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nicoline1998enilocin · 2 months

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PAIRING || Boyfriend!Young!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Pregnant!Fem!Reader & College Student!Natasha Romanoff x College Student!Bruce Banner

WORDCOUNT || 5.6K

SUMMARY || Your life is turned completely upside down when you discover you're pregnant despite not even being together with your boyfriend for a year. Despite this, everyone in your direct circle of friends and family is nothing short of happy for you both, and you're very fortunate to have such a strong support system around you during this time in your life.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || No powers AU. College AU. Pregnancy AU. Future Dad!Tony Stark. Established relationship. Use of nicknames. No use of Y/N.

WARNINGS || Pregnancy. Positive pregnancy test. Pregnancy reveal. Sonogram. Finding out the gender/gender reveal. Swearing.

SMUT || Pregnancy kink. Lactation kink. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Praise. Teasing. Nipple/breast play. Grinding. Oral (M receiving). Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). Multiple orgasms. Cum swallowing. Creampie. Aftercare.

A/N || This one-shot takes place during the events of 'A Small Miracle' and will give a small sneak peek into the spin-off of this AU, called 'Fifty Shades of Brutasha'! This story is proofread by the amazing @ccbsrmsf1, and I cannot thank you enough! 💙

A/N 2.0 || This is my last fic for the next week or two, as I'll take a short writing break! I can't wait to come back after my break with more stories for you all, but for now I won't be posting anything for the foreseeable future. Thank you all for your understanding and support!

EVENTS Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Wild || Free Space Masterlist || @multifandom-flash Compliments || I'll Take That as a Compliment

Photo: Source || All graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark Masterlist || AU Masterlist

"My Love? Can I talk to you for a moment?" you ask as you're seated on the large bed in his dorm. Tony has been working behind his desk while you were reading, and you've been mulling something over. You have to talk to someone about it. Thank God the person you trust more than anyone is in the room with you.

"Of course, Sunshine. What's on your mind?" he asks as he turns around and wheels his desk chair towards the bed. He gives you a reassuring smile, but it quickly falls when the following words come out of your mouth.

"What would you do if I get pregnant?" you ask him with a straight face, and you have never seen someone's expression change that fast. He goes from confused to concerned in about 10 seconds, and before you know it, he's on the bed with his hands on your belly.

"A-are you-" he asks, his thumbs running softly over the flesh of your stomach. His gaze is locked on yours as he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"I-I'm not sure, actually. I might be..." you say as your voice trails off near the end of the sentence.

"Is there anything that has you entertaining the idea of you being pregnant?" Tony then asks with an undying love in his voice, and you show him a small smile before casting your line of sight down to where his hands are on your belly.

"Yeah," you whisper, your hands finding their place beside his.

"If you are pregnant, I would welcome them with open arms. I know that our situation is far from ideal right now to have a baby, but if you are, I will do anything in my power to ensure they have all the care and love from us they could have," Tony tells you, and you can't help but tear up a little at his words.

"I think we should do a test before we do anything else," you offer up, and Tony chuckles because he knows you're right. He tends to go overboard when he's excited, so you definitely need to pull the brakes a bit.

"Yes, you're right, sorry," Tony says as he lets out a nervous chuckle, his hands running through his hair as he thinks about possibly becoming a Dad.

Almost an hour has passed since you first mentioned the possibility of being pregnant, and you're standing in the bathroom with your boyfriend's arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as you both wait for the timer to go off. Your heart feels like it will burst out of your chest as time passes, your nerves making you tremble in your boyfriend's hold.

"It's going to be okay, Sunshine. No matter the outcome, we'll be okay," Tony whispers in your hair. Now that there's a genuine possibility that you might be pregnant, he is secretly hoping for it to be true. Timing may not be on your side, but he doesn't care. He knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, which also fits into that picture.

You get startled as the timer goes off, and Tony quickly releases you so you can pick up the test. It's lying upside down so you can both find out simultaneously, and there it is: the result of your test is loud and clear.

You're pregnant.

"I- I can't believe- I'm pregnant, Tony! We're having a baby!" you say excitedly as tears run down your cheeks and a burst of nervous laughter bubbles up in your throat. Tony can't help but shed tears as well, as he will have a family with the woman he loves - you.

"We're going to have a baby, Sunshine! A baby! I can't believe it, oh my god!" he says as he holds your face in his hands, and his lips crash on yours instantly to celebrate the test's positive result.

"I love you, Tony, oh my god, I love you so fucking much," you say between your happy tears and hiccups that keep interrupting you, but the main feeling you have is pure joy. You never thought you'd become a Mom at this age - you at least thought you would have finished college first -but now that it's happening, it's like you're on cloud nine with your boyfriend and your baby.

"I love you so much, Sunshine, God I'm so fucking lucky. I'm the luckiest man on earth!" he says as he falls on his knees and lifts your shirt until your belly is exposed, and he peppers it with soft kisses.

"And I love you too, little Munchkin; I cannot wait to meet you," he whispers between tears, your stomach wet from them, but you don't care. You're enjoying that you're pregnant now and growing a tiny human inside you.

"I love you both so much," Tony says before kissing your belly and getting back up. As the initial shock dies down a little, you can start thinking straight, and the situation begins to sink in. Tony gently cups your cheeks again, his thumbs softly rubbing over the tear tracks on your cheeks.

He leans in to give you a soft, small kiss that instantly makes you want more, but he doesn't give it to you yet. Instead, he smiles as he looks into your eyes while you look up at him, his eyes glimmering with hope.

"Let's make love together, Sunshine; I want to celebrate our baby by doing nothing but making soft, slow, and sweet love to you for the foreseeable future," Tony whispers as he nudges your nose with his, and your breath hitches in your throat at his words. You nod, and he allows his hand to drop to interlace it with yours.

Tony takes a seat on the edge of the bed before pulling you to stand between his spread thighs, his hands softly rubbing over the bare skin under the length of the dress you're wearing. Your hands are lying on his shoulders as he leans forward to softly press his face into the flesh of your stomach with a big smile.

"We're going to have a baby together, Sunshine. Can you imagine it? I can't help but hope they look like you," he says as he looks up at you, his dark brown eyes glimmering with excitement.

"That will be a problem then, My Love. I hope they will look exactly like you. I wouldn't mind having a mini version of you running around," you tell him, your smile not moving even an inch.

"Maybe they will look like both of us," he says, and you nod.

"I would like it if our baby looks like both of us," you agree with your boyfriend. His hands move in such a way that he can pull you onto his lap instead of having you standing between his legs, and he immediately captures your lips with a deep, passionate kiss that has you grinding on his lap, where you can feel that he's getting hard already.

"Tony," you whimper when the fabric of your panties gives you just the right amount of friction, especially combined with the way his erection presses against your sensitive flesh. Your high is quickly building as he keeps working you over his clothed member.

"Cum for me, Sunshine, fuck! So gorgeous when you cum for me," he spurs you on and praises you, which ultimately pushes you over the edge. With trembling legs and feverish kisses, Tony carefully works you through it until you're back on earth again.

"You did so well for me, Sunshine, such a good girl for me," he whispers as he peppers your cheek and jaw in small kisses. Then, he finds your earlobe and nibbles on it to earn himself the cutest of moans from your lips.

He keeps this up for another few minutes before he takes the zip pull on the back of your dress and lets it glide down to expose your back to the room. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as he pushes the shoulders of your dress down your arms, only to be greeted by the fact that you're not wearing a bra.

He gasps softly when your breasts bounce in front of him, and it's now that he's noticing the fact that they have gotten bigger, although you haven't been pregnant for very long yet. It only makes him wonder what else you've been hiding from him now.

"God, they will be so beautiful when they're full of milk, just dripping when they're too heavy to keep it all in. Are you gonna let me drink from them, Sunshine? I want to taste your sweet, amazing milk so badly," he almost whines, shivering down your spine.

"Yes, fuck yes! Want you to drink from me, Daddy," you whine as he takes one of your sensitive nipples into your mouth, his fingers kneading the other breast with careful squeezes, making you squirm on his lap. His cock twitched when you called him Daddy, and he couldn't help but smile as well.

"Call me it again, Sunshine," he almost growls after letting go of your nipple, ready to give the same amount of attention to the other one.

"D-Daddy," you say, biting your bottom lip when you see Tony's reaction. It's enough to almost send him headfirst into his orgasm, but he manages to keep himself together just enough to not cum.

"Love it when you call me that, especially now that I'm going to be a Daddy," he says in a breathy voice, leaning up to capture your lips with his once more. Tony's hands wander from your breasts to your sides and then down to your hips, only to catch you off guard when he's turned you around, and you're suddenly looking up at him while your back hits the mattress.

"That's it, you want to be Daddy's good girl, don't you?" he asks, his voice seemingly dropping a bit when he calls himself Daddy.

"Yes," you tell him, and not even seconds later, your dress has been pushed up to reveal the fact that you're wearing nothing but a pair of tiny, flimsy panties that are ripped off your body without any effort whatsoever. His shirt also finds its place on the floor, and you can't help but ogle your boyfriend's delicious body with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

"It's almost like you wanted me to rip them off you, Sunshine," Tony tuts before opening the button of his pants and pulling down the zipper, pushing them down and off his legs until he's completely bare. His cock is standing at attention between his thighs, and the veins adorning it have you drooling in no time.

"You like what you see, don't you? My little cockhungry slut," he says in an endearing tone, brow quirked and a smirk on his lips. You can never have enough of him and his cock, and you both know it. He decides to keep the teasing to a minimum this time, instead opting to slide in immediately with lots of moans and groans from you both.

Tony lines up with your entrance, his round, flushed tip sliding into your slick, dripping entrance without a single bit of hesitation. Your warmth and tightness welcome him in as you envelop him, your body moving up and down in time with his thrusts.

"So beautiful, Sunshine. I can't wait until your belly is round and showing with my baby. You're going to be the most beautiful mama I've ever seen," Tony tells you. Your back arches into him, your nails digging into his biceps as he works more of his length in. Together with the words he tells you, you're nearing the edge faster than you ever thought possible.

"Tu sei il mio sole," he whispers as he bottoms out, and your gaze is immediately locked onto his. This is the first time you've ever heard him say anything in Italian—you know he was brought up bilingual because Maria is from Italy—but it only strengthens your love for Tony.

"I love you, Tony," you say before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a soft kiss. Tony sets a slow, leisurely pace that has him hitting your sweet spot each time, and your eyes roll into the back of your head every time he speeds up a little.

"I feel you squeezin' me, Sunshine; you're close, aren't you?" he asks, and you nod. You don't need much to fall over the edge, and without saying another word, he brings his thumb to your clit to rub small circles, making you clench around his cock as your orgasm washes over you with a loud moan of his name.

"That's it, fucking milk me! 'M gonna cum so fucking hard for you, Sunshine, 'm gonna fill you up with every last drop of my cum. If you weren't already pregnant, I would fuck you every single day until you were, oh my god. Feels so good when you milk my cock-" he says, suddenly cut off when you land a smack on his ass that catches him off-guard but also sends him headfirst over the edge.

He keeps rutting into you in short, uncontrolled strokes as he rides out his orgasm, all while still being mindful of you, and when he's nearing overstimulation, he pulls out with a groan. As he lets himself fall next to you on the bed, he pulls you to his side, his hand rubbing soothing circles over your exposed back.

"I love you so much, my beautiful Sunshine. 'M forever lucky to be calling you my girlfriend, and now my baby mama too," he says with a big smile, and you can't help but smile up at him as well.

"We're both lucky, My Love, and I can't wait to meet our baby when it's finally time," you tell him. Once you're both strong enough to stand, he pulls you into his shower, where he takes extra care of you, from washing your hair to lathering your favorite soap all over your body; he does it all for you.

While your conditioner is doing its thing, Tony stands behind you and places his hands on your belly. His thumbs rub up and down as he does, and you can't stop smiling.

"What do you hope it'll be? A boy or a girl?" Tony asks, and you shrug.

"Both are okay with me; I know I will love the little Munchkin no matter what," you tell him, and he nods in agreement.

"Though I have already thought of some names, I just never thought we'd get to use them so quickly," you say with a chuckle, and Tony turns you around.

"What are they?" he asks as he cups your cheeks, and you look up at him with an excited reflection in your eyes.

"I'm thinking if it's a boy, we can call him Hudson, and if it's a girl, I love the name Orion," you say softly, and Tony smiles widely at the names.

"Hudson and Orion, hm? I think they're both perfect," he tells you before leaning in and kissing you softly. Your hands are on his waist as you enjoy the moment—just you, your boyfriend, and your baby—nothing more and nothing less.

"How're you feeling, Sunshine? Nervous?" Tony asks as you're seated on his lap, his arms wrapped around you protectively. His hair is still wet from the shower he just took, and he's wearing comfortable clothes while you're wearing one of his football jerseys, which is practically a dress on you.

"Yeah, but I think I'll be fine. She's at work, and she knows we'll call, so I have faith that it'll be okay," you say to Tony, who nods. Your parents aren't in a good place now, so you have decided together with her that you will call her while she's at work.

"I know we'll be okay. She will love the news about our little Munchkins," Tony reassures you, and you nod as you think about the two babies growing in your belly. It has been a few weeks since you found out you're pregnant, and you have gotten the fantastic news that you're carrying twins, which makes you even more excited now.

A few minutes later, you get a text from your Mom saying she's ready for the call—she had an appointment with a client first. You quickly press call on FaceTime, and before you know it, a giant smile greets you and Tony, together with your Mom's soothing voice.

"Hi Buttercup, hi Tony! How are you guys doing over there?" she asks, and you both tell her everything's okay, but you have some big news to share with her.

"Mom, you're going to be a grandma in about 7,5 months," you tell her shyly, a deep red blush on your cheeks as you feel Tony hold onto your belly. It's silent on the other side for a few seconds as the news sinks in with Virginia.

"I- I- I'm going to be a grandma? Are you pregnant? I'm so happy for you two! I can't believe I'm going to be a grandma!" she says excitedly, wiping tears from her cheeks. They're happy tears, but you can't help but tear up.

"Oh my God, Buttercup, I'm so happy for you; I know you've always dreamt of becoming a Mom! Have you been to the OBGYN already, or do you have your appointment soon?" she asks, always being practical.

"Yeah, that's the best news still. We're having twins!" you tell her, and she completely loses it and sobs on the other end of the line, all while you are crying right along with her.

"We haven't found out about the gender of the babies yet, but I have to say, it was quite a surprise to find out she's pregnant, to begin with, but to get two at once is even more unbelievable! It still feels like I'm living in a fairytale if you ask me," Tony says, and Virginia nods, unable to say anything now.

"I love you both so much, you know that? And I am so happy to hear you're pregnant, Buttercup," Virginia says after you have talked a bit more about your pregnancy and visiting her soon as well.

"I love you too, Mom. I can't wait to see you again soon," you say before she has to go and get ready for another appointment with a client. Running her law firm comes with its fair share of things to do, and she loves it with all her heart, but she's also glad she made time for you.

With a last goodbye, you hang up and put your phone on the desk before curling into your boyfriend's hold. Your knees are pulled up to your chest, and his long arms are wrapped around you protectively.

"I'm so happy she knows, and I'm also glad she's the first one we told. She's missing out on so much now that I moved to the other side of the country, and sometimes I feel bad for not calling more often," you tell Tony, who nods in understanding.

"I get how you feel, Sunshine, but you're already calling as often as possible. But the good thing is that we'll be visiting her soon so we can look forward to that," he tells you, and you know he's right. You give him a soft peck on his lips before getting off his lap and grabbing yourself a snack as you're getting hungry again.

"Do you want a snack too, My Love?" you ask, but Tony chuckles mischievously.

"The only snack I want is standing right here and wearing nothing more than a football jersey," he says with a wiggle of his brows.

"Alright, but I will have to eat something first. After that, you can feast on my pussy as long as you'd like," you tell him with a smile and Tony's more than content with that compromise. For now.

You're about 18 weeks pregnant, lying on the treatment bench with your now very much pregnant belly exposed and your boyfriend by your side as he holds your hand. Your gazes are fixed on the small screen, on which you can see both your babies and the sounds of their hearts beating, echoing through the room.

"Everything looks good in there. They are the size they're supposed to be, and they're both developing well, so all that's left now is to find out their gender. Do you two want to know, or do you want it to be a surprise?" the sonographer asks, but you already know the answer.

"We want to know today," you tell her with a large smile. Then you look over at Tony, who's starting to get a little antsy as he looks at the screen.

"You are having—" she stops for a moment to confirm her suspicions—fraternal twins! This means you will have one of each! Congratulations, you two! I'll take some photos for you to take home, and after that, you're free to go!" She says, but you don't hear anything after 'fraternal twins.'

Tony has gotten up and cupped your cheeks before kissing you fiercely through the tears streaming down his cheeks. His world is complete now that he knows he will have both a boy and a girl, which is more than he could have ever expected. They might not have been planned, but they're already incredibly loved by you both.

"Now we can use both the names you love so much Sunshine. We can name them Hudson and Orion Stark," he says, and you nod. Their names go together perfectly, and now your babies officially have their names. Tony eventually lets you go, but only because he has to - if it were up to him, he would have held you for the rest of the day.

Not long after your appointment, you're on your way back to Tony's dorm room, where you spend most of your time nowadays. While Tony drives you two back, you invite Natasha, Wanda, Bruce, and Clint out for dinner tonight, and they all happily agree.

"I'm excited to tell them, Sunshine. Now we can finally tell everyone about our babies without having to hide anymore," he says as his hand caresses your thigh, and you sigh in relief.

"Me too," you say as you look at Tony with fondness in your eyes, a smile dancing on your lips.

"I love you so much, Tony. I'm thrilled to be going through all this with you," you tell him, and he smiles back at you.

"Me too, Sunshine, me too."

Once you arrive at Tony's dorm, you're both getting ready for dinner with your friends and already have the perfect dress to wear tonight. You grab a light blue dress that is wide enough to hide your growing belly, which is ideal for tonight.

Tony opts for dark jeans and a pink shirt, making the combination you two are wearing perfect for your little reveal in the restaurant. As you're putting your hair up in a simple ponytail, you look at Tony, who's getting ready beside you, and a burst of butterflies goes through your stomach as you take in his appearance.

"You're beautiful, My Love," you tell him out of nowhere. The color on his cheeks suddenly turns from a beautiful cream to bright red at your words, as he's not used to being complimented despite you constantly doing it.

"Not as beautiful as you, though. You're carrying our babies, which makes you infinitely more beautiful than I could ever be," he tells you, making you smile wide with his words. A warm feeling spreads through your body as he kisses you.

"I love you, Sunshine," he whispers against your lips before giving a few more pecks, leaving you feeling more loved. As you pull away, you notice the time, and if you two don't hurry, you'll be late, which you don't want.

Suddenly, the way to the restaurant seems to fly by in a blur. You both take an Uber to the restaurant and when you're only a few minutes away, the others let you know they're already there. They have gotten a table, so they will be there once you two arrive.

"I can't wait to finally tell them the good news. I couldn't hide it much longer anyway, but now I'm glad we can finally show everyone about our love," you tell Tony as you're rubbing your belly lovingly. Every chance you and your boyfriend get, you either rub or touch it, especially when one or both are kicking in there.

"Give me your hand, My Love," you say, and Tony does. He gasps softly as he feels one of your babies kick, and neither of you can stop smiling until you're at the restaurant.

As soon as you're both inside, all four of your friends greet both of you with many hugs, and it's always fun to get together. Even though you're just drinking water, the drinks are flowing plenty, and the food is delicious while the conversation continues. That is until it's finally time for dessert, and you look at Tony for strength and reassurance.

"Can I have everyone's attention for a moment?" you ask Nat, Bruce, Clint, and Wanda, and suddenly everyone's gaze is focused on you.

"Tony and I have some wonderful news to share with you all, which is why we brought you here today. As of today, we have found out we're having fraternal twins because I'm pregnant!" you say excitedly, and Nat and Wanda immediately hang around your neck to hug you.

"Congratulations, man! I always knew you'd be the first to knock someone up," Clint jokes as he pulls in Tony for a hug.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Barton," Tony jokes before letting him go and being congratulated by his oldest friend, Bruce.

"We're all very happy for you both. You both deserve it," Bruce says, and Tony thanks him profusely. It doesn't take long for everyone to congratulate the two of you, and before you sit down, you can't resist showing off your belly to everyone.

"It's a miracle I've been able to hide it from all of you this time because I feel huge!" you say jokingly as you show off your belly, and Tony comes to stand beside you, pulling you into his side. He places a kiss on your temple before giving everyone a proud look. The happiness is practically dripping off you both, and the fact that everyone is happy about the news is the cherry on top.

A week has passed since you told your friends about your pregnancy. Yesterday, you both told Howard and Maria the good news, and they were absolutely over the moon about their two grandbabies. Many tears were shed during that afternoon between all four of you, and they were nothing short of supportive when you both told them.

Today, everyone's invited to have a little party/get-together at their house, and while you and Tony have a shower, Howard and Maria are decorating their garden for what will soon be your baby shower.

"That's it, Sunshine, takin' me so well in that beautiful mouth," Tony groans as he grabs your hair in a sloppy ponytail, the water falling on you both as you're on your knees for your boyfriend. Your hand is wrapped around the base of his cock as you work him up and down, and your lips are wrapped around his sensitive tip.

"O-oh God, I'm close! Fuck-" is all he can say before you take more of him into your mouth, the salty taste of his cum coating your tongue before you swallow every last drop of it with a hum, your eyes closed as he works himself through his orgasm.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, Sunshine, but I'm glad I did," he says as he helps you up, being mindful of your pregnant state. Once you're up and steady on your feet, he captures your lips with his, and you never want this moment to end.

"You deserve everything life has to offer and more, My Love," you tell him, and he smiles before capturing your lips again. Once you're both done in the shower, you braid your hair into a simple Dutch braid to keep it out of the way. You decide on a short green dress for today, as you will just be having a party with Howard, Maria, and your friends, so you opt to keep it simple.

Tony has decided on dark jeans and a green shirt to match your dress, and you two look stunning together.

"Ready? I think the rest is here already," Tony asks, and you nod. He grabs your hand before leading you down the stairs and into the garden, where you can see everything being decorated with blue and pink decorations, and you can't help but laugh.

"I thought we were keeping it simple today!" you say to Maria, but she chuckles. She enjoys going all out for everything, and the celebration of her grandchildren is something she takes seriously. She has been prepping food for everyone - including a few snacks to accommodate your current cravings - and there are presents as well, and your friends will bring more later on.

"But this is simple, amore mio!" she states with her hands on her sides, and Howard looks at his wife with a raised brow before shaking his head in disbelief. He walks over to his wife before wrapping his hands around her and kissing her softly.

"I love you very much, amore mio dolce, but this isn't simple, and you know it," he says. Maria starts to glow as he calls her 'my sweet love,' and it makes you smile. You wish you and your boyfriend will one day share the same type of love as them, and just when you're about to say something, he stands behind you. His arms wrap around you to place his hands on your belly again, and you smile before leaning into his touch.

"Let's just enjoy today, Sunshine. You can sit down and let everything happen to you, as it's all about you and our babies," he whispers before kissing your temple, and you agree. The weather is beautiful, and the sun is shining bright, so you pick the comfiest chair in the garden to make your place for the afternoon.

Tony helps Howard set up some more while Maria goes inside to prepare the last things for the food; when everyone arrives, she lets them all in.

"Thank you for hosting the party today, Mrs. Stark," Bruce says as Maria shows them the way to the garden. She smiles broadly in response before saying there's no need to thank her, and they can all sit down.

It only takes a little while for everyone to have a drink as they sit and munch on the snacks. Clint and Tony are the only ones brave enough to try some of your weirdest cravings, which range from pickles smothered in hot sauce to hard-boiled eggs with Nutella, and it earns loud laughs from everyone as they find out they do not like it, even a little bit.

"Good, that means there's more for me!" you say. Not long after, you and Tony are opening presents, and they range from lots of baby clothes in blue and pink to matching onesies and stuffed animals. You will have enough to last both of them at least a few weeks after they're born.

"Thank you all so much for everything; your support means a lot to us," Tony says after opening every present, and you agree wholeheartedly. The rest of the afternoon is spent laughing, eating, and generally having fun, and it is an afternoon always to remember. You have everyone close to you with you, and this day couldn't be more perfect if you tried.

Meanwhile, behind the shed in Howard and Maria's garden...

While everyone is enjoying themselves, Natasha has pulled Bruce to the side because something has been on her mind for a while, and she can't hide it any longer. They're standing behind a large shed in Howard and Maria's garden, where they can have some privacy.

Bruce is standing with his back towards the shed while Natasha is pacing back and forth, and his gaze follows her with every step.

"Mylaya, can you please stop pacing back and forth for a moment?" Bruce asks Natasha, and she stops dead in her tracks. This was the first time she'd ever heard him speak Russian, but her cheeks flushed at the nickname he gave her: Sweetie.

"What's on your mind? You seem a bit... off," Bruce asks after pulling her close, and she casts her eyes down. He lifts his finger to her chin before meeting her gaze and smiles reassuringly.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I- I don't know how-" is all she says before he leans in and carefully captures her lips with his. The feeling of her soft, pink lips has the butterflies in his stomach go crazy, and Natasha wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer until they're standing chest-to-chest.

"I'm in love with you too," he whispers, their foreheads touching. He has known this for a while, and her reaction to calling him Sweetie cemented it for him. She has feelings for him as well, and Bruce couldn't be happier about it.

He tucks a piece of Natasha's flaming red hair behind her ear, and he can't stop looking at her flushed cheeks and pink lips before meeting her green eyes again. The moment it all sinks in is when she meets his lips for a kiss this time, and they're glad they have finally told each other how they feel.

This will officially start something new for them, but they're both very excited to see where it goes. As long as they have one another, they know everything will be okay, and they can get through everything life throws their way.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

Black Light 8

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Jazzercise in the park sounded like a great idea when you signed-up. You didn't put much thought to the demographic until you showed up. Amid the grannies dressed in their most neon oranges and hottest of pinks, you stick out like a sore thumb. Still, you don't mind the excuse for some fresh air and to make some friends.

A sheen of sweat breaks out on your forehead and you feel the fitness flowing through you. You look over at Gladys as she nearly puts you to shame with her spry lunges. You sigh and look to your other side, wishing Hottie was there. Too bad she has work.

You follow the instructor, a woman in her late fifties, Sonya. She hops and bops to the vibes of Wham as she hollers at you to get moving. You find yourself bouncing all over the place, the pedestrians along the path and the sitters on the benches watching at all angles. You might look ridiculous but it feels great.

You jump a bit too far back and crash into another body. You expect Meredith and her tight spirals flowing over a sweatband, but instead find yourself on the path, nearly stampeded by the large body heaving and sweating. You get your balance and untangle yourself from the stranger. Not a stranger at all.

August's curls are slightly dampened with his sweat, his skin glistening, as he wears a sleeveless black muscles shirt and even drabber shorts. A little colour wouldn't hurt.

"You," he snarls as he steps back.

"You!" You cheep brightly, "are you here for Jazzercise too?"

"What? I'm running--- Typical. I just can't seem to shake you. Like a bad cold."

"Hm, is there a such thing as a good cold?" You tap your lip, "maybe if it helps you build immunity--"

"Enough," he checks his watch and sighs, looking down the winding paved path, "I don't have time for this."

"I don't either," you put on a scowl, "you know, I'm out here tryna get in shape and you're running into people--"

"You jumped in my way," he accuses.

"My bad," you put your hands up and step off the pavement, "as you were."

You spin and dismiss him. You come join Gladys as she runs in place and you focus on Meredith's barking demands. Whew, this is awesome but you're gonna be in bed for at least a day recovering.

🧸

You walk home alone, enjoying the sunshine and the song birds flying around the statues. You follow the trail to the gates and onto the street. It's not very far from home, a couple blocks if that. You feel the adrenaline fading and the nip of fatigue that underlies it. You can't wait to chill, and maybe take a shower.

You pull at your shirt, trying to air out your sweaty torso. As you turn onto the next avenue, you hear a step out of rhythm. You look over your shoulder but only find a Ford Fiesta driving down the road. You shrug and carry on.

As you come to your house, you see the drive way is empty. It's not surprising. Your mom and dad are social people, more so since you aged into college. Hottie says it's a midlife crisis, but you expect they just feel free now that you're and adult. Well, you do your best.

You hop up the steps and take out your keys. You leave it unlocked as you stop to take off your shoes. The only thing on your mind is a tall refreshing glass of water. You don't think orange pop is a great post-work out refresher, as bubbly as it is.

You go into the kitchen and fill a glass. You head out to the deck, leaving the sliding door open as you sit in the shade. You drain almost half the glass before setting it aside on the patio table. You lean forward and undo your fanny pack, putting it next to the water.

You lean back and close your eyes. You really should get washed up. You're a little smelly. Oh, maybe Hottie's done. You can't remember when she said she worked until.

You drag yourself to your feet and finish the water. You leave the empty glass in the kitchen and stop to look at the crooked whiteboard on the fridge. You fix it and turn your attention to your phone.

Your mom texted you during the class. Her and your dad drove up to your aunt's for their big summer blowout. The same one they seem to have every week or so.

You go upstairs and to your room. You undress a piece at a time. The body suit wasn't a great choice as you peel it away from your skin and the leggings catch around your ankle. Ew, you feel nasty.

You wrap yourself in a fresh towel and walk down the hall to the bathroom as you message Hottie to check in. It's a perfect night for a sleepover. Your dad always drinks too much when he's around your uncle.

You put your phone on the counter and swing the door behind you, not caring that it doesn't clasp. You put the towel over the bar and slide back the frosted door. You bend to crank on the faucet letting the water heat before stepping under it.

You bask in the steam and wash away the residue of your workout. You take your time, a rare chance to do so. You step out and find the whole room foggy. Jeez, like a sauna or whatever.

You grab your towel and pat yourself dry, swathing yourself in the cotton before letting the steam out into the hall. You hum that George Michael diddy as you come down to your room and hit the high note just as you find an unexpected figure on the foot of your bed. It's not your teddy bear.

Your heart drops and you barely keep the towel from doing the same.

"August?" You gape in confusion, has the steam made you delirious?

He smirks, the first time you've seen anything but fury in his features. You gulp loudly and clutch the knot of the towel. You don't like that little light in his eyes, like a wolf about to feast.

#august walker #dark august walker #dark!august walker #august walker x reader #drabble #series #au #the club #black light #mission impossible: fallout

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kitashousewife · 1 year

Text

loved you better

an: this is sort of based off of sad by lany. this is also extremely based on my real life! clearly this is me healing

pairings: timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader

warnings: angst tons of angst, fluffy ending, breakups, mentions of cheating, v brief mentions of sex (no smut), fighting (verbal), alcohol mentions/consumption, i think that's all

wc: it’s longer, i wasn’t able to get an accurate # but over 2k

it's been three years since atsumu has seen you. one hundred and fifty-six weeks, and just over a thousand days. he's thought about you from time to time, but the feelings and memories are a lot heavier when he visits home.

laying on the floor in his childhood home, his thoughts spin around, playing out past events on the bare ceiling above him. they're vivid, almost tangible. visions of a young osamu chasing him through the house, ones of himself on the kitchen counter, feet swinging as he watches ma cook, but most of them involve you.

things weren't always tough.

atsumu met you in high school. bumping into each other one day, both too nervous to introduce yourselves. similar schedules led to the two of you passing each other every day during your first year. finally, right as the end of the year rolled around, the two of you exchanged numbers.

an entire summer of texting, surface-level conversations about your lives wrapped up into a nervous reunion. now second years, both of you had changed in many ways from your last encounter. atsumu, a lot taller and stronger, hair a new shade, and attitude much more confident. you, a little taller as well, a touch more outgoing and sure of herself. after only a few short weeks of stolen glances during class and spending passing periods talking, atsumu asked you to be his girlfriend.

the two of you were the talk of the school, calls of your name and whistles sent your way every time atsumu would walk you to the bus stop, hand in hand with a proud smile on his face. most weekends were spent getting ice cream, getting ramen, staying out too late, and sneaking through the house to avoid getting caught out past curfew. the first year was perfect.

atsumu was your first kiss.

the start of your third year was when the rose-colored lense started to fade. it was slow at first, things falling apart in smaller ways until it began to crumble all at once.

atsumu began to put his all into volleyball, heart set on continuing past high school, focused on becoming professional. those weekends spent together began to morph into something different. ice cream shops became gyms, eating ramen in the park became bringing him some water while he trained. you, as well as your relationship, began to take a back seat to the sport, which you didn't mind at first.

he's never forgotten the conversation that was the beginning of the end. he's sure you haven't, too.

and he's correct.

a few weeks before graduation, the two of you were spending an evening together, something quite rare at the time. both of you on your backs, staring up much like atsumu is right now, enjoying each other's presence. atsumu remembers it perfectly. you were on his left, fingers playing with his, the clock ticking on the wall, heart hammering in sync. he remembers sighing, thinking about the upcoming graduation, the scouting camp he's been invited to, and interviews with potential teams. the thoughts swirled around and began to become heavy on his chest. he sat up abruptly and let out a shaky breath.

"i think we should break up."

you sat up, giving him a look that to this day sticks in his mind.

"w-what?"

the rest of the conversation is a blur, mostly due to his thoughts of trying to cope with it all. you were devastated, completely shocked. atsumu felt bad, his own fears of the future creating a rift in one of the most important things he had ever been a part of. his heart ached. ultimately two of you stayed together, attempting to enjoy a final summer before you went off to university and he launched his career.

atsumu was your first time. your first everything.

your first break up.

everything ended because of a rumor. a week before you left, atsumu had been at a party with friends, packing as much fun as he could in the final months of his youth. a mutual friend saw him talking to another girl, mistakenly believing that he was unfaithful. you found out the next day. after a summer of missed calls, forgotten dates, and staying up late waiting for atsumu to get back to you, you felt defeated. everything seemed to break, the dam finally cracking after a year of built-up emotion finally made its way through.

your first fight happened that day.

"why the fuck would ya think i would do that to ya?" atsumu groans, his head was thrown back in the driveway of his home. the two of you stand in front of your car, headlights illuminating the night with a sickeningly yellow glow.

"they told me last night. they saw it!" your voice raises, shaking at the same time. deep down, you didn't believe your friend, but you weren't so sure.

"i was just talkin' to her sweetheart. i didn't-"

"don't lie to me atsumu!"

his jaw drops. hot tears fill your eyes, one blink away from rolling down your cheeks. that was the first time you shouted at him.

"i may be a lot of things, but i'm not a fuckin' liar." he seethes, angry eyes set on the quiver of your lip.

"maybe we should be done," you croak out, mind speaking before your heart even got a chance.

"maybe we should."

atsumu's head throbs as the memories finally dissolve before him. running a hand through his hair, a sigh of relief slips through his lips when he's brought back to reality.

"are ya good?" osamu comes down the stairs, slipping his phone into his back pocket before falling onto the couch. "ya seem a little upset."

atsumu shakes his head. "just thinkin', but i'm fine."

"everyone wants to see ya tonight at the bar," his twin rubs his eyes, referencing their friend group. "i told them i would ask ya, though."

he smiles. "sounds good to me."

atsumu wishes they had picked a different bar. it's not very packed, fairly quiet and everyone was able to make it, but he feels uneasy.

a year after the break up, almost to the day, atsumu saw you at this bar.

he was in town, fresh off of joining the MSBY jackals, and his friends decided to throw a party for him. it was fantastic to be with those he loved, especially after probably one of the hardest years of his life. little to no social life, every waking minute spent practicing for, training for, or thinking about volleyball. it all paid off, better than he could have imagined, but something was missing.

your laugh caught his attention, distracting him from the girl he was flirting with. he saw you, sitting in a booth with your friends, probably hanging out with them one last time before you went back to uni. atsumu remembers it like it was yesterday. the two of you made eye contact, your mouth opening to speak before forming into a small smile, but your eyes were wrought with hurt. he panicked, looking away as fast as he could. feeling jealous, sick and anxious.

after an hour or so, you finally regained the courage to talk to him. before you reached him, he noticed you, and in a rather poor last-second decision, atsumu pulled the girl on his side in for a kiss. when he pulled away and met your eyes, he wanted to cry. you turned around and walked out the front door of the bar without a word.

that was three years ago.

"to atsumu!" aran cheers, and atsumu blicks a few times before raising his glass with the rest of them. throwing his shot back with a grimace, he pushes his feelings down and focuses on the moment.

"you with us man?" aran pats him on the back, and atsumu nods.

"yeah, i-"

"ya did this earlier, 'tsum. is everythin' alright?" osamu leans forward in the booth, and suna nods.

"yeah, you seem a little out of it," suna sighs, putting his phone down on the table. "penny for your thoughts?"

atsumu sighs, pushing his hair back with an airy chuckle.

"i don't know what it is about bein' home, but i haven't been able to stop thinkin' 'bout her."

"i knew it," suna smirks, pouting quickly after kita kicks him under the table and shoots him a glare.

"the two of you have a lot of memories here, so it makes sense," aran shrugs, sipping at his beer. "this probably isn't a good time to say this," he sets his beer down, ignoring the glare kita sends his direction this time. "she's seeing someone."

"how do you know?" atsumu's voice wavers slightly, attempting to hide the sinking feeling in his stomach. of course you are. it's been years, why wouldn't you move on?

why haven't i moved on?

"i told him, actually," kita offers an apologetic wave. "i saw her a few months ago, she was visitin' family and she talked to me when i was out doin' deliveries."

atsumu nods. "is she happy?"

kita shrugs. "she seemed that way. said he treats her well."

"that's all that matters."

sensing his brothers strife, osamu claps his hands together.

"next rounds' on me!"

the next day, atsumu decides to go for a jog to clear his head. everything feels so heavy, weighing down his thoughts. his dreams are of you, his thoughts are of you. he turned down a potential training at inarizaki this week, not even feeling up for playing volleyball. he wishes he could've treated you better, he wishes he could go back in time and shake his high school self, scream at him that volleyball isn't everything and he is, in fact, better when he's with you. a bitter taste fills his mouth, tears threatening to slip out when he argues with himself in his mind. he's so thankful for every opportunity he's had, every experience being the product of his tireless work all those years.

atsumu wishes he could have found a balance, though.

the concrete grounds him with each step, the familiarity of his hometown numbing his brain just a little. he follows a familiar route, one he used to do often to stay in shape. kids play in the park next to him, laughing and carrying on without a care in the world. he smiles at that, and decides to run through the park instead.

after a while, atsumu decides to walk back home. he takes his time, going down streets he normally wouldn't, looking at the changes of the buildings since he's been home last. he decides to run to onigiri miya to visit his twin, hoping he can get a free meal out of it at the same time.

"tsum?"

he stops walking. not that his legs would work anyway. his heart pounds in his ears, the air suddenly difficult to breathe despite his leisurely pace. he's in front of a coffee shop, he knows that from the smell. he turns around slowly, taking a deep breath.

it's you.

you're here. in front of him. tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit that's clearly never changed, adjusting your weight to your other foot. drink in hand, keys in the other, your head tilts.

"hi," he breathes, finally getting the words out.

you look similar, but not the same. you're older and more beautiful than the last time he saw you, if possible. your hair is different, and you're a little less baby-faced, but it's you.

"what are you doing in town?" you raise a brow, beginning your examination of him. he's taller if possible, hair less yellow, now a much lighter shade, bringing out the glow of his eyes. he's huge, but you knew that. he isn't exactly hidden. almost every day a photo of some kind reaches your feed. even when you aren't looking for him, the universe sets him right back in your life.

"oh, i had a break and decided i would come home and see ma and 'samu," he scratches the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his own. "what are you doin' here?"

you chuckle. "i moved back, actually. just finished school."

he smiles wide. "congratulations! i know how important that was to ya. i'm so proud of ya!"

tears form in your eyes, and your stomach does flips. many people have said the exact same thing to you over the last couple weeks, but this carries much more weight.

"thanks," you mumble, looking down.

"do ya wanna sit? it's a little chilly," atsumu points towards the cafe doors, and you nod. he holds the door open for you and follows you to a small table. sitting down with a sigh, he shakes his head.

"i can't believe i ran into ya," he snorts, folding his arms over his chest. you set your things down on the table, and atsumu's eyes frantically look at your hands for a ring.

"i know! who would have thought we would be home at the same time?" you smile, looking around the shop. it's new, one of the few places you haven't been before.

truth be told, you were hoping you would run into atsumu. it's been years, and you have so much to tell him.

you only hope he wants to hear them.

in a selfish way, you want to brag. there's so much you've accomplished, seen, done, experienced, and been a part of. you've watched that movie series he was always talking about, and you went to a few places you swore up and down you would never go to.

"so, what's new?" atsumu smirks at you as if reading your thoughts. if you were standing, you would go weak in the knees.

"well i graduated, which i told you. i just got an apartment, and moved in a few days ago actually."

"come on, that's all ya have to say after all these years?" atsumu laughs, and you roll your eyes.

i haven't stopped thinking about you.

you give in, telling him every detail of your life for the past several years, leaving no details out, and atsumu is entranced. nodding often, laughing at your stories and sharing in your heart ache and rough times. he wants to hug you, tell you over and over again how proud he is of you, how you deserve the world.

the world he didn't give you.

"i can't believe ya watched 'em! after all those years of me beggin'," he scoffs and you laugh.

"what about you, 'tsum? how's the professional volleyball player life?"

he gets sheepish, and every ounce of confidence completely thrown out the window.

"it's been great, yeah. i have the best teammates and the coolest job in the entire world. i do what i love and i get paid to do it, and i know most can't say the same," he looks down at his now empty water cup. you hum.

"why don't you seem happy then?"

he wants to cry, scream, pick you up and never let you go. his mind is racing. how is he supposed to tell you that he misses you, that everything in his life seems like it's missing a piece, how every accomplishment that he's had thus far loses some of it's sparkle, all because you aren't there to relish in that with him?

as he stares at you, right into your worry-filled eyes, fear washes over him. it's a similar fear to what he felt that night many years ago on his living room floor, fear of the unknown. except this time, he won't make the same mistake. right now, atsumu doesn't know when the next time he will see you will be, and instead of backing out, he jumps in head first.

"i miss you," he starts, nervously looking up into your gaze.

"but i'm right here," you laugh, but you know what he means.

"i miss us. for the past week, i've done nothing but think about us and how much i fucked up. i ruined everythin', all because i was young and stupid," he rambles, suddenly feeling overcome with emotion. you place your hand on top of his.

"of course we were stupid atsumu, we were teenagers," you console, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand, the same hand you were playing with that night. he shakes his head.

"not anymore. were older, we've both done so much, i mean look at us. i just," he trails off, shaking his head. "i just miss ya. i love ya, i've never stopped either."

you sit in silence for a minute or so. your mind is a mess, so many thoughts going through your head. every failed date, every small relationship ended by yourself for reasons unknown, all receiving their answer right now.

it wasn't atsumu.

you'd be lying if you said you hadn't missed him. that night at the bar was heartbreaking, leading you to try and find someone else as soon as you could. after some time, and lots of maturing, you realized who you wanted to be with.

atsumu, the boy who remembers every detail of your life. atsumu, who refuses to let his food touch on his plate, no matter how much he's ridiculed for it. atsumu, who brings you flowers for every single occasion, or none at all.

atsumu, who loves you for you.

"i've missed you too, 'tsum. and if we're being honest," you exhale, long and slow, really thinking about your next words. "i love you, too."

atsumu feels relief, letting out a loud sigh, before lacing your fingers together across the table. he calls your name, before looking you right in the eyes.

"i have ya to myself again, and i can't let that go. somehow, i get a second chance and i'm not gonna mess it up, not again," he begins to tear up, laughing to himself out of embarrassment.

"how about i take ya out? i'm in town for another two weeks. i'll take ya out every night if ya let me. i just wanna start over."

you smile. hope fills your body, much like a deep breath after finally coming to the surface.

"i would like that."

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu angst #hq angst #hq fluff #hq angst to fluff #atsumu angst to fluff #atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader

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karikarasuno · 2 years

Text

Pantone 16-1364

Pairing: Ichigo Kurosaki x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Soulmate!AU, Modern!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Dating, Domestic Fluff, Pumpkin Picking/Carving, Floor Sex, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Sappy Feelings

Word Count: 10.9k

a/n: this was supposed to be @thegetoufather birthday fic, but life had other plans for me so i couldn’t finish it in time. but nevertheless, it is here. i hope you enjoy this, my love, my other half, my soulmate. and happy birthday, you a real one.

The world is black and white. And maybe a little less than fifty shades of grey. For those who have fallen in love, it’s rumored that they can see a few shades more. A color called red or even blue. But for you it’s still dull, love not having awarded you those rose colored glasses you’ve heard about. Yet you still hold out hope that one day, you’ll see more, that love will find you and fill your world with something colorful. Even if it’s mild compared to what a person can see when they meet their soulmate.

Apparently it’s a rush and a daze. It’s sudden and overwhelming. The world like nothing you could’ve ever imagined before. And you crave it. But you also force yourself to be a touch realistic. The odds of you meeting your rumored other half is unlikely. Zeus allegedly had taken that from you a millennium ago. You’ve stayed up late into the night more times in your life than you could count simply imagining what your soulmate was up to, imagining what it would be like connected so physically that you shared a body and a beating heart.

The thought alone is too much. So you focus on other things. Like the line for Starbucks wrapping around the entire store, the afternoon rush is just as unsightly as the morning one. And you feel bad for the baristas, but you’ve been up for far too long. The weight of waking at 4am hanging heavy on your shoulders as you finished your shift at the hospital. And really all you wanted was a pumpkin spice latte. The weather finally catching up to the season in a way you thoroughly enjoyed. You place your order with the young looking girl at the register, her demeanor a bit frazzled as you specified your order and walked off to the side to wait.

The crowd is thankfully shrinking. Bodies no longer push you off into a corner and you take your first conscious deep breath of the day. You relax as much as you can and go over the other tasks you have to do once you get home. A nap at the very top of it, if you’re being honest. Your name is called some minutes later, incorrectly but you know it’s you as you walk back up to the pick up bar to grab your drink. You give the person a small thank you, grateful to finally be heading home. That is until you bump into someone. They’re taller than you, build firmer in comparison to yours. And the force with which you slam into them has your bag slipping from your shoulder and your coffee lid popping off the top of your cup. Your blessed pumpkin spice latte spilling right over the lip and all over hand as you drop it from the shock of the heat. You could cry, the tears already burning the back of your eyeballs. There’s a series of apologies falling from the other person’s lips, a hand gripping your bicep to keep you steady, and napkins being shoved into your open hands.

You squeeze your eyes shut. One deep breath and then a broken exhale to ground you. But when you open your eyes to look at the person keeping you up, your vision is blurry and out of focus. Like a camera lens that can’t seem to concentrate on the subject. Your head is spinning, your body feeling like it’s teetering sideways. And you see it. Colors. Too many to keep track of, all bright and bold and nauseatingly vivid. This can’t be happening, not to you, not now. Not ever if you are being honest. This is too unexpected, your control snatched straight from your fingertips as you look up at him. He’s stunning. Heartbreakingly gorgeous. And you wish you had the ability to describe the extraordinary color of his hair, the color bright enough to blind you. There’s a headache forming at your temple, a building pressure behind your eyes as you take everything in. It’s too much. You feel like a newborn first opening their eyes. A world that is too foreign suddenly appears all at once and in high definition.

He’s staring straight back at you. The moment just containing you and him in the middle of a bustling Starbucks. But you can’t bring yourself to care about anyone else. Too enraptured by him. Your soulmate. The one ripped from you by a bitter Greek god and you get it. This is terrifying in a way you cannot comprehend. Color rises on his cheeks. Irritating you because you can’t pinpoint it. But it burns and you yearn to feel it beneath your fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, his voice gruff and astonished. It warms you from the inside out. The autumn chill long forgotten as your coat becomes stifling.

“No.” It comes out confused and accidentally.

“No?” He mimics, voice just as confused, but his hand tightens on your bicep as you sway. You bring a hand up to dig the heel into your eye, shutting them again in disbelief as a dizziness begins to take you. The pain in your head grows tenfold when you open your eyes again. Your vision continuously in and out as you stare at the man in front of you.

Your soulmate.

“This can’t be real,” you say, regaining some sort of composure as you register the napkins in your hand and the cold stickiness clinging to your scrubs. He seems quicker on his feet than you are, bending over to pick up your spilled coffee and laying some napkins down to soak up the mess. You can tell he’s still processing this. But not in the same way you are. Not in the outwardly life altering, mind numbingly slow way that you are.

“Sorry,” he says again, stepping back to toss the soaked napkins into the nearby trash can. You’re still embarrassingly frozen in place. Too many thoughts and also none at all buzzing through your mind as you wrap your head around the situation. It is far too much.

A barista is coming over with a mop soon enough, breaking your spell as you step aside to allow him to clean up the mess you made. He offers you a sympathetic smile, and you notice the colors of his eyes are light and a weird feeling twists in your gut when you can’t put a name to it. It’s almost like a pit of envy has rooted itself into your stomach at the fact that this is what you’ve been missing your whole life. And you can’t even identify what you’re seeing, just that your eyes have finally reached the full extent of their abilities and your brain is pounding because of it.

“Stop apologizing,” you respond, walking around the mess on the floor and closer towards him. You shift your bag onto your shoulder again, your feet feeling like they're on solid ground instead of walking on water. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, I should’ve been more careful, but it was like you appeared out of nowhere,” his voice is distant, like he’s thinking too hard about the situation. “It must’ve been the,” he waves his hand between your bodies, gesturing vaguely to what you assume is the bond. The inevitable entangling of your soul threads that whipped you two into each other.

“Yeah,” you nod meekly, not sure what more to say. An awkwardness so palpable settles around you two and you almost want to run. But it’s as if you no longer have control over your limbs, your feet taking you closer to him instead of towards the door like your brain is telling them to. It still seems fake to you that he’s here, the person you’re fated to be with always within a normal distance and not halfway across the world like you always thought them to be.

“I, um,” he pauses, sensing your apprehension and giving you a moment. You’re starting to feel cold now that the coffee is no longer hot. Your clothes are just wet and uncomfortable on your skin. “I’m Ichigo.”

Ichigo. Ichigo, your soulmate.

You swallow. Your name stutters out from between your lips and for a second you assume you said it incorrectly. Adding syllables where there are none. But when he repeats it, sounding as awestruck as you feel, your heart grows. It knocks against your ribcage and pushes out whatever air you had left in your lungs. You’re selfish all of a sudden. The need to hear him say it again tangles its way into your being and a fast greed washes over you.

“Ichigo,” you repeat, the name supposed to be foreign on your tongue but it’s sweet and familiar. Comforting as if you’ve been saying it for lifetimes.

You’re not sure how you made it to your apartment after that. He was heading back to work when you gathered enough brain cells to rub together to have a normal conversation. Something about some office job. But honestly your head was still reeling and your eyes were about ready to pop out of their sockets, so you exchanged numbers and went your separate ways. Except now you stand in your living room. All the furniture and decor are a mixture of colors that you can’t decide if you like or not. Rangiku had picked everything out when you moved in together a few months ago. She met her soulmate over a year ago. But she’d fallen in love prior to that so her concept of colors has always been far different from yours.

You need an aspirin. And a shower. And a fucking nap.

You try to keep your eyes shut for as long as you can, bracing yourself against the kitchen sink as you chug some water and two pills. The door unlocks from behind you as you wait there, Rangiku yelling that she’s home so loudly the pain in your temple sharpens.

“You okay?” She asks as she takes off her shoes by the door and puts her things down. She sounds concerned, her voice thankfully dropping multiple decibels to a more manageable volume for you. When you open your eyes, she’s standing much closer to you than you expected. And the first thing you notice is her hair. It’s nearly the same color as Ichigo’s. And again, a pang of jealousy resonated in your chest.

“Your hair…” You reach out to feel some of the thick tresses hanging over her shoulder. She must’ve had a blow out this morning because it’s soft and voluminous, but really, you can only concentrate on the vibrancy of the color.

“I just got it done,” she smiles, teeth twinkling and eyes shiny. “I saw a new lady today and she was amazing. I swear she worked some magic because my hair has never looked this good.”

And she’s right. It’s glossy and strong, each strand bouncing and smooth beneath your fingertips. But again, you’re stuck on how it just reminds you of him. “The color, it's just like-” his, it’s just like his.

“Oh yeah, the hair lady said she never worked on a natural ginger before–”

“Ginger. Is that what this color is?” You force your eyes to focus on it. Force them to concentrate on the deepness of it that’s packed beautifully within each strand.

“Wait.” Her whole body freezes, her chattiness devolving into stunned silence as she stares openly at you. There are gears turning inside her head. Her eyes are darting all over your face in rapid tiny movements and you swear the motion makes you dizzier than you already are. “You can see my hair color?”

It’s hard to respond to her. Difficult to explain the situation when you are still processing it yourself. But there’s a rising excitement coursing through her body. She has questions. So many that you don’t know how to answer. You don’t even know if you want to.

She calls your name, emphasizing each syllable slowly, as if your hearing changed and not your eyesight. “Tell me right fucking now if you can see the color orange.”

Orange.

You’re ready to pass out. You wanted this so badly, but now you’re not sure if you can handle it. Not in this state, at least. “I met him today at Starbucks. He bumped into me and spilled my coffee everywhere and I’m so dizzy and my head hurts so bad and he’s so gorgeous and I don’t think I can do this.”

Words are flying from your mouth before you can stop them. A tornado of emotions that was swirling inside of you is now spinning out of control and straight at Rangiku. She’s pulling you into a hug though, her arms wrapping around your shoulders and the pressure helps you breathe. It alleviates some of the pain thumping against your skull and you suddenly want to cry.

Your world is on an axis foreign to you. Gravity is a concept you’re no longer acquainted with and your soul feels like it’s not even tethered to your body anymore.

“How did you do it? When you met Gin for the first time, how did you keep from falling apart?”

She places a sympathetic hand on your head, cradling you to her body as she just holds you. “Come on, let’s get you out of these gross clothes and into bed. You’ve had a long day.”

As soon as you are laid in bed, your blanket tucked over your shoulder and under your chin, sleep welcomes you immediately. To be fair, you’re exhausted. Meeting your soulmate was just the cherry on top of a sleep deprived day. And if you didn’t wake up some odd hours later— pain in your head gone, but colors still attacking your vision— you would’ve sworn it was some fatigue induced delirium. But no. Your duvet is a pretty light shade of something and there’s a rug at your bedside that’s fluffy and a deeper shade of something else. The curtains are white, at least that much you know. So for a fact, you didn’t imagine him. Him and his orange hair and stunning eyes and strong hand. Your bicep is still warm from where he gripped you, almost as if he branded it into your skin from just one brief meeting.

It’s difficult enough to thumb through all of your muddled feelings. But oddly, there is an overwhelming sense of relief. Like some weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying around for so long has somehow lifted and you’re lighter. Is this how Rangku feels? Like she’s floating?

You find her in the living room when you finally muster the strength to pull yourself out of bed for the second time today and see her with her hair tied up messily on her head as she paints her toenails. The tv is playing some random real estate reality show she’s been trying to get you to watch and her tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth with concentration. You don’t make a noise at first, not wanting to disrupt her when she’s already on her pinky toe and you know damn well she will fuck up if you interrupt her. So when she’s done, a satisfied grin on her face, you plop down beside her with a heavy, huffy breath.

“Your head still hurt?” She glances your way, sympathetic but ready to pry. She won’t ask anything if you’re still in pain, regardless of if she’s dying to know. So while her question comes from concern, it’s also laced with her own self interest.

“No,” you say, nudging her shoulder away with your palm, “just hurry up and ask me your questions.”

“I need every single detail. What does he look like? How did you meet? Is he tall? I need an estimate too, like feet an-”

“You’re gonna make my head hurt again if you don’t stop,” you laugh, heat touching your cheeks from the memories she’s pulling from your brain that’s still slightly foggy from sleep and distant pain. Her features soften, a tiny, excited smile on her face as she waits for you to respond. You bring your hands up to hold your cheeks in your palms, still warm to the touch as you try to decide where to start first. Images of Ichigo flash through your mind and you wonder how to even describe him to her. And you’re positive that if he wasn’t your soulmate and you didn’t meet him for the first time in dazzling colors, you would still find him dizzyingly attractive.

“Go on then,” she urges, nudging your calf with her foot, careful not to press her freshly painted toes onto your sweats.

“Well, his name is Ichigo.” And the story flows forth from you with ease like a rush of water lapping at the sandy shores, the words never ending as her questions meet your thoughts halfway. It’s late into the evening when you manage to end the conversation, she ordered takeout before you woke up, already knowing you’d be too tired to want to cook anything. She pulled out her laptop too, finding those flashcards you use in kindergarten to show you all the basic colors. You recognized very few. Black, grey, white, and now orange. But there are so many more that you wondered how someone could choose a favorite.

Red is nice, it comes in so many shades you find yourself drawn to the darker ones. Blue is wonderful too, the pastel ones especially pretty. But you aren’t sure if it’s just your newfound bias because of a certain someone, that your eyes always linger on orange.

The next time you see Ichigo is at a local cafe. It’s small and one of your favorite spots, so when he suggested it you jumped at the opportunity. It’s been a week or so since you first bumped into him. The week drainingly long and cumbersome. Your shifts seemed to last forever, the residents up your ass with misplaced pride, and you just wanted to go home. Your only saving grace is Ichigo. He likes to text you sporadically throughout the day, but never too late and never too early. He’s the one who actually reached out first, the day you met he texted you at around dinner time. A simple hey and you were smiling like an idiot at your phone for twenty minutes.

Since then conversation was easy if not a bit stilted at the beginning. You found out he works at a publishing company in the children’s literature department as an editor and translator. Which admittedly tickled you because he didn’t seem the type. And when you told him just that he was adamant that there couldn’t be a ‘type’ to childrens lit. You decided not to die on this hill, even though riling him up was proving to be particularly entertaining.

“See anything you like?” He asks over the menu, peeking up at you curiously. You’ve been taking turns stealing glances since you arrived a few minutes after he did. Your memory of him really didn’t do him any justice. He is slightly tanner than you remember, his eyes a stunning shade of what you now know is brown. It’s light and warm, very welcoming on his otherwise serious face.

“I had my eye on the roasted red pepper pesto sandwich, probably with a side of chips.” Your eyes drift down the menu, reciting your usual order by memory since you haven’t paid a lick of attention to the menu since you’ve arrived.

“Hmmm, that looks good,” he says inquisitively, his eyebrows furrowing in thought and you can’t help but admire how endearing he looks, with his lips in a thin line and his brows pinched together. He traces a knuckle down the laminated menu, running through the options again as he clearly struggles to choose one.

“It’s really good, it’s one of the only vegetarian dishes so my options are limited, but it’s actually delicious.”

“You’re vegetarian?” His eyebrows quirk up interested. You nod, placing the menu face up in front of you to look at him fully, instead of between glances that didn’t belong to you.

“Not a big fan of the texture of meat, so I stopped eating it a while back,” you explain, somehow expecting an adverse reaction from him, but he simply reciprocates your stare. Taking in the information and storing it.

He, on the other hand, ends up ordering a traditional breakfast sandwich– fried egg (sunny side up), bacon (not too crispy), and provolone cheese all on a croissant.

“Breakfast for lunch?” You ask teasingly after the orders are placed and the waitress takes your menus. He smiles at you, small and endearing before he reclines more comfortably in his seat– gaze unwavering from yours.

“I skipped it this morning because I was in a rush to get to work. I hate doing that, though, because it throws off my entire day when I don’t have breakfast.” Interesting, you think. You’re usually one to skip breakfast anyway, with how demonically early you have to get up to be ready for your shift at the hospital.

You don’t answer him, just stare. Which is probably odd, maybe unnerving, but you still haven’t been able to quite comprehend the fact that he’s real. And seems just as interested in you as you are him. Especially with the way he meets your stare without any sort of shame. When the food arrives you’re pleased to see the vast arrays of colors that decorate your plates. You never expected for food to be so colorful. It’s fun.

Ichigo runs a knife down the center of his sandwich, drags the serrated edge across the ceramic plate and you watch as a gooey bright color seeps from its center. Rangiku taught this one to you too, but the name is escaping you right about now.

“What color is that?” You ask before you can reel the question back in, before you can think of whether he would even know it. But he looks up at you and then back at his plate.

“This one?” He gestures with his knife to what you presume is the egg’s yolk, having seen it before but always assuming it would be a muted grey. You couldn’t have been more wrong. You nod to urge him to go on and he thinks for a moment, running the color wheel through his head like you have been doing all week and says, “it’s yellow.”

You’re dying to ask him if he’s seen it before. If colors began to make their debut in his life long before you met each other. But with a question like that comes talk of love– past love, maybe even pained love. Has his heart ever been broken? You’re not sure if you want to know. You’ve seen heartbreak on Rangiku when you two were teenagers. It wasn’t pretty. It scared you into believing that maybe a world in color wasn’t worth it.

“That’s not what I thought egg yolks would look like,” you laugh, shaking your head and sitting back in your seat. Your sandwich hosts an array of colors as well. The red you knew already, it’s in the name. But the green of the pesto is what surprises you when you lift the food to your face.

“Have you never seen colors before?” The question gives you pause, a squirming uncomfortable feeling starts to root around in your stomach because the implication is all you hear. The underlying question rings, have you never been in love before?

“Have you?” Slight defense in your tone, but mainly curiosity. A burning red begins to blossom up his neck and tinge the tip of his ears. He realizes the hinting nature behind his own question once it was thrown back at him. He’s embarrassed.

“Uh, yes.” The squirming feeling rises to your chest, threatening to ink your heart with murky emotions. “Obviously never like this. Not until I met you.”

You nod and clear your throat. You shove some of the sandwich into your mouth and take a larger than necessary bite to avoid saying anything. To avoid having to say something when you didn’t know what. It’s not fair to feel this way. You had lives before each other. Lives without each other. And you’ve known him for all of 8 days, but there’s a seed that has been planted and is growing at a rate you have no control over. Maybe it’s your soulmate bond. Or maybe you’re just hopeless.

“We were together in high school,” he starts, unprompted by you, but feeling the overwhelming urge to explain. “Broke up in college, the distance kinda drove us apart since we went to different universities. It didn’t end badly or anything, though.”

“Do you still talk?” You’re jealous, you realize a second too late. The question flies from your head and you suddenly feel like you’re being intrusive. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

Your cheeks are warm, your hands slightly clammy, so you take another bite out of your sandwich.

“Not really,” he shrugs. “We share mutual friends since we’ve known each other for so long. She’s actually engaged to her soulmate. She met him not too long after we ended things actually.”

Oh, you feel kind of bad now for asking something so private. But he doesn’t look dejected or bitter when he says it. Mostly indifferent, but you’re not sure if it’s a mask or if he truly means it.

“You?”

Your head whips up to look at him. Heart fluttering because you forgot this conversation started with you. You were too caught up in his past to remember what even brought it up.

“Um,” you fidget in your seat, feeling awkward now, which is probably how he felt. The seat too hot to sit in. “I dated a guy a few years ago and nothing really came of it. Not anything colorful, anyway.”

He hums, finally biting through his sandwich. Yolk smears across his bottom lip and you want to wipe it clean. The yellow is much more transparent on his lip, the skin there dusted with red. And you want to kiss him. So badly it’s sort of jarring. But you don’t, obviously. He catches you staring when he looks up. A tension that was not here before enveloping the entire table and you wish you could take a photo of him at this exact moment. His jacket is still on, his hands cradling the sandwich between long fingers, and his brown eyes sucking you into him. But it’s not that you’re dying to capture. It’s the sunlight that beams through the wide window you sit beside. The autumn rays bouncing off of his hair and the orange absorbs the light like it is meant for him. Like the sun is his. And you’re helplessly orbiting him.

For two weeks, meeting him once your shift ends and during his lunch hour becomes routine. Weekends are a trickier battleground since plans had already been made in advance and therefore much tougher to align your schedules. But lunch is simple. Your text threads now consist of options of what to try next. Some new while others are old favorites you want to share with each other.

You also find that sharing with him is terrifyingly easy. From family history to embarrassing high school experiences to your drunken escapades with Rangiku. It is all divulged in a single hour with a table separating you and food as your only other company. But sometimes the topics are tougher to navigate. When Ichigo told you that he lost his mother at a young age forcing him to step up and help his father care for his younger twin sisters it was over two bowls of soup– yours tomato bisque and his french onion. But most times they are much lighter, like when you find out he’s not a big fan of sweets. You had offered him a bite of your brownie and he physically recoiled. He had a tendency for physical reactions, most of the time to express disgust which you teased him relentlessly for. You caught the both of you by surprise one afternoon when he scowled at something you said, your thumb coming up to smooth out the creases that formed between his eyebrows whenever he did that.

Touching him also comes just as easy as everything else. He’s always moving pieces of hair from your face and you developed a quick habit of holding onto his arm whenever the two of you walk through crowded streets or busy restaurants. Your first kiss is actually shared at a crosswalk. The temperature that day dipped into something brisk and chilly. You were sleepier than usual so you found comfort in resting against him and allowing him to take the lead to your destination. In your state of half paying attention, you tripped over a chunk of lifted cement on the sidewalk as you were about to cross the street. But he caught you with strong arms around your waist. The sleepiness that was weighing down your eyelids disappeared with a gust of wind and suddenly your face was pressed into his broad chest. Your heart had probably stopped because you could no longer feel it beating in your chest when you looked up at him. The world had seemed to slow down, your mind filtering out everyone but him. You’re not sure who made the first move. It’s hard to remember when all that clouds that memory is the perfect brush of his lips against yours. And then he was pulling away before you could even register that the kiss had happened. He was blushing again, finally asking if you were okay and smiling when all you could do was nod at him. The alarming noise of the crosswalk signaling for you to hurry and cross the street was the only thing that tore you from that moment. Because you swear you could have kissed him forever.

And kissing him is all you want now that your day shifts have turned into overnights for the week. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so badly until you and Ichigo started functioning on opposite schedules. You ache for him. Your soul throbs to be near him. And it does feel like losing a limb when you’re not together. The string of fate is taut and ready to snap from how terribly you yearn for him. Zeus is a bitch for carving humanity in half.

Still, Ichigo finds ways to make you smile. Oftentimes staying up later than you know he’s used to. Or even offering to drop off food on his way home from work while you get ready to start your shift for the night. You take him up on it one night, no longer bothered by the idea of inconveniencing him because you just want to see him. He shows up on your doorstep with some takeout. His nose is tinted pink from the cold and hair windswept from walking from the parking lot to your apartment.

“I picked up some food from that Thai spot you’ve been mentioning. I guessed a little on what you would want.” He holds up the bag, the smell already warming you and your stomach grumbles as a result. He chuckles at the sound as he strides into your apartment, toeing off his shoes near the door before bending over to kiss your cheek. You’re still in your loungewear, and you initially felt self-conscious about not changing for him but he doesn’t seem to pay it much attention. Instead gazing around your apartment with acute fascination. There are signs of you and Rangiku all over the place. An organized mess of diy projects half started and miscellaneous knick knacks you and her find whenever you go thrifting and have to buy.

You also started experimenting with color, buying unnecessary amounts of blankets or decorative pillows or wall art simply because you enjoy the colors schemes. There is a mirror lying on your dining room table, painter’s tape lining the edges with some tentative strokes of yellow framing the outer corners.

“You paint?” He places the takeout on the bar counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, staring curiously at the project on your table.

“Not exactly,” you laugh, not wanting to call whatever smears of acrylic on glass painting. “I saw someone do this on TikTok and I thought it would be a good way to learn colors. There are so many shades of just one color when I walked into the crafts store a couple weeks ago I thought my head was gonna explode.”

You remember trying to find the yellow that resembled yolk, but instead fell face first into a color called mustard that you couldn’t stop yourself from buying. There were about twelve other colors you left with that day, your wallet not the happiest with you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“What’s this supposed to be?” He asks innocently, head tilted to the side as he takes in the wobbly paint. His eyes are narrowed as he scrutinizes it, it’s his thinking face which you’ve grown quite fond of. You smile as you watch him, finally feeling more like yourself than you have these last few days.

“I’ll serve us our food and then I’ll show you the video I’m talking about.”

He joins you for dinner, but when the time comes for him to leave it’s still too soon. You even contemplate calling out just so you could spend the rest of the night sitting on your couch with him. But he’s far more responsible than you are, level headedly telling you that you should probably go in and that Saturday his day is free. An excited feeling flurries around your chest because this is the first Saturday you’ve had available too, so you promise it to each other. A new motivation simmers under your skin as you go about the rest of your week. Knowing that by the end of it, you and Ichigo will have more than just an hour together.

“Gin is picking me up soon,” Rangiku shouts from her bedroom so you can hear her in yours. She has luggage rolled out by the door, the apartment having turned into her extended closet as she packed for her getaway trip with Gin. Somewhere tropical.

“Lucky you,” you say as you walk into her room. She’s still throwing things into a small backpack when you do. “Having a sugar daddy to whisk you away to fancy places.”

She rolls her eyes at you, throwing a stray sleepshirt at your face. “He is not my sugar daddy, he just likes to spoil me.”

Her smile brightens at the thought of him. And before you would get jealous of the far off lovey look on her face, but you are starting to think you look the same whenever you think of Ichigo.

You’re going to a pumpkin patch with him today, the leaves all sorts of pretty colors and you wouldn’t trade some beach vacation for it any day.

“You’ll have the apartment all to yourself this weekend,” she says, cutting your thoughts in half. You don’t miss the suggestive tone in her voice. Your cheeks are heating in response. “Any fun plans?”

“Just hanging out with Ichigo later today. He’s taking me to pick out a pumpkin that we’re probably gonna carve. Maybe make some dinner together.” You try to keep your voice light and level, occupying yourself by unplugging her charger from the wall beside her bed since it’s the one thing she never fails to forget.

“Just hanging out,” she nods, sitting on the edge of her bed with a sly smile on her face. She takes the charger from you, but not her eyes from your face. You hate that you know what she’s thinking. Because it’s been whirling around in your brain, the fact that you two will be alone together. In your home. Just the two of you. Your mind has wandered too many times to even count and your body flushes in response.

“That’s the plan,” you shrug, hoping she lets the conversation end here and sitting beside her.

“I sure as hell hope not. It’s been fucking forever for you and you deserve some head, at least.”

“Rangiku!” Your entire body is burning and you’re not the type to shy away from conversations like this, but Ichigo makes you feel so oddly shy and you don’t want to fuck up whatever you have with him by being too forward.

“It’s the truth, bitch. You’re overworked and under pleasured,” she laughs, your face scrunching up at her.

“What is wrong with you?”

“You love me,” she giggles and hugs you to her chest, totally pleased with herself.

“So there must be something wrong with me then?” You joke, wiggling from her tight embrace and getting up from her bed. There’s a knock on the door that interrupts her retort and her eyes twinkle at the sound of it. “Go get your man,” you sigh exaggeratedly, barely hiding your own happiness for her.

She squeals and gets up from her seat, practically skipping towards the door and leaving you alone. You do an additional once over of her things, making sure she isn’t forgetting anything important. Not like it matters much when she can buy whatever she’s missing wherever they land.

“Oh, hi,” you hear her greeting rise in pitch, sounding surprised which doesn’t make any sense.

“Hello.” Oh god, it’s Ichigo. His familiar voice matches the surprised tone of Rangiku’s. Panic is rising in your chest, afraid of what nonsense will come from her mouth. You practically run out into the hall, ready to stop the train before it wrecks itself.

“You’re early,” you say breathlessly, glad that you had the foresight to be up and dressed by now– hair done and up in a claw clip.

“I am?” You check your phone for the time, and yeah he’s about an hour early, but you can’t complain because you’re more than happy to see him. Less excited about the unexpected introductions you now have to do.

“Just a little, but that’s okay.” Rangiku is smiling between the two of you, eyes even more sparkly than they were before, this time with something you should be slightly worried about. “This is-”

“Rangiku,” she finishes for you, holding out her hand for him to shake. “And you must be Ichigo.”

He takes her hand firmly, and you almost want to tease him for reverting into the shy side of him. He’s sometimes reserved, but him meeting Rangiku and being a little speechless makes you chuckle under your breath at him.

“I am,” he clears his throat, finally walking over the threshold once Rangiku moves out of his way. “I’m assuming I’ve been talked about.”

He slides his eyes in your direction, a hardened glance that has a playfulness behind it. One that sends a shiver down your spine involuntarily.

“Mmm, in various degrees,” Rangiku adds, not missing the way his look made you react. Ichigo’s eyebrows raise, inquisitive and asking for more information through his expression.

“Nothing crazy,” you explain because it really hasn’t been anything crazy, Rangiku just likes pushing your buttons. He hums in response, not saying anything to her amusement. He has a small bag in his hand that you missed when he initially walked in, placing it onto your dining room table that is now clear of the mirror that you were painting.

“I bought carving stuff from that store you like in downtown,” he says as he starts unbagging the items he bought. You notice a tube of paint rolling in the bag, sneaking an arm under his and plucking it from the plastic.

“What’s this?” You’re twirling the paint between your fingers and looking for the name, it seems like a shade of green but very light.

“I saw it and thought of you.” He feigns nonchalance, shrugging one shoulder and flicking his eyes over the other to find Rangiku smugly staring from the kitchen. “It’s sage green.”

You find the label name as he says it, running a finger over the word sage and already thinking of what colors it would pair nicely with. It’s sweet that he thinks of you, buys things that remind him of you. Your chest goes tight, and it should be uncomfortable but you’ve never felt more at ease.

“Thank you,” you smile fondly his way, wanting to lean over and kiss him, but restraining yourself since you have company who will very much ruin the moment. He nods, and you can tell the same thought is running through his head because he steps towards you before stopping halfway.

Not too long later, Gin stops by to grab Rangiku for their trip. As they are walking out she makes sure to call over her shoulder, “you kids have fun, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” And you almost strangle her for being so ridiculous as she winks and then scurries away into her soulmate’s arms.

Ichigo sighs once you two are alone, visibly relaxing now that Rangiku is gone. His hand finds your waist almost immediately, and you hadn’t realized how tense you were until the warmth of his palm is staining your skin through your sweater.

“Come on,” he says, bending slightly at the waist to whisper against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps tighten your skin and you suppress a shiver, eyes blinking slowly. “These pumpkins aren’t gonna pick themselves.”

You snort out a laugh, elbowing his side and he grunts like it actually hurt him. “You’re lame.”

Picking out the perfect pumpkins proves to be a stressful process. Ichigo is pickier than you would’ve assumed, his eyes scrutinizing each one. You decide to part ways to choose your own. And when you reconvene he has managed to find the most perfect one, it’s smooth all the way around, the shape almost cartoonishly pristine. Like he drew it himself and molded it with his fingers. It’s a good size too, not too big and not too small.

You, on the other hand, pick out two pumpkins. One humongous and hard to carry. It’s slanted to the left and dotted with pimpled skin. The other is the complete opposite, tiny and cute with a long stem sticking out the top.

“We agreed on one each,” he narrows his eyes, sticking his choice under his arm in an attempt to help you with yours.

“This one is so small it hardly counts,” you argue, trying to swat his hand away to show him you can carry it yourself, but it’s up and out of your arms before you can fight him off. He makes the pumpkin look like a normal size with the way he holds it against his chest with an arm wrapped around the circumference. You’re upset that he makes it look so easy, but your body heats up when you recognize how broad he is. Wishing it was you in his arms instead of those damn pumpkins.

“It 100% counts.” He walks over to the little old lady under one of the tents set up on the outskirts of the field. You move to pull out the cash in your wallet to pay her since his hands are full, but before you can wrestle it from the bottom of your purse he’s already handed her money with the pumpkins securely in his arms.

“You’re so impatient, y’know that?”

“I’m not impatient,” he argues back, shifting the pumpkins in his arms and heading towards the car. “Now hurry up, my fingers are frozen.”

At the apartment, the pumpkin carving is a disaster. He’s hopeless when it comes to any kind of creativity. Every time you cut into the thick skin he swears he has no idea what you’re trying to make and your stomach hurts from laughing so hysterically at all of his faces of frustration.

“It’s literally just a face, Ichigo,” you breathe heavily to even put your breaths from laughing at him.

“A weird one,” he grumbles, grabbing some seeds and pulp that you scraped out when you first started and tossing it at you. The cold wet strings stick to your neck and sweater and you gasp from the feeling. When you turn your face to look at him, he’s hiding a laugh behind his hand. His shoulders shake from the restraint and you’re positive your expression is only fueling him.

You lean over to grab a fistful of the squishy contents, cringing at how gross it feels but then repaying the gesture by throwing it at him. He tries to dodge it, but it lands right on his collarbone and shoulder, one of the seeds finding its way into the hair behind his ear. His eyes are wide when he meets your eyes, a glint of something devious in them and your instinct is to run. But he’s quick, and his hand already finds some more and as you’re jumping from your seat he hits you right across your torso.

“You’re making a mess,” you scream over your shoulder, using the chair as a barricade to separate you two. You make a fast break to the right, grabbing whatever is left of the pumpkin insides and raising your arm.

“For the record,” you exhale on a laugh, “you started this.”

The pulp flies from your hand and in his direction. His reflexes are faster than you imagined them to be because he dodges with ease. A squeal leaves your throat as you spin and run in the opposite direction. He’s chasing you all around the apartment as you throw the decorative pillows you had lying around the living room at him to keep him away.

You’re out of breath. The air in your lungs fighting against every laugh and scream you steal from it. You barrel into your bedroom, kicking the door open with your side and stumbling on your carpet. When you look back at him, he’s cleanly jumped over the couch, now only arms distance away. You have no time to shut your door, but you also have no intention to. You’re tired and panting. Your bedroom is completely dark as you run further inside of it. The sun set probably an hour ago, time taken from you like it only does when you want it to slow down.

Your guard is down. Your chest heaving from the lack of oxygen circulating and you’re in his arms anyway. He’s wrapped them around your middle, fingers digging into your sides to keep you from wigging out of his embrace.

“Are you done?” His voice is rugged and heavy, dipping lower as he also tries to catch his breath. Your thighs clench in response with a will of their own and your stomach twists when his hot breath fans across your neck. You kick out your legs half heartedly, stubbornly not wanting to admit to him that you have given up the fight.

Ichigo’s grip tightens, and you feel the expanse of his chest fill against your back when he inhales deeply. He tickles your sides, pulling out a surprised laugh from you as you squirm and try to get away from him.

“I’m done!” You shout between laughs, pulling at his fingers with your hands. “I promise! I'm done!”

“You won’t run away from me?” He asks, fingers pausing but his hold is still as tight.

“No, I won’t,” you sigh, pressing most of your weight into him. “Pinky promise.”

You hold up your pinky, not even sure if he can see it in the darkness of your bedroom. He loosens his arms and your feet fall flat on the floor. You turn to face him, pinky still in the air and you can just barely make out his features. His orange hair is one of the only things visible so that’s what you focus on. He wraps his pinky around yours, your bodies still flush together.

You tilt your head up at the same time that his bends towards you. His nose brushes the slope of your own, and you share a breath. One that’s stuttered and charged.

“Can I-,”

“Yes,” you gasp, tugging on his pinky and slotting your lips together. His are soft and taste like original Chapstick. You briefly wonder when he put some on because they’re smooth like it’s been freshly applied. You grab hold of his shirt, fisting it and refusing to let him go. Not this time. You want him completely uninterrupted. You want to kiss him until your lips swell and your cheeks burn.

His arms are around your waist again, his hands twisting your sweater between his fingers and you are so firmly carved against his body you can feel his abdomen tense against your torso.

He tries to take a step towards your bed, the intention clear enough, but when you try to follow suit your foot catches on the edge of your shaggy rug. Neither of you are paying enough attention to regain your balance. The kiss breaks and your bodies are stumbling backwards and landing on the soft rug with an umph. He somehow twisted his body in a way so that he’s not resting most of his weight on top of you, instead you’re laying side by side, limbs entangled in each other.

There’s a heady moment of silence, one that still lingers with fresh desire but is tinged with a relief that’s comical. He breaks the silence first with a chuckle. It’s pressed into the top of your hair, the vibrations rattling around your skull. It has you joining him, a surprised laugh of your own bubbling up from your chest.

“You’re always tripping over yourself,” he says, the hand that used to be caught in the fabric of your sweater slipping beneath until he’s touching bare skin.

“You usually do a better job of catching me,” you tease, brushing some of his hair from his forward. His bangs have grown some since you first met and he looks even more endearing when he’s unkempt.

“I was kind of distracted,” he whispers, his forehead knocking against yours as his hand slips deeper beneath your clothes. You will your body to relax, fight the shiver that’s threatening to tense your body and just feel his hand exploring your exposed skin.

“Doing what?” You crane your neck so that your lips are merely a centimeter apart again, nails lightly scratching through the hair on the back of his head.

“This.” And he’s closing the distance again, his lips now tasting like yours. The strawberry lipgloss you swore was gone by now still taints the taste of each open mouthed kiss. You slide your tongue against his bottom lip, asking for more. You sense that you catch him by surprise because his lips part but around a deep groan. One that has the hair on your arms standing and your hips rolling forward against his.

He moves to your neck, hands becoming desperate in the way that they map out your frame. He rolls so that he’s hovering over your body— tongue licking at the space just above your collarbone. Your head lulls to the side to give him better access, your eyes closing instinctively when he sucks tenderly at the skin there.

The black that overwhelms your vision frightens you though, for once not used to it after so long of it being your only companion. You nudge him so that he’s sitting up, and your heart aches when you can’t see his eyes. Or the look of concern you know that’s there.

“Wait,” you rise to your elbows, your voice only air with how breathy you sound. He doesn’t move, just waits patiently for you to say something else. Worried that something is wrong. But instead of reassuring him you worm out from beneath him, arm rising above your head as you twist your torso to reach the lamp that resides on your bedside table.

The room is immediately filled with a golden glow when you tap the base. The colors that you thought were beginning to fade flooding your senses to remind you that it’s true. That you aren’t dreaming this. Or having some expertly wild delusion. That your soulmate is here and offering you a kaleidoscope of new beginnings.

“I wanna see,” you explain, hand coming up to rest on his cheek. “ All my life I’ve been living in shadows. Let me see you.”

His eyes soften, irises like melted chocolate. He understands you. Better than anyone ever has before. It could be proof of the bond that’s destined to tie you together. Or proof that Ichigo is someone like no other. He has a presence that you can no longer live without. And you are terrifyingly in love with him. You don’t have to know what love is like to know what the feeling that clouds your senses is. It makes you want to run but not away from it, straight into its embrace without the fear of uncertainty holding you back.

You pull him in for another kiss. Less rushed, but purposeful. He takes his time undressing you, eyes lingering and stalling on every new exposed inch of your skin. You thought you’d feel the prickling of self-consciousness whenever this moment came, but you have never felt more self-assured. He kisses his way down your body, lips paying special attention to the spots that make you whine. That makes your fingers curl against his arms.

He’s stripped down to his underwear and is now towering over your completely naked form. You reach for him, wanting him impossibly close, but he grabs your wrist to stop you. His eyes burn with an unwavering desire and you could explode just from the heat of his gaze, so you don’t understand why he’s stopping. When you open your mouth to question him, when you rise to your elbows to ask him if he’s okay, he stops you with a large hand against your stomach to push you back down onto your back.

“How do you like to be touched?” It’s innocent within itself, but the circumstances are anything but. The shyness you assumed was far away is creeping into your brain as you fail to answer him.

“I-, just touch me,” you say, hoping that it’s enough to urge him to continue. But he leans over so that his face is just over yours, eyes even more intense with the reflection of the golden light.

“No,” he says firmly, brows furrowing like they always do when he’s frustrated or thinking too hard about something. “Teach me how to touch you.”

Your eyes flutter close, heat that couldn’t get any hotter flaming throughout your core and you toss your head back against the carpet. Your chest rises with a broken inhale, your mind glitching momentarily at his words.

“Fuck- uh, okay,” you swallow, finding his wrist and wrapping your fingers around it. You place his hand at the base of your neck, pushing it down to feel the weight of his palm there. You hear his breath hitch, too busy focusing on the feeling of his hand moving across your skin to see it for yourself.

You drag it down further, using the confidence that’s simmering somewhere within your blood to guide his hand across your breasts.

“Squeeze,” you pant when his fingers envelope the sensitive skin. Your nipple is already pebbled beneath his hand and you moan when he follows your direction. There’s a trembling vulnerability to this moment. A comforting one that forces you to keep going.

“Like this?” He asks when he squeezes again, taking his thumb and dragging it over your hardened nipple.

“Mmm,” you hum, not able to do much else other than enjoy him. But you tighten your fingers around his wrist once more to push him down even further. Straight between your parted legs where you already feel the slick begin to gather and wet your inner thighs. Your breath halts in your throat, stuck against the walls of your trachea as his fingers slip between your folds.

He moans with you this time, parting your lips and gathering as much of your slick as he can on his fingers while you limply hold his wrist. You take your other hand and slide your fingers between his, touching yourself alongside him when you focus his fingertips against your clit.

“P-pressure,” you stutter, hips canting to meet his firm circles. “Just like that.”

Your head is swimming with lust, a sickeningly warm pleasure caresses your veins as you lose yourself. You’re no longer concentrating on guiding him, perfectly content in leaving him alone to learn your body on his own. He moves his fingers down to your entrance, fingertips prodding at the opening without dipping inside like you so badly want him to.

“Ichigo,” you sigh with enough need that has him looking up at you inside of where his fingers meet your sex. “Please.”

His shoulders slump forward and his chin falls towards his chest. If you didn’t know any better he’d look like he was in pain. The muscles all over his body pulled taut and tense. He’s slipping two fingers inside of you then and you clench harshly around them. You’re unable to breathe properly, not with how he curls them upward in search of the spongy tissue you know is there. You force yourself to keep your eyes open and trained on him, unwilling to lose every frame of him he is giving you.

His other hand moves over to palm over the tent in his briefs, harshly rolling the heel of his palm against his cock and guilt pulls in your chest at the sight of it. There’s a dark spot forming where his tip is and your mouth waters at that thought of how he might taste in your tongue. But you can’t focus on it for too long when Ichigo manages to press against your swollen walls, using that motion to drag his palm over your clit at the same time.

“Oh,” your head falls to the side, neck no longer able to hold it up as he focuses entirely on forcing you to the edge. His fingers are targeting every nerve ending that’s there, and there’s a fuzziness clouding your vision as he drives you towards your release. You can barely note from your peripheral that he’s pulled himself from his boxers, his long fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking himself at the speed with which he’s touching you.

The sight has your heart racing and your clit throbbing in anticipation. Your hands are gripping the tresses of the rug at your sides, and your moans are rising in pitch the closer you get to your release. Your thighs close around his wrist when he groans your name roughly. You vaguely comprehend that it’s a plea for you to come. But the tone scratches at your brain and before you can understand the pressure that’s built in your gut, your back bows off the floor and your vision spots with noisy mosaics of color. All you can hear is your own voice catching in your vocal chords and the brief gasp of his name as waves of unadulterated pleasure wash over you.

He doesn’t stop until your back is safely pressed onto the floor again, his fingers slowing inside of you before he’s pulling out altogether. You wince at the emptiness, blinking your eyes back open and wondering when you allowed them to close.

You’re satisfied and your limbs are so heavy. Your brain is mostly mushy endorphins and the first signs of sleepiness are beginning to make an appearance when your eyesight goes wonky.

It’s not until you see him fully, and the blush that’s coating his skin. The blossoming redness that stains his cheeks all the way to the tip of his weeping cock that your walls flutter again with the hopes of feeling him inside of you.

“Let me,” you sit up and reach for him like you did earlier, this time solely wanting to hold him in the palm of your hand. He’s sticky from the precum that’s been dripping from his head. And your mouth waters again with the need to wrap your lips around him. It’s like he can sense where your thoughts have taken you because he’s laying you back down with a hand to your shoulder.

“Next time.”

“But-,”

“Next time,” he promises, stealing any retorts from your lips with a heated kiss. His tongue swipes into your mouth and you nearly forget how wound up he must be. Every kiss is punctuated with a rumbling sigh straight from his chest. He's maneuvering the two of you onto your sides, pillowing your head on his bicep as he continues to mold your lips together. You automatically hook your leg over his hip, his cock slotting between your thighs and slipping easily through the mess of your pussy.

“Shit,” he pauses, panting against your mouth when he pulls away. You whine for him to continue, body screaming for him to bury himself inside of you. “I don’t have a condom.”

The white noise that was raging in your ear drums dials down and you breathe out a small laugh. You meet his gaze and you see the apprehension there, making you kiss the tip of his nose and rub a thumb over his heated cheek.

“It’s been a while for me, so I’m clean,” you explain, your heart thudding against your ribcage. “I don’t have one either so if you want to wait we can, but if you’re comfortable…”

You let your sentence trail off, still stroking his cheek with your thumb as you wait for his response.

“I am too,” he starts, breathing gentle puffs across your face. “Clean.”

“So then, fuck me, Ichigo.” You grip his hair between your fingers and gently tug it. His entire body shudders at the action and you grind down so that his head catches your entrance. He hugs you to him, face moving to bury itself in your neck as he thrusts into you. You can tell he meant to go slower, that he meant to take his time inching his way into your cunt, but your patience is wearing thin. And so you match his thrust with a roll of your own and in one motion he’s seated between your walls with a stuttered groan dampening your neck as his grip on your hip becomes bruising.

Your sweaty bodies stick to each other as he continues to drive in and out of you. You’re sensitive from your first orgasm, so being full like this saturates every thought and feeling and function that should come naturally. His pace is rhythmic, every drag of his cock perfectly timed with each exhale. You drop your forehead into his shoulder, losing sense of yourself because you can only think of him. And his strong frame and soft lips and thick cock.

It’s too much. There’s a sharp tug in your stomach, a warning that you’re about to come again. Your fingers unconsciously strengthen their hold on Ichigo’s hair, and you smear a kiss across his shoulder and wherever your lips can reach.

“M’gon-,” the words are punched from you when his thrusts harden, his hips smacking against you in rapid succession.

“Cum with me,” he barely grits out between a clenched jaw. “Fuck, please.”

“Ichi,” you moan, high pitched and shattered. This one is harder than the last, instead of colors gracing your screwed shut eyes, it’s just white. Pure, untainted white.

He's pulling out of you suddenly and with hardly enough time to aim his cum anywhere. Instead it rushes out in hot spurts all over your pussy, the temperature covering your sensitive clit and jolting your hips back in surprise. His arms are securely around you as he comes down. As you both breathe in jagged breaths of air to compensate for all the ones you lost.

When you open your eyes, the colors are too bright for you. The tan planes of his shoulder and the vibrant orange of his hair greet you first. Your body sags in his embrace, hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back as he finds his way back to you.

He stretches against your body when he finally grounds himself into this reality, his hands smoothing over your hair and thigh as he moves back to peer at you. His eyes are drunken and hazy. His lips are reddened and rosey.

His smile is broad and amused when he gets a good look at you. An entertained little laugh tumbling from him.

“What’s so funny?” You pull on his earlobe after you pinch it between your thumb and finger.

“You have a dried pumpkin string on your lip,” he laughs again, plucking it from your bottom lip and showing it to you.

“How?” You scrunch your brows together in confusion. Only then seeing the bits of pumpkin that you threw at him earlier still clinging to his collarbone and dried on his skin.

“I can’t believe you threw pumpkin insides at me,” you playfully pout, biting your lip to hide your smile from him.

“It was payback,” he grins, cradling your cheek in his hand until his fingers massage parts of your neck.

“For?”

“For waiting so long to bump into me at Starbucks.”

#ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo kurosaki fluff #ichigo kurosaki smut #bleach fanfic #bleach smut #happy belated birthday aman #I love you #kari’s writing🔆

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kyber-crystal · 10 months

Text

all i needed || benji dunn

summary: you’ve always cared for benji, but it takes him teetering on the edge of death for you to realize how much you truly loved him

words: ~2.7k

warnings: some angst, mentions of violence, two oblivious pining idiots

a/n: HI HELLO! finished writing this while sick bc i wanted to get it out of the way before i got my wisdom tooth out. to anon that requested this, please note that i haven’t seen rogue nation in FOREVER so forgive me if some details seem off! i had to go back and look at the script to make sure i got the general timeline right. ALSO if the time skips seem weird…ignore that LOL. i tried to modify some scenes (btw any and all movie quotes included are not MINE, creds go to MI:5). the first part of this is pretty benji pov heavy—i’ve never tried this before 😅

Benji’s not hopelessly in love with you. Definitely not.

“You know I’d spend the rest of my life with you if I could,” you had drunkenly admitted to him one night in a bar somewhere in Eastern Europe. “Just you and me, forever…sounds like a dream.”

If only it wasn’t.

He doesn’t get attached. He knows better than to get attached. But it’s entirely his own doing; he tells himself—you’ve been glued at the hip since the day you first met. Ever since you swore to him that you’d never let him go, he knew he would be in deep.

Now, he was sinking…fast. And he hated quicksand.

(He definitely hasn’t almost gotten caught in some before. The only reason why he didn’t drown in sediment was because you were there to save the day.)

Casablanca was far too hot for his liking, but he’s standing in the scorching heat anyway because you’re here. You effortlessly glide through the glittering water like a mermaid and he can’t help but stare a bit.

Somehow, you sense his presence and emerge from the pool, dripping wet. “What are you doing out here? It’s 100 degrees and you look like you’ve been deep-fried.”

“I needed some sun,” he responded quickly. (Great excuse, he internally smacks himself.) “Need a towel?”

“Oh, yeah.” You flash him a gleaming smile and take the fluffy towel from his hands, quickly drying yourself off. “Thanks a bunch.”

“The sun is treating you pretty nicely,” he tries to compliment. “You look great.”

Your face lights up at this. “Really?”

“You always do.”

Doing a little spin, you smile again, “Thank you!”

“Man,” Ethan chuckles as you push the sliding glass doors open and walk back inside the house, “it’s almost painful to watch.”

“Quit it,” Benji mutters. “I don’t want to hear any of your nonsense.”

“You are aware that what you’re doing won’t get you anywhere.

“My personal life is none of your business.”

“Except it is,” the agent grins, “since most of the time that you’re not busy working is spent talking about her.”

Benji opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. He knows he’s right.

“But it’s funny,” Ethan continues, “because she can’t see it. You’d think that a woman that smart would be able to tell, but she can’t.”

“Then let’s keep it that way. This conversation is over,” he feels his face burning a bright red that he knows has nothing to do with being sunburnt. “Agent Dunn, out.”

“She’s going to be the death of you one day,” he hears Ethan call out as he turns around and walks inside. “Watch your step.”

Benji isn’t the jealous type. Definitely not.

But all that registers with him when he glances in the rearview mirror at you and Brandt is fifty shades of green. You’d just finished laughing at something he had said, and envy spills over him like boiling hot oil. You were supposed to be laughing with him and him only. He told the better jokes (right? Right?) and you spent far more time together. So who was winning, really?

But nothing he tells himself seems to make him feel better.

Noticing Benji’s clenched jaw and tight grip on the wheel, Luther decides to break the tension. “That was a damn good stunt you pulled back there.”

“Effortless.”

“Wait, Benji…” you pause mid conversation. His grip immediately loosens the moment you open your mouth to speak. “Please tell me you still have a copy of that disk.”

He holds up the drive. “Yup, still got it.”

“Where to now?” Brandt asks as he hands the handcuff key through the glass to Ethan.

“London.”

It’s daybreak when you board the plane to Heathrow. Nobody on the team is even trying to hide the tiredness on their faces.

Even with heavy dark circles under your eyes, you still managed to look so beautiful, Benji thought to himself. He didn’t understand how you did it—you could run on twenty minutes of sleep and still walk straight.

“Let me help you with that,” Brandt offered and you gave him a grateful look as he put your duffel bag into the overhead bins.

Benji held his tongue (miraculously enough).

You sat down in your seat and stretched your arms in the air, letting out a loud yawn. “I can’t do this today. I want to just…give up and do nothing.”

“Can’t we all,” he replied.

You made eye contact with him and motioned to the empty seat on your left.

“Do you want me to—” he began, and you nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

Almost immediately, your head lolled against his shoulder. You looked up and offered him a sleepy smile, and he swore he’d self-destruct at that exact moment.

“Tired?”

“Very,” you yawned again. “I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”

“Then get some rest,” he squeezed your shoulder. “I’ll let you know when we land.”

You hummed in reply and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. “You’re my favorite, Benji Dunn. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” he murmurs after you’ve fallen asleep.

He watched you in a trance-like silence, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You were still wearing the tan woven bracelet on your left wrist—it had become battered and stained from prolonged wear, but you refused to take it off because he made it for you. One ATV ride, two hours, and three shots later, that was what he’d come up with as your latest “souvenir”.

His heart aches in more ways than one. Here he was following you around like a hopeless romantic and yet, you were completely oblivious to all his signals. And he doesn’t have a single clue as to why you stick around at all—with your beauty that he believed could rival Venus herself, you could have anyone you wanted. Hell, you could have Brandt in an instant if you tried.

But you insisted on sticking by him—the exact reason, he probably won’t ever figure out—and he’s grateful for it. Even though he feels as if you deserve better…a lot better.

“As promised, I have a job for you,” you heard Lane’s distant voice over the phone as he spoke to Ethan. “And for the sake of your friend, you’ll do it.”

“I’m listening.”

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to bring me the unlocked disc by midnight tonight. Now say the words.”

Ethan paused.

“Say the words,” Lane repeated.

“...I accept.”

“I knew you would.”

The call ended and you went back to fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, trying to fight against the growing lump in your throat.

“Y/N…”

“Ethan, if you’re going to tell me to stop moping around, then I don’t want to hear it.”

“No, that’s not it. You need to listen to what I’m about to tell you.” He sounded more serious this time. “We need to get him back. And to do that…”

“...We need to unlock the disc,” you finished. “And to do that…”

“We have to take the Prime Minister…”

“Wait, think about this for just a minute—”

“It’s the only way to get Benji back.”

“Just think. It’s exactly what Lane wants us to do.”

“Which is why it HAS TO HAPPEN!” he raised his voice. You swallowed hard, and, noticing your sullen expression, he softened his tone. “This is how we beat Lane. This is how we make everything right.”

You could still see the image of Benji’s unconscious body being dragged away—it was fresh in your mind as if it happened only a minute ago. “Yeah. I know.”

If he noticed the longing look in your eyes, he didn’t say anything about it, but he could tell you cared about Benji much more than you were letting on.

“I’m going to find him, and he’ll be alright,” Ethan added after several minutes of silence had passed. “I’m not letting anything happen to him for your sake.”

“And why am I not coming with you?” Your blood began to boil.

“Because it’s not safe, Y/N. I care about your safety, and if both you and Benji want to live, I have to go alone.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

“You need to trust me on this one.”

You grumbled something under your breath. “This is the last time I’m letting you throw your ass on the line with barely any backup.”

He grinned. “Ma’am yes ma’am.”

Meanwhile, Benji had just stirred awake to see a dark figure walking over to him, something heavy in hand.

Maybe Ethan was right, he realized. You would be the death of him someday. And that seemed particularly likely now.

“Where is the disk?” Lane questioned.

“You’re looking at it. I am the disk,” Ethan replied, voice cold, “I memorized it. All two point four billion in numbered accounts. If that vest goes off, you get nothing. And without this money you’re nothing. Without me you’re nothing.”

He stared at Lane through the screen, watching him grow more irritated. The timer continued to count down

“Right now you’re thinking it’s a bluff. I’d never let my friends die. I couldn’t possibly memorize the entire disk. There’s only one way to be sure. Let Benji go.”

Lane stood and paced around the room before finally pressing the button, stopping the timer at just :03. Benji and Ilsa let out loud. long sighs of relief.

Vinter and his goons stepped closer.

“If they come any closer, shoot me.”

Ilsa smiled and slid her seat next to him, planting the barrel of her gun against his ribs.

“Stop. STOP,” Lane demanded, and Vinter and the others stopped what they were doing,

“Remember when I said some day you were going to take things too far...and that’s me speaking—not him,” Benji reminded Ethan.

“The only way this ends is you and me, Lane. Face-to-face. Only this time I won’t be locked in a glass box or half-dead on some highway.” Ethan leaned closer to the camera lens. “You want your money…the bone doctor’s gonna have to beat it out of me... Now let Benji go!”

Finally… “One three nine…”

Benji looks down at the keypad on his chest and nervously punches in a series of numbers. The light on the timer dies and the five-point harness springs open. He sheds the vest as discreetly as he can, wrapping it in his overcoat.

“Go.”

“Ethan—“

He slid a phone across the table to him, “Y/N’s waiting with Luther and Brandt. Go.”

It was far too cold in the office building. Add on the fact that you’d been in there for what felt like hours, and you felt like you were being tortured. You knew Ethan always kept his promises, but were still unsure if Benji would be coming back alive at all.

You had bitten and picked at your nails until you drew blood. The stinging sensation had stopped bothering you a while ago. So did the crimson stains on your skin.

But then you heard a lock click and a loud ringing noise, and suddenly, he’s standing there. Panting and sweating and looking burnt out, but very much alive.

You froze in place for a second, unsure of what to do.

“You’re real, right?” you asked, hesitation in your voice as you gingerly cupped his face in your hands. “Please tell me this is real. I don’t want to wake up and not see you in front of me.”

“It’s real. I'm real,” Benji reassured you as he gripped your forearms. That was all the confirmation you needed before you threw your arms around his neck, hugging him as tight as you possibly could. You were trembling, holding on so strongly because you were so afraid that he’d slip away if you let go.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you repeated over and over. You pressed your lips to his, hard, before pulling back to stare at him again. His cheeks turn pink as he barely has time to react and kiss you back. “I’m so glad you’re alive, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you—“

“Did you—“ he stammered, suddenly at a loss for words. “Did you just—“

“You know I loved you all along,” you explained breathlessly. “It just took me a while to realize the fact.”

“Well, I love you too.”

One of his hands steers the wheel, while the other holds yours and absentmindedly rubs circles into your palm. You’re sipping your ultra-specific go-to coffee order that nobody—unless they were Benji—would bother to remember. It feels so normal—like something that has been routine for a long time.

The team tries their hardest to pretend not to notice the newfound closeness. (“But these idiots have been like this for ages, they only just realized it. Let them be,” Luther had said. He shared the team’s singular brain cell 50% of the time, which meant that he was always the first one to catch on to things. Ilsa shared the other 50%, she was very cunning.) But it’s hard when they almost crash because Benji keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

It’s hard to get a moment alone when 90% of your job consists of you jumping as a group from place to place. So you’re grateful for the few in between that you’re lucky enough to steal.

This time, you found yourselves in a quiet townhouse somewhere in Strasbourg. Ethan wasn’t snoring tonight—maybe it was because Ilsa was next to him this time. Luther was upstairs, probably filing and cleaning out mission reports with a croissant you’d bought him. He never slept, and he never made a sound.

The place was quiet, the only thing you could hear being the chirping crickets outside and the quiet crackling of the fireplace in front of you. You hadn’t felt this kind of peace in months.

“It’s cold at this hour, isn’t it? Meanwhile I thought France would be a bit nicer this time of year.”

Benji comes out from the kitchen holding two mugs of tea, as well as a blanket around himself. The amber flames illuminate his face in a way that makes him look almost angelic, and your heart skips a beat.

He sits down on the plush rug right next to you and offers you one of the mugs, and you accept it gratefully. After taking several long sips, you set it down on the small coffee table in front of you and lean back against the couch.

“You’re staring,” you say suddenly.

“Sorry…can’t help it,” he replies with a sheepish grin, then holds part of the blanket out—an invitation. You shift closer, allowing him to pull you in and wrap the rest of the soft fleece around you. “You’re very…breathtaking.”

This elicits a small laugh from you, but you can feel your cheeks heat up. There’s something different in the air—maybe it’s because those feelings are finally out in the open, or maybe because this moment feels so domestic and it’s both unfamiliar but comforting at the same time.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?” You’re starting to drift off at this point, getting comfortable in his presence.

“I always wondered, you know…”

“Wondered what?”

“How we’re always ending up together—why you decided to choose me,” Benji admits.

The words come out of your mouth so easily. “What do you mean? You’re my person, Benji. I looked at you and I just knew you were right. You had to be.”

“I don’t get it. I thought you and Brandt—“

You shook your head and smiled, tracing patterns on his leg. “Don’t be silly. He was actually—he was the one who made me realize I was in love with you.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, Benji,” you laughed, “don’t tell me you were jealous.”

“O-of course not!” he spluttered, face turning bright red, “All I want is for you to be happy!”

“Well…you know how I told you you’re my favorite, right?”

“Uh huh…”

“That hasn’t changed, you know. I love the Benji that knows how I like my coffee, and the Benji that carries me to bed when I’m too drunk, sick, or injured. And the Benji that always has my back. Especially the Benji that sits in front of the fireplace with me at 3am because he knows I enjoy his company more than the 387 crickets outside.”

He presses a kiss to your temple in response, unable to stop the corners of his lips from turning up in a grin.

“You know I’ve always got your back.”

tags: @kenobismullet @ilsastrenchcoat @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline @the-multiverse-of-fandoms @joyfullyswimmingface

#benji dunn #mission impossible #benji dunn x reader #mission impossible au #benji dunn x you #mission impossible: rogue nation #mission impossible: dead reckoning #mission impossible imagin #benji dunn imagine #mission impossible: fallout

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distinctlywhumpthing · 10 months

Text

Unintentional 27

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This one turned into one of those chapters. It sat for months, already beta-read, becoming a point of avoidance and a total bottleneck in my writing flow. It didn't feel good enough/perfect/complete in a way I couldn't put my finger on but my heart wasn't in it for a rewrite. So, finally, I need to just check this box and move on.

CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization. Explicit language, victim self-blame, brainwashing, the usual. Raid/recapture, manhandling, beating, restraints, blood mention, implied nudity (nonexplicit). As always, beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

He didn’t fight.

He couldn’t. Even if his arms weren’t aching from elbow to wrist, they were lead at his sides. His fingers too were immovable under the weight of his failure. If only he could shift them, feel them, curl them into fists to hold onto the fleeting whisper of warm fingers in his but that comfort was no more deserved than it had ever been his to claim.

The finality of it was equal parts devastation and relief. He wouldn’t get another chance, not after this, but he didn’t want any other life than what he’d had here anyway. He welcomed the end.

They were probably no rougher than usual but rougher than he remembered—

Training is the only thing you need to remember. You were nothing before it, you are nothing without it.

Two agents clad in black caught him under the arms, dragged him away and shoved him to his knees unceremoniously. They held him there as a third stepped up, looming above him.

Just a few feet away another group of agents was—

He turned his eyes toward the sky without registering its shade.

“Identify yourself.”

The numbers were on the tip of his tongue.

142836359.

Always spinning away in the back of his mind somewhere.

One-four-two-eight-three-six-three-five-nine. Snaking into the forefront of his dreams whenever he slept. From the very beginning, when they’d trained it into him. One hundred forty-two million, eight hundred thirty-six thousand, three hundred fifty-nine. An endless cassette ribbon unspooling, threading itself around each synapsis in his head. Repeating over and over until it was laced throughout. A third strand in every double helix.

142836359.

“M-my…” He was suddenly reluctant to lose the single thing he’d been given, even though it had never really been his own. Thinking of defying such a direct order was a hurdle in itself but parsing the words to follow through was another thing entirely. “N-n-name…is—”

A baton cracked across the back of his head and he saw stars. The agents at his sides prevented him from following its momentum to the ground. The leader in front grabbed his chin but he barely felt their gloved fingers over the splitting pain in his head.

“That was a direct order. You will identify yourself.”

He raised his eyes to meet their opaque sunglasses. Defiant. Defective—

Defective companions are immediately returned for evaluation and will be subjected to the most rigorous re-training applicable.

The agent’s fist connected with his jaw. His upper molars cut into the flesh inside his cheek, blood seeping into his saliva. His skull rang and throbbed from two sides now.

“Identify yourself.”

He ground his teeth together. Brittle and raw like flint and steel, sparking fire through his veins. It felt familiar but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. He raised his chin, the feeling flaring hotter.

Your only power is submission, your only choice is acceptance.

“Little fucking shit.”

He tried not to flinch away from the next blow but the agent to his right held out a hand before it landed.

“It’s no use. You know how they get after something like this. We have a witness and his wrist is enough anyway. Vocal confirmation is just a formality.”

The lead agent took off their sunglasses with a slow deliberateness, holding them out and flipping them from front to back, to inspect the lenses. Directly in his line of sight, though the agent’s eyes only scanned the glasses like there was nothing but empty air beyond them.

Except when the agent reached out to use the fabric of his sweatshirt at his shoulder to wipe away an indiscernible smudge before finally replacing their glasses and breaking the silence. “Did you get a fucking promotion I wasn’t informed about?”

The shielding arm had long fallen. “No, sir.”

Their weight shifted to the heels of their combat boots as they leaned into their dominance. “So I still call the shots around here?”

“Yes, sir.” Quieter than before—

Actions speak louder than words; show me how sorry you are.

The leader let the silence stretch again.

The other group of agents kept their voices low as they dealt with—while they worked. He tried not to look. Better to let his bitter defiance burn through any hope that they’d ever have a last moment shared between them.

“What the fuck are you morons waiting for?” The lead finally barked, making him jump and sending a spike of pain through his aching head. “Restrain him and get him out to the van.”

“Yes, sir.” The agents at his sides chorused, sprang to action. As good as any pair of trainees. Thankfully, the leader had turned away and missed his smirk.

They gagged him first. Four gloved hands holding his head still and prying his mouth open to shove a bit between his teeth—

Speech is a privilege and used only to further demonstrate subservience.

The muzzle covered his whole jaw and nose with mesh that wasn’t quite fabric but wasn’t quite metal. His eyes watered as they tightened the straps over the tender spot on the back of his head, the front digging into his cheeks. Next was a thick shock collar, metal prongs hugging his windpipe and pressing into the back of his neck. More serious than what they used for training. No doubt designed to render the wearer unconscious with a single shock.

The restraints around his wrists were also more severe than anything Archer had ever used in training. Wide and tightened until his pulse beat in his hands and fingers, binding his wrists together behind his back. Similar bands went around each ankle, connected by a short chain that would have restricted his walking to a show shuffle but the agents didn’t give him the chance. They hauled him backwards off his knees and dragged him away.

Just like that, it was all over.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but of course WRU wouldn’t waste resources on a single Reclamation. From the looks of it, he was the last stop. The others in the van were anchored down in two orderly rows. Eleven collars secured to the white walls, wrists to the white bench, feet to the white floor. Now an even dozen.

Just like the facility, everything white and pristine again. All of these bodies reeking of sweat and fear and failure and worse were in need of sanitization. The first in the row wore an evening gown, mascara streaks disappearing behind their muzzle. Two were completely naked. Some were crying. Another was fighting against the restraints like they had any chance at working themselves free before they got shocked for their disobedience. Though from the looks of the angry red welts rising under the restraints, the agents were letting them carry on with their fruitless efforts. A few were limp, split lips and still-bleeding noses indicating they’d needed a little extra help into the van.

He envied them.

It was impossible to know what might have led the others here. They all must have known what was coming, tried to avoid it in whatever they may have been doing. Most of them would have agreed with him that death was preferable.

A Companion across the aisle tried to meet his gaze with pleading eyes but the burn spanning from their hairline to their navel caught his attention first and he couldn’t drag his eyes away. If they were whining in pain, it was lost in the other muffled cries and sounds of struggle—

Your only power is submission, your only choice is acceptance.

The clip anchoring his wrists to the bench was as thick as his fingers. There was barely enough slack in the anchor at the back of his neck for him to look down to see it fully. None of the locks were of the electronic variety that might release them to the mercy of tumbling in a tangle of immobilized bodies should the van roll.

How many of them would have their necks broken or simply asphyxiate if there was an accident? Blunt force trauma from being so close to the walls of the van would probably do enough damage to cancel whatever re-training was waiting for them. Or at least for the others.

Better yet, a clean decapitation.

A distorted, muffled sound, distinguishable from all the crying, silenced the rest of the van. It took another beat of listening to the hysterical tail end of it, the inhale past saliva collecting at the corners of a bit before it bubbled out again to realize it was laughter. And another beat to realize he was its source.

All the eyes that were open and could manage the angle, turned to watch. Any distraction was welcome when you were facing hell. Had any of the others been in his cohort? Had he surpassed them in training?

Look at him now, Archer’s ace in the hole—

That really set him off.

But he wound up choking on all of the extra spit and spent the next minute thinking he really was going to die in the back of this van just asphyxiating on his own spit before he finally managed to drag in a thin breath amidst all of his coughing.

The van was still completely silent once he’d recovered his breath. Some gazes had slid away quietly. Others remained, still happy to watch him unravel.

His cheeks burned under his muzzle but a part of him was sure that none of them could hold a candle to what had led him here.

Some of them might have simply been displeasing. Appearances could only be changed so much. Their simple minds so very, very far from telepathic.

Even after the full-refund window, WRU was happy to offer trade-in credit for an exchange. If that wasn’t possible, they would graciously take care of retiring unwanted Companions. It didn’t make any difference if a Companion was bought, leased, or only rented. The Handlers made sure it was always, always, in the back of their minds that no placement was certain—

The only certainty is that you are property now.

The rest would go back to being numbers on the training roster.

He would be on a different list.

They were removed from the van for Decontamination one by—

One-four-two-eight-three-six-three-five-nine

— each brought to their own white-tiled room. Wrists hooked above his head, holding him in place over the drain. He wasn’t sure if these were still agents or Handlers now. A different department of Handlers, maybe. They wore white rubber suits like he could be radioactive or carrying a plague, their eyes hidden behind the mirrored glass window of the suit masks.

The relief of having the muzzle and bit removed distracted him from noticing they were cutting away his clothes. Too late he realized that with them went the last scent of what semblance of a home he’d had, of—

He didn’t have time to swallow the lump in his throat before the spray hit him. Cold and sharp like the water wanted to worm its way under his skin. There wasn’t any slack to get away from it. No way to cross his legs or twist without his shoulders and arms protesting.

Your only power is submission, your only choice is acceptance.

He yelped when they sprayed it into his ear, gritting his teeth through the other. They pried his mouth open to rinse out his mouth until he was choking. When he was finally released, his spit was pink.

Next was a powder, antiseptic smell sharp and familiar in his nose, making his stomach turn, misted all over his shivering body—

Your body is an object for service, your mind is a vessel for obedience.

They scrubbed it in with brushes until the lather was turning pink too. When they brought back the water it was so hot he screamed. And kept screaming as it scalded him like the soap was turning to acid and boiling through his skin. He ran out of air before they were done, gasping in lungfuls of it, the collar tighter and tighter around his neck. His pulse fast against it, beat, beat, beating—

Beatings break old habits, the collar corrects new—

One-four-two-eight-three-six-three-five-nine.

He was still catching his breath when they held open his jaw to let the water burn through his mouth, his throat, his lungs.

Black spots dotted his vision. Sunlight through leaves, lying on a blanket under a tree. Right beside her. Mira. It hurt.

His chest ached, his heart burned. He vomited up all of the water and some blood. The room spun. He sobbed.

The water was off now.

He was saying it out loud, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his voice echoing, the only sound in the room.

He was alone.

Previous—Masterlist—Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @mazeish @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess @meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump @aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @lavbug

#bbu #bbu adjacent #bbu whump #box boy whump #box boy rescue #institutionalized slavery tw #pet whump #whump #wru #whumpblr #whump writing #recapture #restraints tw

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rakktoons · 24 days

Text

It’s the first time in ages that I’ve managed to find a show where I grew fond of every character, if dbd gets cancelled for me just to see Netflix make some spin off out of riverdale or elite or a fucking remake of fifty shades of grey I’m gonna scream

#I get a lump in my throat every time I see George telling us to keep streaming in his ig stories like fucking fuck for fuck’s sake #dead boy detectives

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iamsherlocked1479 · 1 year

Text

Darkest Disires

Pairing: Sinister strange x fem reader

Word count: 3k words

Summary: y/n falls through a portal through a series of misfourtunate events, eventually leading to him.

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“So how did it go?” Your best friend's voice sounded hopeful through the speaker of your phone as you walk down the busy street.

“I’m bringing the good bourbon to your place.” You sigh

“Oh dear, was he that bad?” Her tone saddened

“Elouise he asked me if I would spit or swallow twenty minutes in. Where do you find these guys?”

“My boyfriend recommended him!”

“The boyfriend who hates me.” You add sarcastically

“He does not hate you!”

“Uh huh, so finding a reason to be busy whenever I’m around isn’t hating?” You step into the convenience store.

“He has a busy job! And its not his fault your still moping about your college boyfriend. Come on that was eight years ago!”

“You don't get it, he was good” you emphasised on the good

“Yeah and now he’s a superhero i get it.”

“Whatever” you chuckle

You hear mumbling in the background and Elouises breath shortens “Y-y/n?”

“Yup what's up.” You ask leaning your phone to your shoulder whilst you tap your card on the reader and bagging the bottle.

“Where are you?” She worriedly asked

“Whole foods getting the bourbon, why?” You begin to become confused over her sudden panic.

“T-the one on seventh street?” You didn’t pay any attention to her voice, the sight of people running and screaming tore you away. You dropped your phone running to the window to find a huge octopus-like creature tearing a bus apart.

“Holy shit!” You shout rushing onto the street, avoiding the metal smashing through the windows. You notice the young girl running through the debris dodging each car that almost seemed to be targeting her. “Hey! Over here!” You shout coaxing her to hide in the alleyway with you. She complies and you grab her hand rushing through the panicked crowds.

“This way!” The girl pulled you along and the monster let out an ear piercing streak. You turned back to see

“Oh my god, look its Doctor Strange!” You pull the girl towards him. “He’ll stop it, he helped fight thanos.” Your optimism was misplaced, the monster whacked him through a coffee shop window and made a b-line straight for you.

“Oh shit.” You both yell, the monster lunges and wraps its tentacles around you, spinning you upside down and glaring at you with its great big eye. It exams the girl and shrieks at the sight of her. The girl scream and her eyes light up and a whole shaped like a star opens below you. The monster roared once again, the girl was dropped as an orange blade cuts through its tentacle. In the pain the monster raises you higher before freeing you to grab the girl once again.

You dropped clinging onto a tentacle, the star shaped portal looming closer by the second. Your grip began loosening and with a final struggle the tentacle was struck from your grasp, the world began to slow as you fell through the portal only to be held back by a rough yet familiar grip.

“Y/n?” Stephen knelt over the portal trying to pull you free

“Uh hi um Stephen how are you?” You ask awkwardly pretending you weren’t hanging for your life.

“Wow it's been so long, I haven’t seen you since-

“Since you dumped me for that goth what was her name? Mandy?” You snap back

“Mindy, sorry it was a college mistake.” He grunted

“Could you erm pull me up now?” You ask complacency

“Yeah sure I-“ but once again he was knocked back, releasing you from his grip, his cloak only threads away as you fell deep into the hole spinning and smacking into various objects eventually being knocked unconscious.

You woke up lifting yourself off the cold wet floor waves or rain water rushing down the street creating waves. Your hand lifted to soothe the stinging pain emerging from your head, you looked down at your hand noticing the blood left by the impact. And then you looked up, you were home in New York, but it was different. The sky was dark and buildings crumbled away as they clashed into each other, the streets were emptied, littered with papers and old dollars from the universe that once was. You walked down the street avoiding cars as they floated around you, the seasons changed unnaturally switching from storms to snow then storms again. It was strange, watching as the once humming city dissipated into a shore with one lonely building slowly fading into particles at the coast line. It was Doctor Strange's sanctum, maybe Stephen could help you, maybe he was here too.

You cautiously approached the house before pushing open the heavy door revealing a never ending staircase towering over the ocean. You followed the steps, growing ever so closer to the summit noticing how the railings became more used and dusty the closer you got. You began to hear the muffled sounds of what seemed like a piano, a tune radiated from the top, it was sad and lonely but beautiful in its own way, your foot stepped down causing the stair to creek. The music ceased and you held your breath as heavy foot prints loomed closer. A familiar figure blocked the dim candle light as it stood proudly at the top, it was Stephen but he was different. His cape was missing and his robes were darker with leather padding his shoulders, he daunted many belts wrapping tightly around his waist and his goatee was loose and more deranged than the one you saw earlier. His hair was nowhere near as tidy with loose strands following his sharp cheekbones. He stood hands behind his back looking down at you.

“Y/n? Is that you? After all these years?” he stepped down edging closer down the steps towards you.

“Stephen? Is that you? You look, different.” your words stopped him in his tracks.

“How did you get here?” his tone became more defensive, and his hand clutched the book chained to his side.

“I fell through a hole, well technically you dropped me.” you say watching the way his dark blue eyes examined you.

“You’re from a different universe. How?” he stepped closer tilting his head as he examined you.

“I- I don’t know, there was this girl, she screamed and then the portal opened.” you gulped he was now inches away from you, still above you but you could see him more clearly now. The way his eyes looked tied and afraid of you? And the way his robes tightened particularly around his biceps, he looked the same but you could tell he was different, almost sinister.

“You’re hurt, come with me.” he reached out your hand and you took it. It was cold yet soft, the hands of a musician. He led you up the stairs revealing the darkened room littered with cobwebs.

“You don’t get out much do you?” you asked, noticing the piles of compositions and books littering every dusty surface.

“Incursions are dangerous, it's better to stay here. No matter how horrible this place is.” The most prominent thing was the vortex spinning in the main hall pulling in the particles being lifted from the building. “Here” he used his magic and pulled a chair towards you, gesturing to sit down.

“So how did you know me? Well I guess the other me.” You asked as he began tending to the cut on your forehead.

“College ex.” He said bluntly

“Oh right, yeah. Mindy” you mutter

“No, Mike. In this universe i loved you more than anything and you left me for a guy called mike.” He complained applying slightly too much pressure.

“Oh, well in my universe its the other way around. We were fine then it-“ he cut you off

“Just wasn’t meant to be.”

“That's what you said” you both added. The feeling was strange, he was the same man only he wanted to be with you, just like you had with your stephen.

“So you wanted to be with me?” You pressed on

“More than anything, you were.” He paused and wiped a loose strand of hair from your face “you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as they blushed. You weren’t seriously crushing on a guy you met literally 30 minutes ago are you?

But he wasn’t a new person, you dated for 3 years he was the same but different in the best way. And now that man's eyes were staring deep into your own, and his lips where looking so delicious.

“So i saw you became a surgeon then.” You break your trance with an obvious question

“Don’t change the subject y/n” his voice rattled you so deep and seductive. “We may be from other universes but you can feel the spark can’t you?” The candles around you bursted with light as they ignited. His breath loomed closer acomaning his lips. His scent engulfed your nose pulling you in and finally his lips were on yours. A groan bellowed from his throat clashing with the moan that escaped from you as your hands ran through his dark hair. Your hands latched onto his robes as you got up,l lip’s still locked he pushed your back to the piano brushing of the papers as he lifted you onto it, removing your clothes leaving only you lingerie for him to admire.

“So do you fuck any girl you come across.” You pulled away questioning him through your breaths.

“Never, just you. It's only you.” He bit his lip as he went in for another kiss, this time travelling down down to you breast and almost ripped through your bra. He livked one whilst his hand tightly but gently grasped the other switching sides making sure nothing was neglected. He spent his time working on your breasts until he felt your hand on the back of his head edging him to go further and he followed with his lips trailing down to your soaked folds.

Your body quivered as you felt his breath loom closer to your sex, his tongue entered first pushing its way into you in and out whilst his hands worked on your clit.

“Oh fuck stephen, i- yo-“ his skill left you speachless, your thighs twitched as the feeling you desired most loomed closer building in the pit of your stomach. He groaned and vibrated through you at they joy of feeling you grip his hair tighter. His purrs set you off, the know tightening, the fireworks bursting. This is what all those dates were missing, the feeling of joy and passion, the feeling this stephen was giving you.

“Look at you, drunk on lust and I haven’t even fucked you yet, luckily you’ll be here for eternity. I will be able to fuck you in every way possible.” He knelt up and you pulled his lips to your still being able to taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands slid down his robes feeling his hardened cock beneath them, it was- he was big. You looked up at him and he looked down on you “what's wrong won’t be able to fit it in” he hissed sharply.

“I have wanted this for a while, as if a little pain would set us back,” you sharply replied, arching your hips against his own and proudly grinned when he released a soft groan, his composure dipping momentarily to make way for the man you knew was touch-starved beneath.

Strange roughly grabbed your hips and pulled you flush against him, his other hand curling two fingers beneath your chin and forcing you to meet his eye. “Do not be smart with me,” he sneered, watching your eyes flash with arousal at the dominant tone in his voice, “i wish for this to be enjoyable for the both of us.”

“So enough talking,” you replied quickly, spreading your legs wide to entice him, “fuck me.”

His expression darkened and the grip he had on your thigh only strengthened as he pulled it up to wrap around his waist, his eyes boring into yours as he withdrew his cock from the confines of his robes and nudged the tip against your dripping entrance. “So wet for me,” Strange smirked, watching as your eyebrow twitched and you mouth fell open as he inched in bit by bit and he took pleasure in pulling out only to thrust back in harshly, smirking at the yelp of pain and pleasure that it released from your throat.

It felt bigger now that he was inside you. The hard mass weighted between your walls slowly driving you mad as Strange continued to study your expressions, taking pleasure in your frustration of him not moving. He stood there relishing in the feeling of growing harder by the minute filling you even more, he leant forward nipping at your ear as his hot breath fanned across your neck.

“I won’t let you suffer anymore kitten, I’ll start slow, just this once.” He pulled back and slowly pushed his inches in before retracting and repeating again. His hands gripped your thighs tightly causing them to redden it was taking his whole strength not to let loose and you could feel it. You hand glided to his cheek, your thumb stroking the hairs of his goatee.

“Do it, I want it, I need it. I want you” his eyes widened at your confidence and you tighten your legs around his waist. His pace quickened, as he kept one arm around your waist but moved one onto the piano for grip. He pushed into you all the way to the hem, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing through the empty halls of the sanctum.

“You’re dirtier than I imagined, you can take more than you let on my sweet.” His voice rattled your brain. You laughed between your breaths

“Try me.” Your new confidence brought a crooked smile to his face. He pulled out and spun you around pushing himself onto your back causing you to lean over the piano, he entered from behind griping your hips and pounded into you. He curves perfectly into hitting the sweet spot you desire most.

“Fuck, you’re gonna cum again aren’t you, dam baby my cock is so goodd isn’t it?” He grabbed your hair and pulled your ear close to his voice “tell me how good it is.”

“It's so good, baby. I nee- I want your cock so bad sir.”

“Mm you like it when im the boss huh? You like it when sir makes you cum?” He pushed in deeper hitting that spot harder and harder taking one hand to leave a burning pain on your ass which you loved.

“Fuck sir hit me again, I’m gonna. I’m gonna-“ the knot tightened as you came around his cock. You tightened around him causing him to groan as his pace quickened even more, his hand moved from your ass to your clit rubbing it causing a sensation to ripple through your nerves.

“Fuck you feel so good, gonna make me cum all over you.” He pushed you down pulling his cock from you, just in time before his white ropes spilled across your back. He beant over you for a moment panting behind you as he moved your hair from you back allowing him to wipe it clean with his purple magic.

“That got out of hand quickly.” You laughed through your breaths as Stephen handed you your clothes.

“Yeah well that tends to happen around here.” He put the book down he had previously guarded and began flicking through the pages. You looked around noticing how damaged this world truly was, watching cars and buildings being sucked into the vortex

“What happened here?” You asked, Stephen didn’t look at you as he continued flicking through pages

“Someone caused an incursion, and this world began collapsing in on itself. I- I couldn’t stop it. And now its just me.” His hand smoothed out a paper in the book.

“What are you reading?” You ask, peering from over his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be here, I need to find a way to send you back. Its not safe here its- I’m dangerous.” He turned to you and his soul was lost, he was lonely.

“What if i don't want to leave?” You grabbed his hand “It's not exactly like we don’t get along, and I’m not really leaving anything behind.”

“You can’t stay here y/n, what about your mum?” You forgot he knew you but he must have forgotten your mum was all you had and whatever relationship you had was long gone

“You mean the mum who tried to sell me for a six pack when i was twelve?”

“Right- what about your friend what was she called uh. Ellie?”

“Elouise” you correct “well she’s getting marand has made it her life mission to set me up with someone. I was actually on my way back from a date.” You explain

“Are you sure you want to stay? Its not exactly like there’s anything to do here.”

“Well” you traced your hand up his chest “there is you.” He raised his brow and nodded

"Indeed but we cannot spend most of our time attached in the throes of pleasure, y/n," he replied with a soft smile, one that looked almost alien on the face of the variant that had seen too much.

"No," you replied, your fingers delicately tracing his robes, "why would I go home and see the Stephen I knew with someone else when I can stay here with the Stephen that feels the same about me?"

“Well then my dear, i truly hope you don’t mind getting right to it, I’ve been here alone far to long and that window has far better uses than a brooding corner.” He pulled you towards it.

“Like what?”

“Y/n my dear, i want to fuck you against it.”

And that was the day you knew a college crush turned out to be more than just a desire, even your darkest desires couldn’t come up with some of the things he was going to do to you. But you were always one for being open minded.

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A/N: My god it feels good to write smut again, had to take a break from the series but the next chapter should be out by the end of the weekend but i wont make any promises XD. if you liked it a reblog would be great, and if you didn't let me know how i can improve. Thanks for reading :)

#sinister #sinister strange #sinister stephen strange #dr stephen strange #dr strange x you #stephen strange x reader #Spotify

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