkins?"

"I am actually. I just moved here from the city and needed to stay nearby for school."

"Where are you going?"

"Trine University." His eyes go wide, the same school he goes to. What are the odds?

"Really? I actually go there too. Education major." You look him up and down. You never pegged him for the teacher type.

"Software Engineering major."

"So you're smart and gorgeous. Good to know." He smirks, finally feeling like himself when talking as your flush finally becomes noticeable. "You like movies?"

"What kind of psychopath doesn't like movies?" He laughs at your response, leaning in closer to the window.

"Lemme be more specific. The new Halloween 5 movie came out today. You interested in seeing it? Maybe with me tonight at the drive-in theater in Lafayette. We can have dinner after. All my treat, of course." He can see the sparkle in your eyes, that spark he felt looking at you before is still lingering around him.

"What's in it for me?" You playfully ask. He cocks his head to the side, leaning it on his arm for a second.

"A fun night out with a gentleman, I promise I'm fun." You chuckle, rolling your eyes, he knows you want to say yes. "Please?"

He'd never said please before when asking a girl out. It didn't feel embarrassing like he thought it would. You turn your attention back to the console looking for something.

Pulling out a napkin and pen, you quickly write down your number and address. Turning back, you hold it out to him as he takes it.

"I'm free at 8. And dress nicely. You're taking me somewhere decent after the movie."

"I'll take you to the most expensive restaurant I can find if that's what you want. I don't care. As long as I get to see you again." You laugh at his bluntness, it's like music to his ears.

"That won't be necessary. I don't need to be spoiled."

"What if I want to spoil you?" That caught you off guard as you didn't respond right away. He let a soft breath escape his mouth. "You like roses?"

"White roses." You reply, he nods, standing up again and folding the napkin, storing it in his back jean pocket for safe keeping.

"I'll be sure to remember that." You two just stare at each other in silence for a minute. No man's ever looked at you like Steve has right now, it makes your heart race from nervousness.

"I'll see you at 8 o'clock then." You look past him for a moment and back to him. "Tell your friends I said hello since they like to stare so much."

Raising an eyebrow, Steve turned his head. He sees Robin poking her head over the roof of the car and Dustin sitting on the rolled down window frame. They quickly hurry back into the car, noticing they've been caught. He should be embarrassed, but he fully expects their behavior from being friends for so long.

"Ignore them." Steve says, sighing as he looks back at you. "I'll see you at 8."

He turned away towards his car, trying to stay as confident as he was before turning his back. Reaching his car, he pops the door open, clutching it for dear life as he silently collects himself. Robin poked her head across the driver's seat to look up at him.

"You good dude?" She asks, concerned but also excited as he just nods.

You pull out of your parking spot, stopping behind his car and honk once to get his attention. Dustin pops his head out the back window as Robin looks out her open door. Steves head snaps up at you as you lean on your window frame, chin on fist with the most shit eating grin on your face.

"See you at 8 sexy~" You called to him. And then you have the balls to blow him a kiss before peeling out of the parking lot.

Steve silently gets in the car. Robin shuts her door as Steve does his. Dustin sits forward looking at Steve, who's just gripping his steering wheel, the adrenaline starting to wear off.

"Dude, she's so into you, into you!" Dustin breaks the silence as Robin nods.

"And I'd say it's the same for Harrington here." Robin grins as a massive smile spreads across Steve's face.

He starts excitedly thrashing frontwards and backwards. Enough to shake the car and look like he's about to rip the steering wheel from it's column. He lets out an excited yell, causing his two friends to laugh at him.

He let out a long breath, looking at them.

"She says hi by the way."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things x reader

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lay-z · 1 month ago

Text

💒 Day 9 – Separated

A continuation to 🎁 Day 1 – All I want for Christmas (is you), which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: Happily married for several months now, you and John spend your first Christmas as newlyweds in Glasgow with his family.

Pairing: John Soap MacTavish x fem!Reader Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | military!Reader; domesticity; married life/established relationship; humour; fluff; cussing; male masturbation; oral sex; hurt/comfort; angst with a happy ending (Yay!)

Word count: 3.6k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

You shiver despite your warm layers of clothing and stifle another yawn as you wait for the front door to the MacTavish's home to open. The large house is adorned with bright lights and decorations, even in the front yard, and a traditional Christmas wreath has been hung up at the old, heavy door.

The noise inside is muffled, but you can already hear the music, chatter and overall chaos.

Next to you, your husband glances over, a crease of concern between his dark brows as soon as he notices the dark circles under your eyes and the way your shoulders slouch with fatigue.

"Ye alright, luv? Ye're no’ gettin' sick on me, eh?" He reaches over to rub your back over your thick winter coat, trying to shield you from the freezing gusts of snow-speckled wind.

"Nah, 'm fine," you reply, yawning this time and smacking your lips before smiling over at him, "Just tired again."

John nods, curling his muscular arm around your waist to pull you closer into his side, leaning in to kiss your temple – and discreetly check if you might have a fever as his lips linger.

"Aye, hen, t’was a long drive here." He remarks, muttering against your skin before pulling back with an exasperated sigh as he lifts his fist to knock once more.

It’s your first Christmas as a married couple and while the both of you intitially wanted to spend it alone together, his family kept nagging and begging him to come back to Glasgow to celebrate the holidays properly with the whole MacTavish clan, like in the old days. Cue your own family giving you hell for choosing your husband’s side of the family over them.

Needless to say, the past couple of weeks have been rather stressful, with your responsibilities serving in the military and being part of the 141 breathing down your neck, too, along with John’s own reintroduction into his military service, which caused you two to have less time for each other than you both expected.

“I’ll give ye a massage later,” John says, his voice dropping to a promising murmur, “How does that sound?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making you huff a laugh as you lean in to hug him back and rest your cheek against his chest, limbs feeling heavy already.

“Doesn’t sound too bad.” You glance up at him, admiring his handsome face with a soft smile, and your heart gives a sudden flutter like it did when you first started fooling around in secret, back when you first joined the task force after him.

The door cracks open eventually, and a wave of warmth embraces you immediately, making you shudder as you cling to John. His mother pokes her head out and her bright blue eyes immediately light up.

“Well, if it isn’t my handsome son and his bonnie bride.” She smiles warmly, eyes crinkling in the corners as she pulls her only son into a hug, “We’ve been wonderin’ where ye are!”

“Hello, ma.” John mutters while his mother, always the overly affectionate one, cuddles him tightly and ruffles his short dark hair; the hair he’s been growing out and grooming differently since getting rid of his Mohawk and trying to hide the gnarly scar on the side of his head.

Then, you’re attacked next, but as you go in to reciprocate her welcoming hug, she keeps you at arm's length instead, her hands planted on your shoulders as she looks at you, eyes narrowing slightly.

Meanwhile, your gaze flickers in confusion between John’s and hers while she keeps scrutinizing you, grasping your chin and tilting your face as she hums to herself.

“Uhm, Rosemary... Good–Good to see you again,” you try tentatively, offering an awkward smile as your arms drop and hang loosely at your sides.

John takes your hand, chuckling nervously, “Ma, dinnae be weird now.”

“Och, dinnae be silly, John! Let yer mum check on her bonnie daughter-in-law.” Rosemary pulls back, her blue eyes sparkling strangely as she flashes a beaming smile before waving her son off dismissively and stepping to the side to usher you both inside.

When John picks up your luggage again, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

The atmosphere inside the big, old house is welcoming and warm, loud and chaotic, as usual. All of John’s four sisters are present with their partners and children, and even some uncles and aunts have been invited with their spouses.

At some point after the sumptuous dinner, when wine, scotch and eggnog flow steadily, and the language barrier between you and your in-law family becomes more apparent again once they all keep slipping into Gaelic, you swiftly find a corner in the living room where you’re able to take a much-needed breather while John is busy entertaining his young nieces and nephews.

Taking a few slow and deep breaths, you try to get rid of the queasy feeling in your stomach that caught you off guard since sitting down at the long dinner table earlier.

Perhaps you are overworked and definitely overwhelmed, unable to relax and unwind after the past couple of months of round-the-clock action; whether it was helping John with his ongoing rehabilitation, the wedding, the following honeymoon, or the countless deployments and field trainings, all while trying to adjust to married life.

You’re happier than you’ve ever been in your life, there is no doubt about that, but it’s been... tough. Even you must admit that to yourself; you’re exhausted.

As you glance down into your half-empty wine glass, you swivel the ruby liquid inside a bit while you feel your mouth suddenly fill with saliva at the lingering sour taste on your tongue. It’s an odd reaction and you swallow thickly, wrinkling your nose before setting the glass on the small side table next to the armchair you’re lounging in.

Suddenly, John appears from the crowd, crouching down in front of the armchair. His stubbly cheeks flushed a pinkish hue from the alcohol, his cerulean eyes gleaming with love as he gazes up at you like a devoted puppy yearning for some praise, “Everythin’ alright, my love?”

You cup his jaw and caress your thumb over the apple of his cheek, giving a curt nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you meet his gaze with half-lidded eyes.

“Just tired, baby.” You repeat the words for the umpteenth time in the past few days it feels.

“Mhm,” John rests his cheek on your knee as you rake your manicured fingers through his short hair and his eyelids flutter briefly as he sighs deeply, “Aye, could take a nap, too.”

John leads you to one of the guest bedrooms upstairs where he’d previously carried the luggage. However, as he switches the light on, you’re met with a peculiar sight.

“Seriously?” You snort, peeking up at John with a raised eyebrow while he rubs the back of his neck, smirking sheepishly and giving a shrug.

“First come, first serve, I guess,” he chuckles, “At least we don’t gotta share our bathroom with anyone.”

You hum, pursing your lips as you nod, “Don’t have to share a bed, either.” You quip, making a vague gesture at the two single beds with Christmas themed bed sheets, separated by a wide bedside table.

“Och, we’ll make do,” John snickers, pulling you into his side and grabbing a handful of your left ass cheek over the wool dress you’re wearing before leaning down to bury his nose in your neck, “Jus’ like the good ol’ days back at the barracks, baby.”

He nips at your neck, making you giggle as you tilt your head and lift your shoulder, trying to shield yourself from his playful ministrations.

“You mean the days when you’d begged me to let you into my bed?”

John lets out a mock scoff, straightening up and rolling his broad shoulders after letting go of your ass cheek with one last squeeze, “I never had to beg ye.”

The both of you know that it's a blatant lie.

He clears his throat, “Wanna bet it’s gonna be ye who asks ta move the beds together? Whining for cuddles an’ kisses from yer man like a wee lassie?”

You pout at him, brows setting in a feigned frown as you sidestep him with your arms crossed over your chest petulantly, “You’re on, MacTavish,” you huff, “–and you’re so gonna lose this bet.”

“Winner gets a nice treat, aye?” He suggests with a boyish grin, following you into the bedroom.

After unpacking together and settling in, John leaves you to have one more drink with his father downstairs while the rest of his family is either leaving and bidding their goodbyes or retreating to the other guest bedrooms.

And while you can barely keep your eyes open as you change into your pyjamas, brush your teeth and go through your nightly routine in the adjacent bathroom, you feel simultaneously too exhausted and unable to find sleep as you finally lay in your assigned single bed.

This restlessness feels strange, and you must actively keep yourself from tossing and turning on the mattress as you lay in the darkness alone. You even go through the various sleeping techniques which you’ve learned on duty, the ones that have helped you catch some shuteye on missions in the past, though to no avail.

Your eyes are burning behind your eyelids whenever you shut them, and your mind can’t seem to quiet. You’re terribly aware of your heartbeat, the soreness of your limbs and the queasiness in your gut, and in this moment, you can’t help but yearn for your husband’s presence; for him to slip under the covers behind you and his large, strong hands to roam and touch your body in a way that distracts you from this discomfort you find yourself in.

Time passes, and while you’re still unable to fall asleep, you’ve manage to turn your mind off by focusing on the various sounds in the house; deep voices engaged in conversation downstairs, the flushing of toilets, the dull footsteps of someone walking up or down the stairs–

You’re lying on your side, facing the wall, the pillow hugged to your chest with your head flat on the mattress, and your eyes shut as you’re simply dozing, when the door to the bedroom creaks open and John staggers inside clumsily.

There’s a pause before the door clicks and locks again, and you know he’s checking if you’re asleep, so you play along and stay still. You expect him to fold, to come crawling into your bed and lose the bet, and the thought of him desperately pawing at your flimsy pyjamas to get to your goodies, makes your lower tummy flutter with excitement and anticipation.

So, you listen as he disappears into the bathroom, how the toilet flushes after he takes a comically long piss, the running of the faucet when he washes his hands and brushes his teeth, all while your heart keeps thudding against your ribcage while you suppress a wicked grin.

When John emerges from the bathroom, he smacks his hand against the light switch, unnecessarily forceful like he always does, and–

Your eyes blink open, eyebrows furrowing, when he walks past your bed to slip into his with a low grunt. The single mattress creaks under his weight, the covers rustle as gets comfortable, sniffling and smacking his lips like a dog getting ready for the best sleep in his life.

And just when you want to turn around to make your wakefulness known, your breath stutters in your chest as you hear him spitting – presumably into his palm.

You don’t know how long you’ve been holding your breath for, frozen in place as you listen to the slick sound of his hand stroking his cock, but it’s been long enough to have your own body react to it as your thighs squeeze together discreetly, wetness spreading between your folds as you try to get friction on your pulsating clit while your heart feels heavy in your chest.

Suddenly, you’re going through a myriad of emotions and it’s something you haven’t experienced before. You feel aroused, excited, betrayed, sad, angry, frustrated, disappointed – and it’s all too much when the sound of John’s husky groan and shallow breaths reach your ears.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me – John.” You mutter, saying his name louder as you perk up in your bed, glancing over your shoulder at him in the darkness and barely able to make out his silhouette.

“Are you seriously jerking off right now?”

John sputters, his movements stilling before he has the audacity to bark out a laugh, “Ah, I didnae ken ye’re awake.” His Scottish brogue is more apparent now, his deep voice a little breathless.

“Yeah, well... I am!” You hiss, sitting up fully and leaning against the headboard of your bed, blood boiling and heating up your cheeks with agitation and before you know it, your eyes start stinging and welling up with fat tears while your bottom lip wobbles.

“Woah, wait–” He chuckles, though more in confusing than disbelief as he tries to interpret your reaction, “Are ye... mad at me for havin’ a lil’ wank?” His thick brows draw together as he listens intently, his cock still throbbing in his fist.

You sniffle, shoulders trembling with restraint as you wipe furiously at your eyes and cheeks, though the first tears have already slipped and stained your sleepshirt. It’s so out of character for you. Normally, you would simply tease him for this. Hell, you have a great sex life together; have rubbed one out next to him just to rile him up in the past. This should be nothing to you, but for no other apparent reason than a matter of principle, it is, and you can’t stop your mouth from blurting out more words.

“Y’know, it’s just funny to me that–that you actually seem to be enjoying this bet and ugh separation between–between us,” you babble, ignoring logic in favour of the cocktail of raging emotions wreaking havoc inside you.

“What? No! Baby, please, I–” John stammers, becoming more confused and overwhelmed with each hiccup and sob coming from your bed from the other side of the room, “Ye’re the love of my life, please–” He tucks his still semi-hard cock back into his boxer briefs before scrambling on his mattress to turn on the lamp on the bedside table.

When the bedroom is illuminated by the lamp’s warm light, John immediately sobers up as he assesses the strange situation, and his stomach drops as he spots you curled up on the single bed, hugging your knees and muffling your sobs. He can’t count on one hand the times he’s seen you cry, so this is more than alerting.

“Ach, fuck this bloody bet.” John huffs and in an instant, he’s up on his feet and nearly flinging himself onto your bed; strong arms cooping you up in an embrace as he shifts you around until he’s sitting with his back against the headboard, cradling your shivering form against his chest.

“Steamin’ Jesus, ye’re really scarin’ me right now,” he mutters against the crown of your head, nuzzling your hair as he rocks you gently, “Can ye tell me what’s goin’ on, hm? Please?”

“Fuck, I–I don’t know,” you wail and whine into his bare chest, coarse dark hair scratching against your face as you try to burrow deeper into his embrace, all while his bulky arms tighten around you like steel rods, “I just... I need you.”

And then, when you shift and climb into his lap to hump and grind your clothed pussy against his upper thigh, John gets really confused.

He blinks dumbly, “So... ye’re not mad at me? Ye’re jus’... horny?” His cock twitches in his briefs when you bite your puffy bottom lip and choke back a keening moan.

“Shut up,” you whinge, hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders as he surveys your odd behavior with a mixture of amusement and concern, once he’s sure you’re not sick or hurt.

John chuckles huskily, his hands trailing down to grasp your hips, “Should’a said some, hen.” He purrs as he tugs on the hem of your sleepshirt teasingly before pulling it up over your head when you lift your arms up obediently.

His pupils dilate as soon as his eyes drink in the sight of your pretty tits. When his hands trace up your stomach, he can feel your skin pebble with goosebumps, and when his thumbs trace the underside of your naked breasts, he notices your slight wince while your cute nipples stiffen instantly, making his mouth water at the sight like Pavlov’s trained mutt.

“Sensitive tonight, are we?”

You swat at his biceps meekly, letting out the most pathetic little whine that has John’s heart thudding and his cock chuff to full mast. This is so unlike you, and it makes him reel internally.

“Fuckin’ hell, ye’re killin’ me here. I need a taste of ye, love.” He mutters under his breath and leans in to kiss you deeply, all teeth and tongue, before he picks you up and manhandles you like some ragdoll until you’re lying on your back underneath him, gazing up with a desperate, pleading look in your glossy, bright doe-eyes.

You help him take off your pyjama pants next, movements sluggish as you burn up with desire and need while John nudges your legs apart before settling between your thighs, getting in position like a sniper on a mission.

John holds your upper thighs in a firm grip, keeping them spread for him as he drags his nose from your crack up your wet slit, parting your folds and inhaling the familiar scent of your arousal deeply as he goes, though it somehow seems more intoxicating as ever. And the first taste of your cunt has his mind go berserk, synapsis firing in the most primal part in his brain as he swallows hard and growls against your folds.

You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your whimpers, “Oh...god... Johnny.”

You taste absolutely divine and you’re practically gushing from your little hole like never before as John drapes your legs over his shoulders, spreads your velvety folds with his fingers and starts licking and suckling on your clit like a madman; completely and utterly possessed by you as he slurps and laps up your slick arousal, making sure not a drop goes to waste.

The first orgasm hits you hard and leaves your pussy convulsing almost painfully as white-hot pleasure wrecks through your flushed body; making your toes curl and your back arch off the mattress while those dull throbs of pleasure-pain have you begging for Johnny’s thick fingers to fill you up. And he eagerly complies by plunging both middle and ring finger into your dripping cunt while the feeling of his thick, golden wedding band stimulating your entrance has your eyes roll back into your skull.

Your doting husband eats you out for what feels like hours, way past the soreness of his own jaw, until you’re nothing but a limp, twitching mess on the narrow mattress, and even then, he doesn’t let up.

“Can’t stop, baby,” he grunts against your swollen clit, his voice muffled by your slick flesh as he pumps and curls his fingers inside your fluttering channel, “Ye taste too fuckin’ good.”

Clutching the steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee between your palms, you stifle another yawn as you sit at the kitchen table before you catch the significant glance John shoots in your direction, a prideful smirk tugging at his lips and his chest puffed out even more than usual as he converses with one of his brothers-in-law.

Yes, you’re tired, but at least you know why today. Smiling to yourself, you hide it by taking a sip of your coffee.

“Havin’ a good mornin’, Mrs. MacTavish?”

Your eyes flicker up when John’s mother sets a full plate of breakfast in front of you. An array of bacon and eggs, sausage, baked beans, toast and fried mushrooms – a sight that had your mouth water in the past but your nose wrinkle in the present.

“Cannae stand the smell, eh?” The older woman chuckles, patting your back affectionately, “Jus’ wait fer the morning sickness, lass.”

As you gaze up at her in confusion, you catch that same strange and gleeful twinkle from yesterday in her eyes. Your eyes narrow slightly, “I’m sorry, Rosemary, but what are you talking about? You’ve been dropping hints like that since last night.”

Rosemary clicks her tongue and raises a dark eyebrow as if surprised you haven’t caught on yet before she reaches into the pocket of her apron and then takes one of your wrists to shove something that feels like a pencil into your palm.

“I kept them around when my daughters got married,” she explains softly, though it confuses you even more until you look down at the object in your palm, “I ken this would be the biggest Christmas present for Johnny... and for all of us, too.”

Your stomach drops and your eyes widen as you stare at the pregnancy test.

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap #tf 141 #cod:mw #cod advent calendar 2024 #johnny mactavish #reader insert

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months ago

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Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

#tom bennett x reader #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett #ewan mitchell #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett world on fire #world on fire tom bennett #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic

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rowdyluv · 5 months ago

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The Girl I’m in Love With lf63

summary: Luca is desperately trying to find someone who can be comparable to his best friend, who he is hopelessly in love with. He’s gone on date after date, all of which fail. He meets a girl online who he hits it off with does it work or is it another bust because of his best friend?

warnings: use of y/n, singular use of pretty girl, no others?

word count: 4.1k

notes: please do not copy my work to post anywhere else. this is a piece of fiction. any type of event in this work that relates to the real world, such as Luca playing hockey is a known fact and can be proven. any other events in the piece of work that occurs that seems close to a real life event that has happened to you or someone you know, is purely by happen chance.

Luca stared at his reflection in the mirror, fumbling with his tie. The fabric felt like a noose around his neck, tightening with every twist. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. The cologne he had picked up off Mark’s dresser smelled faintly of his own grandfather's pipe tobacco, and he hoped it would be a good omen for the evening ahead. His date was a woman named Elena, someone he had met through an app. They had talked for a few weeks now, sharing laughs and stories, but now that the day to go out was here, he felt like he was about to step into a minefield blindfolded with extra phalanges attached to him.

He checked his phone one last time. No messages from Y/N, his best friend. Her absence today was a bitter reminder of how every time he goes out with someone he thinks of her. His mind floods with what could bes if he would just tell her. If he would just let their relationship move over their line of friendship. Y/n and Luca already have many memories of shared jokes, quiet moments, and the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't watching. Luca had been on numerous failed dates over the semester, all in an attempt to fill the gaping hole that was meant for her. All dates ending early because Luca couldn’t find the heart to stay when his heart wasn’t in it.

It was all so infuriating, but tonight he was determined to put the thoughts aside. If Y/n could put him to the side the whole day, he could put her to side.

The doorbell rang, and Luca took one last deep breath before opening the door to greet Elena. She was beautiful, with a smile that could light up the room.

‘Sure, it could lighten up the room, but could it lighten the darkest of rooms?’ Luca’s thoughts pierced through the barricades he tried so desperately to place for the evening.

Luca discreetly swallowed and tried to ignore the pang of guilt in his chest as he led her to the car.

‘You can’t do this again. Don’t do this again.’

Those words echoed through Luca’s mind as he reached the car. Before Elena could even get her hand on the door handle, he turned to face her with a heavy heart. The streetlights cast an orange glow on her puzzled expression, and he felt the weight of his confession pressing down on him like a boulder. “Elena, wait please.” Luca’s voice wasn’t as strong as it usually was and he mentally cursed himself.

Elena paused, looking at him with genuine concern. “Is everything okay, Luca?”

For a moment, Luca wavered, unsure of how to explain the tornado of emotions swirling inside him. But then, the words spilled out like water from a broken dam. “I’m sorry, Elena. I know we were looking forward to this, but I can’t do this. I can’t go out with you, knowing that all I’ll do is compare you to someone else. It’s not fair to you, and it’s definitely not fair to me.” His eyes searched hers, hoping she’d understand.

Elena studied him, her smile fading into a look of quiet contemplation. Then, she sighed and took his hand, leading him back towards the apartment. “Come on, let’s talk,” she said gently. The warmth of her touch was surprisingly comforting, but it only served to amplify the ache in his chest.

Inside the air was thick with unspoken truths and the scent of Elena’s perfume seemed to cling to the walls, a testament to their failed attempt at a normal evening. After turning on lamps and grabbing them both bottles of water, Luca took a seat on the recliner, feeling the leather conform to his tense body. Elena took a seat opposite him on the couch, her eyes never leaving his.

“Who is she?” Elena asked, her voice soft. It was the question Luca had been dreading, but now that it was out there, why keep it in anymore?

“Her name’s Y/N,” Luca began, his throat dry. He could chug his water and his throat would remain dry.

He watched as Elena nodded, she had her ideas about this. The way he spoke about y/n when they talked prior to tonight gave indications.

He took a deep breath, his heart thumping in his chest like a drum. Beating so intensely all he could hear was the sound of the lub and dub of his heart. “Y/N is... she’s the person who knows me better than anyone else. She’s seen me at my worst and still sticks around. She laughs at all my jokes, even the terrible ones. She’s the first person I call when something amazing happens, or when I need to rant about my day. And every time I go out with someone else, it’s like I’m cheating on her, because all I can think about is her. Whenever the food is ordered I’m still ordering food I know she’s going to eat because she always orders something new and ends up hating it, so I have to eat her’s and I give her what she really wanted. I think about the way she’d laugh at the same story, or how she’d look at me in that perfect moment when I know she’s listening, really listening, to every word I say. How I always seem to catch her looking at me and she’ll turn a little bit red, then try to deny that she was looking. It’s like I’m constantly holding onto this hope that maybe, just maybe, she feels the same way too. And I know that’s not fair to you, or to any of the other girls I’ve gone out with, but it’s just... she’s different, Elena. She’s the air I breathe and the reason I wake up every morning. I can’t help it. She has become so much more than just my best friend. She’s... she’s like a piece of me that I didn’t know was missing until I found her… A piece that’s actually been missing from today and my whole day feels empty. I feel empty.”

Elena’s expression softened as she listened, her eyes filling then spilling over with a few tears. She herself knowing all too well how he was feeling. Elena experiencing the same feelings, only her best friend is already in a relationship. She’s pining for someone completely unattainable.

The room was so quiet, it was as if the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for her response. She leaned all the way back into the couch, her hand playing with the hem of her dress. “Luca, she said, her voice a gentle caress. “You need to tell her how you feel. You can’t keep going on like this, hoping she’ll just figure it out by some miracle or waiting for some grand romantic moment to happen. Life isn’t a movie, and she may have no idea that you have the slightest bit of romantic interest in her. And if she doesn’t feel the same way, then at least you’ll know, and then you can move on. But if you don’t speak up and you keep going out like you are, you’re going to keep hurting yourself and the people you take out. It’s not fair to either of parties involved.”

Luca dropped his head into his hands and tugged at his hair, the words echoing in his mind like a caged bird desperate to escape. What if he did tell Y/N and she didn’t feel the same way? Would she look at him differently? Would their friendship survive? The thought of losing her in any capacity was too much to bear, but the heaviness of his secret was slowly suffocating him.

Elena reached over and placed a comforting hand on his knee. “I know it’s scary, Luca, but you can’t keep living like this. You’re my friend now, too, and I want to see you happy. You need to talk to her. Maybe she does feel the same, or maybe she doesn’t. But at least you’ll have the answer and you can move on from there. Whether it’s together or apart, you’ll be able to breathe again.”

Her words were like a jolt of electricity, shocking him into action. “You’re right, Elena. I can’t do this anymore. I’ll go over now. If I wait, I won’t do it. I’ve waited too long already,” Luca said, the decision made with a suddenness that surprised even himself. He stood up abruptly, the recliner rocking back and forth with the force of his retreat.

Elena nodded, her smile understanding and encouraging. “I know it’s scary, but you’ll be okay. Just go from the heart and tell her what you told me. Sometimes, that’s all it takes to start something beautiful, or to find the closure you need. Either way, you’re taking a step in the right direction.”

Luca took a deep breath, his chest tightening at the thought of what lay ahead. “Thank you, Elena. You’re a great listener, and... well, I’m sorry tonight didn’t work out the way we planned.” He offered a small, sheepish smile.

She laughed a bit and rolled her eyes reaching the front door. As she was stepping out it she waved, “Good luck Fantilli. Not that you’ll need it.”

The door shut with a gentle click, and Luca stood in the quiet embrace of the living room. His hand hovered over the screen of his phone, fingers trembling slightly. With a deep breath, he typed out a simple message: “Hey, I’m coming over.” He hit send before he could talk himself out of it, and the weight of his decision settled in his stomach like a rock.

In the hallway, he grabbed his jacket and keys, feeling the cool metal against his palm. The urgency in his step as he dashed to the car was almost palpable. His heart was racing like it was trying to escape his chest, the beat echoing in his ears. The headlights cut through the night, illuminating the path to Y/N’s apartment.

As he pulled up outside her building, Luca’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. The tie that had felt like a noose earlier was now a comforting reminder of his resolve. He took one long deep breath, willing the words to form in his mouth. He had rehearsed this moment in his head many times, probably each time he ended up here after each failed date. But now that it was real, his thoughts were a tangled mess.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out with trembling hands. He had hoped for an enthusiastic response, a sign that she felt the same way. But what he saw on the screen was a single, desolate word: "Don't." His heart plummeted to his stomach, the weight of it feeling like it might drag him into the abyss. He read it over and over again, willing it to change, for it to be a typo, a misunderstanding. But the more he read it, the more real it became.

He sat in the car, his eyes glued to the door of her apartment building. The red neon sign of the pizzeria across the street flickered, casting an eerie glow over the sidewalk. The rain had started to fall, and it pattered rhythmically against the car's windshield. Luca always respected and never ignored what Y/n asked of him. But this was something that he couldn't ignore. This was about them. He had to talk to her, no matter what she said.

Pulling a shaky a deep breath in, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and stepped out into the night. The cold rain hit him like a wall, soaking through his clothes in seconds. He sprinted to the building, feeling the water seep into his shoes with every step. His heart hammered in his chest like a drummer in a rock band, setting the tempo for his chaotic thoughts.

The lobby was a welcome respite from the downpour, the warmth wrapping around him like a blanket. The scent of old carpet and faint whispers of rain-soaked earth filled the small space. He took the stairs two at a time to the third floor, his feet echoing off the walls. Each step felt like it was taking an eternity. The door to Y/N’s apartment was like a gateway to the unknown, and Luca’s hand hovered over the knocker, his heart threatening to break through his ribcage. The anticipation was a tangible force, pressing against him like the very air itself was holding its breath.

With a tremble, he brought his fist down and the sound reverberated through the corridor. The seconds that followed felt like hours, each one a silent scream in his ears. Finally, the door creaked open, and there she was, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of annoyance. “I told you don’t come over,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

Luca shivered, not just from the cold rainwater that clung to him like a second skin but from the sudden realization that this might be the moment that changes everything. He stepped closer, the droplets of water falling from his clothes creating a small puddle around his feet. “I know, I know you did, but I had to see you, to tell you something. Something I can’t keep inside anymore.”

Y/N and Luca lock eyes for only a moment. A moment is all Luca needs to notice the red discoloration and puffiness that circles her eyes. “Y/n, why have you been crying?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. The look of shock on her face was quickly replaced by one of irritation.

“That’s none of your business, Luca. What do you want?” Her voice was tight, and she held the door open only a crack. The apartment behind her was dark, save for the flicker of a TV screen.

“I know I shouldn’t have come up after you said no, but I couldn’t ignore your message. Y/N, is everything okay?” He asked again, his voice softer this time, filled with genuine concern. “Well no, clearly no everything isn’t okay.” Luca corrected running the back of his neck. “We’ve not talked all day, you didn’t respond to my texts or answer my calls. What’s going on?”

Y/N took a deep breath, the kind that fills the chest but doesn’t seem to reach the lungs. She stepped aside and opened the door wider, gesturing for him to come in. The apartment was a mess of used tissues and half-eaten takeout. It was a drastic difference to the usual pristine state she maintained. “I don’t know what to say, Luca. I’ve had a rough day, and I don’t really feel like company right now.” She said, her voice a sad whisper.

He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the sadness that seemed to have painted the walls a darker shade. The TV played some old sitcom, the laugh track echoing through the emptiness like a mockery of her current state. He followed her into the living room, his eyes never leaving hers. The rain had left a trail of water droplets from the door to where they now stood, a sad metaphor displayed through him for her feelings.

“You said you needed to tell me something? Something about you can’t keep it inside anymore? Must be important to come here after another date. So go on, do tell.” Y/n words barely passed over the knot in her throat, the tears in her eyes miraculously held back. Her arms were crossed over the center of her body and she was standing more to one leg than the other. She was giving Luca a look that screamed, “why are you here when you have someone else”

Luca felt his heart drop into his stomach, his earlier resolve now a distant memory. He took a step back, his hand running through his hair.

“I... I didn’t go on the date. I called it off. Because I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t pretend to be interested in someone else when all I can think about is you.” Luca gasped for air he was talking so fast. “Every laugh, every smile, every moment of connection that they claim to feel with me is a joke. Because all I want is to be with you, to be experiencing it with you, not them. You’re the one I want to share my life with, Y/N. You’re the one who gets me, who understands me, who makes me feel alive. I don’t want to live in a world where I can’t hold your hand, kiss your forehead, tell you how much you mean to me every single day. I don’t want to be just your best friend anymore. I want to be your everything, like you’re my everything. That is if you’ll let me.”

The words hung in the air like a question mark, heavy and pregnant with hope and fear. Y/N’s eyes searched his, looking for any sign of deceit, but all she found was raw honesty and pure love. And in that moment, she knew she had to tell him the truth. The tears began to flow, a river of emotions that had been damned up for so long. But she was smiling, a smile that was a battleground of happiness and sadness.

“Luca, I didn’t talk to you today because I was hoping if I didn’t and the date went bad you wouldn’t come here and get my hopes up again. I’ve been feeling the same way for a while now, but I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to risk losing you as a friend. You’re everything to me, Luca, but I was scared of what would happen if we tried to be more. What if we ruined what we have?” Her voice was shaky, but the words tumbled out like they had been waiting for this moment for an eternity.

Luca’s heart raced with something other than anxiety for the first time the whole day, hope. He stepped closer, taking her hand in his, feeling the warmth of her skin against his cold palm. “We won’t mess this up, I promise you. We have something real, something strong. And if, by chance, we do, we’ll fix it together, just like we do with everything else. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want to be with you. I want to be there for you, not just as your best friend, but as your boyfriend. To hold you when you’re sad, to cuddle with you while you watch tv, to annoy you when you’re stressed, to be the first person you see when you wake up. I want you to wear my jersey to my games and make yourself a jacket for playoffs. I want all of that, Y/N. With you. And I know we can do it. We just have to trust each other and take this chance.”

She knew he was right, they had to take this risk. They had been dancing around each other for too long, afraid of what might happen if they stepped too close. But here they were, their hearts laid bare in the middle of a stormy night. “So…does this make me your girlfriend?” Y/n asked with a sly smile across her face.

“Damn right it does.” Luca beamed.

Without another word, Luca stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a fierce embrace. The cold, wet fabric of his shirt and tie seeped through her clothes, and she let out a squeal of surprise. “You’re going to get me soaked!” she giggled, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.

The tension in the room dissipated like the storm outside, replaced by a warmth that filled every corner of the apartment. They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, feeling the beat of their hearts sync up like they had always been meant to. Then, Luca leaned down and kissed her, his lips pressing gently against hers. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, as if they were both afraid that this was another one of those fleeting moments that they’d wake up from. But as she responded, kissing him back with the same passion that had been reflected in her eyes, he knew that this was real.

They broke apart, both breathing heavily, and Y/N spoke again, her voice still shaky with emotion. “You have clothes here if you want to stay,” she said shyly, gesturing towards her bedroom door at the end of the hallway. Her offer was filled with unspoken promises of lazy mornings and shared secrets whispered in the dark.

Luca’s smile grew even wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling with happiness. “Only if you want me to stay,” he said, his voice low and earnest. He didn’t want to assume anything, not now that the walls had finally come down. His right hand moved to cup her cheek, “if I do stay, I can sleep out here like before. I want you comfortable.”

Y/N looked up at him, the sadness in her eyes slowly fading away. She nodded, her voice a soft whisper. “But I want you to stay with me. I want to wake up next to you, not just in the same apartment. I want to fall asleep listening to your breathing, knowing you’re right there beside me.” She took his hand and led him to her room, the TV faded out into the background as they disappeared down the hallway.

Luca’s smile felt like it could split his face in two. He followed her, his heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. The room was a mess of blankets and pillows, a testament to her emotional turmoil from earlier. He took off his soaked jacket and laid it over the chair, the tie joining it like a snake shedding its skin. She handed him one of his old hockey t-shirts and a pair of shorts.

As he changed, his eyes kept darting back to her, watching her in the mirror. She was so beautiful, even in her sadness. He didn’t know how he’d ever thought he could keep his feelings hidden.

The shirt that was once too big for him, was now too small. “Uh, I don’t think this is going to work.” Luca laughed. He took it back off and tossed it over to y/n. When she put it on, the shirt went down just above midthigh. “I sleep shirtless most of the time anyways” Luca shrugged, still admiring her.

They both climbed into the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under their weight. Y/N laid her head over Luca’s heart, listening to the steady rhythm that matched her own. The rain outside had turned into a gentle pitter-patter, almost a lullaby for the two of them. “Thank you for coming over, even when I said not to,” she murmured, her voice muffled by his chest.

Luca tightened his arms around her, the warmth of her body seeping into his cold skin. “I couldn’t stay away, not when I finally grew a pair and was ready to go for what I wanted.”

They lay there, their hearts beating in a duet that filled the quiet room. The rain outside had turned into a soothing lullaby, lulling them into a peaceful silence. Y/N’s eyes grew heavy, and she nuzzled closer to Luca’s chest, feeling the comforting rise and fall of his breathing.

“Good night, Luca,” she whispered, her breath a soft caress against his skin.

He kissed the top of her head, feeling her cheek grow warmer against his chest. “Good night, pretty girl,” he murmured back, his voice thick with emotion and grogginess.

#cay writes #luca fantilli #lf63 #luca fantilli x reader #luca fantilli fic #luca fantilli x y/n #luca fantilli x you #luca fantilli fics #fantilli #umich fluff #umich #umich hockey #umich fic #umich imagine #umich x reader #umich boys #hockeyblr #college hockey fics

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mononijikayu · 5 months ago

Text

pasilyo — fushiguro toji.

"Yeah…." he admits, opening his eyes to meet yours. "Just… watching you. Thinking." "Thinking about what?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the softness in his tone. Toji hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "About how lucky I am," he finally says. "How lucky I am to have you, to have this life. I never thought I’d be here, with you, like this. It still feels… unreal, sometimes." Your smile widens, and you shift closer, your hand moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It’s real, Toji. I’m here, and so are you."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, Husband and Wife, Parenthood, Husband! Toji, Mamaguro! Reader, Comfort, Fix-It, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Mention of Familial Abuse, Mention of Neglect, Megumi is Such A Cute Baby, Toji Is The BEST Wife Guy;

WORDS: 5.4k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi guys, i'm sorry i've been out and about. my other brother got sick and i've been the one doing much of the his chores and taking care of our younger brother!!! i'm about to write 'thirty-nine' and will be doing another poll for the upcoming works!!! thank you for your understanding and love!!! also @v4ntaaa-w4ves has been waiting for this, so i hope i deliver!!! many thanks <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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AS A BOY, ZENIN TOJI THINKS HE WAS SACRED TO SLEEP. He remembered how it was frightening to even bat his eyes closed as a boy. His father had a harsh attitude about remaining alert at all times. Jinichi was father’s favorite for that reason, he thinks. Toji never slept a wink on those rough days.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have time to dodge the incoming attack. Toji learned from an early age that he had to learn fast, that he had to grow up quickly, and be the strongest. Or he wouldn’t be able to live. In those days, he thinks that he really wasn’t deserving to be alive. And he hated it. He hated it every single day.

Those memories are etched deeply into his mind, a stark reminder of the relentless training and constant vigilance. The Zenin way. He hated the Zenin way. And he perhaps always will for the rest of his life. He feels at times that he is still that boy again.

The fear of closing his eyes, even for a moment, was ingrained in him, the bruises and scars serving as his father's unforgiving lessons. Jinichi, with his ability to stay awake and alert, became the favored son quite quickly, leaving Toji to struggle on his own. To be alone in that pit, alone with those cursed spirits as he cried.

Toji's childhood was a relentless cycle of pain and survival, where sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Where youth was thrown for the greed of power, of strength. He learned to anticipate danger, to read the slightest shift in his surroundings, to become a weapon honed by necessity.

It was a brutal existence, but it shaped him into the man he is today. Toji sighs, shaking his head. Those days were over, they were long gone. He doesn’t have to go back. He doesn’t have to suffer anymore. He looks at you and closes his eyes. He’s here, with you. That’s all that matters.

Now, lying beside you, those old habits are hard to break. After all this time, he still doesn’t sleep well. There were a lot of things that have changed about Fushiguro Toji. But the years of conditioning still grip him tightly, making it difficult to find peace even in the safety of your embrace completely. Yet, as he watches you sleep, Fushiguro Toji feels a small measure of that peace seep into his heart.

Toji thinks that he needs to pinch his arm every morning he wakes up. He doesn't think this is real, living his life with you. It's hard to believe that it's been a few years since you've changed his life, for all the better. He turns to you, looking at your still sleeping form. He sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at you. Every inch of you is a treasure to Toji.

His rough exterior belies the tenderness he feels as he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. The memories of his past, filled with turmoil and struggle, seem to fade away in the presence of your serene beauty. Toji feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and peace you've brought into his life.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, careful not to wake you. As he pulls back, he takes a moment to marvel at how perfectly you fit into his arms, how natural it feels to have you by his side. It's a stark contrast to the solitary life he once led, filled with danger and loneliness.

Toji's hand finds yours beneath the covers, and he intertwines your fingers, feeling the warmth and reassurance of your touch. He knows he's not dreaming, that this is his reality now, a reality he never thought he deserved but one he cherishes deeply.

Toji thinks that his hands are soaking wet, or maybe he’s just feeling it, like a river overflowing with summer rain’s tears falling from the sky. He’s overwhelmed with relief that he could be with you, that he lives a life like this, free from grief and pain. It’s always been like this since you both met.

Toji can pinpoint that exact moment when he first looked at you, the spark that burst inside him. It was your smile—that’s the thing that made him feel alive. Even now, as you sleep, you smile so beautifully. When you smile, Toji thinks the world becomes a better place. It becomes a wonder. And he lives it, every day. And he loves it.

He brushes the hair from your face and takes a languid sigh. If he were to have the words to speak, he thinks they wouldn’t be enough. The words existing wouldn’t be enough to capture the wonder he’s found in you. How his body aches to never be apart from you. How in every breath he takes, he cannot help but look at you. Even when he’s at work, he ends up thinking of you. Of wanting you. Of longing to be with you.

And now that you’ve given him the world, the blessings of life in the form of your dearest son, Megumi, he thinks that everything he feels for you has multiplied tenfold. He never imagined he could feel this way, so completely and utterly devoted. But here he is, holding onto this life, this love, with everything he has.

Toji’s chest tightens with emotion as he gazes at you, feeling a mixture of awe and contentment. You’ve transformed his world, filling it with light and joy he never thought possible. And now, with Megumi, that love has only deepened, rooting itself firmly in his heart.

He knows that no words could ever fully express what you mean to him, but every day, he’ll show you. He’ll show you in the way he holds you, the way he cherishes each moment, the way he dreams of growing old by your side. Because with you, Toji has found everything he never knew he needed, and he’ll spend the rest of his life loving you as fiercely as he does now.

Toji's thoughts are interrupted by the subtle shift in your breathing as you slowly wake. He watches as your eyelids flutter open, and a sleepy smile spreads across your face when you see him. That smile—the one that always melts his heart, no matter how many times he's seen it.

"Good morning," you murmur, your voice soft and warm, like the first light of dawn.

Toji leans in, his hand still gently brushing your hair back. "Good morning to you." he replies, his voice low and tender. He can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth as he looks at you, his heart swelling with emotion.

You reach up, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the contact. "You’ve been awake for a while." you say, a knowing look in your eyes.

"Yeah…." he admits, opening his eyes to meet yours. "Just… watching you. Thinking."

"Thinking about what?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the softness in his tone.

Toji hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "About how lucky I am, y'know?" he finally says. "How lucky I am to have you, to have this life. I never thought I’d be here, with you, like this. It still feels… unreal, sometimes."

Your smile widens, and you shift closer, your hand moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It’s real, Toji. I’m here, and so are you."

"I know." he murmurs, his hand coming to rest over yours, holding it against his chest. "But sometimes… It feels like a dream. A good dream. One I don’t ever want to wake up from."

"You won’t," you assure him, your voice filled with gentle certainty. "We’re in this together, for the long haul. You, me, and Megumi. We’re a family."

The mention of Megumi brings a softness to Toji’s expression that only you’ve ever seen. "Our family," he echoes, the words filling him with a deep sense of fulfillment.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and Toji melts into it, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he deepens the kiss just slightly, savoring the moment. When you pull back, your eyes meet his, and there’s a warmth there that makes his chest tighten with emotion.

"I love you, babe." you whisper, your voice carrying all the sincerity in the world.

"I love you too." Toji replies, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I can ever say."

You smile again, and Toji feels that familiar spark ignite in his chest, the one that started it all. He knows, deep down, that with you, he’s found something he never thought he deserved. And he’ll do everything in his power to keep it, to keep you, for as long as he lives.

As the morning light filters into the room, bathing you both in its gentle glow, Toji feels a profound sense of peace settle over him. This is his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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TOJI THINKS THAT HE REMEMBERS YOUR WEDDING BEST. You walked slowly towards Toji then. It was a simple wedding, just you, him, and a handful of close friends. The sun was warm against your skin, the air filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the soft hum of nature. Toji stood at the altar, looking almost out of place in his crisp suit, his hands clenched at his sides as he watched you approach.

He had wanted to wait. If he was being honest, you deserved the best wedding. He had spent nights thinking about it—how you deserved the most beautiful flowers, the most stunning dress, the most exquisite ring. The thought of giving you anything less than perfection had gnawed at him.

But you didn’t care. The grand ceremony, the extravagance—none of it mattered to you. When he voiced his concerns, you had smiled, taking his hand in yours, your voice soft but firm.

“It’s okay, Toji. I don’t need all of that. I don’t want all of that. I just want you. Only you.”

He had looked at you then, his heart clenching at the sincerity in your eyes. “Are you sure?” he had asked, his voice rough with uncertainty. “You deserve so much more.”

But you only shook your head, your smile unwavering. “This is more than enough for me. You’re more than enough for me.”

And so, he waited by the priest, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you walk down the long aisle towards the church altar—and towards him. You wore a simple sundress, the fabric flowing around you as you moved, your hair loose and catching the sunlight. To him, you looked more beautiful than any bride he had ever seen.

As you neared, he could see the happiness radiating from your face, your eyes bright with joy. The closer you got, the more he could feel the tension easing from his shoulders, replaced by a warmth that spread through his chest.

When you finally reached him, your hand slipping into his, you looked up at him with a grin that made his heart stutter. “I’m here!” you said softly, your voice filled with a quiet assurance.

He could hardly speak, his throat tight with emotion. “You’re really sure about this?” he asked one last time, his voice a hushed whisper meant just for you. “About…me?”

You laughed then, a light, melodious sound that seemed to echo through the quiet church. “Toji, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you. That’s all that matters.”

And with those words, everything fell into place. The doubts, the worries—they melted away in the warmth of your gaze. Toji felt something deep within him shift, a spark of realization that this was real, that you wanted him—just as he was.

The ceremony passed in a blur, your vows exchanged with soft smiles and whispered promises. When the priest finally pronounced you husband and wife, Toji didn’t wait for permission. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his heart pounding against his chest. You giggled, your arms wrapping around his neck as he buried his face in your hair, breathing in the scent of you.

“I’m never letting you go, hm?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. The weight of his words hung in the air, a promise and a vow all in one.

“I’m not going anywhere.” you replied softly, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’m yours, Toji. Always.”

And years later, as he watches you sitting there, holding your son Megumi in your arms, he knows he was right not to let go. You and Megumi—the two of you are the epitome of all the blessings he has in his life. The only blessings he’ll ever want.

He sees you notice him from across the room, your face lighting up with that same smile that first drew him to you. “Good morning to you, babe.” you greet him, your voice warm and welcoming.

You lean down, gently encouraging Megumi, who’s nestled in your arms, to greet his father. “Say good morning to Daddy, Megumi.”

Megumi, still sleepy-eyed, blinks up at him before mumbling little incoherent noises back at his father. Each and every sound ofhis small voice making Toji’s heart swell with affection. He nuszzles closer to you, your little one, which causes you to giggle.

Toji crosses the room, unable to keep the smile from his face as he kneels beside you. “Good morning, sleepy.” he replies, his voice soft as he cups your face, leaning in to kiss your forehead. Then he turns to Megumi, pressing a gentle kiss to his tiny head. “Good morning, little man.”

He wraps an arm around you both, pulling you into his embrace. In this moment, surrounded by the love of his family, Fushiguro Toji feels a deep, contented peace settle over him. He doesn’t need anything else—this is his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Toji sits down beside you, his arms still wrapped around you and Megumi, feeling the warmth of his little family pressed close. Megumi squirms slightly in your lap, his tiny hands reaching out for his father, and Toji can’t help but smile as he gently takes the boy into his own arms.

"Hey there, kiddo." Toji murmurs, his voice soft as he cradles Megumi against his chest. The boy blinks up at him with wide eyes, a mixture of curiosity and contentment in his gaze. Toji can see so much of you in those eyes, and it fills him with a quiet joy he never thought he’d experience.

Megumi babbles something unintelligible, his small hands reaching up to pat at Toji’s face. Toji chuckles, feeling the tiny fingers explore the rough stubble on his jaw. "What’s this, huh? Not smooth enough for you?" he teases, his voice filled with warmth.

You laugh softly beside him, watching the two of them with a smile that makes Toji’s heart skip a beat. "He’s just curious, I think." you say, leaning your head against Toji’s shoulder as you watch Megumi continue his investigation of his father’s face.

Toji nods, his eyes never leaving Megumi’s. "Well, he’s got plenty of time to figure out all the mysteries of the world." he replies, his voice low and tender. He shifts slightly, adjusting Megumi in his arms so that he can sit more comfortably. "And I’ll be here to help him every step of the way."

Megumi, as if sensing the love and security in his father’s voice, gives a soft coo and reaches for Toji’s nose, squeezing it with a surprising amount of determination. Toji snorts, the unexpected sensation making him laugh, and Megumi’s face lights up with delight at the sound.

"Oh, so that’s funny, huh?" Toji says, his tone playful as he nuzzles his nose against Megumi’s cheek, earning another giggle from the boy. "You think you’re pretty strong, don’t you?"

Megumi responds with more babbling, his tiny hands patting at Toji’s face and chest with a mix of curiosity and affection. Toji’s heart swells as he feels those little hands, so small and fragile, reaching out to him with such trust. Each touch, each small gesture from his son, feels like a precious gift—something Toji never thought he’d be lucky enough to experience.

As he looks down at Megumi, his heart bursts with an overwhelming surge of love and pride. He sees you in every part of his son, from the brightness of his eyes to the way his lips curl into a dimpled smile. Those eyes, so full of wonder, are the exact tenderness as yours, carrying the same spark that captivated Toji the first time he met you. It’s like seeing a piece of you, the most beautiful piece, in the small boy resting in his arms.

Megumi’s laughter, a sweet, melodic sound, is a mirror of your own. It echoes in Toji’s ears, a reminder of the joy you bring into his life every day. When his son pouts—those soft, pink lips curling down on his chubby cheeks in a way that’s both endearing and familiar—Toji can’t help but think of you. The way you’d pout when you didn’t get your way, or when you were deep in thought—it’s all there in Megumi.

Everything about his son that makes his heart ache with love is because of you. It’s in the way Megumi tilts his head with curiosity, just like you do when you’re pondering something. It’s in the way he smiles, a smile that lights up the room and makes everything feel right in the world. That smile, that pure, innocent smile, is a reflection of the love and light you’ve brought into Toji’s life.

He traces a gentle finger along Megumi’s tiny nose, marveling at how perfect it is, how perfect he truly is. And it’s all because of you, his beloved wife. Toji never imagined he could feel this way—that he could look at someone so small and see the entire world reflected back at him. But here it is, in the form of this little boy who’s as much a part of you as he is of him.

Toji’s voice catches in his throat as he whispers, almost to himself, "He’s got your everything." There’s a reverence in his tone, a deep gratitude that he can hardly put into words. "Your smile, babe. Your laugh… even the way he pouts.Megumi…. he’s all you, babe."

You watch him with a soft, loving gaze, seeing the way he’s looking at Megumi as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. "He’s got you too, you know?" you say gently, your hand resting on Toji’s arm. "The strength in his grip, the determination in his eyes… That’s all you, Toji. You are everything that is him too."

But Toji shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving his son’s face. "He’s you, babe." he insists, his voice filled with awe. "Everything beautiful about him… it’s because of you."

There’s a moment of silence as you both take in the weight of those words, the depth of love that flows between the three of you. You smiled at him, your eyes bright with summer love. Your eyes have never been one to view him any other way. Just one look and Toji thinks that he’s fallen in love again.

One more look and he’ll see that you’ve fallen for him again too. Toji leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s forehead, then another to your temple. He pulls you both closer, holding on as if he never wants to let go.

In this quiet, tender moment, Toji realizes that this is what he’s been searching for all his life. This love, this family—it’s all he’s ever needed. And as he holds you both in his arms, he knows that he’s the luckiest man in the world.

"You’ve got your daddy wrapped around your little finger, don’t you, Megumi?" you tease, watching the two of them with a warmth in your eyes that makes Toji’s chest tighten with love.

"Yeah, well…." Toji says, glancing at you with a soft smile, "Our ’gumi got that from you." He leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning his attention back to Megumi. "You’re both pretty good at that."

Megumi, seemingly satisfied with his exploration of Toji’s face. Toji blinks as your son snuggles closer to his father’s chest, his tiny body relaxing into the safety of Toji’s embrace. Toji shifts slightly, leaning back against the couch with Megumi resting comfortably against him. He glances at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that speaks volumes.

"Thank you, babe." Toji says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For giving me this. For giving me him."

You reach out, placing your hand over Toji’s on Megumi’s back, your fingers lacing together. "I didn’t give you anything you didn’t deserve, hm?" you reply just as softly, your voice filled with love. "This is our life. Our family. And you always, always, will deserve it."

Toji gazes at you for a long moment, his heart so full it feels like it might burst. "I love you," he says, the words coming out as a gentle sigh. "Both of you."

"We love you too, Toji." you reply, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, a soft and lingering touch that makes Toji’s heart soar. “Always.”

Megumi, still nestled against his father, gives a contented yawn, his small body growing heavy with the onset of sleep. Your little treasure always seems to enjoy sleeping. But Toji understands. He’s a boisterous baby. It’s hard to exist at times, when you’re learning much about life as you go. Toji glances down at his son, a soft smile playing at his lips as he watches the boy drift off, safe and secure in his arms.

"You’re already such a great dad, you know that?" you whisper, your voice filled with certainty as you watch Toji with Megumi.

Toji nods, his gaze never leaving his son’s peaceful face. "I’m just doing my best, always." he replies, his voice thick with emotion. "For him. For both of you."

As the morning light filters into the room, bathing the three of you in its gentle glow, Toji feels a deep sense of contentment settle over him. This is everything he’s ever wanted—this simple, beautiful life with you and Megumi. And he knows, without a doubt, that he will cherish every moment of it for as long as he lives.

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TOJI HAS NEVER BEEN A RELIGIOUS PERSON. But he thinks that if he has something to thank the heavens for — it's you and Megumi. Because Toji thinks that being with you will always be incomparable. No one has ever been able to make him feel at peace with himself the way you do, like your son could do. The quiet moments you shared together, it was everything to him.

Even just a day out in the park, eating out at restaurants on your days off, or simply sitting on a bench at the nearby playground watching Megumi play—are his greatest treasures. They are the moments when the world feels still, when everything seems to align perfectly, and he’s reminded that this is what he’s been searching for all his life.

At times, being with you makes Toji feel like nothing but good could exist in the world. And he’s happy about that. If he could choose, he would do everything and everything to make sure that all his memories were the ones you had built for him.

Toji holds onto these moments, savoring each one as if it were the last. He always prays that it will stay this way for the rest of your lives. That you’ll continue to find joy in the simple things, in each other’s presence, in the quiet, shared spaces of your life together. He carries that little hope with him every day, tucked away like a precious secret.

Every morning, he wakes up early, slipping out of bed with practiced quiet so as not to disturb your sleep. He heads to the kitchen, the routine as comforting as it is necessary. As he prepares breakfast for you, the smell of coffee and fresh bread filling the air, he recites his favorite prayer—a prayer for your happiness, for your health, for the life you’ve built together.

He prays that this happiness will always last. That you will always be together, side by side, through every challenge and every joy. He prays that you’ll grow old together, watching as Megumi grows and flourishes, as your love deepens with each passing year. Toji doesn’t ask for much from the universe, but he asks for this with all his heart, every single day.

As he stirs the pot or flips a pancake, he silently repeats the same words he’s said countless times before. It’s a quiet ritual, one that brings him comfort and strength. He prays that this life you’ve created together will remain untouched by the harshness of the world. That no matter what comes your way, you’ll face it together, hand in hand, just as you always have.

And every time, he ends his prayer with a whispered gratitude for the life he now leads, for the love he never thought he’d deserve. He remembers the day he asked if he could take your last name, a symbol of his commitment to you, of his desire to be fully and completely yours. When you agreed, with that beautiful smile of yours, it felt like his prayer had already been answered.

Fushiguro Toji knows he’s been blessed beyond measure. He never thought he’d find peace, not in the life he once led. But here, in the quiet of the morning as he cooks breakfast for the two people who mean everything to him, he feels it—peace, contentment, love.

And every day, he prays that it will stay this way. That you’ll always wake up beside him, that you’ll always be together, that the life you share will continue to grow and thrive. Because there’s nothing in this world, nothing at all, that could ever compare to being with you.

As Toji finishes preparing breakfast, he carries the plates over to the table where you’re already seated, your hands cradling a warm cup of coffee. Megumi is in his high chair, babbling happily as he plays with a small toy. Toji sets the plates down, taking a seat across from you. The morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow over the kitchen, and everything feels peaceful and right.

You smile at him as he sits down, your eyes filled with warmth. “Breakfast looks amazing, as always, babe.” you say, taking a bite of the perfectly cooked eggs. “You spoil us, you know that?”

Toji chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Just making sure my family’s well-fed, y’know?” he replies, his tone light. “Besides, it’s the least I can do.”

As you both start eating, a comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the soft sounds of Megumi’s babbling. He sat in his high chair, enjoying tapping the table. He's even excited to eat his dad’s food, small as he is. After a few moments, you look up at Toji, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“So, what do you think we should have for dinner tonight?” you ask casually, your tone teasing. “I’m in the mood for something special.”

Toji raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Special, huh? What are you thinking? Something fancy or just comfort food?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm, maybe something with a bit of both. Like a nice roast or maybe pasta. We haven’t had that in a while.”

He nods, considering the options. “Pasta sounds good, babe. I could make that sauce you like, with the garlic and herbs.”

Your eyes light up at the suggestion. “Ohhhhh! That sounds perfect!” you say, leaning back in your chair with a contented sigh. “But you know, we could always make it a bit more special.”

Toji gives you a curious look. “Oh? And how would we do that?”

You lean forward, a mischievous glint in your eye. “We could have dinner just the two of us… after Megumi’s asleep. A little date night at home.”

Toji’s expression softens as he catches on to what you’re suggesting. He sends you a tender smile. “That sounds nice, babe.” he says quietly, his voice filled with affection. “Just you and me.”

You nod, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Exactly. We don’t get many chances to have a quiet dinner together these days.”

Toji squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We’ll make it happen, don't worry.” he promises, his eyes locked with yours.

You hold his gaze for a moment before your expression turns a bit more serious. “You know… I’ve been thinking….” you begin, your voice soft.

Toji tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern. “What is it?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about us… and our family. About how happy we are with Megumi. And… well, I was wondering if you’ve thought about having more kids.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, and for a moment, he’s quiet, processing your words. He nearly loses his balance. Your eyes go wide as you see him, but he manages to get a good steady composure. He clears his throat, turning to you again.

“More kids?” he repeats, his voice laced with curiosity.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a big decision, and it’s something we’d have to really talk about, but… I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. About how much I love being a mom, and how wonderful it would be to see Megumi with a little brother or sister.”

Toji’s expression softens as he watches you, his heart swelling with love for you. “You really want that?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“I do,” you admit, your eyes shining with emotion. “But only if you do too. I don’t want to push you into anything. I just… I wanted to know how you feel about it.”

Toji is quiet for a moment, his thoughts racing. He never imagined this kind of life for himself—a life filled with love, a life where he could be a father, where he could be loved and cherished. The thought of having more children, of growing your family even more, fills him with a sense of warmth and possibility. Being the father he had always wanted. He thinks that nothing would make his heart anymore fuller. And with you by his side? He thinks he would end up the happiest man alive.

Finally, he squeezes your hand again, his gaze steady as he meets your eyes. “I’d like that too.” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “If that’s what you want, then I’d love to have more kids with you. Nothing would make me happier.”

Your smile widens, relief and happiness flooding through you. “Really?” you ask, your voice soft with hope.

Toji nods, his expression serious and filled with love. “Really. I want to give you everything, and if more kids are part of that, then I’m all in. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy too, babe.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you lean across the table, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. “I love you so much, Toji.” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too,” Toji replies, his voice just as soft. He pulls back slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, pasta for dinner… and maybe a little planning for our future?”

You laugh, the sound filled with joy. “Sounds like the perfect evening.”

Toji smiles back at you, his heart filled with a deep, contented love. He knows that whatever the future holds, as long as he has you by his side, everything will be just fine. As long as you’re together, as long as his little prayer will be answered — everything will be okay. That’s all that matters.

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odiesdayoff · 3 months ago

Text

Kinktober: Jonathan Crane

Pair: Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary: Gotham's more of a nightmare than it used to be and Crane has his sights on you.

Warnings: On the tin. NON-CON (Kidnapping/Restraints/Leashes/Collars/Breeding)

You poured a fresh whiskey into a short glass over ice cubes, then pushed it to another faceless man sitting at the bar. Lights were flashing and the music was a bit too loud for your liking, but money was money and the protection that the job gave you was probably the only reason you were still a free woman.

The knock on the counter brought you from your serving-induced stupor. Oswald Cobblepot. “Hey, sweetheart. Need you to work a double tonight.” He pushed aside the man drinking the whiskey.

“Tonight? Isn’t Stacey scheduled after me?” You washed the shaker cup and placed it upside down to dry. As much as you needed the money, you’d much rather get home before it got too dark and monumentally more dangerous for you.

He sighed, reaching over the counter and pouring some of the whiskey into a free glass. “Got collared. Don’t know when or if she’ll come back.” Of course, the number one reason for the girls leaving the job. Two weeks ago, the bar staff and performers totaled 50. It was now 27.

You instinctively pursed your lips and took a deep breath. The thought of what she might’ve been going through was bad enough, but the reality was the truly horrifying part. Your freedom was slightly stealth, but mostly luck. “By who?”

“Firefly. I should have you all escorted home before these schlemiels steal all my girls.” He finished his drink and slammed it against the counter. “Eh, too much money.”

A few more men sat around the bar while he walked away. Of course he was not one to waste his money on something that actually protects his staff. Too busy spending it on drops and whatever other drugs that he can sell to his customers. Asshole.

Acts as if he doesn’t have a girl collared in his house. You’ve seen her once or twice. She’s pretty, but it was clear that he did a number on her before parading her around the club. “What the hell is wrong with this city?” One of the men finally asked as you handed him a dry martini.

“What isn’t wrong with it?” You grumbled under your breath, starting on the Manhattan for another one of the men.

They laugh, a bit too loud. Clearly, this wasn’t the first bar they’d been to tonight. “No, seriously. Got mugged twice and we’ve only been here two days. All the women are on fucking leashes. Or people fucking out in the open.” He took a long sip of his drink, looking around at the debauchery still happening around the bar.

“You know how most cities have a hero? Ours was killed. Chaos ensued.” You mixed the drink, shaking the bottle. “Basically, they made a whole set of rules that give absolute control to those who fought Batman. Territory, people…you get it.”

The day that the Batman died was something you’d never forget, as if it was your life stopped at that moment the news broadcast was shown on every screen in the city. Nobody thought the Joker would be able to do it. Both Batman and the Joker were natural enemies, bound never to end their feud.

Some say it was a mistake. But the second it happened, he had his plan to create chaos and eventually, everyone else followed suit. Just as his (somewhat) partner in crime, Harley Quinn, was planning on leaving him, he locked her onto him. With the same collar she used for her pets.

He let all of the inmates of Arkham escape, taught them the new rules, and everybody else had to play catch up or try to get out of the city as fast as possible. Especially after the mayor fell. Bella Reál was ambushed in her office by the newly escaped Riddler. Nobody has seen her since.

It felt like the shift lasted forever, but you appreciated the extra tips from the more drunken customers wishing they could fuck you and knowing they couldn’t. It was raining when you stepped outside, through the back where nobody could see. You threw your hood over your head and ran in the direction of your apartment.

It was well known that it was more dangerous than normal for a woman to be out at night. More likely to get caught by a man with a little bit of power under his belt. You were cutting through the alley right outside of your apartment when someone grabbed your arm.

The man yanked you back and pushed you against the wall. “Well, well, well. It’s been a while since I saw a free woman that was this gorgeous.”

His face was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Your panicked state overrides facial recognition. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I have nothing to give you.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if you told a joke. “Let me tell you a bit about me. I fought the Bat more than you can imagine, which gives me more than enough of a right to pin you down and take what I want." His hand cupped your cheek and a finger glided across your quivering lips. "I pride myself as a man with class, so I'm going to take you home, give you a nice meal, then I'm going to shove my dick in you."

You fought against him, though he barely showed his struggle to keep you still. "You're really going to make me do this?" He rolled his eyes and reached into the briefcase-like bag around his shoulder. He pulled out a small leather collar, swiftly bringing it over your head and slipping it onto your neck.

The tightness of the collar restricted your breathing enough to stop you from struggling to save air and he wrapped the connecting leather strap around his hand. "There you go. Now you're on a leash. Happy?"

You spat at him. "No! I'm not fucking happy!"

He tugged at the leash, effectively pulling you to the black car that waited on the curb right outside of the alleyway's opening. You wondered how long he'd been preparing for this moment. How long he knew who you were.

In the defense of Jonathan Crane, he did try to give you a nice dinner. The man cuffed you to a chair and made small talk as he cooked, then fed the meal to you. Of course, you refused it. Nothing could get you to accept this life, no matter how legal it was now.

His rough hands dragged you from the chair to the neatly made bed and he pushed you on your stomach, climbing on top of you.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, slut." He whispered hoarsely into your ear as he pulled the clothes from your body. The fabric of his pants dragged against your skin and the outline of his erection was unavoidable. "Get on your fucking hands and knees."

You had no choice but to obey, afraid of whatever he could do. Other than the obvious. He teased your opening with his leaking tip, then pushed into you without warning. His groans of pleasure drowned out the whimpers and cries coming from you.

He wasted no time in fucking you, taking what he wanted as he called it. His thrusts were hard and full of need. When was the last time he'd done something like this with someone else? Had he ever?

He wrapped the leash around his hand and pulled so that your head was up and facing the headboard. You choked, not that he showed any concern. "Bet you're used to this, huh? Leaving that club every day?"

He slapped your ass with his free hand. "Those days are over. You'll be my little housewife. Cook my meals. Wet my cock. Have my children."

He sped up, desperately chasing his high. He whimpered and laid his chest against your back, pushing himself as far as he possibly could. That's when you felt it. That overwhelming warmth inside of you that you knew could only be one thing.

"Don't think it's over now. Still have to make sure it sticks."

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #odiesdayoff #kinktober

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italiansteebie · 2 years ago

Text

The first time Steve is exposed to subculture, it changes his life. The sneer his mother gives ins't surprising, but Steve can't help but be entranced by the glinting silver on this random man's body.

They're everywhere, in his nose, lips, and when he flicks his tongue out, Steve even catches sight of the shining jewelry in his tongue. And maybe Steve was already 13, practically grown up at this point, but he sees this man and thinks, that's who he wants to be when he grows up.

Unfortunately, that is not how things go.

His mother sees him studying the style of the delinquent in front of them and smacks his lightly on the head. "You have a reputation to uphold, Steven," She mutters through gritted teeth. So Steve hangs his head, and his dreams of looking like the colored haired boy he saw in the grocery store.

So years later, he's still adorned in polo shirts and light washed jeans. He's snuck in some goofy hair, but it's no where near what he'd want it to be ideally.

And here's the thing, he knew his family's reputation was important, but now that he's been denied from every college he applied to, including tech, and he's been lowered to serving ice cream in a sailor uniform, he wonders just how important the reputation was.

He can't help but wonder if he's going to die like this.

Covered in vomit and blood, in a sailor outfit on a dirty bathroom floor curled up to a lesbian, who he thinks maybe his soulmate. Platonically, of course.

"I've always wanted, like- colored hair. 'Nd piercings 'nd stuff. Y'know." Steve said, letting his head fall against Robin's shoulder. "Why haven't you?" Robin asked, resting her head on his. Steve shrugged, "Reputation, I guess. I think my parents would commit homicide."

Robin snorted, "If only they could see you now," she giggles. Steve shifts to retaliate, but can only laugh along with her. Steve nods, laughing harder when an angry looking Dustin and Erica barge into the bathroom.

They make it out alive.

Somehow. But they do.

And that's how they ended up here.

"Rob, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course it is! Look, Eddie is probably the only punk adjacent guy for miles, and he probably knows about all those records you think you hide in your closet."

"You've seen those?"

Robin shrugs, "When there's a box labeled 'do not open' in King Steve's closet, you take a look. It doesn't matter! I'm sure he knows who Iron Maiden is!"

The door swings open, "Of course I do."

Eddie Munson stands in front of them in all his glory.

"Told ya." Robin says, a light sneer on her face. Steve shoves her over, before looking back at Eddie, about to speak before he cuts him off. "I know Iron Maiden, what I don't know, is why King Steve is on my front porch with Robin from band. And why he's asking about Iron Maiden of all things." Eddie looks a bit like he want's to turn them away, but he steps back and opens the door wider, motioning for them to come in.

Once they're all milling about Eddie's tiny living room, Steve starts. "I know you've got this whole," Steve gestures at Eddie, "Metal head look going on and, well. I need some advice. Guidance, if you will." Robin nods along with him. "Yeah, a lot of guidance. He want's to get his nose pierced, but he only has polos."

Steve scoffs at this. "I have band shirts, Buckley. I'm just not allowed to wear them. But no more! I'm fully embracing this side of me."

Eddie watches, slightly amused, "So what do you need my help for?" He asks, eyebrow arching. "I need you to pierce my nose. Or at least tall me where to go," Steve rambles, shifting from foot to foot.

He watches as the metal head mulls this over. Eddie sighs, and shakes his head, Steve's shoulders dropping. "C'mon, Rob. He's not gonna do it, let's just go." He says quietly. "Woah, hey! I never said I wouldn't do it. I just don't uh- Why me?"

"You're the only person I thought could be helpful." Steve admits, watching as a smirk spreads across Eddie's face. "Alright then, big boy. Step into my office."

Steve follows Eddie into the bathroom, Robin hot on his heels, watching in some combination of awe and fear as Eddie pulls out. needle from the medicine cabinet. "Oh shit," Steve breathes. Eddie raises an eyebrow, but moves on. "Stay here while I get the jewelry."

"You okay, Steve? Oh my god, you're shaking." Robin frets, "Do you wanna back out? We don't have to do this." She says, grabbing Steve's hand. Steve swallows thickly, "I- I want to. I just. The needle is really freaking me out. I keep seeing that fucking syringe." Robin nods, rubbing Steve's shoulder, laying her head on his shoulder.

Eddie comes bounding back into the bathroom, "Hey- woah. Am I interrupting? No PDA in the trailer, please." He laughs. Steve and Robin jump away from each other, "Oh ew. He is so not my type," Robin groans.

"Whatever, let's do this Stevie. We're doing your septum, right?"

Steve tilts his head, and Eddie sighs "The one right here," Eddie places his hands on his own septum. "Oh, yeah. That one." Eddie nods, getting to work.

Eddie lies the needle up with Steve's nose, "Okay, breath in," Steve follows, "And breath out," Eddie instructs, and slides the needle through. In a fluid motion, Eddie slides the jewelry in, screwing on the ball and checking his work.

"Alright, we're all done, Steve-o." Eddie says, patting his cheek, before looking up at the boy. He looked a bit pale. "Steve?" He asked, before Steve promptly passed out, flopping to the floor in a boneless heap. "Oh, shit. Steve!" Robin cries, bending down. Eddie freezes for a second, "Oh shit. Okay. He probably just fainted, it happens sometimes. Lemme get him some water." He practically leaps through the trailer to grab some water.

He's back in the bathroom right as Steve comes to, "Scoops! I work for scoops, please!" He's shouting, there's tearing streaming down his face and Robin is there next to him, holding him close. "Shh, Steve. We're in the trailer, remember? Eddie's trailer? He pierced your nose." Robin soothes.

Eddie moves in closer, "yeah, I uh. I got you some water," he says, handing him the water. Steve grabs it with a shakey hand, "Thanks, Munson." He breathes, tears slowing. "Uh. Sorry. I had a long month. Y'know," Steve shrugs, and it leaves Eddie reeling. Was he just going to pretend this didn't just happen? The guy was still sitting on his bathroom floor. "Steve, seriously? Look, just sit here, I'm gonna go call someone to pick us up." Robin sighs, before making her way out of the small space.

"Are you okay," Eddie asks, sincerely, "No." Steve answers, voice cracking as he does so. "I was in that mall fire last month, and the hospital trip involved a lot of needles. I guess I didn't realize they still kind of freak me out." Eddie nodded in understanding. "I get that. I couldn't look at a blue chevy for the longest time cause it reminded me of my dad."

Steve sighed, "Thanks for doing this, Eddie. Hey, uh. How much do I owe you?" Eddie waved his hand, "It's all good, Harrington." He dismissed. Steve shook his head, "No way man, I gotta pay you back somehow." He insisted.

Eddie mulled it over, "take me to dinner?" He asked, before realizing what the fuck he just said, "I mean- fuck. Not- I didn't" He scrambled to his feet. Steve grabbed his hand, "Eddie, wait. It's fine."

"Fine? I asked you on a date. If you hadn't just passed out in my bathroom, I'm positive you would've decked me by now!" Eddie squealed. Steve shook his head, "I- I like both, Eddie. Y'know, boys and girls. And honestly. I'd love to go on a date with you," Steve said, smiling up at him.

"Steve! Joyce's here to pick us up since you died!" Robin called from the living room. Eddie helped Steve stand, and walked him to the living room. Steve leaned a little heavier into his side, "I'll call you when I'm a little less weak in the knees, okay?" Steve said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before following Robin outside.

"Thanks again, Eds!" Steve called once he was in the car.

Eddie couldn't wait for that phone call.

#punk steve harrington #punk steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre steddie #robin buckley #best friend robin #post starcourt #starcourt aftermath #stranger things #steddie #steddie ficlet #best friend robin buckley #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #steve has bad parents

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jintaka-hane · 16 days ago

Note

Hiiiiii 👋

First of all I love your work, and I’m so excited for your New Year’s event! Looking forward to read all the smooches 😘

If it’s okay can I request Penguin for the event pleaseee? Thank you so much! 💕

[Masterlist] Kiss your blorbo on New Year’s Eve

PENGUIN

Summary: You think you’re going to spend New Year’s Eve alone in your cabin when Penguin knocks on your door. Word count: 1000 Warning: x gn!reader; fluff; kissing All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

You know Trafalgar Law isn’t the kind of guy who’s into celebrations. You knew that when you joined his crew, and it’s never bothered you. He more than makes up for it in so many other ways, and you’re proud to serve under his command. But deep down, that night, you can’t help feeling a little sad. It’s your first New Year’s Eve aboard the Polar Tang, and you’re already anticipating that when midnight comes, you’ll be alone, asleep in your cabin.

You toy with the food on your plate during dinner, lost in thought and letting out sighs you don’t even realize. Someone who does notice, though, is Penguin, who’s been watching you closely, just as he has since the day you first set foot on the submarine.

Penguin adores you. He loves your smile, the way your lips curve upward every time you see him, and the way your eyes soften whenever he makes you laugh with one of his goofy antics. But tonight, you’re not doing any of those things. And something inside him tells him exactly why.

When dinner ends, you help clear the dishes, say goodnight to your crewmates, and head to your cabin alone. It doesn’t take long to brush your teeth, run a comb through your hair, and slip into your nightgown with a wistful sigh. Just as you pull the covers over yourself, a soft knock comes at the door, gentle, as if the person on the other side isn’t sure if you’re already asleep.

Curious, you sit up and head to the door, clutching your nightgown to cover yourself more securely before cracking it open just a few inches.

“Penguin?” Your eyes widen when you see him standing there, smiling under his cap with a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“Uh… hi,” he says awkwardly, holding up a bottle of champagne and two glasses he’s probably “borrowed” from the galley. “I hope you like celebrating the new year as much as I do…”

Your face lights up with a grin so big it covers your entire face, and grabbing him by his boilersuit, you tug him into your room.

“I’ll take that as a yes…?” he chuckles.

“Yes! Penguin, I’m so happy!!!” You bounce in excitement and pull him into a tight hug. He tries to return it, but with the champagne and glasses in hand, he can only awkwardly lift his arms. Laughing, you take them from him and skip over to your nightstand to set them down. “Thank you!”

“Oh, It’s nothing,” he grins, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing even more as he realizes just how much it affects him to see you so radiant.

“There's still an hour until midnight,” you say as you place the glasses carefully on the small table, “What are we going to do until then?”

Throwing that smirk of his that you like more than you really want to admit, Penguin reaches into his pants pocket, pulls out a deck of cards, and waves them in front of your eyes.

“Cards?”

“Yes!” you clap your hands.

Together, you grab a few blankets and pillows from your bed and arrange them on the floor to create a cozy little fort. Once you're done, the two of you settle into the blanket nest, sitting cross-legged and facing each other.

“Shall we start?,” Penguin asks, shuffling the cards and setting up two small piles between you.

The hour flies by as you play. It’s turning out to be one of the best nights of your life, laughing with him until your stomach practically hurts. You like Penguin. You like him a lot. He’s always treated you well and ensured you were as comfortable as possible aboard the submarine, despite Shachi’s constant teasing. And having him all to yourself that night feels like a dream come true.

You watch him study his cards with intense focus, catching the mischievous smirk that appears when he has a good hand. And you can’t help but wonder what his eyes hide beneath the brim of his cap every time you catch him glancing at your nightgown.

"Hey," he says, rolling up the sleeves of his boilersuit and looking at his watch. "There's one minute left until midnight."

"Oh! The bottle!" you exclaim nervously and try to stand up, but he grabs you by the arm and pulls you close to him.

"No! There's no time! And shh," Penguin laughs, motioning with his hands for you to lower your voice. "You're going to wake everyone else."

You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh, and both of you lean over the watch, staring intently as the hands move in rhythm with the ticking. You're very close to each other. So close that your head nearly brushes against his cap, and both of you can feel the warmth radiating from the other.

When there are only 10 seconds left until midnight, you begin the countdown together.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven,” you whisper.

“Six, five, four,” he continues.

“Three, two, one…” You smile at him. “Happy N—”

Your words are drowned out by his lips pressing against yours. Your eyes widen in surprise, yet the sweet, gentle movement of his mouth on yours makes you close them and surrender to the tender, careful kiss. But it ends as quickly as it began.

“I-I’m sorry,” Penguin stammers, his blush deepening as he grabs the brim of his cap and pulls it down to shield his eyes. “I-I didn’t let you say Happy New Year...”

You stare at him, your cheeks also a shade of pink, and blink a couple of times, still too stunned to form a reply.

“Wait,” he says quickly, lifting his wrist and fiddling with the dial on his watch to turn the hands back. “I’ll rewind it five minutes so you can—hmmph.”

This time, it’s your lips silencing him as you throw yourself at him. You lean so far over him that he has to place one hand on the floor to keep his balance, and, smiling into the kiss, he brings his other hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss further.

The champagne bottle remained untouched, left forgotten, as your lips didn’t take a single moment’s rest the entire night.

Happy holidays chibinasuu!!

.........................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

#jintaka asks #jintaka stuff #x reader #one piece fanfiction #penguin #penguin one piece #penguin x reader #penguin op #heart pirates #jintaka new year event

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bat-mom-writer · 2 months ago

Text

Big Brother

Reader(mom) X Jason (son)

Summery: Even against Bruce's wishes, reader goes to see Jason. Because, she wants him to meet his baby sister.

Note: I have written a few other posts with Jason, Dick, Tim, and Damian being apart reader's pregnancy, but this is has no part in them.

(I do not own any DC character)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a soft sigh, she cradled the baby girl in her arms, her heart swelling with a fierce love that surprised even her. She knew that Bruce had his reasons for keeping her away from Jason, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Jason needed to see this little piece of hope that had entered their lives. Dick had been her confidant, the one who understood her yearning to bridge the gap between the lost son and the new life they had created together.

The night was cool and quiet as she slipped out of the manor, the baby bundled in a warm blanket against her chest. She could feel the gentle weight of her daughter's breathing, a gentle reminder of the fragility of the world she had brought her into.

Dick waited for her in the shadows, the Robin cycle humming quietly beneath him. He was dressed in his Nightwing gear, a silent sentinel ready to help. She climbed on behind him, the leather of the seat cool against her skin. She held the baby tight, whispering comforting words into the soft down of her ear. The engine roared to life, and they sped off into the night, the wind whipping around them as the city's lights streaked by in a blur.

They arrived at the abandoned warehouse that served as a makeshift base for the Red Hood. Dick knew the location from his patrols, and the tension between him and Jason was palpable every time he had to report back to Bruce. Her heart raced as they approached, the baby's eyes wide with curiosity at the new sounds and sensations of Gotham's underbelly. The building loomed before them, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the dark.

Dick cut the engine and they both dismounted, the silence of the night wrapping around them like a cloak. He turned to her, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "He's here?" she murmured, her eyes searching his for reassurance.

Dick nodded. "I've been tracking his signal."

They moved cautiously through the shadows, the baby's eyes now drooping with sleep. She felt a surge of adrenaline as they approached the warehouse door, the metal cold and unyielding under her hand. Dick pushed it open a crack, peering inside before giving her the all-clear. The space was dimly lit, the only sound the distant echo of footsteps on concrete. They stepped inside, the smell of damp earth and metal filling their nostrils.

"Well, well, well," a voice called out, a sardonic tone that sent chills down her spine. "What do we have here? Come back for round two?"

Jason Todd was atop the rail of a catwalk high above, the red of his hood stark against the dark backdrop. Dick stepped in front, a protective shield between Avilasa and the Red Hood.

"Jason," she called softly, her voice echoing in the vast space.

He leaned over the railing, the red lenses of his mask glinting in the sparse light. "What is this, a new tactic from the Dark Knight?" He smirked, his tone laced with skepticism. "Using my own mother to distract me? Did he think I wouldn't see through this?"

Ignoring his jab, she calls out. "Jason, please, come down. I have… someone, I want you to meet."

Jason's smirk faltered for a moment, his curiosity piqued despite his suspicion. He dropped from the railing in a graceful arc, landing lightly on the floor below. Dick took a step back, allowing her to come forward. She gently unwrapped the baby from her blanket, revealing her tiny, peaceful face.

"This is your sister," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Jason's eyes widened, the sarcasm draining from his voice. He stared at the baby, his gloved hands clenching into fists. The room was still except for the soft, rhythmic cooing that filled the space.

"Leave," he said to Dick, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dick hesitated, glancing back at her. She gave him a small nod, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's okay," she mouthed. He reluctantly backed away, retreating into the door.

Jason approached slowly, his boots echoing on the cold ground. His gaze remained fixed on the baby as he stopped in front of her, his posture tense. "How long?"

"A few weeks," she replied, her voice a soft whisper. "We named her… Melilla."

Jason's gaze flickered to her, before returning to the baby. He reached out a gloved hand, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. His fingertip brushed against Melilla's cheek, and she responded with a tiny yawn, stretching her minuscule hand out towards him. The sight was so innocent, so human, that it seemed to disarm him for a moment.

But then, as if sensing the tension or the presence of the masked man before her, Melilla's eyes fluttered open and she began to wail, her cries piercing the stillness of the warehouse. Her heart sank as Jason's hand retreated, his posture stiffening again. The whites of his mask remained fixed on the baby, his jaw clenched.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her own eyes brimming with tears. "I just wanted you to see her."

"See me," Jason corrected, his voice gruff as he reached up the helmet that covered his face. "You want her to see me."

With trembling hands, he pulled the mask away, revealing a face that was a mirror to Dick's, yet etched with pain and anger that no one could miss. The room grew quieter as the baby's cries subsided into sniffles, seemingly aware of the shift in the air. She felt a knot form in her stomach as she stared at the face she had not seen in years, the face of the boy she had once known as her son, now a man cloaked in a life of vengeance.

Jason's eyes searched the baby's face, looking for some semblance of the family he had lost, the warmth he had once known. The baby looked back at him, her eyes wide with curiosity, and for a brief moment, she saw something in Jason's gaze that she hadn't seen in years: vulnerability. He leaned closer, his breath misting in the cold air as he studied Melilla, the soft curve of her nose, the tiny hands that clutched at the air.

"She's… beautiful," he murmured, his voice raw with emotion.

Avilasa felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Yes, she is," she said, her own voice thick with unshed tears.

Jason leaned closer, his eyes never leaving the baby's face. "She's got Bruce's stupid blue eyes," he murmured, a hint of affection in his tone despite the gruffness. A small, genuine chuckle escaped his lips, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the boy he once was.

His hand hovering over the baby's head as if unsure of what to do next. She took a deep breath and offered Melilla to him. "Hold her," she whispered.

Jason looked up, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since she had revealed her true identity. There was a flicker of something in those green eyes, a question, a plea. "Me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

She nodded, her own eyes shimmering with hope. "Please, Jason."

He took another step, his hands moving as if in a dream, and carefully took the baby from her arms. Her tiny body fitting perfectly into the cradle of his broad chest. The sight was surreal, the infamous Red Hood holding a newborn with such tenderness.

"Hey, hey there," he murmured, his voice soft and unrecognizable. "It's alright, it's okay, your big brother's got you."

As Melilla quieted in his arms, Jason's rough exterior melted away, revealing the gentle soul he had buried deep beneath the anger and the mask. He cradled her, his large, scarred hands surprisingly gentle as they supported her tiny frame. The baby blinked up at him, her eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

The baby girl's tiny hand reached out, her fingers grabbing at the air before finding purchase on the soft fabric of his shirt. Jason stilled, his heart racing as he felt her warmth and the weight of her trust. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. He looked up at his mother, searching her eyes for some clue as to what he should do next.

"You're… you're good at this," she said, her voice filled with a mix of wonder and hope.

Jason grunted in response, his eyes looking back to Melilla's face. He had held many things in his life, weapons of all shapes and sizes, but nothing had ever felt so fragile and so precious. His thumb brushed against her cheek, and she gurgled, her tiny hand gripping his shirt even tighter.

"I would love to spoil you rotten, you little squirt," he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that seemed to melt the ice around his heart.

She watched as Jason held Melilla, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Bruce is already given her more toys than either of us know what to do with," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. The thought of Bruce Wayne, the stoic and brooding Dark Knight, playing the role of a doting father was a sight she had not yet seen, but she knew it was true.

Jason scoffed. "Well, that's his way, I guess." He paused, looking down at the baby in his arms. "Can't wait for the day she brings home boyfriends," he said with a wry smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he imagined the look on Bruce's face.

She couldn't help but laugh, a warm sound that filled the cold, empty space. "Oh, trust me," she said, shaking her head. "You're not the only one he'll have to worry about."

Jason looked at her, a hint of surprise in his eyes. It had been so long since he had heard her laugh, and it was like a balm to the ragged edges of his soul. The sound was soothing, reminding him of happier times, of a home that had been ripped away from him.

"I guess we're all in this together, then," he said, his voice a little less gruff. He studied Melilla, her eyes blinking slowly as she stared up at him. He had killed for vengeance, destroyed lives for justice, but never before had he felt so responsible for one so small and pure. It was a feeling that shook him to the core.

"Thank you," he murmured, looking at her. "For showing her to me."

The words hung in the air, filled with a weight that neither of them could fully comprehend. It was the first real acknowledgment of their shared past, of the love that had once bound them together as a family. Her eyes searched Jason's, seeing the turmoil behind the mask, the struggle to reconcile the man he had become with the boy he once was.

"Thank you for not pushing us away," she repeated, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart.

Without a word, Jason pulled her into a tight embrace, the Melilla nestled between them. His arms, usually so firm and unyielding, wrapped around them with surprising gentleness. She felt his warmth seep through the layers of their costumes, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he held them. Melilla cooed, a tiny sound that seemed to mend the years of silence and anger between them.

"I love you, Mom," Jason whispered into her hair, his voice cracking with the weight of his unspoken regrets.

She eyes filled with tears, and she hugged him back with all the strength she had. "I love you too, Jason," she murmured, feeling the warmth of his embrace. The baby squirmed in their tight embrace, a tiny reminder of the life that connected them all.

They stood like that for a long moment, a silent apology and acceptance passing between them. Then, with a heavy sigh, Jason pulled away. He gently handed Melilla back to her, his eyes lingering on her tiny face. "I can't stay," he said, his voice gruff. "But I won't forget this… Or her."

She nodded, her own eyes filled with understanding. "We'll come again," she promised, her voice firm. "This doesn't have to be the last time."

Jason gave a small nod, the light in his eyes fading slightly. "Just… keep her safe," he said, his gaze lingering on Melilla. "Promise me."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "With all my heart," she vowed, her voice strong despite the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

Jason leaned in and kissed her forehead, the gesture so unexpected and tender that she almost flinched. But she held her ground, feeling the warmth of his lips against her skin, the briefest of moments that spoke volumes. Then he turned to Melilla, his movements deliberate and almost reverent as he bent to press a soft kiss to her forehead as well. The baby's eyes widened in surprise, and then she giggled, a sound that seemed to echo in the cavernous warehouse, a symbol of the joy she had brought to their lives.

"Stay out of trouble," he murmured to Melilla, his voice filled with a tenderness that was as surprising as it was heartbreaking. It was a promise he knew he could not keep, a hope he could not guarantee, but one that hung in the air between them, a silent pact.

She watched as Jason retreated into the shadows, disappearing into the night. She felt a pang of sadness, but also a spark of hope. Dick emerged from the door, his eyes filled with questions and concern. She gave him a small, brave smile. "It's okay," she assured him, her voice stronger than she felt.

Looking back at Melilla, she felt a warmth spread through her, chasing away the shadows of doubt. Her daughter's eyes were wide and curious, as if she knew that she had just played a part in something momentous. Her cradled her closer, feeling the steady beat of her heart against her chest.

#batman #bat family #bat boys #batfamily #dc universe #dc fandom #jason todd #baby sister #bat mom #bruce's wife #red hood's sister #robin sister

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 13: You Made a Plaything Out of Romance

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter thirteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 7.3K (And every word hurts, except the beginning the beginning is nice and then it goes downhill)

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+. This one is sad guys. References to sex, Implied Sex, Nudity (lying in bed with someone the morning after), Brief explicit sexual encounter (it's like one sentence), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: This one took me a while to write, because it was painful. I can neither confirm nor deny that I cried when I wrote it. But I hope y'all hate it as much as I do.

1984

Soft light from under your floral curtains kisses your face as you wake from sleep, your arms tightening around Ben with a happy sigh as the memories of the night before blanket you in a soft cocoon of love and warmth. You had imagined that night many times over the years you'd been with Ben, but none of them compared to the real thing.

A dull throb of pain coats your limbs and body, that serves as a gentle reminder of exactly how you spent the late hours and the early hours of the morning with Ben, but it was a happy reminder. The memories of last night were passionate and more wonderful than you could have imagined. All thoughts of leaving him wiped away by one night filled with love that was all you wanted for so long. Because now there wasn’t a point in leaving, now that you had the one person you’d wanted since you were eight, you’d never leave him ever again.

You can feel the soft drag of Ben's hand against your back, coaxing you into a peaceful glow of contentment. You were laying on his muscular chest, your head directly over his heart, listening to the steady beat, your arm wrapped in an possessive hold over his body and you never wanted to leave. You wanted to exist in this moment the rest of your life, laying here with the man who'd had your heart for so long, finally at peace and finally allowing yourself to show him how much you loved him and how much he meant to you. Apart of you couldn't believe that this was real, and was worried that you'll wake up and the bed will be cold and Ben will be gone.

"Good morning." Ben's voice rumbles up through his chest. He moves his free hand to push back some of the hair that has fallen into your face, a content smile gracing his perfect lips as he allows his hand to brush over your cheeks.

"Good morning." You smile, leaning into his touch, before you press a kiss directly over his heart. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not too long."

"You didn't want to wake me up?"

"No." He murmurs, his hand still stroking your back in a soft smooth motion, that trails sunshine down your spine. "You're cute when you're asleep.

"Only when I'm asleep?" You tease, propping yourself up so you can look in his eyes, your hair tickling over his chest and you're sure that you must look ridiculous, but you don't care.

He looks better this morning than usual, you decide, noting the sweep of his dark hair over his brow and the sleepy haze in his eyes. His lips are a little red and swollen from when you kissed him and you assume your own look the same.

"No." Ben shakes his head, slowly, smiling down at you, and you can't help but kiss him, brushing your lips against his and letting him set your nerve endings on fire. Ben's happy smile against your mouth makes you want to melt into him and never leave, to curl up inside his heart and let yourself be filled with the glow of his love. “How are you?”

“Good, better than good.” You tighten your arm over his chest. “Just a little sore-“ You smile against his lips.

You hadn’t meant it like a bad thing, if anything, you liked it a little bit, but judging by Ben’s reaction to those words you understood that he took it the wrong way.

Ben’s eyes widen, his own smile faltering. He grabs the blanket wrapped around your waist raising it, so his eyes can trace your body to look for bruises. “Did I hurt you?” Ben’s eyes lock with yours once more, voice tinged with worry in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“No you didn’t.” Your hand gently falls on his cheek to reassure him. “It was perfect.” For a second you're afraid you said too much, but then Ben’s crooked smile breaks something inside of you.

“Yeah, it was.” He whispers, turning to press a kiss to your palm.

The look in his eyes is soft, filled with so many unspoken things that it makes you dizzy. He’s never once looked at you like that and you know you’ll never get used to it. Because he’s looking at you the way you saw the elderly couple look at each other all those years ago, when you longed for the same thing to happen to you, longed for a man to look at you that way. And you’re sure you’re looking at him the same way, because now it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to hide how you feel about him. There’s no more frustration or anger, there’s only love that crashes over your head and pulls you out to sea with Ben.

“And It’s a good sore.” You smile sheepishly, cheeks blushing under his gaze. “I wouldn’t mind-um-getting used to it.”

“Oh really?”

You nod, hand still cupping Ben’s cheek.

“Huh.” Ben's smile turns into a mischievous smirk.

All of a sudden he flips you over so that you’re on your back with him hovering over you, smirk more pronounced than it was a few seconds ago. As he does so, your bed makes a terrible creaking sound and shifts to the right precariously on its last leg, literally.

You snort, pressing your lips together, body shaking with stifled laughs. Ben presses his head to your shoulder laughing too, the rich sound of his voice sending tingles down you spine. His eyes shine with laughter as he leans down to kiss you again.

“You owe me a new bed.” You mutter against his lips.

“I think we are both responsible for breaking it.” Ben's hands stroke along your sides, before he drops back down to kiss you.

“Well as slutty as you are I’d think that you would know how to avoid breaking one.” You tease raising a hand to brush his dark hair out of his eyes and Ben leans into your touch. You loved how he responded to you, it reminded you so much of how you felt whenever he touched you, like he couldn't get enough and he never wanted it to stop.

“Did you just call me a slut?” He pulls back with a frown.

“Yes. I did.” You laugh at his sullen expression.

Even when he frowns he's handsome. How did I get this lucky?

"You're lucky you're so cute." Ben sighs. “I’ve broken a few, but I will say I had the most fun breaking this one.”

His words make your heart thud madly in your chest in understanding. It confirms the thing that you had been thinking since you woke up, that last night meant everything to Ben too, that it wasn’t just sex for him. That he wanted to be there with you. And it made you smile wider.

Ben’s eyes are locked with yours, so much love and care slipping through his gaze that it makes you dizzy. “Next time we can break my bed. Just so we’re even.” He finishes capturing your lips with his, the words next time circling on your head on repeat.

You kiss him back eagerly, wanting to be lost forever in the warmth of the two of you together, because it’d finally happened, you’d finally gotten your Ben.

Your fingers scratch against the back of his head softly as you gaze up into his bright green eyes. You couldn’t believe it, after all these years he was yours, your best friend and now the man you love with all your heart. Your entire chest soars with emotion, smile stretching across your face so wide that you knew it probably wasn’t attractive but you couldn’t stop. You were so blissfully happy for the first time in years and you wanted to share that happiness with him the rest of your life.

“What?” Ben smiles down at you almost tenderly, so different than the way he looked when it wasn’t the two of you. One of his hands strokes the curve of your hip to bring your leg up to wrap around his waist the other brushes your wild tangles from your face, tracing the dips and curves of your cheek and jaw with a fingertip as if he wishes to commit each one to memory. He touches you with a reverence that you’d never imagine possible, a gentleness that is so different than Soldier Boy that it takes your breath away, like you’re a marble statue and he wishes to understand your beauty.

You move both of your hands to cup his cheeks feeling the wonderful scratch of stubble against the smooth skin, smile still firmly in place. And you finally say the three words that have haunted you since you were children. “I love you.”

Ben blinks. “What?”

“I love you Ben.” Your heart thuds madly in your chest remembering the past 24 hours when he made you feel special and loved, just how you’d imagined it so many times.

You didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop smiling, ever be able to stop feeling so warm as if you were catching fire.

Ben doesn’t move, his muscles tensing.

“Ben?” You’re still smiling, hoping that he’ll say it back, expecting that. Because how could he not? How could he not and be so caring and attentive? How could he make love to you like that, hold you close, take care of you after, dance with you, buy you a thoughtful gift, and take you out for your birthday each year and not love you? How could he look at you like you were the only person in the world and not feel the same way?

“I-“ He looks at you earnestly eyes soft in the morning light, his touch warm against your cheek, as if drinking you in. "I-" But then the softness in his green eyes is gone replaced by a familiar hardness that makes the warm feeling evaporate in your chest. Ben glances at the alarm clock on your bedside table. “Fuck is that the time?”

“What?” You ask confused by the change.

“I have a meeting with Legend.” He rolls off of you, pulling his face from your hands, and out of bed making it buck and shudder, not embarrassed by his nakedness. It was like he suddenly needed to be as far away from you as possible, and it was like someone dropped a bucket of ice water over your head.

You sit up, clutching the blankets to your chest in confusion. He moves around the room trying to find his clothes where you practically ripped them off his body last night.

“You do? I thought you just had the premiere tonight?”

Ben never scheduled things the same day as a premiere. He liked to spend the early part of the day drinking and imbibing in whatever he wanted so he didn’t have to be sober when he got there. He didn’t like to deal with the reporters, fans, and other people sober. Honestly, you didn't either, but you'd rather acquire a buzz while you were there, rather than before.

But today was different. You were hoping that this time it meant you and Ben would spend the next hours together enjoying one another before you had to go, spending as much time together in bed as possible. Hoping that at the premiere maybe you could announce your relationship, not that the press deserved that, but after all these years you wanted people to know that Ben was yours and you believed that he would be happy to say that you were his. Especially given what he had said before taking you to bed.

“No. I’ve got to talk to him about some shit for that thing in Nicaragua. That fucker Stan is gonna be there-“ Ben walks around the room picking up articles of clothing and refusing to make eye contact with you.

“Are you sure? I thought we could go to that diner on the corner and get some breakfast.“ You try to catch his eye, but Ben turns away as if he's looking for his shoes, hard to believe given the fact that they were sitting in the opposite direction. "You really liked it last time-"

“Sorry baby I can’t.”

The nickname “baby” is like taking a bullet to the chest. Ben never called you that, Sweetheart yes, Doll, yes, but never baby. It was reserved for the other women. The endless cycle of women that Ben bedded and then never talked to again. It was his way of putting distance between them and him and you knew that better than anyone. And the fact that he called you that made uncertainty pulse in the back of your throat. You try to shake it off and try again.

“Oh well. You’re still picking me up for the premiere right? We always go together-“

“I’m not sure how long the meeting will run so I’ll see you there.” He won’t meet your eye as he pulls up his pants, the harsh sound of his zipper like a slap in the face.

“But Ben-“ Your start to say, your heart sinking.

“I gotta fucking go.” Ben snaps.

“Oh, Okay.”

He looks in your general direction one more time, not quite meeting your eyes, and not apologizing, but then he turns and leaves the room, not even taking the time to put on his shirt or his shoes.

What just happened?

When you finally force yourself to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, you see your reflection in the mirror, hair a tangled mass, lips bright red and swollen from Ben, and the prominent mark he left behind in the shadow of your jaw that marked you as his.

As you stand there examining your reflection, the pain of his rejection hits you all over again, causing you to crumble against the counter, hands tightening so hand in the marble vanity that it comes apart in your hands.

You weren't sure if it was a rejection, rather it was the abruptness of how he left that scared you. How easily he slipped back into the façade of Soldier Boy after spending the entire night with you and making you believe that every moment was special.

The memory of last night sends a wave of warmth through your body, goosebumps prickling against your skin. But this time a cold shock of the way he left strikes your heart.

Maybe he really did have a meeting. But then why did he have to leave immediately after I told him that I loved him?

The memory of how happy you were in that moment makes you cry harder, when you told him the one thing you'd longed to for so long, while he looked at you with so much love that it made you feel more happy than you ever had.

You knew that Ben had a difficult time expressing that and feelings in general, but the way he acted last night at dinner and after when he made love to you, spoke greater than that. He had to love you, had to care about you.

Didn't he?

"Indigo over here!"

"Indigo who are you with tonight?"

"Indigo what do you have to say about the rumors of you and Noir being in a relationship?"

The questions are coupled with flashes of brilliant light as you wave and force a wide smile on the red carpet. Tonight Legend had insisted that you wear the new supe suit he had designed for you, the one that didn't require a hood and the only thing that hid your identity was a black eye mask that looked suspiciously like the red one Countess wore.

But you weren't focused on that, or the reporters, all you could think of was Ben.

He hadn't called and hadn't answered any of the three phone calls that you placed to his apartment at the time you guessed he would be home getting ready. You even left messages, but he still never called.

Each minute you stayed away from him you could feel the crack in your heart growing wider and wider. You still didn't understand why he did that, why he left as soon as you said the words you wished to for so long.

You had felt like a weight had lifted from your chest when you said them, wanted to live in the warmth that followed as you gazed up at the man you loved finally able to let him know how you felt.

And then he'd run away.

You'd spent the rest of the time before the premiere trying to convince yourself that it was a coincidence, that maybe he really did have a meeting with Stan and Legend about Nicaragua. But you wondered why you weren't told about it.

Stan had been making such a big deal about it, about what it meant to finally have supes help in the military. Not to mention Stan usually liked having you at those kind of meetings, because you were able to keep Ben calm.

So then that begged the questions: Why did Ben lie? Why did he run away?

As you weave your way through the crowded lobby of the movie theater you spot Ben up ahead, his back was to you, but then you freeze halfway to him. His muscular arm is wrapped around Countess's waist, pulling her into his side so tightly that her free hand is resting on the front of his supe suit in the middle of his chest where you had pressed a kiss to hours ago. He leans down to whisper into her ear and she laughs, before whispering something back that makes Ben's hand squeeze her hip.

All of a sudden you're transported back to your 16th birthday, when Ben showed up with Missy Callahan, who flaunted him right under your nose. But this is worse.

It's worse because you can't think of anything else but last night, when Ben kissed you, held you close, made you feel more loved and appreciated than you ever had. When he made every moment you spent together feel special, when he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

Tears build behind your eyes as you stand there staring at them, all the other patrons passing by in shades of multicolored dresses and suits, with the sound of Countess's laughter echoing in your ears.

When Ben and Countess walk towards the theater you follow, hoping to catch his eye, wishing that he would look at you. They choose their seats in the front row, Countess sitting down on Ben's left, and just as you try to sit on Ben's right, Gunpowder slides into the seat on Ben's right, your usual seat.

"I was actually going to sit there." You say, and this time Ben looks away from Countess to see you for the first time. You wait to see some kind of recognition in his eyes, see some semblance of the man you woke up with in your bed, but you see none of the warmth he had earlier.

He looks indifferent, and the frustration and anger makes tears burn behind your eyes, but you keep them down.

"Sorry Indigo. The director told me to sit here because I'm in the movie." Gunpowder shrugs, but he doesn't quite meet your eyes.

Each time this had happened in the past Ben would shove either Gunpowder or Countess out of the seat so you could sit next to him, even though he hated that you usually mocked whatever movie it was endlessly. But this time Ben does nothing, only sits there.

How can he do this? How can he act like nothing happened between us? How-

The next thought is lost in another wave of emotion that crashes over your head, but you refuse to cry in front of Countess, who is the only one really looking at you. Ben's eyes are on you, but they're cold, unyielding, nothing like the soft clover they were last night when he took you to bed and made you feel special.

"Ben can we talk?" You ask.

"I don't want to miss the premiere." He replies, taking a swig from the glass full of scotch in the cupholder between him and Gunpowder.

"I think this is more important-" You begin to say.

"You should find a seat. The movie is starting." Countess interrupts with a smirk, running her hand up Ben's muscular arm where it lays on the arm between their chairs. You watch the drag of her hand and you feel like the sixteen year old girl in the monstrosity of tulle watching the boy you loved dance with another girl, who made you feel ugly and fat.

You hadn't felt like that girl in a long time, especially not in the last 24 hours when Ben made you feel beautiful and sexy in the best way. The memories of the time you spent together flash through your mind. When each time he moaned your name made you proud to know that you could do that to him, that you could cause him to fall apart, that you could leave your mark on him, make him be lost in you the way that you were lost in his every caress.

Ben doesn't say anything as the commercials begin to play behind you on the large screen, only sits there allowing Countess to touch him.

"Um- yeah. I guess I should." You whisper, swallowing the ball of emotion before shuffling away to find a seat. It's several rows back, in the aisle away from them, next to someone who smells like they've bathed in whiskey.

And damn it all it does is remind you of Ben. Your eyes don't leave him and Countess where they sit and each time you watch them whisper and hear her giggle you feel yourself sink lower and lower into the pit of despair.

Finally when the movie is over you try to chase after Ben, to corner him because you want to know why he's doing this, why he's acting this way, why he's finally allowing Countess to have him the way that she always tried to in the past. The exact thing that he and you mocked her for late at night when the two of you were talking at your apartment. Ben hated her almost as much as you did, or you thought he did.

But he expertly avoids you, like he knows you're following him, given his super-hearing it didn't seem that far from the truth. You follow him through the theater and into the banquet hall where the afterparty is occurring, ignoring the clinking of glasses, the soft music from the band on the stage, and the laughter coming from the people around you who are too drunk already to remember any of this.

Something you wish you were, drunk that is. You didn’t want to forget last night, you just wanted to know why Ben was acting this way. You didn't want forget the way he touched you, the way he felt, the way he made everything else melt away so that it was just the two of you, exactly what you had longed for. You wanted to understand.

Because maybe I did misjudge what last night was, but I couldn't have. The memory of this morning before he left blankets your mind in a cocoon of warmth all over again. You don't look at someone like that, hold them close like that, agree that last night was perfect if it was just sex.

The thought made you irrationally angry.

"Indigo." You hear someone say and touch your arm.

"Huh?" You turn to see Dr. Vogelbaum. He was wearing a dark blue suit, perfectly tailored, with a red tie. Very patriotic, but also surprising. He had never seemed the type to want to come to one of these premieres. "Dr. Vogelbaum, I didn't know you were here."

"I thought I'd come and see what all the fuss was about." He smiles tightly. "Would you like to dance?"

"Um-" You look over the crowds of people dancing in the center of the room. You didn't feel like dancing, you still wanted to corner Ben, drag him away to another room where you could ask him what the hell was going on. He'd never done anything like this before, never iced you out even when he was really pissed off, he'd always find you.

So why was this any different? Was he angry? Upset by what I said? Why would that upset him? You think about how happy he looked when you were laying on his chest and how he leaned into your touch. I thought he’d be happy. He was happy up until I said “I love you.” So why would that change anything?

"I don't really feel like dancing-"

"Please, oblige me. A woman as beautiful as you shouldn't be here alone." Vogelbaum smiles as he pulls you onto the dance floor, ignoring your protests.

You begin to sway back and forth to the song, but everything feels wrong. It makes you think of last night, when Ben held you close and finally kissed you for the first time while your song played. And now this entire night feels like a mistake, last night feels like a mistake, everything that's happened the past forty years feels like a mistake.

He spins you away from him, and as you turn you see Ben. You didn't realize that he was standing on the edge of the dance-floor watching you and Vogelbaum. His arm is still wrapped around Countess, who is practically attached at the hip, talking with another woman in a long blue dress in front of her. You watch his jaw tighten as he takes in Vogelbaum’s hand placement, a dark look flashing in his eyes, but just as you try to identify it, Countess drags her hand up the front of his suit, grabbing his attention, and goes on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear.

How could I have been so stupid? You think to yourself watching him drop his gaze to her and smile. The thought makes tears burn against your eyes. You couldn't understand, couldn't understand why he was doing this, ignoring you and getting friendly with Countess. And you couldn't understand how he could shift from hot to cold so suddenly, how he could act like you were the only person he saw to not even looking at you, refusing to speak to you, acting cold and indifferent. Ben had never once done that to you, had never once acted that way, even when he was mad.

Vogelbaum pulls you back into his chest, but the way his body feels against yours is wrong. "He's quite the flirt isn't he?"

"Huh?" You look up from his tie.

"Soldier Boy." He's watching them over your head, but you don't want to look at them anymore, you don't want to watch Ben with Countess and feel ugly, feel like you weren't enough, feel like the girl who only had one friend and a mother she could never please.

"Yeah." You mutter.

"Legend mentioned that you were thinking about retiring." He continues oblivious to your current state.

The mention of your plan to leave makes you remember it. You hadn't thought about it since Ben picked you up for dinner the night before, when you had been drinking and finally decided to leave, to walk away from everything and do something for yourself.

And now you wished you had. You wished that you had slammed the door in Ben's face when he came to get you last night, wished that you had told him that you were leaving, and wished that you had been strong enough to say no to him. The memories of last night come back to you, how it felt to kiss him for the first time, how happy you were because you believed he loved you as much as you loved him, how he cared about your first time being special-

The tears are so close to falling now that your jaw is clenched together so tight that you think you hear the crunch of your teeth cracking.

"Yes. I'm retiring." You respond.

"Well, if you're looking for a change of pace I might have a job for you."

"I'm not really a scientist-"

"It wouldn't be a science job and I think you should come to the lab this week-"

"The last time I was in a lab, all this supe shit started." You snap before you stop yourself. "Forgive me for not wanting to have that happen again."

"It's not an experiment." He continues to sway the two of you back and forth. "I've been working on a project with Stan and we both thought that you could help us."

"How?"

"Well we've been focusing on the next generation of supes and what that will look like-"

"Next generation?"

"Yes. And I know someone that might benefit from meeting you. I've been working very closely with him and he needs a strong figure in his life, you have some things in common-"

"I'm not interested in being a babysitter."

"Why don't you just come by this week and meet him? I'm sure you'd hit it off-"

"I said I wasn't interested." You pull yourself from his arms. "I'm done with all of this."

"Indigo-" He reaches for your wrist.

"If you touch me again, I'm going to rip off your arm." You force a smile knowing that the cameras are still flashing, and say it low enough so that he is the only one that can hear.

Vogelbaum immediately moves back from you, putting as much space as he can and you turn back to where you saw Ben standing a few minutes ago, but he's gone.

You stand there in the middle of the dance floor for a minute, not sure what to do, so you decide to go to the bathroom to collect your thoughts. And you immediately regret your decision.

Before the door of the bathroom opens all the way you know, call it a feeling or a psychic premonition, but you do.

You wish you were wrong, but you knew Ben better than anyone, or at least you thought you did.

You can feel it in the air, hear the rapid beating of their hearts and the loud moans, smell the sour odor of sweat, but you're still not prepared for what's waiting for you. Countess's hands are braced on the white marble of the sink in front of her, Ben's hand fisted tightly in her hair, pulling her head back to where his face is buried in her throat, her own face contorted in an expression of pure ecstasy, with each snap of Ben's hips as he crushes her against the sink.

The bathroom door slams shut loudly behind you, drawing Ben's gaze to where you stand, your hands clenched tightly into fists, the skin pulled tight over your knuckles. He freezes and for a moment you think he looks sorry, but then it's gone, fading into the hardened expression he's had since you told him that you loved him.

You don't know what to feel, anger, frustration, heartbreak, and rage all form a white hot ball in the pit of your stomach. You have the sudden urge to throw up and also burn the entire building down to the ground, but you can't move, can't look away from where they stand.

"Baby why'd you stop." Countess gasps, reaching back with a hand for Ben, but he steps away from her, to zip up his pants. Countess finally looks over at where you're standing and smirks. "Oh hey y/n. I didn't know you were here."

Her face is flushed red, almost the same color of her hair as she reaches down for her pants and drags them back up her body. The proud look in her eyes makes you snap your jaw together to fight the urge to rip her in half.

“There are private rooms for that.” You keep your voice as monotone as possible, pushing down the heartbreak and the anger that burns against your skin.

“It’s much more fun when anyone can walk in. Don’t you think so Ben?” Countess reaches for Ben, but he shrugs her off.

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you taste blood, trying very hard not to lose control. You prided yourself on that, you hadn’t lost control in all your years as a supe.

Ben doesn't say anything.

“Get out.” You snap.

“I don’t think I will. We were in the middle of something-“ Countess's sultry smile widens. "Maybe you should leave so we can fini-"

Her body flies forward towards you, until her throat is clutched tightly between your right hand. “I’ve never liked you Countess. Other than a flash of light you're pretty worthless. Your powers the only thing that make you special, and I know that you need both of your hands to use them, right?" Your hand tightens on her throat and you know the next day she'll have bruises.

I should just kill her right now. Who would miss her?

She gasps for air, clawing against your hand, eyes wide. She'd never seen you lose control before, never seen you use your powers quite like this, and the fear in her eyes makes you feel better.

“So I suggest you get out. Before I rip them off and make you eat them.” You snarl before throwing her in the direction of the door behind you. She stumbles forward a step, placing a hand against the bathroom door as she catches her breath. When she turns back to look at you, her eyes are flashing with malice, but you can still see the pride under it all.

“Well I’ll see you two later. Hopefully we can finish what we started.” Countess smirks at you, recovering as she saunters out.

It takes an amazing amount of willpower not to drag her back into the room and rip her head off.

Ben adjusts his suit, not meeting your gaze. And for a second you think he looks guilty, but it’s gone as soon as you see it. His ridiculous helmet is laying on the floor next to him, probably took it off before-

Your jaw clenches together remembering what you walked in on.

“Ben why are you doing this?” You say, composing your voice as much as you can. You force yourself to look him in the eye, you want him to see how hurt you are.

“Doing what?” He crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.

"You’re pushing me away, avoiding me, and acting like last night didn’t mean anything-"

"It didn’t.” He states. Ben's jaw is clenched tight, shoulders tense, as he begins to slip back into the façade of Soldier Boy that he adopted after you both got the serum.

Tears burn against your eyes at his sharp tone. You let out a shaky breath. "I don’t believe you. You don’t act that way, kiss me, hold my hand, make love like that and then pretend it never happened.”

“We didn’t make love, we fucked.” He snaps eyes blazing. “Don’t turn this into something that it’s not.”

“I’m not just talking about the sex. I’m talking about dinner, the dancing, remembering my birthday, getting me pearls because you remembered I lost mine, the fact that you had them play the song we danced to when we were 18-“

“So?”

“Why are you acting like you didn’t do any of those things?”

“I’m not saying I didn’t do them. I’m saying that you’re being damn hormonal and reading into it.”

“I’m not being hormonal!” You snap. “Are you really telling me that you did all of those things just to get into my pants and that you don’t feel anything for me? That what I said to you this morning meant nothing to you? After everything we’ve been through-“

“Everything we’ve been through?” Ben spits, suddenly angry. “All I know is for the last 40 years you’ve been getting in my way. You think I care about you? I don’t care about anyone! I’m Soldier Boy. I’m America’s first fucking superhero. And I could never care about someone like you. You’re pathetic. You’re always here, fucking with my decisions, following me around like a fucking lovesick puppy, standing in my damn way with those fucking stars in your eyes, trying to remind me of who I was before and I wish you would just fuck off!”

Your own anger surges up to push away the heartbreak at his harsh words. “You say that I’m always here, but it was your idea for us to do this. You did this to me Ben. I’m here because you wanted me to be, because you needed me. And it’s you that keeps showing up at my apartment. I don’t make you come over!”

The memory of the night he asked you to come with him rises at the back of your mind. You remember how happy you were to go with him because you thought it was as close as he would get to admitting that he loved you, and you had hoped that if you went with him it meant that he wanted to be more. You were not remembering wrong, you remembered exactly what he said that night, you knew that he acted like he needed you. So why was he lying now?

“I never wanted you here.” He takes a step forward, green eyes hardening. “I don’t fucking need you or anyone else. I’m not a pussy. I’m a man.”

Your teeth clench together in anger and frustration. “I don’t believe you. You say that you know all my tells when I’m lying, but I know yours too. So just tell me the truth!”

“That is the fucking truth. Are you too stupid to understand that? I don’t care about you, I never have!”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

Ben freezes.

“I didn’t initiate that kiss, you kissed me! You were the one that started whatever the hell happened last night!”

“So?”

“You’ve heard me talk about what I want. You addressed it at the table last night. You know that I want more than one night, you know that I want love, that I was willing to leave to find those things. I was ready to walk away from all of this Ben and then you fucked with my head. Did you kiss me and do those things because you thought it would keep me here with you? Because you can’t stand the thought of being alone?”

“I wouldn’t give a single fuck if you left. If you want to go then go. I won’t miss you and I’m not stopping you.”

“I don’t believe you and I don’t understand why you’re doing this, why you’re trying to push me away and act like you don’t care about me-" You shake your head in frustration.

Ben advances on you, grabbing your shoulders so tightly you know there will be bruises. Ben never touched you when he was angry, sure he’d stare you down, but Ben never did anything to harm you. It’s why you were never afraid of him, because Ben didn't want to hurt you. Even this morning you remember how worried he'd looked when you said you were sore, when he thought that it mean he hurt you. Ben cared about you. You knew he did.

But for him to do this was shocking and you can’t fight the shudder of fear that creeps along your spine.

“You mean nothing to me.” He growls. “You’re just another woman with a warm pussy. That’s all you are. I fucked you because you needed someone to and I thought it might as well be me. I don’t care about you. I never did. And I could never love some one like you. So get the fuck out of my way.” Ben pushes you from him so harshly that you fall back against the wall.

The memory of what your mother shouted at you the night you told her you were going with Ben settles over your mind.

“You really think that disappointment will ever love you? Care about you? You are nothing to him, just another plaything. And the day he finally tosses you away, don’t bother coming back here.”

Your mother's words were harsh, cut to the quick. You hated to admit it, but she was right. You understood that now, understood that the last forty years and all the years of your friendship had been a lie.

Ben didn't care about you, probably never did, he just saw you as a tool for his own amusement, and his harsh words were enough to make you realize that the boy you knew was gone and enough to jolt you into the new harsh reality.

Your hand flicks and Ben's body flies into the concrete wall on the other side of the bathroom hard enough to crack the solid cement. You find your feet, rising to your full height, hands glowing bright purple. The entire room trembles with the force of your anger, the mirrors shatter on the bathroom wall, raining down glass and metal onto where Ben sits stunned on the tile that has begun to crack and split with your display of power.

“That night you came to me I chose you. I chose you, Ben. I left everything behind for you because you asked me to. And I regret it. I regret every moment I have wasted caring about you and taking care of you. I have made excuses for you my entire life. To my family, to society, to your damn team, and to myself. I have stood by you through all of this and I never complained because you were my friend. I was here before and after you decided to take the serum, when your father broke you, when your mother died, when you needed someone to sit with you because you couldn’t take the silence alone, but not anymore. I can’t do this. I can’t be the voice of reason or your fucking babysitter and I can’t be your damn conscience. I shouldn’t have to. You are a man after all, so do it yourself.” The tears are falling freely now, searing against your skin as they trickle down your cheeks. “I tried to cut you some slack because you were my friend Ben, and I loved you.” Your voice breaks when you use the past tense. “But maybe that’s my fault, I romanticized you. I shouldn’t have but I did. I ignored so many things because I loved you but now, I’m fucking done.” You reach up to grab the pearl necklace around your throat, the one that you thought was ridiculous to wear with the supe suit, but the one you kept on because you wanted to remember last night and rip it off, sending the pearls rolling in every direction.

Because now you just wanted to forget it all, forget your friendship, forget the years you spent together, forget all the nights he spent in your bed, forget last night, and forget him.

Ben stands from the ground, brushing off his supe suit and for a second you think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t.

“I can’t do this with you anymore. I can’t stand by and watch you do this to yourself, embrace whatever the fuck kind of person you are now. I won’t. I never want to see you ever again. And the next time you touch me, I’ll kill you.” You turn to go, but then you stop short of the door. “You once told me that you never wanted to be your father, you wanted to be better than him. Funny. After all this time you still became him.” You spit.

You throw open the door and storm out as the mindless drone of people talking, glasses clinking, and buzz of music settle over your ears. But you don’t hear it, all you hear is the harsh words of the only man you’d ever loved and the feeling of your heart breaking in your chest.

A/N: Well this one was very sad and I hate myself for putting the reader through this. Let me know what y'all think :)

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist let me know :)

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#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #jensen ackles #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

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justlemmeadoreyou · 1 year ago

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a misfortune | (mechanic!harry part 1)

Okay, so here is my version of the grumpy!harry x sunshine!yn trope. I had midterms so this got a bit late! Sorry! I don't rhink you waited for my shitty writing, but here it is (forcefully)

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Summary: Harry is a grumpy asshole, but he is also a mechanic that you are in desperate need of. Sunshine!reader x Grumpy! harry trope

Word Count: ~2k

8 hours.

That's how long you've been in the backseat of your car, and chewing on your already swollen nails. All your belongings, from clothes to your oversized makeup bag, toiletries, blankets, bedsheets, and even your electronic gadgets, are crammed beside you on the backseat. Your life has spiraled into chaos because your landlord has kicked you out.

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you recall the moments that have led you to this bleak situation. It isn't fair, which is something you think. That isn't true though. You haven't paid your proper rent in nearly six months, frequently stumbling home at obnoxious hours, blasting loud music when you were drunk and high, and you hadn't even bothered to check the 15-day eviction notice that arrived almost 20 days ago. So, yes, your landlord had every right to kick you out.

You were irresponsible, reckless, and didn't give two cares until you became homeless. With your car serving as an unwelcome shelter, you realize you should have been more responsible. You should have cared more about your living situation before it all came crashing down on you. If only you had taken your life more seriously, you wouldn't be stuck in your car on this cold, lonely night.

It was the beginning of November, and you had so many plans about decorating your small apartment. You had fetched out the Christmas lights too, planning on hanging them out the following weekend. The memory of those festive plans, the warmth of the holiday spirit, now feels like a distant dream.

You wipe away your tears, but they keep flowing. You shift some of your stuff down on the floor of the car to make some space to sleep in. You curl up into yourself in the small space, and after a few more tears, you're finally asleep.

You're woken by harsh knocks on your window. You try to open your eyes, but the sunlight pouring in through the window is so blinding that you have to squint and shield your face with your hand.

It's a man, who looks angry at you. You roll down the window a bit so you can hear what he's saying.

“Could you move your car out of here, please?”

You rub your eyes and finally get a look at your surroundings, and you see that you've basically parked at the entrance of a house.

“Yeah-yeah. I will. Sorry,” you grunt with a raspy voice, and he goes back inside.

You quickly fix your clothes and your hair, and grabbed the car keys from your pocket. Opening the door, you got out of the backseat and got back out front.

Pushing the key in, you turned it, but the engine didn’t start. You tried it again and again, biut all in vain.

Great.

Just fucking great.

Now even your car had given up on you.

You felt like crying all over again, this was all so heartbreaking. You had to get the car checked almost two months ago, when the check engine light had started to blink first.

You pulled out your phone and searched for a nearby garage. Hopefully, there was one that was 2 blocks away. But that meant you wouyld have to push your car two blocks.

You could also call a tow service, but that would take money, and money was something you were running short on.

With a loud sigh, you switched the handbrake on, and got out of the car.

Rolling up your sleeves, you started to push it. The car was so heavy, and you managed a good 200 meters, before you were sweating profusely, and almost gave up, putting your hands on your knees and breathing loudly.

A kind man offered to help, and thank lord he did. With lots of struggle and a good 15 minutes, you were finally able to reach the garage.

Quick Fix Auto

You read the garage name, before lockiong your car and walking in. It was still 8 pm, so you doubted getting any help at this hour.

“Hello?”

You called out tentatively as you entered the garage and walked further into the shop, past the cars and vehicles scattered out front. Hopefully, a second voice would call you back, or you would have had to wait for someone to come in.

“Yeah, I’m a bit busy. Be out in a minute,” the voice replied. It sounded British and thickly laced with an accent. You couldn't help but think that now a gorgeous British guy would see your horrible car, which was also your home, all wrecked up and messed up due to negligence. Bonus points to you for not even washing your face after waking up.

You briefly contemplated running away and finding another garage with an old mechanic. However, you realized you physically wouldn't have been able to do that. So, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the embarrassment and potential humiliation.

After a few moments, he came out, and boy, was he gorgeous. A white headband held his thick hair back, and below that was a beautifully shaped face with green eyes. His tan hands were covered in a bit of grease, and he had tools hanging from his upturned waistband.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and you gulped hard, snapping back to reality from admiring his physique. Boy, was he pretty.

“Oh, um... I tried to start my car this morning, but it won’t start.”

“And what’s the issue? The battery is out, fuel is down?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.”

“Jeez, your breath smells terrible. Alright, let me have a look at it. Keys?”

He extended his hand to take your keys while looking into your eyes. You squinted at him for his rude remark, then handed him the keys.

“You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

He kept walking, ignoring your comment. As he reached your car, he stopped in his tracks when he saw your belongings inside it. He turned back to look at you, and you frowned. Eye bags, dark circles under your eyes, a sad face, and you hadn't even washed your face; you had to rush to get your car fixed. You were in bad shape.

He decided to draw a line and not throw questions at you. He opened your car and took a look inside, noticing that the check engine light was on.

“How long has this been on for?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, about... 2 months?”

He slumped his shoulders and came back out, walking to yhe front and opening the hood of the car. As soon as it went up, a big cloud of smoke escaped.

“Fuck. What did you do?”

He coughed a bit, taking a step back to let the smoke dissipate. You felt even more humiliated than before, but he seemed more focused on the issue with your car than making further remarks about your condition.

“Alright. So, this is not going to get fixed in a short while. It’s going to take atlest 2 days.”

“No! Where will I live?”

You exclaimed loudly, and his eyes widened.

You could book a hotel?”

“I don’t have money.”

“A motel?”

“How will I reach one? Most of them are out of town.”

“Right, so you could still sleep in it at night, but I lock the garage at 11. So, you will have to park it outside.”

She nodded her head, and he still felt bad for her.

“I’m Harry, by the way”

He extended the same grease-stained hand again, and she complied, shaking hands with him.

"I'm Yn." she said.

"There’s a bathroom at the back. You can clean up there if you want to. My staff comes in at 9, so you still have about half an hour."

She smiled at his kind offer. He might be rude and grumpy, but he wasn't a bad person.

"Thank you, Harry. I really appreciate it."

"Oh that's okay. But, you do have money to pay for your car, right?"

You did a quick calculation in your mind, and quickly came to the conclusion that you didn't have even that money.

"No, but- listen to me! My payday is here, so I'm gonna get paid soon. I have to buy few supplies first, and then I promise I will pay you as soon as possible. I'll borrow money from my friends."

"As long as I get paid, I don't care where you get the money from."

And the grumpiness was back.

"Okay! Can I go in?"

"Sure. Be my guest."

You got some stuff from the car and went inside the garage. walking all the way to the back, and finding the washroom. You locked the door and cleaned yourself up.

Meanwhile, Harry took a look at your car.

It was in a bad condition. it hadn't been serviced in over two years, and the engine oil hadn't been replaced in so long. The battery was old too. A lot of work had to be done. and he had no idea how he would manage when you literally lived in the car.

Meanwhile, you were happy to have gotten a place to brush and bathe. Initially, you thought you would have to go to a cafe or restaurant, and brushing and bathing there would’ve been embarrassing. Even though embarrassment and humiliation were your best friends now.

You walked out in clean clothes a while later. and saw your car standing at the same place, with no sign of Harry. You searched for him again, and found him at the back, working on the same car he had been in when you had arrived.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Why aren't you working on my car?"

He slid out from the bottom of the car, before replying, "I have other jobs too. First come, first serve. Plus, this one paid me in advance."

You frowned and flared at his words, and decided to deal with him later.

"So, can I take it, then? I have to go to work."

"No, I will work on it in the afternoon."

"Then how the hell am I supposed to reach work?"

"Many options, by foot, take the bus, order an Uber, Oh! Sorry! I forgot you didn't have money."

He mocked you once again, and this time, you seriously wanted to punch him across the face. Maybe you would, once your car was done. But right now, you have priorities.

"Alright, fine. But my stuff is in the car."

"Chill. Nobody's gonna take it. They might give things to you, though."

You rolled your eyes again, and went back to your car. Why did he have to be such a dick?

Gathering your bag, you stuffed your valuables, leaving only clothes and heavy articles behind. You shifted it to one corner, and draped a huge sheet to cover it.

"Okay, I'm leaving."

And once again, that grumpy asshole ignored you.

(next part)

divider by @firefly-graphics

okay, sorry if this sucked, i really don't know how to write l literally finished this at 2am, so really really sorry

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