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blue-aconite · 3 months

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the offside rule || j.h.s

Summary: Jake learns that his girl is crazy about football, but not the kind he expected.

Warnings: jake being a sweetheart, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairings: Jake Seresin x f!reader

Authors Note: This is inspired by @roosterforme's Sundays Are for the Boys and @teacupsandtopgun's Jake and Flick universe. This is also very self-indulgent and somewhat based on parts of my life.

“What are you doing?” Jake emerged from the bathroom, only to find his girlfriend on the couch, watching what looked like soccer.

“I’m watching football, what does it look like?” She didn’t take her eyes off the screen as she reached for the beer bottle on the coffee table.

Jake didn’t know how to respond. He knew what soccer was, he wasn’t an idiot but he never knew that his girl enjoyed the sport.

“Soccer, baby. It’s called soccer.”

Jake knew it was the wrong thing to say as she turned around, an unimpressed look on her face.

“I’m going to forgive you this time. But in the future, for your information, it’s called football. Not your ridiculous term soccer.” She was all business, a sharp edge to her tone that Jake hadn’t really experienced in their relationship so far.

There was a sparkle in her eyes that told him she wasn’t as serious as her tone suggested though. Jake flopped down on the couch next to her, plucking the beer out of her hands. “Is this MLS?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes as she looked him up and down. “MLS is a shit league. It only got interesting since Messi signed for Inter Miami and it’s still shit. You know, we call it the retirement league because it’s where all the greats come to wind down and just kick around.”

“Hey!” Jake protested. “Doesn’t it have a somewhat good reputation?”

She shook her head. “Baby, I love you but you’ve been greatly deceived.” She patted his cheek, opening another beer, seeing as he had stolen hers.

Jake grumbled, sinking lower into the couch. Granted, his soccer knowledge was limited but he thought that MLS at least was a popular league.

“What’s this then?” He pointed to the screen where the game was playing.

His girl clapped excitedly, tossing the cap onto the table. “This is the greatest league in the world. I give you the Premier League.” She dramatically spread her arms, as if showing him something of great importance.

In a way, Jake guessed that she was. He had no idea she was this passionate about this but he found it endearing that she did.

“I recognise that, it’s England, yeah?” Jake was 80% certain he was right but he could also be wrong. Like he said, his knowledge of soccer was limited.

“Yes! PL is played in England and it’s hands down the most popular and watched league. But there’s obviously others as well.”

He was a bit intrigued and Jake also wanted to know more about something that made his girl this excited. “Others?”

“Oh, you’ve got La Liga for example, and Ligue 1. And then there’s Serie A and Bundesliga. My dad used to watch a lot of Eredivisie too. He was a lifelong fan of Ajax.” She quieted down a bit at the end, a sad smile on her face as she remembered her dad.

Jake pressed a kiss to her shoulder, hand finding hers. He gave a supportive squeeze. He understood now why this was so important to her.

“Did you guys watch a lot together?” He asked as the game seemingly was paused, the players leaving the field.

“Yeah. He took me to my first game when I was 4. I barely remember it but I remember the feeling. And he coached my team for as long as I played.”

That surprised Jake. “You used to play?” It wasn’t something that had come up but he guessed it was somewhat of a sore subject.

“From the age of five til I was fifteen, maybe sixteen,” she paused. “Uh, I quit playing when he got sick. He wanted me to continue but it just wasn’t the same. It was our thing and then all of a sudden he wasn’t there and..”

Jake pulled her into his arms, lips pressed to her forehead. “Baby, why haven’t you told me about this before? I would have loved to know more about football if I knew it meant this much to you.”

She smiled when he called it football and Jake counted it as a small victory. “I honestly don’t know. You’re more of an American football fan and I just figured you didn’t care about this.”

“I would have cared if you told me. Hell, I know you don’t really care about the Cowboys but you still hang out with me when they play. And wear the jersey.”

She laughed then, leaning back from his embrace but kept their hands intertwined. “I wear the jersey because I know it gets you all hot and bothered.”

“Well, that’s definitely a perk. You do look very good in blue.” Jake kissed her then, hands sneaking under her shirt to trace her skin.

She was blushing when they pulled apart and Jake grinned, proud to be the one to make her that way.

“So is Ajax your team?” He asked, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“No. As much as I respect and enjoy Dutch football, the Premier League always called to me more. And then I fell in love with Manchester United.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up, teasingly pinching her sides. “Fell in love, huh? That means I got competition?”

She rolled her eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you for the Red Devils.”

“Good. Is this them then?” He gestured towards the screen, where the game had resumed.

“No, they play Aston Villa tomorrow. This is Newcastle vs Arsenal.”

Jake watched as the team in black and white kicked the ball back and forth. “Okay, you’re going to have to explain this to me. I know nothing.”

She launched into the game, explaining what was happening as well as informing him about the rules and terms. Jake tried his best to keep up but figured he was going to have to do some independent studying to catch up.

If this was important to his girl, it was important to him. He watched as she kept on talking, gesturing back and forth with her hands, eyes alight with excitement.

“But there must be leagues outside of Europe, yeah?” He asked after learning that the ones she had rambled off earlier were all based in European countries.

“For sure, but those are the most popular ones. And considering how much of an impact the Champions League, Europa League and Conference League have, it’s difficult for leagues outside of Europe to compete.”

Jake’s mind was reeling, trying to piece all the information together. “Wait, Europa League and Champions League? Conference? Where’s that?”

“All of those are played by teams in Europe. You qualify for UCL when you win your league in your country, and the second tier goes on to play in the UEL and third tier in UECL.” At Jake’s confused expression, she smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, this is way overboard. How about we keep that for another day and we just keep to the basics for now?”

Jake breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes please.”

She handed him another beer, smiling softly.

“So, do I get a Manchester United jersey? It’s only fair, I got you a Cowboys one.” Jake asked.

He was comfortably leaning back against the armrest of the couch. Initially he had tried to get her to snuggle with him but quickly found out that she wasn’t going to sit still while watching the game.

“Babe, you’ll get a jersey when you deserve one. Maybe earlier if you can explain the offside rule to me.”

He was screwed then. “Never mind. I’ll wait.”

“It’s really not that difficult. A player would be seen as offside if their entire body is in front of the last defender of the opposing team, on the opposing team's half.”

Jake tried to imagine what it would look like but his mind came up blank. “You’re just speaking gibberish, that doesn’t make sense.”

She smiled softly, a gleam in her eye. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you a football fan. Just you wait.”

“I can’t wait. I’m also very excited to see you watch your team play.”

The game was now over and she climbed into his lap, hands finding the back of his head. “Oh, you’re in for a wild ride.”

Making the most of their position, Jake grabbed a hold of her thighs as he stood up, ignoring her squeal as he headed towards the bedroom. “How about I give you a ride right now?”

Two months later, when Jake officially got the offside rule right, a package was waiting for him on the kitchen table when he got home.

His heart swelled as he pulled out a bright red Manchester United jersey, embroidered with his callsign on the back. There was a note inside the box as well and Jake laughed as he read what his girlfriend had written.

Now you’re a real football fan. Glory glory Man United!

Ps. Come find me ;)

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.” He called, jersey in hand as he stalked the house.

Her laughter echoed through the house. “Come claim your prize, cowboy.”

Taglist: @wildbornsiren @ryebecca @imjess-themess @reels-and-wheels @antiquitea @writercole @hederasgarden @yanna-banana @bobfloydsbabe @hollandorks @anniesocsandgeneralstore @ereardon @luminousnotmatter @roosterscock @thedroneranger @fandomxpreferences @honkytonk-hangman @princessmisery666 @bradshawsbitch @a-reader-and-a-writer @green-socks @angstybluejay @seresinhangmanjake @ayorooster@notroosterbradshaw @indynerdgirl @gigisimsonmars @girl-in-the-chairs-void @bradshawbabes @unhinged-btch @horseshoegirl @sadpetalsstuff @bradshawbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @ummjustfics @septemberrie @somenamewithepineapple @seresinsweetie @crescentwolf @seresinhangmanjake @waklman @roosterforme @rosiahills22 @dempy @i0veless @ilovewriting06 @kmc1989 @demxters @amortentiadrops @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanscoming @hangmanssunnies

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #fe writes #fic: the offside rule #top gun maverick fic #jake seresin fic #jake seresin

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yuellii · 5 months

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“ ooo, you wanna kiss me so bad! ” — furina / gn reader

There was something about the way this was easily the happiest she’s felt since she left the Palais.

It was mostly endearing, really (at least, she hoped it was), that you brought her mouthfuls of macarons and cake to stuff into her face like a woman starved of such a delicacy; though, she can’t help but plead a tad of gracelessness from the way she lived her life nowadays, barren of luxury in this small apartment.

She squealed happily, even so. “Oh, how I miss the Palais’ cooking!” she reveled in delight.

“Well, when you’ve been consuming nothing but macaroni these days, Lady Furina…”

“What?” she almost snarls defensively. Her cheeks flare red in embarrassment. Perhaps you didn’t fancy the bare basic, messy life she was showing you now… “Macaroni is good!”

You moved carefully, her eyes following your hands as they poured her more tea. “It is, my lady,” you didn’t deny. “But I can’t imagine you going a day, much less weeks, without something sweet for dessert.”

She almost crumbles from humiliation from that. Though you ( probably, she once again hopes ) did not mean your words in any insulting magnitude, there was no denying the shame she felt prickling at the corners of her eyes, nor the sharpness welling at the back of her throat. It was purely mortifying to have someone as special you think of her that way—her, as some spoiled, immature, strictly-sweet dieted bratty archon.

“Well…” she stutters out. She notices as your movements suddenly hesitate—perhaps there was something in her voice you’ve never heard before.

( And there was, truthfully so. There was a inkling of disappointment stemmed from a certain sadness you’d never imagine to hear from the all-magnificent, all-showcasing Furina de Fontaine. )

“Well, what you’re imagining is the archon you once knew,” she simply concluded, albeit quietly so. “Not me.”

There is a silence that ensues for just a moment; and curse her tendency to overthink, for now she was sweating over the way you thought of her. Perhaps it will finally hit that you pretty much knew nothing of her at all, and maybe then, you’d leave her alone. But she prayed that didn’t happen—once she’s gotten a taste of your company, she couldn’t quite let that feeling of companionship go. And… whatever other feelings came alongside it. But she could ignore that part of it, for now.

“That’s…” you started, and she tensed visibly, “true.” You pick up a red colored macaroon. It’s raspberry flavored. “I don’t know you, but I’d like to think that Furina also has a liking for sweets, if that is correct?”

She almost shivers when you say her name. No title, no formalities, just… her name. It sounds sweeter than the treat in your hand.

What more when you lift up the macaroon so delicately between your fingertips, and when your body leaned in. Her breath is practically caught in her throat when you press the edge of the macaroon gently between her lips, and it takes all of her brainpower just to open her mouth to bite it. Oh Archons, you just fed her… so improperly, too, like as a friend rather than a servant. She can feel her heart hammering painfully at her chest as her mind is screaming when her lips accidentally brush against your thumb—why is the surface area of this macaroon so small?!

Feeling embarrassed once more, she quickly snatches the rest of the bitten macaroon out of your hands so she can take the second and final bite on her own.

“Just Furina who still likes sweets…” she pondered aloud after chewing. “That’s… That’s right!” She brightly smiles to herself, “As I am a common civilian of society now, I know not to waste food on the table!” She talks quickly to attempt at quelling the redness on her face, though she does not know how well that is working. Her eyes frantically scan the table for any hopes of a conversation diversion, and they land on the plated cookies right in front of you. “And in any case, you look like you aren’t interested in eating, anyways—can I have your cookies?”

“All yours,” you wave off, and she visibly grows excited as her hand darts out in front of you. “Just don’t take the shortbread— Furina!”

She grabs the only shortbread cookie left on the platter with a force so strong it almost breaks it in half. And all the while, there is a sparkling mischief in her eyes. She knew this brand of shortbread cookies were your favorite—and she watched as they were the only thing you’ve been eating this whole time. And to make matters more infuriating? You knew she didn’t even like them!

Now, Furina definitely did not expect you to be so passionate about your shortbread to the point where you would dive forward to collide with her body, and reach your hand to grab the cookie before she put it in her mouth. Even as she sat up, there was a certain childish silliness in your expression that you’d never shown her before—one that made her heart throb so painfully hard she… accidentally comepletely ate the cookie she was supposed to only tease you with.

Oops.

“Furina!” you whined, visibly pouting as you leaned back. “I was saving that one!”

And here she was, sitting completely flustered ( and maybe a little lovestruck ) at your exchange. So, she does the only thing she knows how to: she talks.

“First you feed me,” she begins to blabber. “Then you try to steal a cookie that was already in my mouth—” Where was she going with this again? She thinks she might be staring at your lips a little too long right now; she lost her train of thought. “Your fixation on my lips means you want to kiss me, oh my Archons!”

She looks away once your expression changes, not wanting to deal with that just yet.

“You want to kiss me sooo bad, you look stupid trying to—”

…

“If you could just shut. Up.”

…You just kissed her. The words you just said, so deeply mean and informal, did not even register; because before you even said them, you just kissed her. Mouth agape, she feels sick—Did that really just happen? Did you really just—?

“Furina?” you called, shaking her shoulder from the side. “Furina, are you okay?”

“You idiot!” she yelled, turning and grabbing both your hands in hers. The color red was washed all over her face, coating her entire expression in flushed embarrassment as she stuffed the warmth of her face in your balled hands. “That was my first kiss, you’re so mean!”

She couldn’t even think right now, heart pounding wildly against her lungs as her mind searched—searched to remember the feeling of your lips against hers. Oh good Gods, she felt sick. Sick, and starved, and desperate, and delusional, and downright drowned in her own doom. This was so humiliating. She kind of just wanted to die in front of your hands right now.

“You’re the one who stole my cookie, and then kept teasing me!” you exclaimed back, freeing your hands to gently grab her face between them. She pouted into your hold, eyes closed before they could brim with tears from embarrassment. “If kissing you made you stop—?!”

Two could play at that game when Furina herself leaned in now to kiss you, leaving your hands hanging in the air behind her as her own hands moved to secure your face against hers, not letting you move.

A muffled “Furina—!” draws from your lips before she dives back in to her kiss, shutting you up completely just as how you did to her.

It’s pretty effective. She thinks she likes this way of getting you to be quiet.

this is my girlfriend she loves mac and cheese 👍 i’m really not the best with silly funny stuff like this but i tried </3 in the future, i really want to write furina in my style ! // not proofread

🕰️ // @definitelynotaneulasimp @ryuryuryuyurboat @naraven <3

#furina x reader #furina x you #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin women x reader #furina x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin x gender neutral reader #furina

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booksandabeer · 28 days

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Celebrating 10 Years of CA:TWS — A Stucky Rec List

Rec list for the CA:TWS 10th Anniversary Event @catws-anniversary (thank you so much for organizing this event! 💙) | Prompt: Memories

10 years, huh? 10 years of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. 10 years of what many—myself included—still consider to be the best MCU movie ever made.

But also 10 years of post-TWS fanfiction. 10 years of Bucky Barnes Recovering and Steve Rogers' Sadness Errands; of Up All Night to Get Bucky and Revenge Road Trips; of Winter Soldier Trauma Umbrellas and Everybody Needing A Goddamn Hug; of Good Bros and Soft Epilogues. 10 years and tens of thousands of Steve/Bucky fics later, here we are.

So, to mark the occasion, let's take a trip down memory lane and celebrate the movie and the stories it inspired: One fic from each year since it all began:

There's really only one rule here: All fics are set before, during, or after the events of CA:TWS and/or reimagine its plot in interesting ways. Naturally, many of the fics on this list are post-TWS canon divergent, but I tried to go for a nice variety of length, genre, and popularity to keep it interesting. Speaking of popularity, this is very much not intended as a round-up of ‘most popular fics of each year’ because—and I say this with all the love and respect in my heart for those stories and their authors—nobody needs a rec list for that, and I believe in spreading the love. Here we go:

Poltergeists by enemyofrome | 17K, T

Author's summary: When the helicarriers blow up and the Winter Soldier goes on the run, he takes Steve with him. He's got a name written in Morse code on the inside of his arm, a ton of questions he doesn't know how to ask, and now, a new handler with absolutely zero sense of self-preservation to contend with. Life is hard. In which Bucky tries to figure out whether he's a human being, Steve does everything he can to keep from losing him again, and there are lots of explosions.

Starting off with one of the best versions of the 'Bucky didn't leave Steve, he took him with him after the Potomac' fics that were (and still are!) so popular post-TWS. This one stands out because of its fantastic beginning, its interesting take on how Bucky was broken and remade into the Winter Soldier, and because it allows both characters to be messy. It's a popular fanon trope that it's Steve who brings out a ruthless, almost vicious streak in Bucky, but here it's emphasized that this is very much a mutual thing. Just like Bucky, who's often afforded the "excuse" of still figuring out how to be a person again, Steve gets to be difficult here—without ever turning him into a stubborn asshole. They're both traumatized, and they're both allowed to show it and to lash out, including at each other. Also, this fic will give you capital-F Feelings about morse codes and apples. Believe me.

sleepwalk back to the battle site by ftmsteverogers | 22K, T

Author's summary: “I’m going to track down every HYDRA agent that’s left,” Bucky says, buckling his gun deftly to his belt. “And then I’m going to kill them.” “Oh,” Steve says. “Come with me?” Bucky asks, dangerous hands tucked into his pockets.

A classic post-TWS fic that picks up right after the movie ends. Equal parts Revenge Roadtrip, Bucky Barnes recovering, and Steve Rogers being in urgent need of a good hug. This starts out intensely melancholic—Steve's despair and helplessness are palpable and there's a scene involving a drinking glass that still brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. Halfway through, the story changes pace and becomes much more action-heavy, but it still manages to allow space for the quiet, intimate moments between Steve and Bucky. They have both become sharp and deadly men, but they're also allowed to be soft with each other. Their coming together feels sweet and inevitable. I also really enjoyed the Steve characterization here. His absolute conviction that Bucky is still Bucky at his very core and always will be, but also his emotional and intellectual flexibility to adapt to this still-new-to-him, changed version of Bucky rang very true to me.

Surveillance by Sproings, 7K in 2 parts, G

Author's summary: If there are ears everywhere, that means it's somebody's job to listen. I hate my job.

Do you ever think about how SHIELD bugged Steves DC apartment and how horrible that was, but also...you're kind of curious what they might have overheard? Do you ever wonder about the people who listened in on his sad, lonely life? Well, here you go. An outsider POV fic told "through the ears" of an unnamed SHIELD agent assigned to spy on the private life of a man who doesn't really have much of one. The story begins just before IM3 and takes us all the way through the events of CA:TWS and beyond. It's clever, original and told with great empathy for both the subject under surveillance and the person carrying out that surveillance—who increasingly questions its purpose. Here's a small snippet to give you an idea of the fic's style:

He got a phone call, once. He put it on speaker, too, which was very exciting for me at the time. It was from an archivist at the Smithsonian. They seemed really surprised that he answered his own phone calls. The two of them talked for a long time about an exhibit the museum was planning. A very long time. As if one of them was starstruck, and the other was desperate for any kind of human interaction.

What Gets You Through by velleities | 12K, M

Author's summary: For Steve, getting through each day is a process – one he’s currently failing at spectacularly. Feeling out of place in this brave new world, he hopes to find a home in Bucky, and looks for him with everything he’s got. But Bucky doesn’t want to be found, and when he does touch base with Steve, he never sticks around for long. Bucky has embraced the modern age, leaving Steve lagging behind – or so Steve believes, until Bucky shows him otherwise.

This post-TWS fic revolves around five encounters in liminal spaces, and each time Bucky has pieced himself back together again just a little more. Despite their increasingly longer and more honest conversations, and Bucky's incremental progress, he always disappears again, leaving Steve to grapple with his heartbreak. There are quietly gorgeous moments in this fic (the bus and the church in particular were my personal favorites) as well as wonderfully crafted characterizations. Bucky is initially portrayed as somewhat feral in some ways yet surprisingly well-adjusted in others, and I love that Steve can't help but be a little annoyed at that. However, it quickly becomes clear that, in good old Bucky Barnes fashion, much of it is really just a front put up for Steve's benefit...

A Real Boy by itsnotbleak | 5K, T

Author's summary: It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat. It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

A wonderful, short-but-doesn't-feel-like-it fic (in the very best way) set immediately after CA:TWS, in which Bucky secretly and then soon not so secretly visits Steve in his apartment. Follow along as Bucky Barnes argues with his brain about sandwich toppings, the importance of a good night's sleep, and the necessity of personal hygiene. Also: how to best go about becoming a real boy (again). And who the hell is that Bucky guy anway? This is as soft and sweet a Bucky recovery fic as you're ever going to find. It's funny but not silly; sad in a way that all of these stories inherently are—because, well, these are some tragic boys—but not super angsty or depressing. A beautiful story with a lovely, hopeful ending.

Savage God by PottersPink | 36K, M

Author's summary (abbr.): Past, present, future, Steve knows Bucky Barnes. It’s why he recognized him when he found him in that alley in April of 1942, even though Bucky was older, stronger, wearier; he called himself The Asset, and had a metal fucking arm. He flinched when Steve tried to touch him, and when Steve told him he loved him, his first response was to ask why. Seventy years later, Steve wakes up in the twenty-first century, and he doesn’t know whether to be heartbroken or hopeful when some of the things Bucky revealed to him in 1942 start falling into place.

An absolutely riveting AU that will have you on the edge of your seat the whole time. I'm itching to talk about it more but I cannot since it would mean spoiling the hell out of it. What I can say is that it's a very intriguing and clever exploration of what would happen if Steve knew about the future but without really knowing any of the details. How would it change the events of CA:TFA and CA:TWS, and how would it change Steve himself? I so very much appreciate this characterization of Steve as smart, competent, and unwavering with a hefty dose of no fucks left to give. This fic features some really nifty time travel and plotting, great action sequences and a very satisfying ending where certain people get their much-deserved comeuppance. Plus: Bonus Shrinkyclinks (kind of)!

Charlie Lock by seapigeon | 105K, M (hard M)

Author's summary (abbr.): The Winter Soldier knows that sometimes, in order to make the kill, you must destroy what the Target lives for. Steve Rogers knows that he can't fight his captors. If he fights, they'll kill Bucky. But the price of his life is steep. Tony Stark has nothing left to live for, but he's needed. So all these miserable motherfuckers better stay alive, too. Clint Barton never expected to be a leader. But a leader he is, and no one else is going to die on his watch. --- A story in which the first wave of Project Insight succeeds, and the Avengers must pick up the pieces and find a way to stop Hydra from completing its work with Zola's algorithm.

This is not only the longest fic on this list, but also the angstiest one—by a mile, so please heed the tags. It's dark, disturbing, and brutal. However, it is neither relentless misery porn nor is it shocking for shock's sake, where everything is magically forgotten and/or healed the moment Steve and Bucky start kissing. Instead, the author puts these characters into an absolutely horrifying situation and then slowly, gently guides them out of it and into the light.

It's a Stucky fic but it's also a multi-POV ensemble piece featuring all the Avengers and other familiar faces. If you are someone who'll always be a little bitter about the unfulfilled promise of an Avengers found family, then this is for you. In this AU, they do not only fight together, but grow together in every way. They truly become a team, not just co-workers barely tolerating each other. The story takes its time exploring the characters and the group dynamics. Steve and Bucky are definitely at the center of the narrative but there is space here for every member of the team to grieve and adjust to the new reality and to find at least some measure of healing. It's a story about the meaning and the consequences of revenge, about hope and resilience, and about love in all its many forms. It also has one of the most satisfying title drops that will have you pump your fist in triumph when it happens. It's a tough read, but ultimately a very rewarding one.

SPELEVINK by Ginny_Potter | 10K, G

Author's summary: Bucky’s back. He’s leaving me messages through IKEA plushies, Steve texts Sam. jesus christ, rogers, Sam texts back. Or, Bucky lives in an IKEA Tiny Apartment, Steve is a dancing monkey once again, and somehow they find their way back to each other.

This is an absolute DELIGHT of a fic that will have you alternately laughing out loud and crying quietly into your SVARTFIBBLA blanket (super-soft, recycled polyester, 47x63"). It's ‘crack treated seriously’ at its very best and a clear homage to the fandom classic Infinite Coffee… (that’s not a dig or a spoiler, the author says so in the author’s note).

Now if you know me, you’ll know that angst o’clock is my happy hour and I’m usually not very into these heavy-on the-humor quasi-absurdist fics (because I’m super special and not like all the other girls, obviously). But. I LOVED this story so, so much. It’s such a fun read—even when it makes you cry—and it really became one of those ‘huh, I guess I’m into this after all’ moments of joyful (self)discovery via fanfic for me. I never thought a pair of oven mitts could move me like that, and I'll never be able to walk into an IKEA again without muttering "F******!" under my breath (iykyk). Absolutely fantastic.

a handful of dust by RecoveringTheSatellites | 20K, M

Author's summary: Steve looks for Bucky for a long time. But the thing is that Bucky doesn't get found, Bucky finds. Bucky always finds Steve. This takes a hard left after the Potomac and stumbles through the dark a lot after. Take a bit of running, the occasional synaptic misfire, the resurfacing of old memories, a dash or two of PTSD, and (eventually) a nice dose of action, stir, and serve over some unresolved issues.

Honestly, the second paragraph up there perfectly sums up the story. It's a good ol' fashioned Bucky recovery fic with some angst, some action, and a whole lot of healing and devotion. Steve and Bucky get to be very sappy about each other, but also extremely Badass Battle Boyfriends™ when somebody threatens their hard-won happiness. Both are allowed to be messy, unstable, and very co-dependent.

This was the first time this author played in the Stucky sandbox and I mean it 100% as a compliment when I say that you can tell. This is someone with "fresh legs" diving headfirst and very deep into the Stucky trope pool and they're doing it with great relish and enthusiam. The result is a story that rejects some of the tried and true conventions of the post-TWS fanfic canon and lovingly embraces others, but that is definitely aware of and in dialogue with the body of work that came before it. Also, it's just a really fun read that gives these two the very soft ending they deserve.

Everybody is Supposed to be Dead by pollutedstar | 22K, M

Author's summary: In 1944, Bucky Barnes falls off a train into the Alps, missing and presumed dead. Months later, Steve Rogers nosedives a plane into the arctic. In 2010, the Winter Soldier project is uncovered by S.H.I.E.L.D., and Bucky Barnes is found alive. Three years later, Steve Rogers’ frozen body is found in the ocean.

A really interesting AU and a fascinating exploration of what could’ve been; the impact it would’ve had on the events and characters if Bucky had been the one to be “found” first. How would it affect Steve to come back into a world where he isn’t quite so lonely and adrift, and where he does have the relief and reassurance of having Bucky by his side and at his back? How would that have changed the way he acted and reacted to this strange new world and the people and organizations trying to recruit him to their cause even though the ice hasn't even completely melted off his body yet?

There are a lot of astute and precise observations about characters like Tony, Natasha, and Clint in this story, and on top of that, it offers up some very compelling insights into Steve's conflicted and difficult relationship with his role as Captain America.

it's never over (hey orpheus) by romcommie | 12K WIP, 2/?, M

Author's summary: He remembers a song first and then everything else follows, burying him below. Or, Bucky Barnes pieces a life back together with a few choice verses, some duct tape and seventy years worth of spite. Steve Rogers tries very hard to relearn there's a life to be lived in the first place.

Ok, listen up, people! This is a WIP and there are only 2 chapters posted so far, but I haven't felt this absolutely bonkers excited about a post-CA:TWS fic in a long while. We're talking frothing at the mouth here. I have such a massive crush on this fic, it's a bit embarrassing, really. It's one of those fics where you know after just a few paragraphs that you're in very good, very competent hands. The wealth of historical and cultural detail; the way the story shifts/flips/flickers back and forth between time, perspective and narrative levels; the Bucky voice—it's all so well done! I'm so insanely excited to see where the author takes this!

ENJOY!

#catws10 #stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky fic #stucky rec list #steve x bucky #stucky fic recs #steve x bucky fic rec #stevebucky fic rec #stevebucky #my recs #*drops this and runs aways* this rec list nearly gave me an aneurysm. you're welcome!

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romantichomicide95 · 13 days

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DABI ~ confessions

summary: you ask dabi why he never says those three words back.

cw: toxic relationship vibes, but still kinda cute. dabi opening up in his dabi way.

a/n: bee aren’t you on a writing hiatus? -no comment, also first time i’ve ever written for him and i know his stuff is prob a dead side of tumblr but when in rome.

tagging: @i-literally-cant-with-this (i almost forgot)

“how come you never say it back?” you ask dabi, adjusting your position against him on the couch. this particular question had been on your mind for awhile. whether or not he loved you back. it was something that twisted in your gut like a knife each night that passed. his stark blue gaze flicked away from the television, finding your eyes momentarily before flicking back to the TV.

dabi’s lips twisted slightly, forming a semblance of a frown, one that made his eyes seem even colder and more distant than usual. the faint glow from the television cast unsettling shadows across his scarred face, emphasizing the harsh lines of his expression. “say what back?” he retorted.

you felt your heart beat painfully against your chest. “that you love me,” you whispered.

a low grunt escaped him as he pushes himself up to a sitting position, forcing you off his lap and creating a small distance between you. dabi’s voice drops low, his steely gaze finally settling back on you, sharp and piercing. “love doesn’t really suit me now does it?”

your heart sank at his words, but you couldn’t let it go. “okay…so you don’t love me?” your voice was rising, a mix of frustration and sadness weaving through your words.

dabi looks away again, his jaw clenched tightly. for a moment, there's a flash of vulnerability in his eyes before it disappears behind his mask of indifference. “it’s complicated," he finally says, his voice gruff.

you felt the sting of tears, trying to will them away but failing. “what does than even mean…i’m your girlfriend.”

his silence hung heavily between you, the air charged with the unspoken. he sighed, a sound heavy and filled with something that could almost be mistaken for regret. "can you just drop this and watch tv? i’m fucking tired.”

you wipe away a tear. "no dabi…you know i put up with a lot from you? for one you’re an asshole and like you’re not always nice to me. plus you use my body however you please. but despite that i love you…so i just deal with it.” you begin, the tears now rolling down your cheeks unchecked. “i just want to make you happy. and now you’re telling me you don’t love me? what’s the point?”

"fuck, " dabi cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. he saw the hurt flash across your face and it stirred something inside him. you were right, you do put up with a lot from him. always finding ways to justify his behavior, excuse his cruelty. “don’t cry i hate that shit. i’m not good with feelings and all that.” he runs a hand through his messy hair. the tv light flashes bright, casting a glow across his face illuminating his scars. “it’s not like i don’t care about you.”

“but you don’t love me? i guess i just don’t see why you’re still with me if you don’t.”

there’s a long silence as he struggles internally with the weight of the conversation. “well i am with you aren’t i? who else would put up with me?”

“oh so it’s out of convenience than? that’s real nice dabi jeeze.”

he glares at you for a second, almost like he’s insulted by the insinuation. “no. it’s not out of convenience okay! jesus christ, you’re impossible. can you just drop this please?”

“if that’s the case than why can’t you say it back?” your voice comes out exasperated, shaking and choked. laced with tears and sorrow.

frustrated beyond measure dabi’s blue eyes reflect a mix of anger and turmoil. like there’s two sides desperately clawing away at each other inside him. finally he explodes. "fuck…if you're really that desperate for meaningless words then fine…fine, I LOVE YOU, YOU STUPID IDIOT!" he screamed, his voice cracking under the intensity of his own emotions. the room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the tv in the background. he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling fast as he continues yelling. “i love you so much it’s fucking infuriating. why do you think i get so mad all the god damn time when guys look at you? why do you think i push back all the time? cause i’m fucking scared. i’m scared you’ll realize what a piece of shit I am and leave me. i fucking love you y/n. of course i do. fuck…are you seriously that dense that you don’t see that?”

the second those words left his mouth, there was a palpable shift in the air. the room suddenly seemed colder, and you could barely believe what you had just heard. you stare back at him in disbelief, unable to form words.

watching you struggle for a response he snorts, shaking his head. a low gritty laugh, utterly emotionless, escapes him. “of course you don’t see it you fucking moron, too busy whining and being a pain in the ass all the time.”

a feeling of relief bubbles inside you, mixed with annoyance at his utter lack of tact and disbelief at his confession. the swirling of emotions comes out of you in a laugh, one that lasts a fraction of a second too long. “how can you be such an asshole while saying something like you just said?” you continue to laugh, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

he rolls his eyes. “just because i said love you doesn’t mean ill suddenly change you moron.” he says, though the hardness in his tone has softened. he shifts uncomfortably, almost as if unsure how to handle the vulnerability he just displayed.

you smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek before settling back on his lap. he scoffs slightly but his arm wraps around you as you both settle back into your prior position. despite himself, dabi finds some comfort in having you close. there’s some peace that bubbles deep within him whenever he’s got your body pressed against his.

you look up at him, tracing the scar along his cheek. “well, i love you a lot…and i wouldn’t leave you by the way, so there’s no reason to be scared.”

“whatever,” he mutters dismissively. “just shut up and watch tv.” he shifts on the couch grabbing the remote and turning the volume up, but not before he leans down to place a small chaste kiss against your forehead.

#dabi x reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi todoroki #touya todoroki #touya x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #dabi x you #touya x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi touya #my hero academia x reader #my hero #dabi

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ellitx · 2 months

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I have an idea for you, if you accept... Imagine the reader being the owner of Alastor's soul ( Yandere Alastor, please ) ...

7 years ago when Alastor disappeared, the reader found him almost dead and helped him recover from his injuries... As time passed, Alastor demonstrated his devotion and love for the reader and sold his soul to her, becoming the reader's puppet.

After 7 years.. The reader saw Charlie's idea and was moved by the idea ((and also the reader was feeling a little scared and sickened by the radio demon's sweet and romantic gestures)).

The reader tells Alastor to help Charlie (against his will, being practically forced because of the soul contract, Alastor just wanted to stay close to his lover FOREVER).

Alastor is sad and upset with the reader because he thinks the reader left him for another stronger being or something (of course that doesn't happen, the reader just wants to stay away from that crazy demon)...

Now Alastor wants to break this soul contract with the reader to show how powerful and cruel he is (and he will make the reader see how he is the best, so this time he won't let the reader leave him ever again).

Such a mood that reader is tired of his ass and just wants to get away from him lmaooo

7 years of being stuck with the radio demon and imagine even when you’re asleep he’s standing standing in front (menacingly) and you could see his sharp yellow teeth in the dark

“Alastor, can you please not? I’m trying to sleep here.”

“Not what, dear?” He tilted his head in faux innocence.

“Standing and watching me…? You don’t have to protect me 24/7…” you groaned, pulling the pillow to your head so you could return to your dreamland.

Alastor was next to you in a flash, sitting by your bed and caressing your hair. You’re not even surprised by his abrupt appearance, already accustomed to this kind of behavior he has.

“Oh, dear, you need me. We know that very well, just say the word and I’ll kill those who come to your way.” He sang while he played with your hair.

“Yes, but not all the time.” You rebuked, your tired eyes glaring at his own crimson ones and Alastor never faltered, but he grinned as he silently adored your messy state.

You know he has crossed the border when he didn’t let you sleep and chats with you all night. So that’s where you decided to pull his leash and drag him to the hotel and help charlie.

Just imagine him like a dog not wanting to take their shot. He’s digging his claws into the ground, even to your doorframe until it falls apart, but you’re too tired to give a shit because you only want alastor to be away from you for a good night sleep

“You’re not going anywhere until you make this hotel a success, mister.”

#im sorry i turned this to a crack 😔#i actually like the idea tho with alastor reversing the roles once he finds a way to get oit of the contract #ellianswers #anon ask #submission #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor

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fromabasementonthehilll · 9 months

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A Cold Kiss For Warmth

͙⁺･༓☾ - Summary: you unknowingly saved Jackie ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎from her own death.

Pairing: jackie taylor x fem!reader

Warnings: ...

∘₊✧────────────────────✧₊∘

"I'm not jealous of you, Jackie. I feel sorry for you." Shauna spat, her words had bled out of her mouth and into Jackie like a sharp blade.

"And I'm sure everyone back home is so sad to be losing their perfect little princess," Shauna's breath hitched slightly, "but they'll never know how tragic, boring and insecure you really are," Jackie's lips trembled beneath Shauna's sentences, eyes wide and hurt - tears gradually piling upon her face, "or how high school was the best your life was ever gonna get."

"Fuck you." Jackie's words were almost silent, disintegrating into her tears.

You watched, alongside everyone else who had been settled around the fire warmed cabin. It wasn't for you to intervene; or for anyone else to intervene, you had never seen Jackie and Shauna fight - let alone with so much spite, and you figured it was best to leave them alone, though your heart felt for Jackie, Shauna's accusations were visibly going too far.

"I cant be around you - I cant even fucking look at you right now." Jackie didn't have the malice to insult Shauna, you sensed that neither of them really meant what they said, and it had just been the sickening feeling that haunted everyone after the crash, now creeping into their friendship.

It was just last week that you had really gotten close to Jackie, in school you'd usually hang out with the other girls, catching Jackie throwing glances your way in class every now and then. And you could've been caught daydreaming, the way you'd stare longingly at her; the way her hair fell onto her shoulders - how her honey eyes glowed when she looked at you.

"Hey (y/n)." She smiled, a towel around her neck after it had rained during practice. "Oh hi Jackie!" You turned to her after brushing your hair out and handing it back to Lottie.

"I just wanted to say you look really pre-"

"(y/n), hurry up we're gonna be late." Lottie interrupted, "Oh, yeah. Sorry Jackie, I'll see you later."

It was the first time Jackie had the courage to come up to you outside of being lab partners, she was confident most of the time - but when it came to you, she was helpless. You didn't even question your feelings towards Jackie, it just felt like an adoration of some sort, and you were completely oblivious to anything more than 'school friends' being between you two.

And that's how it stayed for a while, longing stares, unsaid words and random study sessions.

Though she'd be there for you when you needed her the most, and you'd be there for her - nothing more than that.

"Well that sounds like your problem, so maybe you should leave." Your mind focused back on the situation at hand, this time watching Jackie more intently, furrowing your eyebrows and clenching your jaw, Shauna's face was ridden in sweat and small tears - her hair in a messy ponytail with strands pinning to her cheek. You looked to the side, watching as everyone lowered their gaze in shame. "Are you fucking crazy Shauna? Nobody's leaving, she'll freeze to death." You stood up, voice quiet yet loud, knowing the chances of people taking your side was slim - but another death out here would cause further, unnecessary chaos. "She'll be fine." Shauna talked to you, yet her gaze was still fixed on Jackie.

"I don't even know who you are anymore." Face painted in disappointment, Jackie scoffed, then averted her look towards you, "I need to take a walk." You followed her, ignoring Shauna's sneer and the confused stares of everyone else, who had seemed to find understanding in your reasoning despite your doubts.

The door closed, and frost sunk its teeth into your skin, "(y/n), you don't have to come with me, she's right - I'll be fine." Her words blamed themselves, she shook her head at the floor. "It's freezing out here," both of you began walking away from the cabin, where the light stopped its reach, "you shouldn't be alone." Jackie's face stuttered, finally making eye contact with you.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

She smiled in response, drying her tears with her cold-shaken hands. The both of you slid down behind a tree, you brought your knees to your chest; hugging them. "God, how could she, after all that I've done for her." She wrapped her arms around herself. "She doesn't deserve you Jackie," your eyes trailed her expression, "it's fucked up, what she said." You said, unreasonably nervous, and reasonably shaky.

"I never even liked Jeff that much, I cant believe I let him ruin our friendship like that."

"You didn't?"

"No," her voice settled slightly, "and Shauna knew I had feelings for someone else, I guess that's why she took it as a pass to go fuck Jeff, so I couldn't hold it against her." Jackie tried her best to make up with Shauna in her head, but everything kept leading to a dead end, "But whatever, I'm just glad you're here."

"You cant be serious, you're asking me to study?" You asked, holding a math paper that said 'C' in the biggest writing imaginable - as if your teacher wanted to rub it in as painfully as possible. "Yeah, I mean you're good at chemistry right?" Jackie said, and it was true - it was one of the only subjects you were naturally good at.

"I guess, sort of?"

"So can I come over?"

"Today?"

"If you don't mind,"

"No, yeah, sure." You smiled, raising your eyebrows and packing your bags before leaving.

You had something planned with Lottie that day, though it was easy to cancel with a 'my parents are making me clean up' excuse. It didn't phase you why you were starting to make excuses not to hang out with your friends, but it was rare to talk to Jackie, and at the time it didn't look like you two were getting closer than that anytime soon.

You bit your lip, opening your mouth to speak before stopping yourself. Jackie looked at you, the cold eating away at the two of you, "Jackie, I need to tell you something." You squinted your eyes, barely seeing Jackie's face as the trees blocked the moonlight and using it to your advantage, calming your nerves. "I like you," you wanted to say more, but it felt like you were trapped, and all you could do was drag your words out while struggling to read her face.

Snow began falling onto your hair and patterning Jackie's nose, "Really?" She chuckled, you stretched your legs out and smiled with your lip hanging out slightly, "you're kidding me right? This entire time?" She asked, scoffing at her own words. "Yeah, I guess I never found the time to tell you." The snow reached your shoes, which you hadn't stopped staring at.

"Neither," You looked at her confused, "I like you too, (y/n)." You were even more confused this time, I mean she didn't like Jeff all that much - but you couldn't have been the one that she wanted instead, right? "I swear, I couldn't have told you, I thought you liked that guy from our chem class, what's his name?" She titled her head, "Matt? Are you fucking kidding me? You thought I liked Matt?" You laughed, knowing he had asked you out on multiple occasions, yet you rejected him every single time. "So? He's cute, I thought you guys were a thing for the longest time." she snickered, leaning her eyebrows as she shifted her body to face you.

Your laughs cleared, the grass had been covered in a thin layer of snow by now, and Jackie's bottom lip hid under her mouth. She watched as the snow caressed your hair, lips, nose and skin - admiring every part of you, especially your (e/c) eyes that harboured a small reflection of the moon. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, (y/n)." She faintly smiled, edging closer to you. Your eyes gazed through your lashes, looking at her in partial doubt, you didn't know how desperately she wanted to tell you that for the longest time.

Wintry hands latched onto your frostbitten cheeks, her fingers grazing your jawline as her pale lips slowly found yours. Her touch was warm, her lips were softening under yours as you caved in deeper - you could almost feel her face regaining its rosy colour. You eased beneath her, your mouth tasting hers.

She pulled away, though still being mere inches from your face, "you're cold, I can feel it." Her hands traced down to your shoulder, "I'll be fine." You whispered, wrapping your arms around her neck and kissing her again, with a greater passion than the first time, she almost instantly leaned back in, with gentle confidence.

After a moment, you let out a small giggle against her mouth before bringing your arms to her shoulders and pushing her away gently, "I think we have to go." You spoke, numbness overtaking your legs and nose, Jackie brushed a few snowflakes off of you, before the both of you got up to get back to the cabin, though could've stayed there until dawn.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #yellowjackets oneshot

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aryxchse · 26 days

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beach talks / percy jackson x mortal! fem! reader.

a / n : and here i thought i wouldn't write anything mortal x demigod trope,,,, but yeah my brain is screaming ideas to me from all of the bf asmr's and percy jackson's hot self i keep up with. and please let demigod's have magical phones!!

warnings : crying, cuteness overload, suprisingly i didn't cursed?? childhood friends to strangers (?) to lovers, first love, enchanted to meet you fr

oh how you missed perseus jackson.

yancy academy was something traumatising for the both of you, but percy made it easier to survive. he was fun, sarcastic, cute, and had the most gorgeous sea green eyes.

you two loved sneaking out from the school, just to visit beach. you both loved the sea, but you knew he loved it more than you. whenever he was near the ocean, he would always be more calmer.

his eyes would change the color according to the sea, or you we're just so in love with his eyes that you romanticised it in every way.

so when he called you last night, to ask you if you would meet up at the beach you always visited back then, you couldn't say no. instead, you laughed and said 'you always loved to be near the ocean anyways.'

you were so mad at him, so mad. you said you wouldn't leave him when he got expelled, but instead, he left you. he dissapeared without saying anything. and years later, the last week of the summer before collage starts, he reached to you.

and you're so, so mad at yourself for agreeing to meet up with him.

but then again, the way you missed and loved him was more powerful than your anger.

the beach was the same as the last day you arrived here. two years after percy got expelled and didn't even answered any of your calls that time, dissapearing. you were 14, now returning as 18.

you saw a familiar boy sitting on the sand, hugging his knees and watching the ocean with a calm look on his face. he had the same messy raven hair and sharp features with the boy you were in love with when you were 12.

"percy?" you called softly, approaching the boy. he immediatly turned to you, bright sea green eyes piercing your soul.

oh, those sea green eyes.

"oh gods, y/n," he said, stooding up. you tried to pay no mind to him saying 'gods' instead of 'god.' since he hugged you like he was going to break your ribs. "i missed you so much."

the tears were already showing themselfs in your eyes. man, you really loved this boy. as you hugged him back, the change in his appearence made you sad. because you weren't there to see it, to tease him for how quick he got taller or how ripped he was now.

he was more tan, he had many, many scars on his body. he smelled like salt water and wow, he was so much taller than you now. not to mention of how bigger his body get. was he in the military or something when he was gone?

"thank you for coming," he said, pulling away to look at you. his smile was bright like you remembered, so strong that always making people mirror his expression. "i really appreciate it."

"well, i deserve an apology right?" you said, sitting next to his previous place on the sand. he sat next to you, expression.. guilty.

"you deserve much more than that," he said quietly, meeting your eyes. you avoided them, 'cause if you didn't, you would scream: it's okay! i forgive you handsome!

"what are you waiting for then?" you asked, watching the ocean. "make up for it jackson."

and with that, he began to tell you everything. he knew he didn't have to hide anything from you, and how you we're a little mythology obsessed. it did suprised you, but you didn't showed it.

"and i knew i had to reach you after the last war because," he said, meeting your eyes again. this time, you looked back at him. "there's not gonna be any prophecy soon."

a sigh escaped your lips, as a way of process everything. "first of all, i'm mad." you said, and percy groaned in sadness. "because i would've helped you through everything, i would try my best."

"i know," percy whispered. "but i didn't want to put you in danger, you're important to me."

good one, you thought. he sure learned how to make a girl melt.

"second of all," you ignored his comment. "i guess i can forgive you since, you saved the world and all." he chuckled at your joke, finally relaxing his shoulders.

"you- you're not freaked out?" he finally asked. and you shook your head.

"you knew i always had a thing for supernatural stuff," you said with a shrug, smiling at him. he smiled back, squinting his eyes because of the sun. "yeah, i know." he nodded.

"so uh," you avoided his gaze again. "got any girlfriends? you've been gone for too long, we need to make up for it."

you were actually scared to ask this question, because you couldn't had a boyfriend after him. you didn't know why, but you were so loyal to him that you didn't even loved someone after him.

"no." he said. "i never loved anyone like i loved you."

oh gods, you thought. did he read my mind? how can we be this same?

"you-" you stuttered. "you- what?" he chuckled, pinching your cheek.

"guess i skipped the part were my fatal flaw is loyalty," he explained. "i had the biggest crush on you when we were 12, and i couldn't forget about you ever since. i knew i had to be with you, so i won the wars and didn't die, just to return to you."

the pinching turned into caress, and the next thing you knew was you were in his arms. "perseus jackson," you whispered, tears rolling down. you hated when you were filled up with this much emotion. "you're really the worst first love."

he only smiled, like he knew the feelings were mutual. and deep down, he did. all those years, he knew he was going to reach you and make you his one day. just when all of the stuff was over, like now.

"i know pretty," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. he kept caressing your cheek gently, and your noses brushed every once in a while. "but i'm gonna make up for it, i swear it on the river styx."

#haha i hate this #DID YOU GUYS NOTICED THE WAY YOU SAID GODS AFTER HIM TELLING HIS STORY??#its important to me that you did #and you guys are just 'i cant argue with a boy who has sea green eyes'#and like 'okay whatever you say handsome 😍'#same tbh #perseus jackson x you #i am using this tag from now on #percy x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson headcanon #pjo show #pjo tv show

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Man-Sized

8/9 God's Away on Business

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

I'm 20 minutes away. You home?

Sure! You're always welcome.

Simon never told her if he was a minute away. Something was different here.

The key turned on the lock of her front door sharply 20 minutes after he had sent that text, and she went to greet him.

Their hug lasted longer than usual, and she could feel the relief and sadness just pour from him. He embraced her like a 200-pound shadow, then kissed her gently on the cheek, not mouth — that kiss spoke of companionship rather than lust, and her heart melted against his chest.

He looked like hell. Not only drained but like he had been through hell. Something awful must've happened if a man like Simon couldn't conceal the emotional maelstrom he was evidently in.

"You just got back?"

"Yeah."

"How was it?"

She didn't usually ask How was work. It wasn't really work. It was something else.

Simon didn't answer, he just took off his jacket and shoes like he was sleepwalking. He continued that sleepwalk to her couch. It had become some sort of a safe place he had carved out from the world to curl in, even if he never curled in anywhere, simply sat down with a manspread that usually made her mouth water. But seeing him stare off into space like he had just seen a mushroom cloud in the distant horizons didn't make her want to jump his bones. It made her want to close him in a hug and shelter him from all the pain in the world.

"I lost people yesterday."

"Oh. Oh shit."

Something like this was bound to happen at some point. Her first feeling was relief from knowing that Simon had survived unscathed from whatever horror he and his team had been through.

"That's… I don't know what to say."

Now that he had poured some of that exhaustion on the floor of her hallway, she noticed that he was enclosed in a shroud of latent need for revenge. The air seemed to thicken around him: of course he would deal with heartbreak by silent wrath. His eyes reminded her of the Antarctic stare; they just kept staring off into the void while also appearing sharp and aware, like he might burst into action from the slightest little threat such as a sudden sharp sound. Her tiny little home, soft lights, and messy book piles seemed childish and nonsensical compared to the ominous man who had seen too much.

"23."

"What..?"

"23. The number of people I have lost in total."

Shit… Fuck. She tried to remember something useful from the psychology books she had gobbled up not too long ago. But she couldn't turn into a therapist and offer him treatment. He might only laugh at such tries, anyway. Surely they offered counseling services or trauma therapy in his workplace for these kind of situations… But Simon probably steered clear of those, too.

"Is Soap alive?"

"Yeah. Wounded."

Compassion took over, and she finally walked to him, sat down, and reached to place a hand over his.

"Sometimes I wonder if thousands of people are worth one good man," he said with a deepening, impending fury, a tempest barely held in confinement. "Not to talk about three."

Thousands of people…

That meant… Wow. Okay.

He was definitely working on preventing missiles or some shit. Saving the world.

Sweet Jesus… And she had just joked about it.

"This world could use another flood."

The shroud turned into a whole cage that prevented her from comforting him. The hand underneath her palm seemed to tingle and burn as if it was coated with tiny spikes.

He was always so dramatic, but it didn't make him sound whiny or childish. It was actually scary. He was the weapon of mass destruction, an atom bomb in one man, about to detonate and level a whole city with a blast and nuclear winds.

"Have you ever thought about… quitting, you know? Doing something else?" She offered him a choice like someone would offer a doughnut to a murder victim, hoping it would make the pain go away.

"I was an apprentice to a butcher before I enlisted."

"Well, that's… a bit different from what you're doing now."

"Is it?"

Another sliver of information about his past, and she wasn't necessarily surprised. The worlds they lived in were like night and day. She had a safety net, friends who didn't kill or fear being killed, she had a degree, access to education, a promising career in the culture field ahead of her. Simon had a rough childhood and a dark past; he had chopped corpses of dead animals for money and then pursued a career in killing humans. He had lost 23 and killed God knows how many people.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You got any food?"

"Sure. Um, no. But I'll order something."

She moved to rise from the couch, but he turned his hand and seized her by the palm. The warm fingers closed around hers and gave her a soft squeeze.

"I like that pasta sauce you make."

"The Bolognese?"

"Yeah."

"Then that's what you shall have."

There wasn't much else she could do. He wouldn't, or couldn't talk about it, so she ran to the nearest market to grab minced meat and some fresh herbs because dried ones simply wouldn't do right now. She made him food and seasoned it with as much love as she could while he put up a floating shelf she had gotten for books that didn't fit in her bookshelf anymore.

The scene was domestic, almost traditionally so. She had never thought of herself as a woman who would happily cook for a man. A man who put up her furniture for her. But then again, she had never thought she would date a man like Simon in the first place.

She suggested they watch a few episodes of a new tv show she was binging while they ate. Then he went to the shower, and she soon stood at the door, asking if he wanted to be alone. There was no answer, which in Simon's case meant it was safe to proceed. He was facing the cascading water as she stepped in to hug him from behind.

Perhaps it was the simple things. Even when the world was burning or war was raging or families were being torn apart, it was the simple things even then: some good, homemade food, some distraction, no matter how brainless and meaningless, some skin-on-skin connection and a good night's sleep.

It wasn't much; it wasn't a therapy session or a resurrection or anything life-changing. It wasn't much… But on the other hand, perhaps it was perfectly enough.

She gathered he might not be in the mood right now, but when he grew hard just from her embracing him, she slithered a hand down and stroked him shyly. He didn't stop her from pumping him to a release filled with weary sighs while he merely leaned on the tiles as she tried her best to alleviate his pain. He grabbed her hand after and laced their fingers together, used her hand to hug himself while a single, almost inaudible sniff pierced the sound of running water. It immediately turned into him clearing his throat — Simon didn't know how to cry.

He usually slept with boxers, perhaps a shirt on too, but this time he wore a whole set of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt into bed.

"You got that Glock here somewhere?"

He checked the mag and gave the gun a routine inspection, which seemed more like a comforting procedure than having anything to do with actual necessity. He had left it to her fully operational and with a weighted note to remember to rack the slide before firing.

It dawned on her that his gift served a whole other purpose too. It had been planted in her apartment, and not just for her protection.

A bleak thought passed through her mind about whether she would die that night in the hands of a traumatized, paranoid soldier, but she crawled into his arms nevertheless. He fell asleep right away — a sign of deep exhaustion. She wanted to caress him, hold him, but he rarely let her. Even now, when he was at his most vulnerable, he was the one who spooned her as they drifted off into sleep while there was a knife tucked under his pillow and a gun sitting on the headboard of the bed.

But instead of a possible homicide victim, she felt like a sleep toy when he tightened his grip on her through sleep with a sharp, irritated rumble when she tried to change position only slightly. It was then that she cried the tears he could not.

***

The darkness woke her up with a nightmare. Not a cold sweat one, but the kind where you were free falling and woke with a jolt just before the impact.

It was a familiar dream where she tried to hide from her abuser, the one who was supposed to love her but had turned out to be a grooming hunter. The most nightmarish thing wasn't that she was being chased again. No: the most aggravating thing was that she still felt weak. She was a grown-up now, she had more grit, she should've been perfectly capable of fighting back with words and fists. She wanted to voice her will, shout at him to leave her alone, even hurt that man, find some weapon to stab him with, just fight back somehow — but her muscles never worked, and time was running out: he was getting inside the building she was hiding in.

This time, it was different. With ecstatic thrill, she realized she could call for help. This time, she had a weapon called Simon. But the rotten thing was that he didn't answer the phone. He didn't come to her aid even when she sent distressed texts, and she was alone, weak, nothing but trash to the man about to come and bend her under his will again.

It was just a dream, but waking up was always a relief. She was breathing like she had just been saved from drowning. To her surprise, Simon was fast asleep, probably too spent to stay vigil, which was both unsettling and heartbreaking. He was hard against her, and she realized it must've bled into her dream, adding to its menacing nature.

Still, the relief was immeasurably sweet as she noticed Simon was physically here, holding her. Trauma was a bitch, but it didn't get to her this time. Nothing could hurt her. No one could come and take her away from the heavy, safe cage of his arms. The ripples of the nightmare slowly turned into something entirely different. How she could get wet just from feeling him thick and pulsing against her back after such a night terror was… well, it was new.

What had happened in the shower before they retreated to bed was fucking hot. Despite the evening full of grief and loss, that simple, urgent, shiver-ridden handjob in the shower was so beautiful that she could've cried from that alone. He was so done in that she finally got past the wall that seemed to prevent her from touching him. The connection was so pure that she didn’t quite know where she ended and he began.

She had never felt this kind of bond with another human being before. She hadn't even known that there were men like Simon, and perhaps there weren't. He was one of a kind.

Curling up together amidst a burning world, a selfish world, a world sinking like a ship, was so utterly beautiful that it was breaking her heart into pieces.

She shifted, sure of Simon waking from her turning around, but he only stirred a little and fell back asleep. Her hand seemed to have a will of its own as it found its way under his pants and caressed him. The thick flesh pulled against her palm, calling her to give him more of that stress relief, to drown him in love. Surely he would only be pleasantly surprised if she woke him up with her mouth.

She didn't get far before a hand shot out. Fingers scraped against her scalp and grabbed, yanked her by the hair, then raised her from between his legs.

Fuck… Of course.

How could she be so stupid?

"That's not a good idea, sweetheart," he said with a sleepy, slightly alarmed grunt. "Even though I appreciate the gesture."

He gentled his grip on her as if it had only been something naughty that had accidentally, in the spur of the moment, turned into too rough a treatment. Her scalp was burning, but what shocked her more was witnessing how quick his reflexes could be.

She was dealing with someone who had gotten used to being touched only with violence, with pure intention to cause harm. The darkness was the time for phantoms; they appeared in her bedroom as if she had called them forth with her mouth. The nightmare was still fresh on her mind, giving ground to having another talk about things neither of them wanted to discuss… But she had wanted to ask a certain question from the moment she had seen all those scars.

"Have you ever been tortured?"

The hand caressed her hair now, and she cursed that they almost always made love in the darkness. She wanted to see him, needed to see him, to make sure that that hand belonged to Simon instead of a ghost.

"Just ask how many days."

"How many days?"

"98."

She had expected the answer to be something like two or three days. That Simon had survived full-on torture without breaking for a week, at the very maximum.

98 days covered over 3 months.

He took her hand and brought it to his ribs, on a protruding scar she had seen many times. It wasn't the most prominent, but it was, apparently, one with the meanest memory.

Shouldn't have asked… Shouldn't have asked…

"Got slapped up on a meat hook like those pigs back there in the butchery. You believe in karma?"

"Simon.. Jesus Christ."

"Nah, the hook was the nice part. It's the brainwashing that really gets to ya." He rubbed himself with her hand as if to relieve a long-forgotten pain.

"If the mind breaks, you're done."

Simon wasn't living in the same world as her. He lived in the same realm as Roman slaves who were slaughtered for entertainment in the Colosseum, as soldiers freezing to death on the Eastern Front of World War 2, as political prisoners tortured in North Korean internment camps.

"This is horrible."

"What's horrible is you wakin' me up like this and not finishing the job."

Shivers of ice seeped down her spine. He was so unfazed… and it wasn't just denial or a defense mechanism. He was simply in terms with what had happened to him — what had been done to him. He didn’t turn his gaze away from the abyss. She wouldn't call it healthy or normal, but it was mature as hell, something so profoundly self-sufficient and fearless that she knew she would never meet a man like Simon.

Feeling both scared and aroused, she granted his wish and took him back in her mouth. They had just talked about meat hooks and psychological torture, but he was hard as a rock. The moan that left him as she went deep and flattened her tongue against him was an exhausted and deprived sigh, and she felt tears welling up.

He was broken and perfect and beautiful, he simply wouldn't yield. Not in any storm, not before a hurricane, not amidst a fallout, not in the thick of whatever apocalypse would come and rain upon this world. The least she could do to honor such a man was to make him sigh like that.

The moans that left him were different from when he was fucking her. They sounded fragile, arduous, and brought pain to mind. His enemies had tried to break him for nearly 100 days and failed. She couldn't stop thinking about where all those scars had come from — mutilation, beating, cutting, flagellation, not to mention being suspended on a meat hook…

Had it ended in him being buried alive? Or was that a whole other story? And who had been in the coffin with him? An enemy or a friend?

He said the physical torture wasn't even the worst of it…

She thought about how he always looked so incredibly tired, was so paranoid about someone coming to get him. He had most likely been subjected to sleep deprivation and constant interrogation, other slow methods meant to break someone psychologically. Methods that escaped her imagination.

Tears ran down her cheeks, and she sobbed against him, like a pathetic woman who knew nothing of the world’s darkness. A killer's hand found its way in her hair again, this time with the gentlest caress.

"Dove… C'mere."

Whatever test this was, she felt like a total failure when releasing him and letting him pull her into another staunch embrace.

"I'm sorry," he said softly while petting her hair like she was a child who had had a nightmare.

He shouldn't be sorry for anything. He shouldn't be consoling her for his own torture. Her own past seemed like a walk in the park compared to this, her depression was laughable. Even when she knew these kinds of things shouldn't be compared.

"Sometimes forget that you're a civilian."

How on earth he could forget that was beyond her. What Simon had forgotten, though, was what civilian life was like. What ordinary, day to day life looked and felt like. Why would he want to continue his job after everything he had been through?

Unless he didn't care if he got killed.

Unless he wanted to get away. Had been wanting to get away for years now, just like her…

The tears were running in streams now, and her nose was stuffed, broken sighs passed through her mouth as he kept her in one piece with a simple hug.

"Gotta say it gets me fuckin' hard when you shed tears for me,” he said, amused, while she was crumbling under the weight of their darkness.

"You're always so cocky," she sighed, trying to get air through her mouth because her nose was clogged from the tears.

"Isn't that what you like about me?"

When she wouldn’t speak, he turned her around to lie on her stomach and started to caress her back. Slow and steady, purposeful. He cherished her from neck to waist, rubbed the knots between her shoulder blades, soothed tension in places she didn't even know she had any. It was the gentlest touch she had felt since childhood, a caress of her entire being.

How poetic, that a butcher was the only one to have touched her with such mercy.

She should be the one doing the comforting, but here they were again. All those psychology journals, all those books, all that education, and he was the one who knew what to do, how to handle his shit. And her shit too.

"C'mon... Tell me you like it."

The callous hand cupped her ass, slid down her thigh, beckoned it to lift to gain access to her. It was just an inspection due to her not having said a word, and he must've taken it as a sign of her being proud and stubborn... And then the night laughed at her with a gratified haze as his fingers met her wetness.

"Alright, have it your way. But you're always drippin' for me… That's how I know ya like it."

He relished in what he found, spread the moisture all over her folds, causing her hips to rise up to present her pussy to him — like it was normal that she was soaked after such a sad evening and a fright of a night.

But Simon didn't seem to regard it as perverse at all. To him, it was quite natural, mostly an endearment, as he climbed on top of her like a god of war about to get a taste of bliss after a hard day on the battlefield.

The bulged tip found her entrance with a familiarity that was only sublime. He was such a tease when he wanted to be, coating himself with her before going straight in.

"Got your eyes and your cunt wet for me. If that ain't love, don't know what is."

Words escaped her again as he stretched her wide, and she could feel his hunger, both their hunger. He simply had more patience than she did to not act upon it right away. He set a pace that was sweet and slow, so greedy that it made her grab the sheet in a tight fist.

"You're hopeless," she sighed while her back arched to meet him in perfect sync, the rhythm they had established long ago was the most divine for both of them. Perhaps he wanted to feel alive too, especially on a night like this. His hand found hers, the one grabbing the sheet, and she opened for him, interlaced her fingers with his, and squeezed. The sadness turned into a lazy, warm pool of love and arousal, even euphoria.

"That's it sweetheart… what else? Tell me how much you like me."

It was never straight-shooting with him. She couldn't just say that he was driving her insane. It had been embarrassing enough to spill all that love in the air when she had been drunk, with him between her legs like a bloodhound that had caught scent.

So she told her what he disliked about him. Those things happened to be the ones she absolutely loved about him as well.

"You talk too much," she offered, already out of breath.

"Never hear that at work."

"Probably because you don't fuck your co-workers."

He laughed at that, so uncharacteristic and unbridled that it made tiny bubbles brim all over in her, too.

"Know a few dolls who wouldn't mind if I did."

Jealousy bled instantly. No — it clawed at her insides. Simon had women on his team? He had discreetly left them unmentioned up until this point.

It crossed her mind that maybe he was the lovesick one now. But that couldn't be true… He was just being arrogant, as always.

"Don't worry darling. I'm all yours."

That husky purr drove her only more nuts. He even sent his hands down to her waist and held her steady while making it known to whom she belonged.

"Think you can handle me?"

The next thrust was punctuated, his balls pressed against her clit, rewarding him with a tight moan she simply couldn't hold back. The appeased rumble above her told her that he only got a kick out of this childish boasting.

"I don’t know. Your ego is too big for me," she tried to sound dry during yet another delicious fucking.

"Got somethin' else that's big," he bragged, voice covered in molten gold. "Right? Just for you."

On that, she refused to entertain him. He knew perfectly well just how big he was. Simon didn't do relationships but had surely had his fair share of women who had run into his arms more than gladly. Far more eagerly than her, or at least, with far less dignity. It was despicable, but she was jealous of his past too and envied every single one of them, whether the women he'd had amounted to dozens or hundreds.

"You like big men?" He brushed her hair aside from her cheek as if wanting to see her face to read the answer from her expression, even if it was too dark to see anything.

"I like men who know when to shut up," she blurted.

A laugh, rough but hearty, echoed in the bedroom.

"Marry me."

Her eyes went wide, her jaw opened, a quick gasp passed through…

"Or don't. 'S not worth the pension."

A joke… He was joking.

Her eyes fluttered closed, but her mouth was left hanging open; then it slowly but surely curved into a quivering little smile. This goddamn man would be the end of her.

He caressed her again, then brushed a thumb over her lip in a soft, yearning gesture that told her he wanted to kiss her but couldn't from this position. The gentle lovemaking in the dark thick of night was sweeter than any pain, and she did something rebellious: she reached for that thumb, captured it in her mouth, and sucked.

"Fuck…"

It was a surprised huff. Completely taken aback.

She swirled her tongue around it, gripped it tight, mouthed it like it was his cock — and could feel his hips buck unexpectedly.

"Not gonna last long if ya..-"

The hurried explanation ended in a lengthy groan, and the body above her went rigid, then shuddered. He came without warning, the thumb was pushed even further into her mouth, and he was buried in her to the hilt, hissing and moaning like it caused him pain.

He was always a gentleman when it came to her pleasure, never chased his own before she had gotten hers first. It must drive him a bit mad to spill so soon — especially when it wasn't even the first time today.

It was the softest cataclysm she had ever seen, another stealthy peek behind those high brick walls. His body crushed her, the massive arms closed in around her, he rubbed his face somewhere in her neck… and he was trembling. Perhaps it was his way of weeping since he couldn't cry actual tears.

He was finally speechless, gathering himself after an unusually weak moment. He swallowed, panted, then swallowed again. Struggled to regain control, snatched it back like an injured soldier. But he wasn’t angry, nor was he ashamed, he was pretty damn delighted.

"Now look at what you did," he scolded, but the tone was playful. He slipped out of her mouth, the heavy chest was throbbing against her back, and she mourned the fact that her skin only met cotton.

"You had it coming."

Arousal made her voice thicker than usual, and he buried his face further in her hair.

"Really…"

And again, he wouldn't pull out. She was just gathered in his arms and dragged to lie on her side. Her back met a solid chest, and the hand traveled up her throat, making her expose her neck for him to wolf from behind. It was probably her weakest spot – and as soon as he noticed it, he took advantage of the knowledge. He even used teeth on her, made love bites like they were some horny teenagers. She would have to wear high collars for classes next week…

"Does that feel nice?" The attentiveness was nearing unbearable proportions, his voice so close to her ear that her eyes rolled back. He was big, even when soft, and continued to rub against her after slipping out. Another hand dove down to assist her reach her own peak.

"Judging by how wet you are, it does."

He was right, as always. The tears were dry, but her pussy was not; she was so wet that it was a miracle how he was able to be as precise as he was.

How the hell could one man be so good at everything…

"You're too sweet for your own good," he whispered when she shattered against that chest and those fingers, her own flexing against his arm as she came. She let him carry her to the shore, break on it like a wave. The broken cries were such a signature, the music of them such a tell, that it really didn't matter that she didn't, couldn't use words with him.

This was the best therapy either of them could get, no matter what any book or professional said. They were wildly alive, they had found each other through horrors and blood and tears. Somehow, he had found his way to her orbit, collided with her in that dark, grimy, degraded place where she danced for money for a tortured killer like him. Her job was a good workout, and it paid the bills, but it had also brought Simon to her, and she had never been more grateful for deciding to go on those pole dance classes years ago.

"I have to wear high necks to school again," she said afterward in his arms, all snug and prepared to glide back to sleep.

"Serves you right."

He was hard again while she was feeling sore and puffy and content — and slathered, with both of their juices, which he used to lazily guide himself through her folds.

"Ready for another round if you are," he offered.

That would be his third one already… The ungodly amount of stamina on this man was frightening.

"I- I don't think I can."

It was mostly an acknowledgment of his size, and they both knew it. Simon just tightened his hold on her, appearing quite pleased with this outcome. Won another round, the gloating, lovable bastard.

"Alright, dove. Let's get you some sleep."

***

The next morning, when she was making him an omelette he suddenly began to speak.

"I usually fuck everything up when shit hits the fan, no matter the cost."

She turned off the stove and moved the pan away to stop the hissing sound threatening to drown his voice.

"This time, I just wanted to get back."

It was a confession of another kind… A compliment. Might even be the highest compliment she had ever received from this man. Simon wanted to stay alive and return to her rather than avenge his fallen ones.

Still, there was bound to be recoil, some survivor's guilt — or a bitter self-reflection moment of a superior.

"Are you blaming yourself?"

"I don't know. No, that's not what I meant."

"I realized…" His brows drew together in an attempt to search for the right words. "I realized there that… You might be the only person I can trust."

She was moved, ripe for walking to him right then and there and relieve that tension in his shoulders. Freaking finally give him that massage he had yearned for since autumn. There was something profoundly wrong with her that she hadn't done it yet.

He always attended to her. It was supposed to be a display of authority, but she knew that the best leaders didn't lead with fear; they served. It was high time someone served him.

"It's not a good sign," he muttered.

"I would see it as a great sign," she said with a shy smile, but it died on her lips as she saw how he only appeared to fall deeper into misery.

"Right? Simon?"

"I thought I already dealt with this shit 10 years ago."

That sentence sent ice down her back. Her skin broke into goosebumps, they seemed to travel all the way up to her head. Her palms were already sweating by the time he spoke again.

"You see, everyone I trust either dies or…" Simon was staring inwards into some distant memory she knew nothing about. She went to sit on the small piece of furniture that could almost be called a dinner table. Not necessarily because she wanted to get closer to him, but because her stomach was churning and she feared she might faint in her little kitchen.

"Everyone I love, dies."

She forced a hand reach out to grab his as she tried to call him back to the present moment and back to her.

"That can't be true. I mean, that can't be set in stone kinda true."

"Who knows."

The walls were suddenly so high that she couldn't get to him even when they were holding hands like this.

But this was the most precious thing in her life. She would fight for it if she must.

"I'm willing to take that risk," she said without fear.

"I admire your courage."

He didn't say he was willing to take that risk too. She hadn't quite prepared for that, nor for what came after.

"I can't do my job if I'm…"

"If you love someone?" She offered when he wouldn't continue.

She fucking hated his job at this point. She hated his dead father, and she hated the Manchester slums, she hated everyone who had hurt him and betrayed his trust. But it was like peeling an onion when it came to Simon: there was always a new layer underneath the one that was shed away. Who knew what was hidden at the core, or if she would ever even reach it?

"Well, what about… your mom?"

"Dead."

"You have siblings?"

"Dead."

Holy shit. Things were even worse than she had thought.

"What about friends? Like, off work?"

"Not anymore."

Terror began to swell and roll inside her like a tidal wave. A menacing calm before the storm, an eerie silence a split second before the explosion.

"You have nobody?"

He stared off into space, telling her with that look alone that he had no one. He released her hands, or rather, forced her to release him. Then he dropped the atom bomb.

"I didn't mean for things to go this far."

All her fears, long since lulled to sleep, crawled through the earth to suffocate her.

It was true after all: she had been just a bit of fun, a one-night stand that had turned into a plaything. A plaything who had latched itself onto a man who didn't want extra baggage.

"What a nice thing to hear." Her voice was metal, and Simon wouldn't say anything, proving her worst nightmares true.

He had had enough of her and now wanted to end things. The beautiful dusk had rolled into a knifelike dawn, and it was time to finish the show.

"Then why are you still here?" She finally dared to look up at him, and he looked confused, like he didn't know the answer to that question.

Things spun out of control so fast that she felt faint in the head. It was hard to think rationally when all their shared memories were suddenly covered in a wicked haze of shallow fucking, noncommitment, and her being an absolute fool for having believed that Simon would want her for the rest of his life.

"I get it that you're a super secret soldier spy, that you have to sneak around and give me a heart attack every other week. I get that we can't be together as much as I would like. But if you don't even want this, then what the hell are you doing here?"

His eyes were wide, his throat worked an arduous swallow. He looked more hurt than ever, more in pain than he had been last night due to the death of his teammates.

But to her, it was the look of a poker player who had got caught red-handed in cheating.

How dare he joke about marriage and elaborate on how sweet she was during the night, only to set everything on fire the next morning?

She was just a sweet little stray cat he liked to pet and pamper and fuck when he had the time, a nice little vacation from work filled with excitement. Everything needed to be exciting to him, he needed a dose of adrenaline and knife play and showering bullets to make him hard so he could fly back to grey London to get a go with his pole dancing little school girl.

Putting up shelves, seeing pictures of her spending Christmas with the family, tea and omelette in the morning were too mundane, too boring. She had been another kind of adrenaline shot.. But now she was only a dry syringe with the words I love you spoken in the air.

She got up and took a few steps back, tried to cut off a love that she already knew wouldn’t die, would never, ever die.

"This is so fucked up. If I'm just some momentary lapse in your life, then…" she shook her head at a loss for words. He had been silent for the whole outburst, but at her last suggestion, he cut in.

"No. Never. You're–"

She was so riled that she couldn't even hear his words. "You know what? Go do your job then. I'm sick and tired of waiting for you to come home to me, only to hear something like that. God…"

He snapped his mouth shut after she cut him off and simply raged on, all the longing and confusion of whole months streaming out of her mouth with an annoying high-pitched account. If she hated her voice right now, she could only imagine how it must sound to him. Her irritating hysteria only worsened the situation, especially when Simon remained so fucking calm.

"This is just…" She laughed through tears she didn't want him to see. With sheer willpower, she fought those tears back to the abyss. He would probably just get off on seeing her cry.

After all, she was the sweetest girl there was. Too sweet for her own good. The most gullible, naive piece of shit.

"I don't know how this is gonna work."

He stared at her with chest heaving, then his breath settled into a calm, ordered roll, his expression turned to stone. The rage was directed inwards before it could lash out at her. The man called Simon turned into Ghost, a professional killing machine, so quickly amidst a raging storm that she could hear the eye of it reach them, the whole world around her go silent. Or perhaps she was momentarily deafened by that cold-hearted stare that turned away from her with a final, lingering tinge of sadness. Even that was gone by the time he rose from the table and walked to the hallway.

Her heart was struck with a blade; she bled dry before she could even take a step to follow him. She saw him put his shoes on, then reach for his jacket, which he flung on with heavy shoulders and a broad back turned to her like a shield.

Simon was resigning.

He was fucking leaving.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. He reached for his pocket and drew out a cigarette and a lighter, the flash of cold steel stinging her eyes although there was little sunlight because the day was grey. The Zippo was something she had found for him from a thrift store, and it had the tusked Snaggletooth logo of Motörhead on it. It felt like the perfect gift after noticing Simon had played the band's music from some old, burned cd when he had taken her on that shooting trip. He had ruffled her hair when receiving it, evidently pleased. "Knew you were a keeper," he had said when she told him she loved Motörhead too.

Her eyes were brimming with tears, the cigarette was sent between his lips, and he wouldn't look back, only marched to the door with heavy steps.

The fear wouldn't die even when she tried to tell herself that he was only going for a smoke to calm his nerves from her sudden fit. They would talk things through when he got back.

Which was why she never said anything, didn't follow him.

The door slammed shut, and she swallowed and turned to get a sip of her coffee. Her hands were shaking, the coffee was cold, and she realized she had just basically told him to get out. That cold-blooded stare still haunted her, and she wanted to go check if Simon was truly there, smoking on those steps and being a wall, her wall, against the cold, uncaring world.

She played the conversation over and over in her head, what was spoken, and the frost of horror turned her senses sharp, her ears started to ring from the silence. Simon had told her he trusted her and she had just freaked out — hadn't even let him finish what he had tried to say.

She wanted, needed to tell him right this second that she was sorry for being such a lunatic. She turned for the door, then walked back, forced herself to remain calm.

He needed space, and she didn't want to upset him more than she already had. He was older than her, used to nuclear seasons and warheads and blunt trauma, he was sharp as a whip. He wouldn't get rattled so easily. He would come back, smelling of fresh smoke, he would tell her what to do. That they would make it work no matter what. Flesh out a plan.

Because that’s all she wanted to hear. That he was serious and wanted this to work as much as she did. That it was just some miscommunication.

But her instinct told her that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Minutes passed, and she finally went to open the door, and there was no one there. The streets were silent, the grey clouds even darker still, hanging over her like doom. She was feeling nauseous, a shudder went through her whole body, then her teeth started to rattle.

She closed the door and turned and tried to take a step, but her knees gave in and she slumped somewhere on the floor of her hallway filled with shoes and dirt and emptiness.

#simon riley x oc#ghost x oc#ghost smut#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley x oc#mw2 smut#ghost fanfiction#simon riley fanfic#cod fanfic#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x female oc#simon riley x female reader#ghost x female reader

#simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x oc #mw2 smut #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost x female oc #simon riley x female oc #simon ghost riley fic

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kittyscupcakeandbunny · 11 months

Text

A BREATH OF FIRE x Min Yoongi

[Hybrid Gods AU]

PART TWO

Please wash away this blood on my skin

Side characters: Park Jimin/White fox hybrid.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, violence, sharp objects, suggestive words, smut, alcohol, killing.

Genre: Fantasy, romance, strangers to lovers, R +18.

………………………………………………………………………………….

I’ve gotten used to it now. Waking up to the smell of wood and cinnamon in the morning. Yoongi always got up before me, I’ve never really asked him why. He only told me he had fox duties in the morning. I didn’t put much thought in it, sometimes some things are better left unknown. If he wants tell me, he will.

My mornings were usually the same, Jimin would come everyday and bring his delicious bread and sweet honey cake. We would chat a bit and he kept me company, always leaving before yoongi arrived. We didn’t talk about what happened last time but I made sure to assure him i was much better.

After he leave i would clean up the house a bit, making sure everything was on its place. Then I would spent some time in the garden outside.

It wasn’t anything huge, it had a small pound with some fish on it in the middle of the path that lead to the entrance of the house, i would always read there. Surrounded by greens and flowers all around it. Red roses fallowing the path to the entrance, i always collected some to use as decoration on the house.

Today wasn’t any different. I watched as the white fox smiled with red checks at me, mouth full of sugar from the small bread he just eat.

- you look like a child - i said, taking a napkin noticing my intention he came closer with his face. I only chuckled cleaning the sugar off his lips.

- what can I do? I’m a messy eater - he said, after I cleaned his mouth.

- oh, it came to me… I never really asked you, who baked this? - i said.

- who do you think? - he moved his eyebrows up and down suggestive. I watched him expectedly. - I did.

- you did?!

- you seam surprise - he laughed.

- I’m just… yes. You’re really good a baking! - I complimented him, his checks got even more red now - truly, i don’t think I’ve had such a delicious sweet bread before!

- thank you… - he murmured shyly. His ears moving slowly.

I smiled at him. He’s so cute.

We eat quietly in the past minutes, after we’re done i made sure to clean everything while Jimin helped.

- you stayed longer today - i comment sitting by his side on the small table.

- i… like you’re company - he said - and it seems like Yoongi doesn’t want to see me…

- don’t say that - I turned to him, a sad expression on his soft features - he told me he’s been busy… I could try and talk to him if you want?

- no… is okay - he gave me a small smile, his ears slowly falling down.

I felt bad for the white fox. I don’t know what kind of relationship they had before but it seams Jimin really likes Yoongi, and to like someone who always seems so cold and distant…

- don’t worry about it - i said - he’s just been busy this time, you know, fox duties.

He smiled at me. His ears coming up now.

Yoongi hates when his ears are touched, never once did he let me get even close to them. I remember the first time i tried, he got really defensive over it.

I’ve always wonder how do they feel? Are they soft?

My curiosity got the best of me without even realizing, my eyes looking at them Jimin must have realized as he lower his head closer to me.

- sorry… - i said, my checks getting warmer.

He smiled at me - is okay, you can touch them I don’t mind.

- really? - he nodded coming closer - Yoongi never let me touch his… I’m really curious…

He just smiled and took my hand putting on his head. They were soft. As I imagine, running my hand through his hair touching the base of his ears jimin closed his eyes, a small smile on his face. I ran my fingers up to the pointy fur on his ear, they were white with a bit of black on top. As i scratch the back of his ears his tail started going side to side.

I chuckled at how adorable he looked. Like a puppy.

As i removed my hands from his ears his eyes opened slowly, a pool of silver and blue looking at me. He seemed happier now.

- thanks - he said, holding his chin with the palm of his hand - i can’t remember the last time i had my ears scratched.

- really? How, you’re so cute? - i said. His usually pale skin turning red. He gets like that so easily.

- well… I don’t… - he stoped himself mid sentence.

- what?

The expression on his face change into something completely different in a second, he got up from his sit, the soft and cute boy was gone now he looked serious and even intimidating, ears standing up as he said the next thing - I smell blood…

He started to walk towards the door and I followed right behind him. A mix of feelings weighted on my chest.

But nothing prepared me for what I was about to see. I didn’t know what to expect, blood, it could mean so many different things. A threat, an animal, human, someone hurt. But most definitely, not once did it occur to me Yoongi.

A gasp escaped my mouth as soon as i saw him. Standing there in front of the house almost completely covered in… blood.

In his right hand a sword. The same one he used to kill the men who tried to hurt me, his eyes where shining so bright I could see them from here. My body was completely frozen as i watched him walk slowly towards me and Jimin.

He looked deadly like a fox walking towards its prey. Just like he did that night. Even more, I could see death in those golden eyes. They looked animalistic.

Jimin quickly stood in front of me protective, as much as i appreciate the gesture i could not let him do this. I saw the way Yoongi was coming towards us, whatever happened to him it looked like he was still out of it. Completely blinded by the blood lust.

Now two feet close to us, i pushed Jimin to the side making him fall on the ground. Rushing towards Yoongi in a matter of seconds, i didn’t even think about it twice not once did he scared me, all it took was a breath. One breath.

So close to him, i could smell the blood from him. His eyes staring right into mine, golden and burning like fire. He didn’t move and neither did i. It felt like an eternity.

The sound of his sword falling was what woke me up in that moment. High pitched metal hitting the ground. His golden orbs slowly closing as his body fell into mine.

Quickly I held him against me, trying as hard as i could to not drop him on the floor. He was unconscious.

I turned to Jimin who was sitting on the floor watching with scared eyes.

- quick! Help me take him inside! - i said, desperately but he didn’t move - Jimin!

He seamed to wake up finally coming back to reality, he got up and made his way to us taking Yoongis body from me. He held him by the side putting one arm over his shoulder.

Going back inside i instructed him to put Yoongi on his bed in the bedroom. As he follow my order filled a bowl with water and grabbed a towel.

Taking both items with me I made my way to the bedroom, Jimin sat beside him watching him with a worried expression.

- he’s not hurt thankfully - he said, looking over me - the blood… it’s not his.

I just thanked him quietly, lowering myself beside Yoongi on the other side. I put down the bowl and submerged the towel on the water.

I began to clean the blood from his face, hands and neck. So much blood on him that I had Jimin getting up three times to get more clean water.

My mind was running laps as i kept think: what? Why? How?

My chest was heavy with worry, what had happened to him that left him like this?

No one said a word. The smell of blood was starting to make me sick. He told me he had duties as a fox but this? What kind of duty involves so much… killing? What did he kill this time?

As i cleaned his hands Jimin said he would make some tea, that the smell of blood wasn’t doing him good. I gave him a nood and smile, making sure he knew i was fine.

But was i?

Was I really fine with all of this? My life turned up side down completely. I was living in a different world.

Cleaning blood out of a nine tailed fox god.

I kept looking at his face waiting for him to wake up. Seeing him covered in blood and unconscious, was he really okay? I couldn’t help the tears the filled my eyes as I cleaned his face, right over his scar. Did he got that one in one of his duties?

I didn’t have much time to think, the same hand i cleaned was now holding my neck. The other held my wrist the hand I had the towel with blood, before I could carry on cleaning the blood off his face.

He held me closer by the neck, golden eyes staring right into mine and burning with rage. I held my breath instantly, my heart beating painfully fast. His hands held me tightly.

- sorry… - i managed to mumble.

At the sound of my voice he seemed to wake up, his features slowly softening and his grip on me as well finally letting me go but not completely, still holding me. I could finally breathe.

With his hand holding my wrist he took me down with him, the other hand making it’s way around my waist as he held me against him. He breathed on my neck soft sounds coming from his lips and his hold around me got tighter.

He was back. A sight of relief left me as I hugged him back just as tightly.

- what happened to you? - i cried.

- not… now - he murmured against my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

- okay.

We stayed like that for how long I don’t know. Once I didn’t felt like crying anymore i tried to get away from him to go back to cleaning the blood off of him but, he just held me tighter.

- Yoongi… you’re covered in blood. - I stated, trying again to let go of him. This time he let me.

Both my hands on his shoulders as I looked down on him, he still smelled like death, had blood all over him and yet looked as beautifully as he always did.

- you should change your clothes - i said while getting up. - I’ll leave you to it.

He nodded in my way as we looked at each other one last time before I make my way out of the room.

I took one long breath, collecting myself before I made my way towards the small kitchen were Jimin was making tea.

The smell of blood following me there as a reminder. He’s not human. Don’t fall for him. Don’t.

…

Me and Jimin made dinner while Yoongi was changing. The whole time he asked me if I was okay, me always telling him i was fine. At one point I had to tell him that me working was the best thing i could do to take my mind off of what happened. At that he seamed to finally get it.

He helped me out as I cooked. Cutting some vegetables, washing the rice, putting the dishes on the table. The whole time i completely forgot about bloody Yoongi. And once we where done with the food, we sat at the table waiting for him.

It didn’t took long. He came back clean and wearing new clothes, not a single drop of blood on him. As if nothing ever happened.

Dinner was quiet so far, Yoongi eat quietly beside me. I had to move he’s dishes because he was supposed to sit at bottom but decided to sit beside me, just like last time. Jimin began a small conversation. Not one mentioned what happened, I figured they would talk about it alone when I’m not around. I didn’t mind, to be honest i rather not know anything about it.

- the food is good, y/n I didn’t know were so good at cooking - Jimin mentioned.

- well thank you, i didn’t know i was good at it too - i said.

- how so? - he asked.

- well, I’ve always been a disaster - i said - i could never go close to the kitchen, somehow I’d always menage to hurt myself or set something on fire, but usually I always hurt myself somehow except… lately.

- that’s good then - jimin said. He smiled at me. It felt nice to finally be able to do something without almost hurting my self.

- give me your right hand - Yoongi blurted out.

- what? - i asked, confused i turned to him. He wasn’t looking me but at his plate, unbothered.

- hand - he said again, now looking at me.

I gave him my hand and he took it inspecting it, he held it into his big one tracing the lines with his thumb. My checks went hot as I looked at him, the way his eyebrows furrowed looking so focused for some reason, how he licked his lips before talking.

- this - he said tracing a small mark on my palm close to my thumb.

- oh, it’s just a scar - i said, looking at our hands.

- when did you get it? - he asked. I looked up at him his eyes finally looking into mine.

- I don’t know, I always had it - i said, he just looked at me. I couldn’t read his expression. What was so especial about it?

- it’s not a scar - he said. Turning to jimin - it’s a Jinx.

- what!? - Jimin exclaimed - how? Why would anyone Jinx her?

- I wouldn’t know… - Yoongi said - it’s in her soul, probably got it from a past life, doesn’t look like modern magic.

- wait… you mean this is not my first life? - i said still looking at the nine tailed fox.

- no - he said looking at me now, something in his eyes sparkled at that moment. - I can’t tell you exactly how many you have lived but, what I can tell you is I’m just as powerful as the thing that put this jinx on your soul.

Thing.

Something as powerful.

- what does it do? - i asked.

- from what you said… this type of magic spell is supposed to make one have a very hard time, and it was put on your soul is going to be with your for an eternity - he explained.

- then… I’ve meet something like you in a past life? - i said, still trying to process the information.

- you’ve been here for quite a long time little human - the fox said to me, his golden eyes shining suggestive as he said it.

I wish that didn’t had affected me more then it should’ve had. But that would be a lie.

That kept running on my mind for the rest of the night. I tried not to let get the best of me as i cleaned the table after we all eat to distract my mind but, it didn’t. It made me feel a cold on my belly.

Jimin wanted to stay tonight to make sure we where all fine, but knowing Yoongi he would want privacy tonight. Especially after everything that happened. The past few days I’ve been living with him made me realize he had wonds inside that he didn’t want to show. And Jimin can be really noisy sometimes.

As I was making the bed i felt the smell of blood was still there so I changed everything, putting on new covers and bed sheets. Once i was done i prepared myself to sleep, changing into new clothes.

I was still wearing Yoongis clothes I wasn’t like I could ask him to buy me some and when I mention that I could take some from my old house he immediately turned it down, at this point I didn’t even minded any more. He didn’t mind it too so.

Once i was done Yoongi entered the bedroom, he seemed tired but didn’t lay down on the bed.

Something as powerful as him.

I couldn’t help but think about it again, a jinx on my soul. I’ve been going through this in all my past lives? What have I done that a creature like Yoongi hated me enough to scar my soul like that for all my future lives?

Maybe I’m not as good as I thought I was. Maybe I was just like those men who tried to hurt me in the forest.

- what’s bothering you? - I heard his voice said closer to me. I turned around only to find him right behind me.

- nothing… just, I just thought that maybe I’m not a good person - i said honestly. Even the way he was standing changed as I said that.

- it’s about the mark - it wasn’t a question, he looked at me almost angry - look, don’t think too much about it.

- yes but…

- don’t - he interrupts, one finger coming to my lips stoping me from saying anything more - i would know if you were bad.

I looked at him, his golden eyes staring right into mine his black hair falling over them. Slowly his finger went down my lips as he let his hand fall back into his side. He didn’t look deadly anymore. He looked just like him. But… still that smell was so present on him it made my insides turn back.

He was still deadly. A nine tailed fox capable of killing without thinking twice.

- do you want me to make a bath for you? - i asked, looking at him as he opened his hanbook.

- is okay… - he murmured.

- you… you still smell like blood - I decided to be honest. He stoped and looked at me, over his eyes. He gave me that look.

- then I’ll shower again….

- no - I interrupt, tiredly - I don’t mind, besides… it looks like you really need one so just let me do it.

He didn’t said anything for a moment. Just looked at me while taking his clothes off.

- then suit yourself - he simply said turning back sliding his hanbook down showing his bare back.

Before he went any further I made my way out of the room. Checks burning hot.

This sly fox…

…

The bathroom had a round bathtub, as you entered is the first thing you see. I turned on and as it was filling it up I took some flowers I picked from the garden, he surely needed to take that smell off of his skin.

As well as some oils and soap, to make everything smell better. The bathtub soon was done and filled. It looked almost romantic with all the candles I had to light it up there. Anything to take the smell of blood off of him. And my mind.

I heard a nock on the door and a Yoongi wearing a bathrobe entered. He looked around before his eyes locked with mine.

- are trying to cook me too? - he said, humor in his voice - why there’s so much stuff in that?

- shut up - i said, not looking at him trying to hide my checks that where burning - get in while is still warm.

- yes ma’am - he said, a chuckle coming from him.

I didn’t waste a second more and quickly got out before he got naked i front of me. A shaky breathe leaving my lips as i did so. He’s so dangerous. So dangerous.

Calming down my body i went back to the bedroom, once in i closed the door. Making my way to bed. Sleep that’s what i need. Sleep.

But my mind can’t seem to shut up. What happened to me? Why was a scared for life? Who did this to me? I wanted to know. I needed to know.

All of this was making me go insane. And this fox… he just seems to love making me go insane. All this teasing and touching out of nowhere, all this… blood.

What does he really want from me?

What is it that i feel for him?

I know that there is something, sometimes i fell this strong pull towards him. It burns and that smell of honey and cinnamon is so inviting and overwhelming but, so good.

A long sigh leaves my lips as i look at the towel and clothes laying over the bed, he didn’t took it with him. I swear this fox is doing it on purpose at this point.

I groan taking them and making my way out of the room, as i stand in front of the door to the bathroom I wonder what i should say, what should I do? Is he in the bath already? Should I nock? Should I just leave it here and go?

Forget it. Ive been walking side to side in front of this door for so long just overthink that he must have heard me with those long ears.

I nock once and call out his name before entering, the sweet smell i remember filling my lounges. Wood, cinnamon and honey. With roses and some herbs I put there to help with his tense body.

- you forgot your towel and clothes - i said, my eyes looking at him. He had his back towards me, I could only see the back of his head - I’ll leave here for you.

He didn’t say anything. So I made my way out and just as i thought he maybe fell asleep there, I heard his voice.

- come here.

It was the way he said it that made me lose a breath, heart slowly beating faster. How his voice sounded more husky and deep. I made my way back to him, standing behind him. The soap made enough bubbles to not be able to see anything under that water, and i felt relieved.

- do you need something? - i maneged to say.

- can you… wash my hair? - He asked, side looking at me.

- what? - I couldn’t hold my surprise, he hated having his ears touched and now wanted me to wash his hair?

- don’t make me repeat myself - he said.

- okay…. I’ll do it.

Taking a small bowl i went on my knees behind him, one hand holding his chin carefully lifting his head up so i could wet his hair before shampooing. He let me, eyes closed and completely relaxed.

Slowly i began to water his hair, being extra careful not to touch his ears. This is gonna be hard.

I try my best to keep my focus as my hands run down his black long hair, stealing a few glances at his face how soft his features seemed like this, the thick vains on his arms, his red chest from the hot water. He had a few scars on his body too.

Every inch of him was a sin. The fact that he was not human explained his inhumane beauty. Even his eye scar looked good on him. But to say that… wouldn’t be okay.

I try to turn off my thoughts as i put on the shampoo on his now wet hair. Carefully massaging the shampoo into his scalp, moving slowly i run my fingers up and down his head. He moans quietly, soft sounds leaving his lips as I continue to massage his head.

Soft whispers leaves his mouth every now and then, my checks burning red at how sinful he sounds.

The fact that he was naked and so close to me didn’t do any good to calm my heart beat. He smelled so good now, i simply couldn’t help it. Slowly running my hands down his neck and softly massaging, putting a bit of pressure on it.

He groaned laying his head down on my hands, i stoped as he opened his eyes to look at me.

- are you afraid of me? - he asked.

- no… why? - i simply said.

- you’re heart… is beating fast - he mumbled, golden eyes shining a bright yellow.

- I’m just nervous - i reply honestly.

He doesn’t say anything else and stares at me as I wash off the shampoo off his hair, careful not to drop water on his face. Once I’m done, I get up and put the bowl on the floor. But before I can leave he hold my right hand pulling me closer again, he does it so fast i almost fall and stumble towards him, holding myself on the bathtub with my other hand.

My eyes almost not believing the sight, as he slowly takes my hand towards his face and kisses right over the mark.

A short breath falling off my lips surprised at his sudden touch, my whole body burns with pleasure as he leaves open mouthed kisses over my hand. How could such thing be so hot?

Hw didn’t let me got, golden eyes locked into mine as he licked over my hand sucking on it too, i closed my eyes as a moan left my lips. He was so good. I was losing my mind over his lips on my skin.

He would bite into it softly then give long licks on my hand, just to suck on it hard making me bite my lip to hold another moan. My checks burned hot and my whole body wanted him.

I was a mess.

- promise me… - he whispered - you won’t worry about this mark anymore…

- I won’t… - i manege to reply.

He gives me a side smile before letting go of my hand.

- that’s my girl…

Next?

Taglist:

@whipwhoops @glosstwn @i-have-no-life-charlie @catlove83 @4ukiyo4

Sorry for any grammatical mistakes 😅💖

#bts smut #bts x you #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #bts smut reactions #jimin x reader #min yoongi #bts yoongi #yoongi fanfic #bts drabble #yoongi x y/n #bts suga #suga fanart

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hollygracesworld · 4 months

Text

Falling into your ocean eyes 🌊 | Orm Marius x Fem!Reader

Part 7

Warning ⚠️ : really jealousy Orm, kinda angst.

A/N : idk if it's just me, but Patrick Wilson is getting more hot in his 50s 😋, he’s so fresh and yummy.

for the next part click here ➡️ masterlist

Y/N woke up in the morning with Orm hugging her body. They used a thick blanket, and surprisingly she heard Orm snoring in his sleep. It makes her smiling.

She really wanted to continue sleeping because it was very comfortable in her position now, still being hugged tightly by Orm. But when she wanted to close her eyes again, she heard a knock on the door.

Y/N heard the knocking on the door that didn't stop. “Hello? Y/N? Are you there?” said a man from in front of the door.

“Oh fuck.” She said with a quiet voice, “Yeah wait a minute!” She shouted, making Orm wake up from his sleep.

Y/N quickly kissed Orm’s lips and then smiling, “Don’t bother it. Just continue your sleep, Orm.”

“There's someone there...” Orm whispered, getting up from his bed. He’s shirtless and….sexy.

“Yes, let me see him.” said Y/N while wearing her night gown again and kissing Orm’s cheeks.

Y/N walked towards the door while rubbing her eyes. She opened the door and saw a guy who’s much younger than her, that guy was smiling at her with his brown eyes and messy hair.

“Hi, I know you don’t want to see me anymore, and I totally understand why, I’m sorry about what happened last time Y/N, I should’ve told you that I have this superpower thing, I just have to wait until the right time—“

The guy’s words stopped when he saw Orm walking towards the door wearing a white shirt that looked tight on his body. Orm looked at that guy with full of jealousy.

“Well I guess you are her new boyfriend...” said Barry Allen with a surprised expression but he still smilling, he held his pizza box nervously.

“Her future husband.” Orm said with a sharp gaze.

Y/N turned to Orm and glared, “Orm? Didn't we talk about this last night? You said you weren't ready for that and-"

“And I changed my mind." Orm grabbed Y/N's shoulder, “Is that food for us?" Orm raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, of course,” Barry said with a smile that had sadness in it, and gave them the pizza box.

“You know I'm actually here to tell you that I found the house that you’re talking about and the location is on the Northeast coast, I can take you there.” Barry said in a fast tone because he was nervous.

“No need to bother, we've got the house we meant.” Orm said with his eyes still sharp at Barry as if he wanted to finish him off right then and there.

“Orm!” Y/N snapped, “we need to see it. Besides, we just arrived at this hotel yesterday and haven't looked for a house yet.”

Y/N turned to Barry and said, “you can take us there, but i’m afraid it’s really far away.”

“I just saw it and it looks very good and suitable!” Barry said in a reassuring tone, “maybe it’s only 1 hour away”

“No need for that, we can go there ourselves without a tour guide,” said Orm in a sarcastic tone.

“Orm!" Y/N sighed, “this is for us…”

“You can teleport us to that place, we don’t need to bring this guy...” said Orm then turned to Barry, “thank you for the information, you can go now.”

“Orm! How can I take us there if I don’t even know what the place looks like?” Y/N made an annoyed face

“That’s not a reason, you bewitched my mind, entered my mind as if you really lived in Atlantis.” Orm answered.

“Wow, are you from Atlantis?" said Barry, who previously looked listless but now looked amazed. “You know Aquaman?”

“Who the fuck Aquaman?” Orm asked confusedly.

“That’s what surface people call Arthur.” Y/N answered.

“Oh, yeah, he’s my half-brother.” Orm replied in a lazy tone.

“Wow! That’s really impressive. I used to work with Aquaman when we wanted to defeat Darkseid. Before that we had talked a few times, maybe we talked a lot, but he never said anything about you. Oh or maybe he thinks that I'm not that close to him so he doesn't say much about his personal life.” said Barry very enthusiastically but it was clear that Orm really didn’t like him.

“I was the King of Atlantis at the time.” said Orm briefly, “now, my future wife and I need some private time…” Orm quickly closed the door.

when the door is completely closed. Orm walked to the bed and opened his clothes again, showing his very sexy six pack body with a pitiful face.

“So…. Is he your lover since I was in prison?” Orm asked in a very low voice.

“He was. I broke up with him 2 days before I met you. When I found out that your mother wanted us to get married.” Y/N said.

Orm tucked Y/N’s hair behind her ear, “how could you like a weird surface dwellers like him?" Orm said in a dismissive tone

"Well, he was nice to me, and he seemed cheerful. You could see from his cheerful personality, and that made me have a feelings for him.” She said, then Orm making a jealous face.

He said in a cold tone, “if you really love him why haven't you slept with him yet?"

Y/N laughed softly, "Because I wasn’t love him. I mean, I know I’m bad, but when I was dating him, deep inside my heart, I wanted to wait for you.”

“Is that true?” Orm said with those puppy eyes.

“It is,” Y/N smiled, she held Orm’s face and touch it gently, then said, “You have to believe me this time. We need Barry for this. After all, this is for our house, Orm. It's close to the beach... you can imagine, you have a house in Atlantis, and also on the surface…”

Orm looked at Y/N for a moment then said, “Okay, but don't get too close to him. We're going to get married.”

Y/N pressed the button on the hotel telephone then said, “Do you really want to get married or is it because you’re jealous?”

“I really want to marry you. I realized when I saw that silly guy’s face really want you, and that’s not because I’m jealous. I should have realized that other men out there would really want to have you completely if they saw you. I mean, you’re just so perfect.” Orm said with a smile in his face, and then he got up from his bed.

“Wait a minute.” Y/N said briefly to Orm, and then she said on the phone, “Barry, I'm sorry about Orm's behavior earlier... Orm and I have thought about your help and we are happy to go there, and we want you to take us there if you still can.”

Barry on the phone said, “Oh yes of course, with pleasure. After lunch, maybe I can—“

Orm knelt on one knee in front of Y/N who was sitting on the bed with the phone receiver, “Orm? what are you doing?” Y/N whispered

“Y/N will you marry me?” Orm’s words apparently reached Barry who was on the telephone line.

“Is he proposing to you? Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt." Barry said in a low tone, immediately hanging up the phone.

“Orm? What is this? You can propose to me later after I hang up the phone!”

“Is this wrong? Arthur said that the surface dweller’s way of proposing to their lover was this way?” Orm asked, confused and disappointed.

“That's not what I meant. You did it perfectly. It’s just that you sounded very rushed and you did it when I was calling Barry!” She said in a slightly annoyed tone, "marriage is not a joke.”

“I certainly know that marriage is not a joke. I am an Atlantean, I am a member of the kingdom, I know how important it is in moments like this, and I’m sure with you, I am not just be playing around. I just—“

“Jealous? Yeah I know that,” she said, “you know, marrying you is something I’ve been waiting for, Orm. I know that when the time comes I will marry you, but if you marry me in this way, I can’t accept it yet." She said and then quickly get out of bed and left Orm who was still kneeling on one leg while holding his mother's sparkling engagement ring.

#aquaman 2018 #fanfics #ocean master #orm marius #orm marius x reader #aquaman and the lost kingdom #king orm #patrick wilson

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waitimcomingtoo · 2 years

Text

As It Was

pairing: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Synopsis: you have a personal rule against dating co-stars that causes tension in your friendship with Tom (ft. Harry styles)

Masterlist

“You two obviously have an incredibly chemistry onscreen, so I have to ask. Has that chemistry led to anything offscreen?”

You sucked in a sharp breath but kept your smile as you looked over at Tom. He looked at you too, biting back a smile from knowing how much you hated that question.

“You know, you’re the first person to ever ask us that question.” You said through a forced smile.

“Am I?“ The journalist asked you.

“She’s being sarcastic.” Tom chuckled. “That’s just about the only question we get asked. That and “what kind of underwear do you wear under the suit.”

“You do get that a lot.” You laughed, hoping to change the subject.

“Well that’s what the people want to know.” The journalist said. “So is there anything going on between the two of you that we should know about? Any secret romance?”

“Oh my God.” You mumbled a little louder than you meant to. Tom felt his cheeks heat up but kept quiet.

“I’ll take that as a no?” The journalist chuckled.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t mean to be rude. I’m just tired of being asked that question over and over. Why does everyone think I’m dating my costar?” You laughed and tried not to sound as annoyed as you felt.

“Oh no.” Tom chuckled. “Here we go again.”

“It’s just annoying. I feel like the Zac Efron rumors stopped two days ago and now this?” You sighed and gestured between you and Tom.

“You are Zac did seem pretty close during your press tour.” The journalist said, making jealousy rise up in Tom’s chest. You had assured him multiple times that you and Zac were never anything more than friends, but he had spent too many sleepless nights watching compilations of Zac flirting with you in interviews to not be bothered by that statement.

“Because we’re good friends and we were promoting a movie together.” You shrugged. “That doesn’t mean we were together.”

“So you never dated Zac?” The journal asked you as Tom’s jaw tightened.

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Not even a little.”

“And you’re not dating Tom?” The journalist asked, making you let out another little sigh.

“Nope.” Tom answered for you. “Not even a little.”

“I don’t date co-stars. Ever. It’s my only rule.” You said simply, making Tom’s heart sink a little.

“Why not?” The journalist wondered.

“I just don’t believe in mixing my work and my personal life like that. It gets too messy. I set that boundary when I first started acting and I’ve always stuck to it.”

“So you’d never date a co-star?”

“Never.” You shrugged. Tom looked down at his lap so the cameras wouldn’t catch the disappointment on his face. He knew you felt that way, but it hurt to hear you say it.

“What about you, Tom? Would you?” The journalist asked.

“If I loved her, I would.” Tom said with a sad smile. You looked over at him and felt guilt rise in your chest.

“Well that’s different. I could ignore a crush on a co-star for the sake of keeping things professional. But love is love. You can’t ignore love.” You said as you looked over at Tom.

“Yeah. I agree.” Tom said as he gave you a soft smile. You held eye contact for a minute before looking away.

After a long day of press junkets, you and Tom went back to his hotel room together. You kicked off you high heels and flopped onto Tom’s bed while he changed into his pajamas.

“That interview from today was posted and people are already over analyzing they way we look at each other.” You sighed as Tom sat beside you on the bed.

“I saw that. How many times can people post a picture of us with the caption “get you someone who looks at you the way Tom Holland looks at Y/n L/n” before they get tired of it?”

“Or “the way he looks at her”.” You said added and made heart eyes at Tom.

“I want what they have.” Tom sighed dramatically and put his hand over his heart. You both laughed and laid down beside each other on his bed.

“I just don’t understand the logic. Surely the journalists know that every interviewer before them has asked us if we were dating. Why do they all think they’re gonna be the ones to finally get us to admit it?” You asked as you looked over at him.

“You’re really bothered by this, huh?” Tom asked, hoping his tone didn’t reveal how disappointed he felt.

“I don’t know. It’s just so annoying.” You sighed. “I want people to know me for my work, not for my supposed boyfriend. I’m not Harry Styles ex. I’m not Tom Holland’s “rumored girl”. I’m me. If that’s not interesting enough, then don’t talk to me.”

“Everybody gets asks about their love life. It’s part of the job.”

“I know. But you don’t get asked who you’re dating nearly as much as I do. I feel like no cares about the work I put into my characters. They only care about if I’m dating my costar. Why do I even bother being in this business if I will never be seen for my talent? All I’ll ever be is a love interest. And that’s really frustrating.” You sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Tom stayed silent as he listened to you let your feelings out. He reached over and put his hand on top of yours to let you know he was there for you. You smiled softly and put your free hand over his.

“I’m sorry for ranting. I just never want to be reduced to someone’s girlfriend. That would never happen to you or any other guy. Nobody refers to you as “Y/n’s boyfriend” or “Y/n’s new man”. It’s not fair.”

“Excuse you. I refer to myself as that all the time.” Tom scoffed.

“You know what I mean.” You laughed. “It’s such a double standard. You get to shine on your own but I always have to be tied to some guy to be relevant. They call you Tom, star of the Marvel franchise and call me Y/n, his rumored girlfriend in the same sentence. It’s all such bullshit.”

“It is bullshit.” Tom agreed. “Next time you get asked if you’re dating me, you should just punch the interviewer right in the face.”

“Tom.” You laughed and playfully swatted his arm.

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “That’ll send a message to all other journalists that you’re not to be messed with.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should.” You chuckled and looked up at the ceiling again. Tom looked at you for a minute before propping himself up on his elbow. He cupped your chin and moved your face to look at him.

“Hey.” He said softly. “I see the way you shine. I see your talent. And I see how hard you work. You’ve never been just a love interest to me.”

“Thanks.” You returned the smile. Tom gulped a little and started to lean in as your eyes fluttered shut. Before your lips could touch, someone knocked at the door. You quickly sat up as Tom moved away from you.

“Are you guys ready for dinner?” Jacob called through the door. You and Tom slowly made eye contact and exchanged flustered smiles.

“We should…” You trailed off and nodded towards the door.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Tom faked a smile and got off the bed. You left the hotel and avoided eye contact all the way to the restaurant. Tom tried to push the almost kiss from his mind as the cast sat down to dinner. He kept trying to make eye contact with you from across the table. You were still rattled from almost breaking your rule that you couldn’t look at Tom. You all went out to a bar afterwards for drinks and once you had some alcohol into you, you were ready to talk to him again.

“Does this eyebrow ever go down?” You asked as you smoothed Tom’s eyebrow down with your thumb.

“Don’t make fun of it.” Tom drunkenly whined. “This is a bully free zone. And you know I can’t fix it.”

“This is not a bully free zone.” You laughed and wrapped an arm around his neck. “And I didn’t say I wanted you to fix it. I love it. It’s my third favorite thing about your face.”

“Third?” Tom chuckled as he wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you closer.

“After your crooked nose and eyes, duh.” You playfully rolled your eyes. Your gaze slowly drifted past Tom and your smile fell.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Tom wondered and turned his head to look in the direction you were looking in.

“My ex is here.” You whispered harshly and pointed to a man.

“Your ex is….” Tom trailed off when his eyes landed on Harry Styles.

“Wait, your ex boyfriend is Harry Styles?” Tom asked. “Harry fucking Styles?”

“Yeah. You knew that. We’ve talked about this multiple times.”

“I thought you were kidding!” Tom exclaimed. “This whole time, I thought that was a joke.”

“It wasn’t a joke. Who do you think his last album was about?” You snorted and let go of Tom as you started to walk away.

“You’re going over there?” Tom asked as he gently caught your wrist.

“Well I gotta say hi.” You insisted. “We ended things on good terms.”

“Can I come with you?” Tom asked as he nervously looked between you and Harry.

“Why? Jealous?” You teased.

“Extremely. That’s Harry fucking Styles!” Tom exclaimed, making you laugh.

“I know it is. And since I used to be fucking Harry Styles, I gotta go say hi.” You said as you pulled Tom over to Harry. Tom stood back and watched nervously as you squeezed Harry’s arm.

“Hey.” You smiled warmly.

“Oh hello, love. Long time no see.” Harry grinned and pulled you into a hug that lasted way too long for Tom’s liking.

“I know. Your hair was down to your shoulders last time I saw you.” You said as you reached up to touch his hair. Tom was too drunk to handle the situation reasonably and started to sweat.

“Yeah. It was time for a change.” Harry replied as his eyes drifted over to Tom. Tom cleared his throat and put his hand on your back as he held out a hand.

“Hi. I’m Tom.”

“Nice to meet you, mate.” Harry said as he shook Tom’s hand.

“Nice to meet you too. You two have a new movie coming out soon, right?” Harry asked as he took a sip of his drink.

“Yeah. We’re on the press tour now.” Tom said as he put an arm around you.

“I see. Maybe our characters will share a screen one day.” Harry said as he took notice of the way Tom was holding you.

“Oh yeah. I forgot Harry fucking Styles is in the Marvel universe.” Tom said, mostly to himself.

“What was that, mate?” Harry asked.

“Nothing.” Tom said quickly.

“Right. I actually saw you when you first walked in but I didn’t want to interrupt anything. Are you two here on a date?” Harry asked in a casual tone. Both of your faces fell as you thought back to the near kiss in the hotel earlier.

“Don’t answer that.” Harry chuckled. “Your faces told me plenty.”

“Well we should probably get back to our table. It was good to see you.” You said as you squeezed Harry’s hand.

“It was good to see you too, love. Take care.” Harry said and leaned in to kiss your cheek. Tom watched with a clenched jaw but kept his mouth shut.

“Bye Tom.” Harry winked.

“Bye Harry fucking Styles.” Tom mumbled.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Harry said and leaned in to hear Tom better.

“I just said bye.” Tom faked a smile before leading you away.

Once you left the bar, Tom went back with you to your hotel room to make sure you got in okay. He sat on your bed while you took your makeup off in the bathroom. You came out a few minutes later with a clean face and dressed in the hotel bath robe. Tom felt his heart speed up at the sight of you and gulped.

“Can I ask you something?” He said before he lost his nerve.

“Yeah. Anything.” You said as you set out your outfit for the next day.

“How did you two end up together?” Tom asked. “You and Harry?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “We were young and kept running into each other at different red carpets and events. He asked me out at one of them and I said yes.”

“Wow.” Tom chuckled dryly. “Was that before or after you made your no dating co-stars rule?”

“After.”

“Hm.” Tom said shortly as he chewed on the inside of his cheeks.

“What?” You wondered. “What are you not saying?”

“Nothing. I just think your rule is dumb.” Tom said without looking at you. You stopped touching your clothes and kept your back to Tom.

“It’s not dumb.” You said quietly. “I have the rule for a reason. Relationships are tricky and they’re even harder in the public eye. Somebody always gets hurts. And I’d rather avoid the awkwardness of having to play lovers onscreen with someone I used to date.”

“Is that why you didn’t date Zac?”

“I didn’t date Zac before I didn’t want to date Zac.” You chuckled softly. Tom gulped a little before getting to what he really wanted to ask you.

“Is that why you won’t date me?” He asked quietly. You slowly turned around but kept your eyes on the ground.

“We shouldn’t have this conversation.”

“I need to have this conversation.” Tom said as he got off your bed. He walked over to you and cupped your face so that you would look at him. He opened his mouth to speak and you quickly put your fingertips over his lips.

“Please don’t say it.” You whispered. “Don’t say what you want to say. It’s just gonna complicate things.”

“I want to complicate things. I want you.”

“It’s just gonna mess things up. Wouldn’t you rather be friends forever than boyfriend and girlfriend for a little while?”

“Who says we’ll only last a little while?” Tom asked as he played with the belt of your robe.

“Nothing lasts forever, Tom. You know that. We work really well as friends. I don’t want to mess that up.”

“You don’t want to even try?” Tom asked sadly.

“Of course I want to try. I just don’t want to fail.” You said as you looked into his eyes.

“Maybe we won’t fail.” He smiled weakly. You let out a sigh and took his hand in yours.

“I just don’t want to end up hating each other.” You said as you looked at your intertwined hands.

“I could never hate you.” Tom insisted. You looked up at him and gave him a sad smile.

“I could never hate you either.”

“So love me instead.” He said as he took a step closer to you. Your nose scrunched up and you let out a short laugh.

“That was pretty cliche.” You told him.

“But it’s working, isn’t it?” Tom asked as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with every word.

“Maybe.” You gulped as you eyes stayed on his lips. Before your lips could touch, you pulled your head back and covered your lips with your hands.

“Nope. I’m not gonna kiss you. I would never kiss you.”

“You wouldn’t?” Tom asked coyly.

“Nope. I don’t even want to.”

“You don’t?” Tom asked as he leaned in even closer.

“No.” You lied. “Because I don’t feel anything for you. I can’t. I don’t date my costars. It’s my one rule.”

“Can’t you break it? Just this once?” Tom dropped his playful tone and genuinely pleaded with you. You almost gave in, but you just couldn’t do it.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t.” You said apologetically. Tom withdrew from you as his eyes fell to the floor.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, darling.” He said as he gave you a sad smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said quietly, beginning to rethink your decision. Tom left without another word and went back to his hotel room. He immediately got out his laptop and googled Harry’s name.

“What makes you so special?” Tom mumbled as he scrolled through some articles on Harry. He came upon a headline that made his heart stop.

“Ed Sheeran reveals Harry Styles has a huge penis.” Tom read off his screen. He slammed his laptop shut and let out an angry sigh.

“Harry fucking Styles.” He muttered.

The next day, you and Tom sat beside each other at a press junket. There was an icy tension that neither of you addressed out loud. You both silently agreed not to talk about the day before for the sake of the press tour.

“I’m sitting here with Tom Holland and Y/n L/n, stars of the latest installment in the Marvel franchise. I have to ask you, is it weird to play a couple on screen when you’re such good friends?” The journalist. You and Tom blinked a few times in surprise, neither of you wanting to be the first to answer that question. You exchanged a quick look before turning back to the journalist.

“I think it was a little awkward first but it comes pretty naturally to us now.” You answered and hoped that would be sufficient.

“And that never carried over to real life? You know, since it comes so naturally to you?”

You gulped at the question and tried to keep a neutral face when you felt like screaming on the inside. It was the worst possible question at the worst possible timing.

“I think it comes more naturally to some of us than others.” Tom cut it, making you side eye him.

“Well I think just because something comes naturally to you that doesn’t necessarily mean you have to act on it.” You shrugged. “I’m weirdly good at baseball. Doesn’t mean I have any interest in joining the MLB.”

“Maybe not.” Tom agreed. “But then again, if something comes naturally to you and you want to act on it, why stop yourself?”

“Because some of us have rules against acting on it.” You said through a clenched smile.

“Well some of us think that rule is stupid.” Tom shrugged, making you glare at him. He stared back briefly before returning his attention to the journalist.

“So what can we expect next from your characters?” She asked, hoping to get rid of some of the awkward tension that had erupted.

“I’d like to see my character happy.” Tom replied. “And surrounded by people who make him happy.”

“Me too.” You agreed.

“Then maybe your character should stop pushing the people who are any to make her happy away.” Tom said as he smiled sweetly at you.

“My character doesn’t push them away.” You returned the smile. “She just knows how to set boundaries where she needs them.”

“Does your character set boundaries or does she put up walls out of fear and call them by a different name?” Tom asked as he tapped his chin.

“My character isn’t scared. She just doesn’t want to ruin something that’s important to her with your character.” You replied, never dropping your forced smile.

“Well my character doesn’t think anything would be ruined. He thinks that crossing that boundary would only improve the relationship between us - I mean, our characters.”

“Well my character doesn’t want to take that chance.”

“So have you guys done any sight seeing while you’re in town?” The journalist asked with a nervous laugh. You and Tom exchanged an angry look and silently agreed to drop the argument until later.

After a long day of press, you finally were able to go back to your hotel. The elevator ride to your room was silent but as soon as the door was closed behind you, Tom spoke up.

“We need to talk.“

“Please. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s already gotten so out of hand. I told you how I feel and it’s not going to change. Can we please just drop it?” You asked as you sat down on your bed.

“I can’t drop it. Why are you fighting this?”

“Why do you care so much? Why can’t you just let me go?”

“Because I won’t accept us not being together. If you didn’t feel the same, then things would be different. But I know you feel what I feel and I think it’s ridiculous that we don’t do something about it.” Tom said as he stood in front of you. You looked up at him and could see how miserable this was making him.

“I have a rule.” You said quietly.

“It’s a stupid rule!” He exclaimed.

“I know it’s a stupid rule!” You shouted as you stood up.

“So why do you follow it? Why do you torture yourself?”

“Because I’d never forgive myself for fucking up our friendship when things go wrong. Which they will. They always do.” You stated, making you both fall silent. The only sound in the room was your heavy breathing as a hot tear sipped down your face.

“I’d never forgive myself if I broke your heart.” You said quietly as you sat back down on the bed in defeat. Tom stayed silent as he wiped his face with his sleeves.

“Can we please just forget this whole thing and go back to being friends?” You pleaded as you looked up at him. “Can’t we just go back to the way things were?”

“I can’t go back.” Tom said lowly. “I can’t be your friend. You said it yourself. You can’t ignore love.”

“You don’t love me.” You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“Don’t I?” He asked, slight anger in his voice.

“You may think you do but you’re wrong. You’re just excited by the fantasy of it all. Our relationship is forbidden for reasons out of your control so you push harder for us to happen. But trust me. If you actually had me, you wouldn’t want me. The excitement would melt away in an instant.”

“Darling, I think you’re an incredibly intelligent girl but you could not be more wrong. I do love you. I love you exactly as you are. I don’t understand why you can’t get out of your own way and let me.”

You opened your mouth to say something but no words came out. You slowly shut it and gave Tom an defeated shrug. He nodded his head and looked at the ground, seeming like the had finally accepted your answer.

“I should go. I won’t fight you any more on this. I can’t make you love me if you don’t want to.” He said without meeting your eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to-“

“I know. You just won’t.” He looked at you with a sad smile.

“Tom.” You got off the bed and grabbed his arm before he could leave. He stopped going for the door and looked at you with sad eyes before kissing your cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, darling. Good night.” He gave you one last smile before leaving you alone in your room. You looked up at the ceiling as tears slid down face. You looked over at the wall with watery eyes, knowing Tom was in the next room feeling just as bad as you were. You didn’t know if your relationship could recover from this and that made you feel even worse.

The next day, you didn’t have any press to do before the premier. You spent the day getting your hair and makeup done, a process you normally loved but couldn’t enjoy because of the heavy weight on your chest. You hoped to see Tom before leaving for the premier but he was doing an expert job of avoiding you.

“Do you know if Tom left yet?” You asked as you got into your limo.

“He did. He’s at the premier already.” Your manager told you. You let out a little sigh and looked out the window as you pulled away from your hotel.

At the premier, Tom’s head was on swivel as he impatiently waited for you to arrive. He wanted to talk to you before he left but his team had kept him busy with preparations for the red carpet. In the middle of giving an interview, Tom heard the crowd suddenly grow louder.

“I’m so sorry to cut you off. I think that’s the sound of Y/n arriving.” Tom said as he looked behind him to try and spot you.

“I think so too. Let’s see if we can get a look at her.” The journalist said as looked in your direction. Tom saw you getting out of your limo and you made eye contact with each other. You smiled softly and gave him a wave, which he returned. You were led inside by your team and the moment was gone.

“She went inside. Hopefully we’ll catch her later.” The journalist said.

“Yeah.” Tom sighed. “Hopefully.”

After giving a few interviews, you stood on the red carpet with the rest of the cast as a million cameras flashed. Tom was in the middle of the cast and you were at the end, a safe distance between the two of you. You thought it would stay that way until you heard,

“Let’s get some of just Tom and Y/n!”

You gulped as the rest of the cast dispersed, leaving you and Tom alone. He gave you a soft smile as he slipped an arm around your waist.

“Hi.” He said as the cameras flashed.

“Hi.” You said back.

“You look beautiful.” He told you, letting his eyes linger on you for a long time.

“Thank you.” You smiled shyly. “So do you.”

The cameras continued to flash and you found it harder and harder to keep your smile when you felt so sad inside.

“Tom, I feel really bad about the way we left things last night.” You said quietly so only he could hear.

“We can talk about it later, okay? Let’s just enjoy the night.” He smiled softly at you and gave your hip a squeeze. He turned back to look at the cameras and you realized how many people were calling your name. You faced the cameras as well and smiled for the cameras, hoping it was enough to mask the sadness you felt inside. You found it hard to be at a party when you felt like an open wound.

“Beautiful couple! You look great together.” One of the photographers shouted, inadvertently rubbing salt into the wound. When it was time to move down the carpet, Tom let go of you.

“I’ll see you after, okay?” He told you before walking away. You threw on a fake smile and posed for more pictures, looking over at him every chance you got. Once you got back inside the building, you saw Tom leaning against a wall by a coat closet. You knew it was a rare moment when you’d be alone, so you quickly went up to him.

“Hey.” You smiled weakly. “What are you doing over here?”

“Waiting for you, actually.” He replied, making the weight on your chest lift just a little. Before you could respond, the director of the movie came up to the two of you.

“Congratulations you two. Here’s to the last night of the press tour.” He said as he smiled at the both of you. When he walked away, something dawned on you.

“Its the last night of the press tour.” You said, mostly to yourself.

“Yeah. We’re all done after this. You won’t have to get asked about your love life anymore.” Tom said with a tight smile. You figured he wasn’t completely over the fight but you were surprised he wasn’t getting what you were saying.

“It’s the last night of the press tour.” You repeated.

“Yeah, darling. I know.” He said as he gave you a strange look. You groaned a little before grabbing Tom by the shoulders.

“Tom. It’s the last night of the press tour.”

“So?” He wondered.

“So we’re not co-stars anymore.” You said with a coy smile. You watched Tom’s face go from confused to realizing what you were trying to say.

“Does your rule say anything about dating former co-stars?” He asked as a smile tugged at his lips.

“It does not.” You said with an even bigger smile than his. You looked around before pushing him into the coat closet behind you. As soon as the door was shut, Tom was kissing you. He pressed you against the closet door and cupped your face as he kissed you like his life depended on it. You’d kissed him a million times for the movies, but it was never like this. When you pulled away, Tom smiled like a child as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I don’t want to go back out there. I just want to stay in here with you.” He said with a happy sigh.

“I know. But we gotta get out of here before someone notices we’re both missing.”

“You’re right. But this isn’t over.” Tom playfully warned you before kissing you again.

“Okay. You first. I’ll leave in a few seconds.” You told him. Tom nodded before leaving the closet. You counted to ten in your head before leaving the closet as well. As soon as you left, you saw Tom talking to the director with a scared look on his face. You went up to the two of them and put your hand on Tom’s back.

“Hey, Tom. I feel like I haven’t seen you all night.” You lied. “What are you guys talking about?”

“He was just telling me the good news.” Tom said with a smile that you could tell was forced.

“Good news?” You asked the director.

“Yep. We’re officially got the green light for the next movie. You two are gonna be filming together again in just a few months!” The director told you, and you immediately understood why Tom was upset.

“That’s great!” You threw on your own fake smile until the director walked away. Once you were alone again, you grabbed Tom’s arm and yanked him back into the closet.

“So we’re gonna be co-stars again.” Tom said as he nervously looked at the ground.

“Yeah. We are.” You said as you tried to meet his eyes.

“What, um, what about your rule?” Tom asked hesitatingly as he looked you in the eyes. You could see the fear in his eyes and cupped his face in your hands.

“Hey. Fuck the rules.”

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah. You can’t ignore love.”

“No. You can’t. Does that mean you love me?” Tom asked as a smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re alright.” You shrugged, making his smile grow.

“If that’s your way of saying yes, then I love you too, darling.” He told you. “I always have. No matter what the rules say.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland angst

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zephfair · 7 months

Text

Ronan/Adam Meet-Cute AU Rated Teen

Based on this fantastic idea

WARNING TAGS: motor vehicle crash but no blood and no serious injuries, flooding, language. Fluff, ofc.

It was a dark and stormy night, and Ronan didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t mind the dark, and he wasn’t afraid of storms, but it made the drive home to the Barns feel even longer. Normally he’d be driving at least 15 over the posted speed limit, but the heavy rain made it hard to see even with his wipers on high, and his high beams didn’t illuminate much more than shiny asphalt.

But he always bragged he could make the drive home from Declan’s in his sleep, and this was as close to having his eyes closed as was safe.

So he was surprised when a single headlight appeared in his rear-view mirror and stayed there, mile after mile. Maybe the most shocking thing was that the vehicle with one only headlight kept up with him, staying about the same distance back even through the twistiest turns of the two-lane back roads that Ronan preferred over the interstate.

Ronan kept one eye on it in boredom as he drew closer to Singers Falls, but he was forced to concentrate on his own driving when he crested a hill and realized instead of the lazy little stream and narrow bridge at the bottom, there was only a rushing flow of muddy brown water. The rain from the storm had been strong enough to make the stream overflow its banks and flood the bridge and road.

He had a split second to decide what to do, but he knew it probably wouldn’t be very deep and so disregarded all safety advice and drove right through it.

The waves of water that splashed around the BMW proved he’d been right and that the bridge still held. But as he steered out of it, he glanced back at the headlight that plunged into the water but instead of coming out the other side, suddenly veered off, shook erratically, then went dark.

“Oh shit,” Ronan said and slammed on his brakes which sent his car into a skid that took all his focus for several long seconds. He got it under control and stopped, right in the middle of the road. There was no light at all in his rear-view.

“Fuck,” he sighed and did a messy three-point turn. Surely the driver had just skidded off the road and was probably fine. Of course, they were. And if they were stuck, they would have a cell phone to call for assistance. They didn’t need his help.

Unless, they did. Ronan wasn’t sure he could go home until he knew what had happened. He approached slowly and his stomach sank when he couldn’t see the other car at all.

A sharp streak of lightning gave him a split second of bright vision, let him make sure that there was no car or truck bobbing in the stream, at least, and he didn’t see any vehicle on the bank. So where the hell was it?

Ronan stopped his BMW where he could keep his headlights on where he thought the vehicle should’ve been. There was maybe a glint of metal and a lump that looked out of place.

He struggled out of his car into the downpour, swearing and leaning back in to rummage until he found a flashlight in the door’s pocket. It didn’t illuminate much either but the scene was slowly becoming clearer.

He swore again when he realized the one headlight hadn’t been a sign of a car with one burnt out bulb; no, it had been a motorcycle that some insane fool was driving at high speeds through a dark Virginia thunderstorm.

Ronan spun around, looking frantically for where the rider could’ve been thrown off.

Then he saw him. The rider was several yards from the bike, and, thankfully, also from the swiftly running flood water. But he was lying motionless on his front in the mud, his helmet down in a mound of it. With his backpack still in place, he reminded Ronan of a sad turtle flattened on the highway.

Ronan really didn’t want to find another dead body. He didn’t want the years of nightmares. He did not want to find this dude’s battered and bleeding body. But it didn’t look like he had a choice.

He shuffled up slowly and swore then hauled back his boot and nudged the dude right in the unprotected ribs, but gently.

“Hey, man, you dead?” was probably not the best thing to say but whatever.

To Ronan’s huge and unexpected relief, the body jerked.

“Oh thank Christ, you’re alive. Do you need some help?”

The body flailed its arms and legs, looking like it was trying to make upside down snow angels in the mud. But it didn’t try to rise.

There were angry muffled noises coming from the helmet, and when Ronan squatted down alongside, another flail of the hand struck his leg then gestured toward the helmet.

“What the fuck? Is your neck broke?” Ronan didn’t know what to do. He’d always heard you shouldn’t move an injured person for fear of hurting them worse.

Then the body moved both hands to its helmet, kicked its legs like a child throwing a temper tantrum, and emitted a muffled scream.

“Oh shit, are you stuck?” Ronan finally understood. The helmet was heavy and was probably encased in the thick mud from the flooding, and the poor rider couldn’t get the angle or force to get it unstuck, and maybe water was coming in and…

Ronan grabbed the helmet and tugged it and the head inside up. As soon as the helmet was free, the rider jerked to his other side and rolled over, pulling himself to sit up. His gloves seemed too bulky to get the helmet unfastened, so Ronan reached out and helped.

Mud and water poured out of the helmet as the guy gasped for air as he maneuvered it off. There was just enough light from Ronan’s forgotten flashlight to illuminate what he immediately thought was a pretty face, the face of an angel. If an angel could be pissed off, swearing, drenched, and covered in mud.

“Do you need an ambulance?” Ronan finally asked when the guy stopped his swearing. “Anything broken? Concussion?”

He shook his wet head and took a few more deep breaths. “No, I think I’m just bruised all over. It doesn’t even feel like road rash. I think the mud and water broke my fall.”

“Nearly broke you. What were you thinking, taking a motorcycle through a flood like that?”

The guy’s chin came up and he met Ronan’s eyes in stubbornness. “I didn’t see it was flooded until it was too late. I was just following some asshole who must have driven right through that mess.”

“Yeah, I did. But I know the road and still almost lost it.”

The guy looked him over, never apologizing for calling him an asshole. “My bike,” he suddenly exclaimed and splashed around, trying to stand up.

Ronan grabbed his flashlight and reached out for the guy’s elbow as he stood, trying to steady him because he swayed and wasn’t putting all his weight on his right leg. The guy jerked away so Ronan stepped back.

“I think your bike’s over there,” Ronan swung the flashlight’s dim beam in the direction of the glint of metal he’d seen from the car headlights.

“Oh no,” the guy said and plunged forward through the mud and standing water.

Ronan followed him because why not, he was already drenched and up to his knees in mud. He tried to keep the flashlight pointed at the guy’s feet as he squelched along, fighting through the mud to pull up his sneakers.

“Oh no,” the guy said again as he bent over the bike on its side in the deep mud. The flowing current of the stream was inching closer to it.

“Is it okay?” Ronan gazed over his shoulder.

“Does it look okay?” the guy snapped. “Do you know what the mud and water will do to the engine? Shit!”

The guy grabbed the handlebars and pulled, but nothing happened.

“Do you want—”

“Don’t just stand there. Can you help me get my bike up?”

“Sure,” Ronan joined him, tugged on a handlebar, but nothing happened.

“Wait, we have to…” the guy pushed Ronan out of the way then showed him how he wanted Ronan to lift while he pushed, and they finally got the motorcycle out of the sucking mud.

A flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder illuminated the scene. The guy was holding the bike handlebars to steady it, his eyes roving over the damaged motorcycle. It wasn’t a flashy crotch rocket or a chromed-up hog like a Harley. It just was a really nice bike somewhere in between. Ronan wondered how the sweet bike and the angry rider could manage to look so sexy under the circumstances.

“It’s fucked up,” the guy said. “Shit, what do I do now?”

He jolted when Ronan spoke, as if he’d forgotten he was even there. “Do you, uh, need a ride somewhere?”

The guy squinted at him as if the question was just too dumb. Ronan fought the urge to backtrack and kept his mouth shut.

“I can’t leave my bike here,” the guy finally said.

“I’ll call for a tow.”

“No, that’s too expensive,” the guy said quickly. “Shit, maybe, if we get it back on the road, it’ll start.”

Ronan held his tongue because he was no mechanic, but even he could tell that wouldn’t happen. But he helped the guy guide the bike away from the flooded stream toward the road. There was a drainage ditch along the road that was also full of water.

The guy cursed as they came to a stop. “This isn’t going to work,” he finally admitted.

“What if we hide your bike in the brush over there?” Ronan pointed to a stand of scraggly shrubs along a fence near the road but far enough from the stream and the ditch that it shouldn’t be reached by the flood. “Then I can give you a ride into town.”

“I’m headed to Henrietta,” the guy said.

Ronan shrugged. “Then you’re probably not gonna get there right now anyway.” He pointed to the distance. “You gotta take this road and go over another creek before the turn-off to Henrietta, and it always floods, way before this one does.”

“Then where are you headed?”

“Singers Falls,” Ronan said, easily brushing off the guy’s suspicions. “I turn off at the top of the hill and it’s all up and over until I get home.”

The guy swore under his breath.

“Look, why don’t you come home with me? Then when the flooding goes down, you can call someone to come meet you or I’ll just run you home to Henrietta.”

“I don’t live in Henrietta,” the guy was quick to say, even though Ronan had been catching hints of a local accent all along. “And my friends don’t know I’m coming. I don’t want to drag them out on a night like this.”

“Well, then come back to my place. You can get cleaned up, see if you’re injured and stay the night. These storms aren’t supposed to last much longer, so the roads will be fine by morning.”

The guy stood very still, looking Ronan up and down with the most judgmental look Ronan had ever garnered, and he’d visited Gansey in D.C. during Republican fund-raiser weekends while Ronan was still in his teenage punk anarchist phase.

“You’d just invite a stranger to stay at your place?”

Ronan shrugged. “Sure. I can protect myself if things go bad.”

“Well, what are the odds that both of us are serial killers,” the guy said dryly.

“Ha, ha,” Ronan said but kept a wary eye on him anyway.

“Fine. Help me get my bike over there?”

“No, I’m just going to stand out here since I’m already drenched through and watch you do it.”

Ronan couldn’t be sure in the dark but he thought the guy rolled his eyes. Once they’d gotten the motorcycle rolled into the shrubbery and pulled branches over it, Ronan led the way back to his car.

“Hey, I can’t get in there. I’m covered in mud,” the guy said as Ronan opened the passenger’s side door to clear his empty drink bottles and wrappers off the seat.

Ronan grunted in acknowledgment and went around to the trunk where he found an old blanket to spread over the seat.

“I’m still going to get it all wet,” the guy said, still stubbornly holding onto the door.

“I don’t fucking care. I’m going to get my seat wet too,” Ronan gave up and stomped around to get in the driver’s seat. Although the guy was really hot, he was starting to get on Ronan’s nerves. If he didn’t want to accept the help, then he could just stand out there in the rain and wait for someone else.

The guy must have come to that realization too, and the fact that not one vehicle had driven past in the entire time they’d been there. He finally slung his backpack off, threw it into the foot well, and dropped into the car.

Then he sighed, long and loud. “What a damn shitty night.”

“Well, hell, it’s been all sunshine and rainbows for me,” Ronan said, starting the car.

The guy snorted. “Since it looks like we’ll be getting to know each other, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Bald Asshole in my mind.”

“Thanks,” Ronan said, “I appreciate that. I’m Ronan. And you are?”

“Adam. Sorry I’m being a dick. But why were you speeding like a damn maniac when you knew that stream was going to be flooded? The bridge could’ve been washed out completely.”

“But it wasn’t,” Ronan said, as he drove a little slower than he normally would have since it was still raining heavily and hard to see. “I, uh, actually forgot that stream floods, and when I came over the hill, I didn’t want to slam on the brakes. Figured it was safer to drive on through.”

Adam shook his head. “Wish I’d had some warning. I was going too fast to stop too, but I saw your taillights already on the other side so I thought it was okay.”

“Who rides a motorcycle through a thunderstorm anyway?” Ronan tried to deflect some blame.

“They weren’t forecast when I left this morning,” Adam said stiffly. “It was supposed to be clear all night.”

“Well, it’s summer in Virginia. We can get a thunderstorm any time.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Adam said, and turned his face to look out the window.

Ronan rolled his eyes, but let the conversation die until they got to the intersection. It seemed to rouse Adam a little.

“Isn’t the road to Henrietta down there?” he pointed.

“Yep, about a mile down the hill, over the creek and through its flood plane.”

“And you’re sure it’ll be impassable?”

“I grew up in Singers Falls. We couldn’t get to town any time the rain was heavy.”

Adam sighed again and seemed to accept his fate was with Ronan.

The drive to Singers Falls wasn’t long from there, but Ronan kept all his attention on the road as it dipped and weaved through the hills where houses were few and far between. He was coming up on the lights of the one gas station in the area when he realized he didn’t have any food in the house. Well, not anything that he would serve to a guest.

He slowed and glanced over at Adam whose head resting against the window. Ronan looked again to see that Adam’s eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open.

“Oh fuck no,” Ronan said and swerved into the parking lot, slamming to a stop.

Adam grunted as his head bounced off the window. “What the hell? Did you get us stuck in another flood?”

“Holy fuck,” Ronan clutched the steering wheel and tried to calm his racing heart. “I thought you were dead. Again.”

Adam yawned. “That implies that I was dead once already.”

Ronan growled impatiently, “You know what I mean, that I thought again you were dead, whatever.”

“I just dozed off. It’s been a long day.”

“Well, you shouldn’t go to sleep if you have a concussion.”

“I told you, I don’t have a concussion. And before you argue, yes, I’ve had a concussion before, so I know what it feels like.”

Ronan swore again. “Well, just don’t die until you’re on your own tomorrow. You’re hell on my nerves.”

That made Adam laugh at him, and it was such a delighted laugh that Ronan melted toward him again. “Are we at your place?”

“No,” Ronan suddenly remembered why he’d wanted to stop. “But I haven’t had dinner, and I’ve been away for the week at my brother’s so I don’t have much food at home. This place has good sandwiches. And six-packs.”

“I don’t drink,” Adam said. “And I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“You want to come in?” Ronan asked as he parked right outside the door of the gas station.

“Naw, just get me whatever.” Adam started to shimmy around, probably reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.

“I got it, don’t worry,” and Ronan jumped out of the car before Adam could argue.

Dinesh greeted him as always, asked how bad the roads were, shook his head over the mud Ronan’s boots dragged in.

“Sorry,” Ronan said sheepishly. “You want me to take them off and go in my socks?”

Dinesh just laughed, “I’m teasing you. You’re the only person I’ve had in here all night. I can sweep up after you’re gone.”

“Thanks, man,” Ronan said. “Can you make me two of the curried chicken salad sandwiches, large? And if you have any turkey, two of those too? With cheese?”

“Of course,” Dinesh said, already getting to work behind the counter while Ronan went to the coolers. He picked out six different bottles of soda then went back and grabbed four different juices and a carton of milk too. Dinesh was wrapping the sandwiches as he chose family bags of chips and pretzels and added them to the pile on the counter.

“You have some romantic company tonight? You need anything else from behind the counter here?” Dinesh gave him a knowing grin.

Ronan shrugged but he felt some color rise on his cheeks. It was distinctly weird to be asked about “romantic company” by a man who’d been feeding the Lynches since his parents had moved there from Ireland. “I just have a friend stuck here because the road to Henrietta will be flooded.”

“Ah,” Dinesh looked distinctly disappointed at Ronan’s lack of love-life, but not nearly as disappointed as Ronan himself.

He’d had the one fling in high school, an unhealthy relationship with a boyfriend who’d been toxic, and despite what his friend Gansey said, he had not hidden himself away on the family farm afterward. He just didn’t love meeting new people and he knew he’d not find a boyfriend so long as he didn’t meet new people, but Ronan was just hypocritical enough that he didn’t think about it.

He apologized again for the mud, pretended not to notice Dinesh adding a pack of mints to his bags, and ran back through the rain to the car.

Seeing Adam asleep this time didn’t send him into a panic, but he did watch his chest to make sure Adam was breathing before he exhaled in relief and started the car.

Adam stayed asleep the rest of the way to the Barns right up until Ronan eased to a stop in front of the farmhouse. Ronan looked him over by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Even with the streaks of mud covering him, Ronan thought he was just about the prettiest man he’d ever seen. He had high cheekbones, a nice nose and thin lips that expressed all his emotions too clearly. He was nearly as tall as Ronan, but leaner, more wiry even with a bulky windbreaker on.

It was his hands that Ronan focused on last, curled loosely in his lap, but really nice. And from how capably he’d handled his motorcycle, they knew what to do too.

Then Ronan realized he was staring at a sleeping stranger like a psycho creeper, so he shook himself and gently prodded Adam’s shoulder.

“Hey, wake up. We’re here,” he said, voice a little gruffer than he’d planned.

Adam did a little stretch, abbreviated by a wince of pain. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced around then shut them again and sighed. “Shit. I hoped maybe it was all a nightmare.”

“Thanks, Sleeping Beauty. That’s a real shitty thing to say to the dude who saved your sorry ass.”

Adam leveled an unimpressed glare at him. “I’m sure you’re a real Prince Charming, but I’d’ve sooner not wrecked my bike and almost drowned in mud.”

“Well, we’re home now, so you can get cleaned up and eat and then be as pissy as you want, but at least you’ll be clean and dry.”

“Good point,” Adam agreed. “Lead on.”

They ran through the rain and Ronan fumbled his keys while Adam laughed at him. Once inside, Ronan moved through the downstairs turning on lights, calling over his shoulder to give Adam a running tour. Then he stuck his head back out of the kitchen when he sensed Adam wasn’t following him.

“You just gonna stand in the hall all night?”

Adam turned from staring at the family photos dotted around the walls. “I don’t wanna track mud all through the place. Your house?”

Ronan nodded and rejoined him. “It’s where I grew up. All mine now.”

Adam nodded back.

“So, do you want to eat first or take a shower?”

“Shower, God, yes please.”

Ronan chuckled at his enthusiasm for the first time all night and led him upstairs. He bustled to set out towels and point out where everything was while Adam stood there silently.

“Dude, you’re kind of freaking me out,” Ronan finally admitted. “Are you sure you don’t have some kind of brain injury?”

Adam grimaced. “No, I don’t have a brain injury. I’m just a little … overwhelmed. This isn’t what I was expecting when you said about your place.”

“What did you expect?”

“You’re about my age so I figured some kind of trashy dorm bachelor apartment crowded with roommates, not … this.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Ronan said wryly.

“Shut up, it’s not disappointing. Just surprising. Your house is really nice.”

“Well, fuck, man, if you think this is nice, just wait until you try the shower. You’re going to want to make love to the water pressure,” Ronan said, deflecting the compliment like a champ.

“Thanks for the warning,” Adam said, finally putting down his backpack on the bathroom floor.

“Do you need clean clothes or anything?”

“No, it should be… well…” Adam knelt down and opened the backpack then grimaced. He looked up at Ronan, whose heart clenched at the position, Adam on his knees so close to Ronan’s waist.

Adam’s eyes flickered downward just for an instant then met Ronan’s again. “I hate to impose any more, but this bag failed its waterproof test.”

“No problem. I’ll leave some things in the hall. Now get in there and enjoy the water.”

Adam climbed back to his feet with a groan. “Thanks. And I’ll be sure to keep things platonic with your water pressure.”

Ronan laughed a little breathlessly and escaped the close quarters of the bathroom. Get it together, Lynch. Don’t be a fuckin’ weirdo. The super-sexy guy is depending on you, he told himself as he gathered clean clothes from his room and left them outside the bathroom door.

The shower was already running, and he really did hope Adam was enjoying it.

He went back to his room where changing into a clean pair of jeans and T-shirt removed his mud damage, his skin already dried. Then he went back downstairs to lay out the sandwiches and snacks on the kitchen table and wait.

It seemed like Adam took forever, and just when Ronan was starting to worry that he’d suffered some kind of fainting spell and slipped and hit his head and was drowning in the bottom of Ronan’s own shower, the noise of the water cut off with the squeak of the one usual pipe.

Ronan breathed a little easier then. It wasn’t long before he heard soft footsteps down the stairs and realized that he was sitting at the head of the table, fingers steepled before his face, like some kind of movie villain waiting for a sacrificial victim, so he jumped up and had just hit his hip on the island, making him swear when Adam’s quiet laugh came from behind him.

“You were right about that water pressure. I think I’d like to propose to it,” Adam said.

Ronan snorted and rubbed his hip. “Too late. It’s already happily married to me. Although, we might be open to a threesome.”

He didn’t know why he’d said that, and he felt the color rise in his cheeks, but Adam just laughed again as Ronan turned to face him.

Ronan couldn’t say a word. Adam dressed in his own clothes was simply too much for his brain, and libido, to handle at the moment. Adam’s clean sandy hair was fluffy and soft, hanging over his forehead in a way that Ronan longed to brush back. Ronan’s black V-neck T-shirt clung to his shoulders, a little big there and bigger through the chest, but Ronan knew exactly how soft it would feel if he put his hands on Adam’s pecs. The gray sweatpants were loose the way Ronan liked them, and his feet were covered by a pair of athletic socks. In short, he looked like something out of one of Ronan’s wetter dreams.

“How much do I owe you for dinner?”

“Nothing,” Ronan said quickly adding when Adam pulled a stubborn look. “I was going to stop for myself anyway. And it was either this or hot dogs from the freezer with no buns. So, just shut up and eat.”

Adam started to argue again, but Ronan ignored his protestations to retrieve all the drinks he’d bought from the fridge. “Sit your ass down and eat,” he said again, and with a longing look at the food, Adam finally obeyed, but not before he mocked Ronan for buying so many bottles of beverages.

Ronan just shrugged and sat down, pointedly not watching Adam eat for fear that he might just want to jump him right then and there.

Ronan knew he sucked at small talk, but it didn’t seem like Adam was much for friendly bullshit either. They ate their way through the sandwiches and Adam polished off half a bag of pretzels while Ronan stuck to the Cool Ranch Doritos.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Adam volunteered when they’d both finished.

“What fucking dishes? Two plates?”

Adam gestured to the counter beside the sink, but Ronan only snorted. “Those were dirty before I left for D.C.”

“Your housekeeping skills are lacking if you’d go away while leaving dirty dishes at home,” Adam said.

“You wanted me to live in some filthy bachelor apartment and now you critique my dishwashing?”

“Just sayin’,” Adam shrugged with a little smirk.

Ronan sighed and got up to pile their plates onto the other stack. “It seems like the rain is finally letting up. Do you want me to try and get you to Henrietta tonight?”

Adam tilted his head, like he was listening to see if he could hear the rain from inside the kitchen. “I mean, it’s not that late. But…” he broke off to yawn and then smile sheepishly. “I don’t know if I want to risk getting wet and having you drive that far to just find out the road’s still flooded.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, man. Both my brothers’ bedrooms are free and the beds are clean, so you can take your pick.”

“Would it be okay if I did my laundry? I think my clothes for tomorrow will be all right if I hang them up now, but that mud will stain what I had on tonight.”

“Yeah, sure, get ‘em and I’ll throw them in the washer.”

Adam hesitated by the door. “You might as well put yours in too. See if we can get all the mud out at once.”

“Sure,” Ronan said again, stunned by how easy he wanted to fall into domesticity with Adam.

Once they got the washer running, Adam insisted on helping with the dishes, so Ronan reluctantly dried as they worked. It meant he got to stand hip-to-hip with Adam and even bumped him once when Adam made fun of the way he stored his mugs and glasses.

“My cupboards, my rules,” Ronan said, snapping the tea towel at him limply. “Why do you have such strong opinions about housekeeping anyway?”

The question made Adam freeze for a second. “I don’t know,” he said slowly, his accent a little stronger for a moment. “There’s just something about this house that feels like things should be done...right.”

“Well, my mom would’ve agreed with you,” Ronan said. “But you’re kind of a dick.”

That jolted a laugh from Adam. “Believe it or not, I’ve been called that before.”

“I do believe it, but you’re only my second favorite dick,” Ronan said without thinking.

“Oh really?” Adam said, suddenly concentrating on scrubbing a cereal bowl. Ronan watched a ruddy red creep up his neck to his cheeks.

Then Ronan realized what he’d said. “I don’t mean dick dick. I mean, like, the name Dick. My best friend’s first name is Dick but he never uses it. Because of misunderstandings like that. So he’s my Dick but Gansey would rather ignore me than answer to that.”

The bowl clattered back into the dishpan. “Gansey? Your best friend’s name is Dick Gansey?”

“Yeah,” Ronan said, ready to get defensive.

“Not Richard Campbell Gansey the third?”

“Yeah,” Ronan said, now a little freaked out.

Adam turned, mouth hanging open, hands dripping on the floor. “There is no way that you know Gansey.”

Ronan crossed his arms over his chest and unintentionally made himself bigger. “How exactly do you know Gansey?”

“Gansey is my friend, my really good friend, at Harvard.”

“Oh my fucking God, you go to Harvard too?”

“Yes! But how the hell do you know him?!”

“Didn’t he ever mention his formative years at Aglionby Academy, Henrietta’s finest purveyor of the future assholes of America?”

“Well, yes, of course. We’ve talked about how we missed each other by miles when—” Adam cut himself off.

So Adam was from Henrietta, Ronan noted, but he didn’t let it distract him. “And didn’t he tell you about his feckless yet handsome best friend who quit Aglionby his senior year in order to move back to the family farm and take it over?”

Adam’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock. “You’re Lynch?!”

Ronan nodded slowly. “The one and only. Well, the only Ronan Lynch to Dick Gansey.”

“I don’t believe it,” Adam said.

Ronan wracked his brain for all the conversations Gansey had prattled on about Harvard, all the texts, the emails, and he finally came up with “Are you Parrish? The perfect, pleasing paragon who Gansey’s been trying to get to move in with him since his freshman year?”

“Holy shit, he never actually called me that, did he?”

“He probably did. But I never pay all that much attention when he’s going on about all you Harvard nerds.”

“No fucking way,” Adam breathed out, still staring at Ronan. “I don’t believe it.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. “Out of all the bullshit that’s happened to you tonight, that’s the one thing you don’t believe?”

“No. I just mean… What are the odds? That the one person I’m following and who stopped to help me and who offered me a place to stay is the best friend of my best friend. That’s so … bizarre.”

“And the person who saved you from seeing if you could breathe mud,” Ronan reminded.

“Unbelievable,” Adam repeated and finally seemed to realize that he was still dripping dish water on the floor so he turned back to the sink.

“It is pretty unbelievable,” Ronan agreed, taking the beleaguered cereal bowl from Adam’s lax hand to rinse and dry it. “Maybe it was fate. Karma.”

“I don’t know what I did in another life to deserve this,” Adam murmured and Ronan stepped back.

“Okay, now who’s the asshole.”

“No, no I just mean,” Adam leaned on the sink and stared out the window into the darkness. Ronan stared over his shoulder at their reflections in the dark glass until Adam met his eyes. “I just mean, you could’ve been an ax murderer, but instead you saved me from drowning in mud, and you’re … you, and now you come with impeccable bona fides that’ve reassured me you’re not going to murder me while I sleep. It’s just pretty unreal.”

There was a long moment of silence while Ronan thought that all through. “What’d you mean, I’m me?”

Adam put his eyes down and started to concentrate on washing the rest of the silverware. Ronan nudged him gently in the back. “What exactly do you mean?”

Adam cleared his throat and rinsed the silverware. “I just mean, that you’re something else, Ronan. Lynch.”

“If it helps, I never thought Gansey had any friends like you, or I might have actually made it up to grand old Harvard to visit him.”

“Friends like me,” Adam parroted and gave up the pretense of the dishes, dumping the silverware into the drain board and turning to face Ronan. “What exactly do you mean?”

Ronan squared his shoulders and decided that he wasn’t going to wimp his way out of this. “I mean, that you’re very attractive. And if we’d met in another way, somewhere else, that I’d want to ask you out.”

Adam gulped hard enough that Ronan saw his Adam’s apple bob. “And if you had, I’d say yes. But why only if we’d met in another way?”

Ronan stepped closer, not quite boxing Adam in against the sink but carefully keeping his hands to himself. “Because it seems like a really asshole thing to do, to bring you home, make you dependent on me, and then ask you out. Feels like I’m cornering you.”

Adam gave him a charming, crooked grin. “You did spirit me away pretty quickly to your magical land, and now I’ve eaten your food so I’m not even sure if I can leave.”

Ronan grinned back, slowly and sincerely. It felt like a moment, a very loaded moment, a moment of potential that Ronan wondered if he was reading right because he really wanted to lean in and kiss Adam.

While he hesitated, eyes flickering from Adam’s dark blue eyes to Adam’s pink lips, Adam took the decision away from him. He tugged Ronan closer with a hand in his T-shirt, leaned up and kissed him.

Ronan closed his eyes and felt the soft warmth of Adam’s mouth against his, Adam kissing his top lip then his bottom, and Ronan leaned closer, wrapping his hands around Adam’s back to hold him, daring a quick lick to Adam’s bottom lip as Adam pulled back slowly.

They breathed together for a long moment, Ronan’s head curled down, his forehead resting against Adam’s. Then Adam let go of his T-shirt and Ronan said, “What are you going to tell Gansey about this?”

Adam’s huff of surprised laughter finally made Ronan open his eyes. Adam was staring into his with undisguised amusement.

“Do you tell Gansey about every person you kiss?”

Ronan shrugged and told the honest truth. “Actually, yeah.”

“Oh my God,” Adam laughed again. “Well, then, maybe I should give you something really interesting to add to that conversation.”

This kiss was hungry, Ronan thought right before all rational thought flew right out of his mind. Adam’s tongue was as warm as the rest of him, and Ronan’s hands clutched at Adam’s face, his neck, clung to his lower back, pulling them even closer together. Something about that must have made Adam happy because he moaned into Ronan’s mouth and hitched himself even nearer with his arms around Ronan.

Ronan couldn’t even remember who they were talking about when Adam finally broke the kiss and panted, “That’ll give you something to talk about.”

“Heugh,” Ronan said before capturing Adam’s mouth again, feeling Adam huff a little laugh before he returned the kiss.

But after a little more grinding, Ronan must have found one of Adam’s bruises as he pushed him back against the edge of the sink because he felt Adam’s entire body wince. He reluctantly pulled his mouth away, brushing his lips across Adam’s cheek then jaw, over to his ear.

“You hurting?” he whispered.

Adam shook his head against Ronan’s neck but then shrugged. “I think the adrenaline is starting to fade,” he admitted.

Ronan sighed because he, unfortunately, knew exactly how that felt and how the injuries would be starting to stiffen and hurt even more. “I think we’d better get you to bed.”

Adam started to grin, and Ronan felt his face flush red as he hurried to explain, “I mean, get you to your own bed. C’mon I’ll take you to Declan’s room and you can crash. Er, you already did that. Just...get some rest.”

Adam laughed out loud at him, but he seemed amused by Ronan’s clumsiness rather than put off by his earnestness. Adam squeezed Ronan’s upper arms where his hands had settled and leaned back up for a brief kiss. “I hate to cut this short, but I think you might have the right idea.”

“And Tylenol,” Ronan remembered, finally prying his hands off Adam and stepping back.

“That might be a good idea, too,” Adam made a face of discomfort as he pushed himself off the sink.

Ronan hurried to find the Tylenol bottle and a bottle of water from the fridge then led Adam upstairs. Declan’s room was still furnished but stripped bare of all his personal belongings. Still, Ronan kept bedding on the bed and Matthew’s for whenever one of them decided to visit.

He put the bottles on the nightstand and turned down the bed, shaking out a pillow even. When he looked up, Adam was standing in the doorway, not even pretending to hide a wide smile. “You’re quite the homemaker,” he said.

“Fuck off,” Ronan retorted although his warm cheeks stayed hot. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Thank you, Ronan. I’m sure I will be.”

Adam approached him slowly and Ronan watched as he sat down on the bed beside him.

“Do you want pajamas or—”

“I’m fine like this.” Adam reached over to cup Ronan’s face in his hand, one thumb brushing gently over his cheekbone.

“You are fine,” Ronan confided in a soft voice.

Adam shook his head then leaned over and kissed him. Ronan slid an arm around Adam’s waist and brought his other hand up to touch his face, his neck, down to his chest where the T-shirt was as soft as Ronan thought, but the muscle underneath was anything but.

This kiss was a perfect combination of hunger and need but also temperance and patience, Ronan thought muzzily. They weren’t going to end up in bed together tonight, but there was definitely something there in the future that would spark and ignite.

When Adam’s hand slipped away from his face, Ronan pulled back and watched him, eyes closed, swaying a little. Ronan dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Do you want me to tuck you in?”

“Ha, no, that’s a little too...parental for me,” Adam said.

Ronan got up and ruffled Adam’s hair which was as soft as it had looked. “Okay, sport, hop in bed, if you want me to tell you a story.”

“That is the least sexy thing that anyone has ever said to me,” Adam batted his hand away.

Ronan just grinned. “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“You would tell me if your home was infested with bugs, right?”

Ronan continued to grin as Adam rolled his eyes. “The only thing that’ll bite around here is me.” He leaned down to Adam’s ear and said, “And only if you ask nicely,” and accompanied it with a quick nip to Adam’s earlobe.

Mood lightened, Adam pushed Ronan back and pulled his legs up into the bed with a sigh. “Thanks, Ronan. I’ll be sure and tell Gansey I give you five stars as a host.”

Ronan snorted but lingered as Adam pulled up the covers and rustled around in the bed. “Do you want a wake up call at a certain time?”

“Oh shit,” Adam sat back up. “I can’t believe I almost forgot.”

“What you’re doing in Henrietta?”

“Yeah, dammit. I have to be in town for 9 a.m. And my phone is downstairs with my bag. And I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer,” Adam groaned.

But Ronan stopped him before he could get out of bed. “I got it. I can finish the laundry. If you let me, I’ll get your stuff out of your bag, too, and hang it up? And I can set an alarm for, what? Eight?”

“Seven, thank you. If you can’t drive me, I can call—”

“Nah, I got you. I’m not resting until I deliver you safely to Henrietta. I don’t trust anyone else at this point.”

Adam shook his head, but his smile betrayed him as he lay back down. “I’m going to a celebration for my old mentor. She’s finally getting her doctorate. They’re doing some daylong thing for her, and my coming was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Ronan said. When Adam suddenly held out his hand, Ronan took it, twining their fingers.

“Only, Persephone called me last night, wasn’t supposed to know I was coming, but she told me that the next time I drove to Henrietta, I was to be sure and take only the back roads in Virginia. No interstate, no highways, just the scenic route. Oh, and I was to make sure my cell phone was in a sealed plastic bag inside my backpack.”

“That’s weird,” Ronan said. “What, is she psychic?”

“Yeah, actually,” Adam answered in a voice that was getting heavier as his eyelids started to droop. “And what do you know? It worked. My phone survived just fine.”

“And so did you. Barely.”

“Thanks to you,” Adam’s voice was definitely dropping into sleep.

Ronan squeezed his hand then leaned down and kissed Adam’s bony knuckles. “Sleep sweet and pleasant dreams.”

Adam smiled up at him as he took his hand back and tucked it under the pillow. “It’s all been a pretty pleasant dream so far.”

As Ronan turned off the light and quietly closed the door, he shut his eyes and breathed out a silent prayer that the pleasant dream would never end.

**************

Adam looked down at the body, its back a literal work of art with a beloved tattoo and sculptured muscles beneath. Since his hands were full, Adam nudged his bare toes into the ribs of the body.

“Hey, man, you dead?” he asked.

Ronan grunted and turned his head enough to show one ice-blue eye glowering at him. “Feels like. Shit, when I said you could pick our honeymoon, I didn’t think you’d choose the seventh level of hell.”

Adam stopped to think for a moment. “You’ve cast us in with the sodomites?”

“Isn’t it appropriate, Mr. Adam Parrish-Lynch? Why do you think I chose that level?”

“Smartass.” Ronan only grinned and rolled over on the towel, accepted the large icy drink with grabby hands. Then Adam noticed, “You actually are pink. How can you burn through sunblock and a beach umbrella?”

“I’m sensitive and fair,” Ronan said before he slurped loudly. “The only reason I agreed to honeymoon on the literal surface of the sun was because you promised the villa would be air conditioned and I figured you’d be half naked all the time. Which is nice.”

“This is nice,” Adam sipped his own drink and dug his toes into the warm sand with a smile. He was tanning quite nicely. He figured he’d just have to keep Ronan out of the sun and full of icy booze for the rest of the week.

“You know what would be even nicer?”

“We are spending at least an hour on the beach before we go back to the villa for sex,” Adam informed him. His voice must have been louder than he intended because the nearest family to them turned scathing looks on him.

Ronan laughed as Adam winced in embarrassment. “You sure you don’t want to go back and hide from their judging stares?” Ronan asked, not even trying to drop his voice.

“No.” Adam did put his sunglasses on, though, as if they offered some protection. “I was promised a tropical beach so I intend to enjoy the sun and the sand.”

“And the water?” Ronan dropped his empty cup to the sand and stretched his arms high. Adam knew it was meant to draw his attention, and it worked. Then Ronan leaned in close and said lowly, “Let’s really offend that family and go make out in the ocean.”

Adam took another leisurely sip. “Nah, I’m fine here.”

Ronan nipped at his nearest ear and stuck his tongue inside which made Adam push at him until Ronan asked, “Have you ever got a handjob in the ocean?”

Adam pretended to consider while he finished his drink a little faster than he would normally. “No, I don’t believe I have. Are you offering?”

Ronan flickered his tongue at him and jerked his head toward the blue water that Adam knew was as warm as a bath. He sighed, even though he knew Ronan knew he was only pretending at being irritated. “Fine. If you insist. You’re my husband now, so I suppose I should try and make you happy.”

“You do make me happy. Ridiculously happy,” Ronan said, dropping all the teasing. He touched Adam’s cheek so Adam turned to face him, and then Ronan kissed him.

It made Adam’s toes curl still, even after a year of long-distance dating and another year of figuring out where they would live and fit in each others’ futures. It still made him feel strange, like an impostor, to know that Ronan saw their future that very first night they met. When Adam crashed, Ronan helped save him and took care of him. Ronan had always been firm and fast in his affections, while Adam wavered from time to time.

But when Ronan proposed, Adam knew he’d be a fool to walk away from a love like this. And now they were married and things would take a while to get used to, but even when Ronan had flashes of immaturity, he’d follow them with such sincerity that Adam was wooed all over again.

“Come on then,” Adam murmured against Ronan’s lips. “I believe my husband promised me a handjob.”

“In the ocean,” Ronan confirmed. He jumped to his feet and held out his hand, and Adam realized he’d be okay so long as Ronan was the one always offering a hand.

And it turned out that the ocean was very warm, but wrapping around his husband’s body—and his husband’s hands on him—were even hotter.

#my fic #ronan lynch #adam parrish #trc #the raven cycle #pynch fic #trc fic

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splendidlyinlove · 9 months

Text

O’Knutzy Week Day 1!!!!!

I’m not late because I said so also time is a concept. A huge thank you to @oknutzyweek2023 for organizing this fest and to the lovely @lumosinlove for the creation of these characters!!!

Day 1 Prompt: Smile

CW for mentions of food/drink and depictions of internalized homophobia/negative self talk

When Logan was four years old smiles were as simple as breathing. He was all scraped knees and grubby fingers, trailing behind his three (which comes after two and before five…he thinks) older sisters. All he knew was dress up and pirates and that was enough for him.

He had lost his first tooth last Tuesday, La Petite Souris had reimbursed him kindly with several shiny new coins. He had run down the stairs with them clasped in his hand and shouted “Look!” at his maman. His cheeks were round and rosy, indents from the pillowcase still stretching across them, and smiling so hard it almost hurt. There was still blue on his lips from where he had accidentally drawn on his mouth with a marker while rubbing his eye and his mouth made a faint whistling sound when he exhaled through his teeth. His maman smiled back. And that was how life worked at four.

Smiling was a language like French or English. On humid summer days in France, he and his sisters would sit on sticky hardwood floors and sound out vowels through box fans. The giggles and smiles were I love yous, just with fewer syllables. His sisters forced him into dresses and called him gross, but it was okay. They smiled at him like he was theirs forever and he trusted them enough to know it was true.

Smiles were opening presents on Christmas and jumping through the sprinkler outside. They were storytime and birthday cakes and good night kisses. They were stitched onto his favorite stuffed animals and frozen in time in pictures covering the wall on their stairway.

One time he snuck out of bed to sit on the stairs and watch TV through the railing over the backs of his parents’ heads. The man on the TV looked sad and said a lot of big words. He didn’t smile much, he said something about life not making sense. Logan didn’t understand that. Living was about love and love was where home was and home was where he smiled most.

There was a creak from behind him and when he turned around he saw Noelle smiling while holding her finger up to her mouth with a silent shh. Logan smiled back when she sat down next to him. Yeah, it all seemed pretty simple to him.

___

At thirteen years old the world was not simple. It was messy and confusing, it was like someone had paint splattered across walls and asked him what the shapes spelled out. Logan didn't know, and they would smile. But not the smiles that he was used to, no, smiles were different now.

Smiles could be sharp, pointed weapons. Looks shared between boys with letterman jackets across the halls, the ringing laughter after a slam against lockers. Dirty jokes, ego, us vs. them politics, mental gymnastics, I know you are but what am I?, thinly veiled insults, banter, and “locker room talk.”

There was a sense of panic building up inside Logan that he couldn’t pinpoint. He smiled along, though he could feel it not reaching his eyes. Did they see it not reaching his eyes? Is his hair weird? His shirt feels too small, why’d he wear this today? Purple is a stupid color. Stupid. This is stupid. He’s stupid.

He walked into his algebra class and sat down next to some boy he didn't recognize with a huff.

“Bad day?”

Logan’s head snapped to look at him. “Huh?”

“I was just wondering if you were okay. You seem…grumpy.”

And then the boy smiled at him. He smiled.

His eyes crinkled up at the corners and the freckles on his cheeks stretched out. There was a light that seemed to shine outwards from his irises, his hair looked soft and his jaw was somewhere between round and angular. Logan wanted to reach out and touch, and why did his stomach feel like-?

Oh.

Oh no.

Smiles always had teeth, but they had never bitten until then. Logan didn't smile back, he clenched the feeling between his fists and made it as small as it could be.

___

Finn was something impossible. He was a broken clock right three times a day, a city with no people, lightning in a bottle, a tsunami with no casualties, dressed in socks with Adidas slides and brown eyes that felt like a sacrament.

He gave smiles away like old furniture. Here, you’ll get more use out of this than I will. He was unguarded and open and free and if Logan was honest Finn terrified him. Finn was the sun. Logan could already feel his eyes burning, he really should look away, but oh, didn’t it feel so good to be warm?

Logan was cool green stares with walls miles high surrounding them. But, Finn was well equipped with inside jokes, memorized coffee orders, delirious late nights, no-look passes, adrenaline highs, and shared greasy breakfasts. Finn poked and prodded at the hard shell Logan had so carefully put together over four years. Slowly, piece by piece it wore down, floating like wilted flower petals to the floor. Logan could feel himself loosen, feel the tense muscles relax, his fists unclench.

At seventeen, inside a rundown frat house, in their messy, poorly decorated room, Logan couldn't help himself. He smiled, but he swore it didn't mean I love you. It didn’t.

___

Leo was simple. He was like thunder after lightning and the rainbow after a storm. He made sense, slotted into place like he always belonged. He was loud sort of quiet, he had a presence about him that you didn't realize how much room it encompassed until it wasn’t there.

Leo let Logan talk. Just talk. And the best part is he would listen. Logan felt heard when Leo was around, Finn listened too but sometimes he didn’t understand. Maybe it was because, for Logan, English never seemed to be a good medium for explanation, it always seemed one size too small. Leo understood, though, both in English and French. Leo could read between the lines, sometimes Logan didn't have to say anything at all. And that, that was ecstasy in itself. Logan could get so tired of explaining, sometimes he just wanted to be.

If Finn was the sun and Logan was the moon, then Leo was the night sky. Vast and all-consuming in a quiet sort of way, comforting like a blanket, pretty to look at. God, was he pretty to look at.

In a hotel room in a city that Logan had visited several times but never got to know, Leo answered a knock on the door and brought in a tray. He picked a mug up off of it and handed it to Logan.

“Here, I got you some mint tea.”

Logan smiled. He couldn’t lie to himself this time, he knew it meant I love you. And didn’t that just make it all the more tragic?

___

Smiles weren’t as simple as breathing, they were as simple as atoms. They made up everything around Logan and were everywhere. Logan would wake up and smile, eat breakfast and smile, pay taxes and smile. He would stay up late in the night with Leo, fighting with insomnia together and he would wake up sleep deprived and the happiest he's ever been. Finn would come home from a run sweaty and hug him and it would be gross, and disgusting, and really, Logan should be screaming in terror but, against all odds there he was smiling.

It was convoluted, but then again, it was the most understandable thing to ever happen. He was right when he was four, smiles meant I love you and there was so much love to give. In the dead of night, in the blazing afternoon, love was exchanged like playground, pinky-swear promises. Logan would keep every one.

He had been planning it for months, he nearly wore a hole in the rug from the pacing back and forth. He sat in front of them on a blanket in the middle of a field and pushed two small velvet boxes toward each of them, along with letters that bared his soul. He had opted for letters instead of some big speech, he was terrified of not getting the words out right and of switching to French halfway through. Words had always been Finn’s department anyway.

They both looked back up at him with tears in their eyes.

Logan smiled and said, “I love you.”

They knew, of course they knew. Logan said it out loud anyway.

___

The wedding was a summer affair, chairs were set outside by a big tree. Finn had put on sunscreen in preparation.

“This is a setup” he had said. Logan and Leo had laughed so hard that they almost fell off the bed.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about it.” It would have sounded serious if Finn wasn’t smiling, and he was smiling.

After a coughing fit Leo gathered himself enough to say, “You don’t want to marry us outside, Finn?”

Finn paused at that. He was still smiling but it changed into something soft yet sure, like faith.

“I’d marry you anywhere and nowhere at all.”

So it was settled. The wedding would be outside, and if Finn had more freckles on his nose during their honeymoon, it would be a burden Logan and Leo would gladly carry. However, the sunscreen turned out to be unnecessary. Dark clouds had rolled in and rain trickled down around them.

It was perfect, unexpected, but perfect. Like a child, they loved the moment anyway. There was no world where it could be bad, because it was theirs, and it was them, and they were together, and wouldn’t that always be beautiful?

They got married in the rain with wet hair in front of all of their friends and family. Their smiles said I do well before their mouths did, and though Leo and Logan would miss Finn’s extra freckles, it was a small sacrifice.

___

The hospital room was white and smelled sterile. It was much different from the shade of pink that the guest bedroom in their house had been painted.

Daughter.

You’re having a daughter.

Logan had been drowning in shades of pink for four months and he never wanted it to stop. He wanted tea parties, and race cars, and doll houses, and dress up, and pirates, and math homework, and sleepless nights, and play pretend. He wanted it all. He put all of his excited energy into planning the nursery and buying toys. Now, sitting between Finn and Leo in hospital room chairs, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He bounced his leg up and down and tapped his fingers on the armrest, Finn and Leo had grabbed his hands several times to get him to stop.

Time seemed to stop when the door opened. A nurse walked in holding a bundle of blankets.

“You ready to hold your baby girl?”

Before Logan could process, the baby was placed into his arms. She was the tiniest thing he’d ever seen, with a button nose and round cheeks. She fussed a bit, her arms wiggling and feet kicking, and for a moment her eyes opened the smallest amount.

Two pairs of green eyes met.

And Logan cried.

But mostly he just smiled.

#Leo knut #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #cubs #oknutzy #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #Coast To Coast #coast to coast fanfic #vaincre #vaincre fanfic #my fic #fanfic #oknutzy week 2023 #o'knutzy week 2023 #fluff #marriage proposal #marriage

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