#and it takes all my breath and energy away
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How About A Nuke?
Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV
The ghoul x fem!reader
A/N: I’ve received more love and interaction with this series than I have with any of my other works, so thank you all so much for that ♥️ That being said, I’ve also had a lot of comments talking about how excited readers are for Cooper eventually finding his humanity. This is not going to be that chapter, so strap in and good luck. I’m anticipating there to be about two chapter of this story (most likely.)
Summary: The surface sucks. There’s nothing else to it, you’re affronted by violence and brutality every minute you’re up here. The one thing that’s kept you going has been Cooper slowly easing up, you should have known better.
Warnings: Themes of SA but none is actually committed.
“Up,” you jumped, jolted harshly out of your restless sleep. You weren’t sure when you’d passed out last night but it was a long while after you’d struck your deal with Cooper. A glance through one of the holes in the wall told you it was still slightly dark outside.
He strode to the door, throwing it open and not bothering to see if you were following. You scrambled up to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes while you hurried to catch up with him. You trailed slightly behind him for a while, not willing to risk pissing him off by getting too close.
He’d always been an even tempered man, at least when you’d known him, this brutality was something completely foreign to you. Left you feeling like you were walking on glass every time you even looked at him.
After about an hour and a half of walking without speaking, you felt yourself starting to go a little crazy. You rushed up to his side, glaring under the harsh beams of sunlight. “Where are we headed?” He didn’t bother looking at you or even acknowledging that you spoke.
He simply kept his eyes ahead and kept going. You huffed and let yourself fall back again. He clearly wasn’t in the mood for conversation today. Another hour and you felt yourself starting to slow down. You didn’t have a handy little canteen like Cooper did, you certainly didn’t have any fucking sunscreen. You could already feel yourself starting to pour sweat and your lips were peeling again.
Any rest you’d gotten from last night was zapped out of you. You’d barely started the day’s journey and already you felt like you were going to keel over. You stopped for a moment, not thinking he’d pay attention, and leaned over to try and catch your breath.
“Come on!” You glanced up. He’d stopped a few yards up ahead, he was glaring at you, impatiently waiting for you to get a move on. You groaned, taking in a deep breath and forcing your feet to move again.
“Please, can I just have a sip of water?”
He grinned and pulled out the canteen. You felt the briefest amount of energy shooting back through you at the prospect of water. Your hands reached for it but he snatched it away and took a deep gulp. You licked your lips, mouth feeling even dryer while you watched him guzzle the last of his water down.
You felt yourself deflate again, too tired to even get properly mad at him. He was just being a dick now. “Fuck you,” you muttered, brushing past him and continuing ahead.
“Come on, darlin’,” he caught up with you. Not like it was hard, you were going the pace of a turtle right now.
You felt like a panting dog under the summer sun, practically drooling in an attempt to keep your throat moistened. You pulled the zipper of the vault suit down and tied the sleeves around your waist.
“I’d keep that zipped if I were you.” You knew he was talking about, the black slip you had on underneath the suit. Probably not smart to go advertising your assets like this, you had no idea had bad the people out here were. But so far you hadn’t seen anyone for miles and you needed a few minutes to try and dry the sweat on your back.
You didn’t bother responding to him, it was a waste of breath at this point. “You ignoring me now?” You grunted, reaching up to wipe off your forehead and slick the hairs off your skin. “You wouldn’t want the water anyway, unless you got a purifier everything you’ll find out here is radiated to all hell.”
“You were still an asshole,” you muttered.
He scoffed, glancing over at you before looking back out at the horizon. “We’ll be coming up on an old town, see if you can find yourself some supplies while we’re passing through.” You glanced over at him but he was walking ahead of you again.
You wondered if this was his attempt at an apology or if he was just heading there because he needed something. Either way, it would provide you a break at least.
“This is pathetic.”
You glared up at Cooper from where you sit curled up on the floor of an old house. “I’ll remind you that as of yesterday, to me, the most physical labor I had to do was switch out with a stunt double.”
He scoffed and shook his head, not bothering to respond. He walked past you and started rummaging around in drawers. From the abandoned bed rolls on the ground it was clear that somebody used to use this place as their base. You just wondered what sent them running.
“Hey,” he barked, “we’re not staying here forever. Get a fucking move on.”
You groaned and slowly got to your feet, you stumbled to the other side of the house, rummaging around for anything you could change into or something to eat. You could hear Cooper moving around in the back of the house. He kept slamming drawers and cussing up a storm.
You’re not sure what crawled up his ass and died but you figure it’s smart to just stay out of the way while he’s like this.
She made his skin crawl. Being around her was just a constant reminder of what he’d had, who he’d been, and what he was now. Everytime she looked at him with those hurt eyes of hers he just wanted to shoot something.
He hated feeling like this, almost like he was out of control. He knew what he was, he knew what he had to do to survive in a world like this. But she didn’t. She was naive to the way the Wastelands worked and innocent to the brutality she’d soon find herself in the middle of.
He should have left her dying in the sand. He should have left her to choke to death in her pod. He was itching to get to Filly, the longer he stayed around her the more on edge he felt. He didn’t need someone slowing him down, she was a weakness and the Ghoul didn’t do weaknesses.
His hands twitched towards the holster at his side and for a moment he really thought about it. Just sneaking up behind her and burying a bullet in her skull. He’d be getting rid of his problem and saving her from a lot of trouble in the future. She’d never do well in this new world, she was still someone from the old world.
It would be a mercy to just put her out of her misery now.
The button of the holster clicked as he popped it open. Slowly, he made his way towards the room she was in, the leather of his gloves creaking as he wrapped his hand around the handle of his gun. Quick, in and out. She wouldn’t even know what was happening before it was too late and the light in her eyes was out.
Her back was to him, rummaging around in the wreckage of the room. She was completely vulnerable and exposed. Like she didn’t understand how easy it would be for someone to sneak up on her or she stupidly expected him to defend her.
“Hey! I think I found something!”
His hand jolted away from his gun and he shook his head. What the fuck was he thinking? He still technically needed her for his business in Filly. “What?” He snapped.
She let out a yelp and jumped. She whirled around on him, hand clutching her chest and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. It really would be easy to just take her out now.
“Jesus,” he could tell when she was about to say his name. She’d bite her lip real hard and frown, she was doing it now. For a moment he was thinking about how they used to scare each other. They would make a stupid game of it and she would always hit him and yell, Jesus, Coop!
He used to think it was hilarious. Now he was just resisting the urge to draw his gun on her.
“What,” he enunciated each word, speaking to her like she was a child, “did you find?”
She glared at him and moved aside, showing him the stash of shit she’d uncovered. There were a lot of good supplies here, nothing he could use, but enough to stick in a pack for her. Only problem was nobody would leave all this here. Either they were coming back for it or whatever had killed them off was coming for it.
“Hurry and pack this shit up, we need to get out of here.” When she didn’t move fast enough he snapped, “Now!” She knelt down, hurriedly scooping all the supplies into the ratty old bag on the ground next to them.
He walked back towards the front of the house, pulling his gun out and surveying the destroyed houses. He didn’t see anybody but that didn’t mean shit anymore. Ever since Muldaver started bringing people into her cult the raiders seemed to have been getting smarter. They needed to get the fuck out and quick.
“Alright, let's go!” He leaned back in the doorway, peering back into the house and waiting for her to pop out. There was a moment of silence and he frowned, slowly heading back into the house.
A scream ripped out of the room, echoing into the empty streets of the neighborhood. He rushed back into the house and slowed down once he reached the hall. He could hear her talking to someone, yelling at them more like. He only heard two other voices, wouldn’t be too bad if he didn’t hear more approaching the front of the house.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He flipped open the chamber of his gun, counting his bullets and trying to decide whether or not she was actually worth helping.
“Well, ain’t you pretty?”
“Back the fuck off,” you clutched the backpack to your chest, gaze darting between the two men before you. Men was being generous, you’re sure they’d been men once but now they were just twisted freaks capable of nothing but violence.
The one on the left smiled, blackened teeth making an appearance and the boils around his mouth shifting. You stumbled further back, nearly tripping over a toppled over couch. You only had so much room to move, you were gonna be backed into a corner soon and you didn’t want to think about what they would do to you then.
The scalpel in your pocket could slit one of their throats but the other one would be on you before you could blink. Still, you kept your hand firmly wrapped around it while you glared at them.
“You know,” the one on the right started. You could practically smell him from here, his hair so greasy it looked soaking wet. “You’re being awfully rude for someone who just helped herself to our supplies.”
“Pay the price pretty lady and we’ll let you go,” he leered and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what the “price” was. You’d sooner slit your own throat then spread your legs for them. But you also weren’t about to give up the supplies in the bag you were holding. You may be new to this whole Wastelands thing, but you figured Cooper wasn’t going to share. If you didn’t get this bag out of here, you weren’t going to make it another day.
“You got a working right hand, go fuck yourself.”
They laughed and moved in closer. “We got a fighter, Bart!”
“Sure do, Jed.”
You yelped, tripping over a loose plank of wood and falling on your ass, the scalpel flew out of your hand and skittered across the floor. You barely even breathed before they were pouncing on you. Rough hands gripped your ankles and dragged you across the splintered floor. They were more wild animals than men.
You tried to kick out, screaming for help and flailing your fists wildly. You felt your hand connect with something hard and then there was a low groan of pain before your arms were being pinned. “No! Let me go!”
They started laughing, one of them tugging the sleeves of your suit off your waist and whistling at the slip underneath. You brought your knee up into his gut but it barely phased him. He just swatted your leg to the side like you were nothing to him.
You could feel a visceral type of panic brewing in you. There were a lot of things worse than death. The prospect of these men actually getting their hands on you had you kicking out again. You tugged on your arms until you were sure you were doing more damage to yourself than to them. But you didn’t care, you couldn’t think, you were working on the base instinct to protect yourself.
The sound of spurs echoed down the hallway before Cooper was turning the corner. He had his gun raised and was pointing it right at them. “I do believe the lady said no.”
“We found her first,” one of them let go of your suit to crouch in front of you. He looked like an animal guarding his territory. The other chuckled, barely sparing Cooper a glance.
“Actually,” he cocked the hammer of his gun back, “you didn’t.”
You processed your ears ringing before you got to the gunshot. You couldn’t hear anything, a high pitched whining making your jaw clench in pain. Your arms went slack and you quickly pulled your pants back up, zipping the suit all the way to your throat. You rolled onto your hands and knees, barely cognizant of the puddle of blood you were dragging yourself through.
Two arms wrapped around your waist and you acted without thought. You swung out blindly, yelling and clawing like a wild cat. “-nough! That’s enough, come on!” Cooper’s voice broke through the haze and you went limp with relief.
He tightened his arms around you and dragged you to your feet. You glanced down at yourself, finally feeling the warmth seeping through your clothes. You were doused head-to-toe in those men’s blood. Your face was completely covered.
You glanced to the right and had to suppress a gag. Brains and skull were mashed together in a disgusting puddle of gore, nothing left of the men who’d grabbed you. “Hey,” Cooper shook you slightly and your eyes shot back to his. “We need to leave now, they’ll be more coming.”
You nodded dumbly, not really sure you were processing what was actually going on. Half of you was still stuck thinking you had to keep fighting, the other half wanted to be back in the cryogenic pod. He wrapped a hand around your arm and shoved the bag into your arms.
Then you felt something heavy being pressed into the palm of your hand. You glanced down, surprised to find one of his guns in your hand. “What’re-”
“Clearly, you need something to defend yourself. You still remember how to shoot, don't you?” You nodded, of course you did, he’s the one that taught you. “Good, now move your ass.” He gave you a rough shove and you stumbled over the bodies.
One thing you were learning was that you didn’t get a whole lot of time to process things in the Wastelands. One minute you were on the floor being stripped and the next you were ducking behind an old house to avoid raiders. You didn’t linger on what happened, you tried to keep your mind firmly gripped in the present. You couldn’t give it too much thought or you’d shut down.
Cooper moved ahead of you, slinking around the back of the neighborhood to make sure the coast was clear. You slid the straps of the bag over your shoulders and followed quietly after him. You made it to the border of the houses and figured you could relax a bit now.
Clearly, they weren’t coming after you. They might have heard the gunshots but they had no clue where you were. Cooper wasn’t going to risk it though, he wrapped his hand around your arm again and roughly dragged you behind him.
“Keep up, I’m not gonna come back for you if you fall behind.”
But he already had. He could have left you to those raiders. He came back for you, even he couldn’t deny that.
“Do you think we’ll be safe here?” He glanced up at you and nodded wordlessly. You stacked the last piece of wood for the fire and sat back. He leaned forward, striking his knife against a rock and waiting for the sparks to catch.
You watched without thought, mind lingering on the feeling of blood sticking to your skin and clothes. Everytime you moved bits of it flaked off or crusted further onto your skin. You were nearly ready to just claw your skin off to get rid of the feeling.
“Here,” you glanced up, surprised to find him holding up a wet cloth. “Wipe your face off, you look fucking insane.”
You grabbed it, scrubbing at your face and hands until your skin was raw. “Thanks,” you muttered, tossing the cloth back to him. He caught it and tucked it in his pocket. It felt strange between you. You’re not sure what it was exactly. Maybe you were just projecting, still worked up from what happened earlier.
It wasn’t a bad strange, per say, just odd. “Take first watch,” he ordered. You just nodded, watching as he leaned against the wall of the old house you were camped in. He pulled his hat over his eyes and stilled. You weren’t sure he was asleep until you heard a few light snores coming from him.
You glanced down at the gun in your hands. You opened the chamber and counted the bullets before closing it again. It wasn’t like the guns he used to teach you with, that’s for sure. It was bigger, bulkier, probably had a bitch of a recoil too. But you could point and aim well enough, hopefully you wouldn’t need to fire off more than one shot if someone did bother you tonight.
You’re not sure when you fell asleep, you know you shouldn’t. It’s up to you to make sure no one tries to slit your throat in your sleep. But the events of the day caught up to you faster than you thought they would and before you knew it you were slumping back against the wall and dead to the world.
Your eyes snap open at the sound of wood creaking. There’s a man, he looks like the ones from today, standing over Cooper. He’s got his knife hovering above his throat. You’re pulling the trigger before you can even think about what you’re doing.
He lets out a howl of pain and slumps onto the floor. Cooper’s eyes shoot open and he jumps up, he pulls out his own gun but the man is already dead before he can pull the trigger. You stare at the body in shock, mind running so fast you can’t even process what you’re thinking.
“I killed him,” you muttered. You can feel the gun slipping out of your grasp, hands shaking too badly to keep a good grip on it. “I killed him.”
Cooper walks over and picks the gun back up. He sticks it into the pocket of your backpack and grabs your face. You wince slightly as his fingers push against the bruises on your cheeks but don’t complain. He’s not being rough like you’ve come to expect.
He stares at you for a long moment, eyes boring into yours with an unreadable expression. “I just killed him,” you whisper again. You’re still trying to reconcile with that fact. You knew it would happen eventually, today had taught you that much. But you hadn’t expected it to shock you as much as it had.
Maybe it’s because you didn’t manage to blow his head off with one shot. You watched as the light left his eyes.
“You did a good job, we need to move now, sweetheart. Let’s go.”
And despite what you’d just done, you could really only focus on the fact that was the first time he’d called you that without sounding cruel.
You were getting closer to Filly, you could see a large forest a couple miles ahead of you. Being closer to the trees, even by such a little amount, was doing wonders in improving your mood. You found you didn’t mind the sun and heat as much when you just kept reminding yourself that soon you could find some shade.
You passed by an old sunken billboard, Filly spray painted across it with an arrow pointing the way. You found yourself pushing Cooper further ahead today, more and more excited to find somewhere with halfway civilized people.
You made it to the edge of the forest before Cooper stopped you. He threw his bag down next to a fallen log and pointed up towards the sky. “Sun’s setting, trust me, you don’t want to be exploring these woods after dark.”
The ominous tone had chills raising along your arms, you frowned and glanced towards the dense grove of trees. Something within them trilled out towards the night sky. You found yourself scooting a little closer to him, wary of what was waiting in there for you.
He huffed out a laugh and started building a fire. You dug through your bag, pulling out the few rations you’d gleaned from the raiders. You held one out to him but he shook his head and pulled out his odd looking jerky instead.
You’re not really sure what that shit is made of, but you know you don’t want to know. You were too afraid to ask him. Especially after you tried a bite the other day, it didn’t taste like any meat you recognized.
You ate in a comfortable silence, the sound of your chewing drowned out by the insects flitting around in the trees above you. But he kept glancing at you, giving you odd looks that had you on edge. “What?” You finally snapped, sick of him looking at you weird.
You hadn’t felt clean since you’d crossed the desert, but after what happened yesterday your skin was crawling with shame and disgust. You felt like you needed to scrape the skin off until you felt clean. He was making you feel even worse.
“So,” he leaned back against the log. He took his time getting comfortable, letting you squirm before he deigned to finish his sentence. “You really didn’t leave for Vault-Tec?”
You glared at him and shook your head. Why did he still think that? How could he think that? It pissed you off to no end. “Why in God’s name would I do that?” Your tone was indignant. But there was a slightly desperate undertone to it as well. You hated the thought of Cooper genuinely thinking that you had just up and left him one day without a word.
“Well, I don’t know. I looked for you for a while. Eventually I gave up, figured you’d just found someone else to shack up with.”
You were pained that he would think that of you. “How could you say that?”
He chuckled but it wasn’t kind, it was that cruel laugh that made you feel small, like something to be squashed under his boot. “Well, not like we meant a whole lot to each other.”
Your voice was barely above a whisper. Not fully processing what he was trying to say to you. “What?”
It took you by surprise, the hatred in his eyes when he glared at you. “What do you think happened, sweetheart?” You hated the way your old nickname rolled off his tongue. It sounded tainted now, twisted by his cruelty.
“You were at the peak of your career, the sexiest actress of your generation,” he sneered at you, yellowed teeth flashing in the firelight. Your fingers curled into your palms, broken nails digging dully into your cracked skin. His eyes ticked up in interest at your minute shift in behavior. He had always been good at reading people. Except he didn’t used to use that skill so horribly.
He didn’t let up, digging further into you when he noticed your discomfort. “You were a sex symbol, darlin’ and I was freshly divorced. Did you really think any of that was love?” He scoffed and you felt tears pricking at your eyes. “No,” he shook his head and ripped off another piece of jerky, scoffing at you. “You really think I was gonna say no to a pretty young thing like you? You were just a hole to fill, honey. That’s all.”
You felt like you’d been punched in the gut, actually, you’d think you’d prefer that to how you feel right now. It was getting hard to get the air down your throat, you felt like you were suffocating on the smoke from the fire. Winded and you hadn’t even done anything.
Everything, everything, he was saying was perfectly concocted to hurt you as much as fucking possible. He knew how you felt about your place in the world, how desperately you had crawled your way into being seen as something human. You’re sure he’s just saying this to hurt you, to keep you away.
If you were more mature you might even just let it go, realize it was a childish attempt at hurting you and keep going. But this was a man you’d opened up to completely. To take those parts of yourself that he knew were vulnerable and wield them like a weapon against you was something you just couldn’t look past. Especially not after what happened yesterday.
You clenched your eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay and weakly nodded your head. “Alright. You’ve said your piece. You done?”
He nearly frowned, eyes lowering as he gave you an odd look over the fire. He seemed to be expecting something else. Maybe for you to fight back. Well, if that’s what he wanted he was going to be sorely disappointed. He’d just drained the fight out of you with a few measly insults.
After a tense moment of silence he nodded. “Great,” you refused to look at him as you got up and grabbed your pack.
“Where are you going?” he questioned, tone souring as you continued to avoid looking at him.
“Far away from you as I can get,” you muttered, stalking off into the dead trees. You weren’t a complete idiot, you stayed in sight of the fire, but you couldn’t bear to lay so close to him tonight. Not after what he just said to you. Not after you thought you had finally been making progress and he threw that in your face.
“Fine, pout all you want sweetheart, give the radroaches a nice meal!” He shouted at your retreating back. You still kept your head down, hand clutched over your stomach while you tried not to cry. You threw your bag down on the ground, a choked sob slipping through your lips while you sank against a tree.
You felt so stupid! To actually believe that any of the man you loved was left in him had been a fool’s hope. You wiped your eyes harshly, pissed at yourself for crying again. This was the apocalypse, there wasn’t time to cry and moan because the man you loved didn’t love you back.
You’d dealt with that feeling for years when you pined after Cooper. You could deal with it again.
Only, the last time you’d pined like this, you hadn’t actually had a taste of what being with him was really like. Knowing that the whole time you were with him he just saw you as something to pass the time hurt you more than you wanted to admit.
You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he packed away the rest of his food and sank back against the log. He tilted his hat over his eyes and settled in for the night. You turned back around, using the dwindling light of the fire to scope out the forest before you.
Cooper had said it was only a day’s walk to Filly. Go a mile north into the trees and you’d find the signs pointing the way. His cruel words festered bitterly in your stomach and you found yourself on your feet before you could really think about what you were doing.
You crept your way towards the campfire and grabbed one of the burning sticks. Cooper shifted and you stilled, wincing as you waited for him to wake up and question what you were doing. But he just shifted onto his side. You ran back towards your bag and threw it over your shoulder.
You only spared Cooper one last look before you made your way further into the woods. He’d made it clear enough that he wasn’t looking for companionship or friendship. You could respect that, but you weren’t going to tolerate him being a fucking dick to you at every opportunity he got.
If he wanted to see how far he could push you until you reached the edge, he’d done it. You were done trying to cater to his temper. You could make it a day on your own. After that, you’d find something for yourself in Filly, but you were sure as hell done with Cooper Howard.
He was a ghost that should have stayed fucking dead.
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end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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Letters to and from a Soldier
Part of the "Well... aren't you a pretty doll?" Series.
Army Soldier Midoriya Izuku x Secretary Reader
Context: War has separated you and your husband but your hearts forever stay with one another.
Note: Set in the 1940s/1950s
[PART 4] [Well… aren’t you a pretty doll- Masterlist]
To my loving wife,
I pray that you are well. It has been too long since I have seen your face and I think about you of every second of my waking state and for every moment that I close my eyes. Although my heart longs for you, this is no place for you nor any sane man. The front is just as bad as we thought it would be, but we’ve got a tough group of men here.
Sargent has me staying close to him, for strategy is a game of the mind and not of strength, however I wish I could be out there with my brothers in arms. I do know however, that you would much rather have me stay away from conflict, which is the only good settlement I have in my heart.
I am so glad that you said you were well in your last letter. Funny enough, some days I can go an entire two weeks without receiving a letter from you, only to receiver eight letters in bulk a day later. I worried for you. I know it was not long that we were married and living together, and now we are so far apart. I wish for you to be safe, my love. Stay close with your girls and look out for one another.
I am glad Enji is keeping you busy so you don’t have to worry about me too much. You’re a smart woman, doll. I know you can handle whatever that man has in store.
Now I know I ramble off too much. Sargent says I write too many letters and sending off a letter per day is a waste of paper but I can’t help it. Writing to you is the only time my thoughts reach a point of sanity and relief.
Doll, I love you more than words can say and miss you more than the air I breathe.
Fighting hard for you,
Your husband,
Midoriya Izuku
To my darling husband,
Not a single day goes by that I don’t think of you. I know you tell me not to worry, but Izuku, I just can’t help it. It’s hard being so far away from you, knowing where you are and the nightmares you face everyday. I worry that you aren’t getting enough sleep nor enough energy to carry you through. Take care of yourself please, my love. If I can’t be there to take care of you, I need you to do so in my place.
It’s nearly your birthday. I hope my letter came with my little present. It isn’t much but I hope you like it. Its’a handkerchief that I embroidered just for you. I hope it serves you some sort of purpose, I had your mother give me some string to allow me to put it all together for you. She sends her love as well. She’s decided to stay with me and Mina till you all get back, which is much of a relief to me.
I surely have no idea how Mina can do it, but she’s holding on strong. Can you believe she is already six months on? The baby is starting to move and Mina believes it’s a girl. Your mother is giving her a lot of advice and I’m learning everything I can from her. She’s just wonderful for us here. We’re helping some of the other mothers that are here so that they can be strong too. It’s hard now that all of you men are gone, there’s so much to be done and so little of us left to do it but we are holding on strong. We’re making sure your uniforms get to you and so does everything you need.
Mr Todoroki is leaving tomorrow to head to the front to where you are. I convinced him to give you my letters and gift (for the price of some biscuits, which I sincerely hope you get a taste of).
They hit the power stations three nights ago. It’s been dark ever since so I’m writing by candle light at the moment. Our bed doesn’t feel like it should without you here, but I’ll keep it warm for you.
Faithfully waiting,
Your loving wife,
Midoriya Y/N
To my loving wife,
I apologise for my lack of letters that you might not be receiving. We’ve been moved to another part of the country so there was not much time to sit down and write to you, nor to get my letters sent properly. It’s been a tough few days out here. Some of the men are sick with typhoid fever, but luckily we’ve had a rather calm few days. The nurses here are working hard for all of us. Especially for poor Kacchan. He managed to save some of us from a landmine, however it seems as though his hearing has been significantly impaired. I stay by his side every moment I can.
I keep your handkerchief in my breast pocket everyday and look at it as I think of you. I pray that you are well and that you are safe. Sometimes I wonder what monsters created war and why they themselves do not fight in it. However, I am just a soldier, I am just a man, and thus is my duty to defend my country and defend you.
You saved me, my love. I wasn’t able to write to you the past two weeks as I was in recovery too. I got shot at (don’t worry, I am doing well, all limbs attached and all). The bullet just managed to hit the locket instead of me. However, now I am stuck with a rather impressive scar but a broken locket.
Love, I have some reason to believe that you should get Mina, Okaasan and the girls and head out of town to Okinawa. If there is one place I know is safe, it is there. Don’t ask why, don’t hesitate either. I pray you receive this letter before it happens.
Eijiro can’t write at the moment, he injured his hand while trying to hold up some rubble to help some injured soldiers escape, but he sends his love to Mina and the little one inside her. I send my love too.
Please, once you get this, get out of town as fast as you can.
Write me a letter when you’re out.
I hope to see you soon.
Your worried husband,
Midoriya Izuku
To my loving wife,
I heard on the radio about the bomb.
Dear God, I pray you had escaped before then. It has been three weeks since I sent that letter and I still have yet to hear back from you. I can only pray that you are safe. There isn’t much paper left this side, but Sargent said that we’ll receive orders on what next we should do.
I can only imagine how horrifying it must be.
I’ve heard the nukes they use is powerful enough to that our enemies are playing God, however, I doubt God is as cruel.
Eijiro worries for you, Mina and the baby and so do I.
Please write back to me when you receive this.
Your worrying husband,
Midoriya Izuku.
To my darling husband,
I apologise for not being able to write to you. The train down to the coast and the boat trip to Okinawa was one where I could not even sit down to think.
You are a blessing to my life, Izuku. We managed to make it out just in time. It was the night before when we got on the next train down to the coast when we had heard of the bombing near town. Your mother nearly fell in relief. We all managed to get out, thank goodness but I can only pray for the poor souls that didn’t. I think of you everyday and I wish I could accept you into my arms.
I heard we were surrendering. Is it true?
I wouldn’t be surprised, but after all the work you men did these past months, you all deserve to come home.
Tell Eijiro, he should be glad to know that he is now the proud father of a baby girl. She was born just a few days ago. Mina was as tough as can be and the baby is as healthy as a horse. She’s the cutest little thing with big ruby eyes and dark hair. She looks just like Eijiro too. She decided on one of the names Eijiro liked. Yuna. Kirishima Yuna.
Oh she’s the most beautiful little thing in the world Izuku.
I’ve written our new address at the bottom of the letter. The money I managed to save up from your paychecks and savings was more than enough and we still have some savings left too. We’ve got a good little apartment here next to Mina’s. They said it will just be temporary until treaties have been settled, so I wonder where we will go next. Despite everything, I rather do like looking at the sea. I’ve met a few army soldiers that say they’ve met you.
You don’t know how proud I am to be your wife.
I’ll be waiting for you.
Your faithful wife,
Midoriya Y/N
To my darling husband,
I heard you’ll be coming back anyday now!! I sure hope that you’re on the next ship over! I can’t wait to see you!
I’ll be waiting on the docks for you.
Your faithful wife,
Midoriya Y/N
-Glitch1d
#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku x reader#deku x reader#mha x y/n#midoriya x reader#izuku midoriya#izuku midoriya x you#midoriya fluff#izuku midoriya fluff#midoriya izuku#midoriya x y/n#midoriya izuku x you#midoriya izuku x reader
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Talkin' 'Bout My Girl
W.C. - 6.3 k
Warnings: throwing up ig?
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Lucy’s calling, answer me, Lucy’s answer me.
Your phone blasts the annoying ringtone Lucy had created the latest time you’d met her, she’d insisted on having a unique one so that you’d answer all her calls. Spoiler alert: you didn’t answer all her calls.
Groaning loudly as your sleep is interrupted by the older woman calling you, she obviously didn’t think about the fact that you were in a totally different time zone and therefore calling you at 7 in the morning wasn’t a good idea.
“Fucking hell Luce, why’re you calling me at 7 in the fucking morning?” You can hear the way she laughs at your grumpy tone and how she sucks in a breath after a second or two. Well at least one of you was enjoying yourselves.
“Ou, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, did the grumpy wittle baby not get her 8 hours of sleep tonight?” She teases through the phone, the rustling of your sheets as you sit up echoing through the room that’s practically empty, like a hollowed out coconut.
“Actually, since you woke me up at 7, I did in fact barely even get 4 hours since Em dragged me away to a party in Connecticut, got wasted and then made me drive us both home.” This just makes the older woman laugh even more. For some reason, you thought that she’d be a bit more responsible and tell you off for going to a party, but she didn’t.
“Well that’s good then, Em is finally making you go through college the correct way, by going to parties.” You groan loudly as you stretch out the tightness in your limbs, the headache that appears soon goes away just as quickly. The floor is cold beneath your feet as you stand up from the bed, dragging your hand over your face before slapping yourself a few times to really wake up.
“Yeah, the proper college experience or something like that.” Lucy hums at your statement, her usually thoughtless brain quickly reforming to its usual state.
“Mhm, well I’ll call tonight then, don’t sleep too late.” You say goodbye to the defender quickly before she hangs up the phone, venturing into the kitchen to pull open the door of the fridge, substituting a warm cup of bitter coffee for an energy drink.
“You’re going to be my best friend the coming four years, aren't you?” You look at the ice cold can in your hand as you speak, smiling sarcastically as you pop the tab open and take a swig, the weird aftertaste of pure caffeine leaving a streak down your tongue.
“Fucking hell, why do I not have anything at home?” As you look into the empty pantry, you suddenly understand why you should’ve taken Em’s advice earlier in the week, ‘fill your kitchen up like you have a whole family to feed’. Apparently a whole family equaled a drunk Em.
Peeking into the living room, you immediately see Em fast asleep on the couch, half her body hanging off the small piece of furniture like she was some drunk dad in a movie. Her mouth is wide open and the snores escaping from between her lips are just brutal.
Her party clothes from the night before are still donning her body, the dress barely staying intact after a night of tossing and turning to find a comfortable fit on the uncomfortable couch. But at least she’s not throwing up in the bathroom, so that's a plus.
You sigh, the quiet patting of your bare feet hitting the floor reaching your ears, fingers wrapping around the discarded blanket laying on the floor beside her on the floor and pulling it up to cover her body. She shifts underneath it, mumbling incoherently at you.
“Thanks mom.” You giggle at her sleepy presumption and she grumbles before turning her back to you like a moody teenager.
“Not your mum Em, but no problem anyway.” Walking back to the kitchen, you quickly find your phone before going to look for your wallet in your room, the sleek black leather laying on the floor beneath your mattress.
“Okay, just got to swing by the kitchen again then I’m off.” You mumble to yourself, patting your sleep shorts to see that you had everything you needed with you. The old Arsenal shorts from your time in the academy and the brief time you’d spent in the first team were the first things you’d packed for your move to America.
The comfort of home you supposed.
The simple t-shirt you had on was a Harvard one you’d gotten practically the first day on campus, the small ‘sports’ being printed just beneath the massive lettering of Harvard across your chest. It’s still warm enough outside to not need a jacket, you think to yourself, the sun shining brightly in the sky.
Picking up your can when you pass by the kitchen, you quickly make your way towards the door, finding the keys to your car hanging on the small hook meant for jackets. The metal ring you put them on clinks as you pull your keys off the hook, pulling your shoes over your bare feet before you turn the lock with a satisfying click, unlocking the door before disappearing out of it. Your key turns in the lock as you close the door, effectively securing Em inside the apartment.
The nice old lady living in the flat beside your own walks out of her door at the same time you do yours, her kind smile immediately filling you with a comforting warmth, her grandmotherly energy enveloping you fully, almost transforming you back into that little kid who would sit and wait for your gran to read a bedtime story.
“Hello dear, what are you doing up so early?” Her southern accent makes her words almost unintelligible, but you understand them either way, nothing was worse than drunk Em trying to speak. The large Newfoundland dog wagging his tail beside her yaps excitedly as he notices you, his entire body wiggling.
“Oh I’m off to the bakery to get some pastries, Em got really drunk at a party yesterday and I don’t have anything for breakfast, so bread and pastries it is.” She looks amusedly at you, despite only having been neighbours for about two or so weeks, it was like the older woman had seen both you and Em grow up the entirety of your lives.
“Yeah that does sound like Em, don’it.” You laugh along with her, walking closer to pet Bubba who jumped at you as soon as you were close enough for him. “Bubba, no, you know we don’t jump on people.”
Laughing at the gentle giant, your hands soon tangle in his soft fur, giving him a bunch of kisses.
“Oh Mrs. Peters, you know it’s his fault that he gets so excited, he’s just a little baby.” She rolls her eyes fondly at you and her dog, a simple tug of his leash making the fluffy dog go back to his owner. Moving towards the stairs you quickly turn back to ask her;
“Mrs. Peters, do you want anything from the bakery?” She smiles but shakes her head, signaling that she doesn't want anything, before she enters the elevator and disappears from your line of sight.
You hum the tune to the song playing in your headphones as you walk down the stairs quickly, arms nearly tied to your body as you make your way down to the bottom floor of the building. The last step is one you jump over, walking over to the door that opens almost automatically and exiting the building completely.
The rays of the brightly shining sun hit your face as soon as you step out into the warm weather, Frank Ocean’s soft voice floating through your headphones as you walk, the wind blowing onto your exposed arms.
It wasn’t often that people would just walk through the neighbourhood just to appreciate the scenery, to appreciate the nature and the small things that often seemed unimportant when living in such a fast tracked life as you did.
But you couldn’t just ignore the beauty in the simple things, the beauty in the small flowers growing along the road, the beauty in the gravel crunching under your feet as you walked, the warmth of the sun against your skin and the cooling effect of the wind.
It was all so beautiful, the calm and simple beauty.
You could find beauty in everything you saw, if you knew where to look for it, the soft smile on the mother’s face as she watched her toddler climb on the structure, the bird chirping as you pass it by, the old man sitting on a park bench.
The world wasn’t as bad as people thought it was, they just hadn’t looked at it the right way.
The chime of the bell hanging above the door takes you back to only hours before, when you’d been at the diner with the divine girl, Nika. God, she was the embodiment of beauty, Aphrodite reborn as a human.
The local bakery is well known among students, professors and newcomers alike, everyone knows about the bakery with the best pastries in the whole of Boston. Knowing that, it’s not even close to surprising when the line to the register reaches across the room, looking up at the menu of sorts to see what you want to pass the time.
There’s music flowing out the speakers, covering the low sound of people speaking to each other with its instrumental cling. You didn’t mind it though, it made everything just feel more real in a sense, there was no telling why, you don’t even get a chance at trying to figure it out as your phone starts ringing again, though this time it wasn’t Lucy’s voice ringing out, instead it was the infamous song of Arsenal, The Angel aka North London forever.
“Lee, to what do I owe the pleasure of a call? Did Spurs win?” You were both Arsenal through and through, but you always liked to tease her about her being a Spurs fan, the arch rivals of Arsenal being one of the things the older woman hated the most.
“Thank god, they didn’t win. No, I’m just calling to check up on you, ask how you’re settling in and all that.” She tries to be nonchalant in her tone, but having known the blonde for as long as you had, you knew that there was something more to it. Thankfully, the line’s length has barely changed since the second you walked in, so there’s plenty of time to figure out what she’s playing at.
“Leah, what do you really want? I know you as well as you know yourself.” When you hear her sigh you pump your fist in the air triumphantly, getting more than a few judgy looks and glances from the people around you.
“Well, Jordy and I are having a bit of an argument right, and as our unofficial kid we need you to settle this.” You nod before you realize that she can’t see you, quickly replying verbally.
“What’s the arguing about?” She almost cuts you off with the speed at which she responds at, the smallest giggle to her tone giving you the impression that the matter at hand wasn’t as serious as she’d first made it out to be.
“Who do you think Blu loves the most?” Giving it a second before you answer to give the illusion that you actually thought about it, you can almost imagine the smile on her face, thinking that you’re going to back her.
“Neither of you, Blu loves me the most.” Leah lets out an offended gasp at your statement, and you can hear Jordan’s laugh in the back for a second before a playful slap can be heard. On your side of the line, only a giggle can be heard with the simple murmuring of day to day life in the background.
“That’s only because you give him so many treats.” The blonde groans at you, but you just smile smugly in return, not that she could see.
“It sucks to suck doesn’t it, Lee.” The line of people in front of you gets smaller and smaller with every passing minute as people order, with there only being around five or so people in front of you now.
“Well I wouldn’t know much about sucking, right Jord?” When you finally catch on to what she’s insinuating, you gag, not even caring that there are tens of people around you who can hear.
“Ew, I don’t need to know about what you two get up to in your spare time.” The sentence is whispered, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more than you already had. “Listen, I’ve got to go, I’m about to order some pastries for me and Em so I’ll call you back later.”
By now you’re nearly at the front of the line, about to get what you came for. But they didn’t seem to want to end the call, nor the teasing they were putting you through.
“Ooh, does your girlfriend want a sweet breakfast?” If the two could see you they’d guaranteed to be laughing their heads off, the look of pure disgust on your face simply hilarious.
“Em’s not my girlfriend, even the thought of that is just like ew.” You shudder when you think about it, the girl had quickly become one of your closest friends and to even entertain the idea of being with her romantically was just gross.
“So you’re just buying her breakfast platonically?” Rolling your eyes at the conversation, you quickly plaster a smile on your face as you reach the counter.
“Hi, I’d like four croissants and a caramel coffee.” The cashier’s name tag reads ‘Amelie’, the girl looking at you confused as if she doesn’t understand what you’re saying. The women on the other side of the phone snicker and if you weren’t raised the way you were, you would’ve hung up by now.
“A caramel coffee? You mean a caramel macchiato?” She questions dryly, like she really doesn’t enjoy her work.
“Yeah let’s go with that.” You pull out your wallet from your pocket, fishing the card out whilst trying your very hardest to not drop the phone sitting in the space between your head and your shoulder.
“That’ll be 14 dollars.” Blipping your card against the side of the maschine, the transaction goes through without a problem thankfully. You smile at the girl again as she tells you that your order will be ready soon, and as you walk over to sit down at a table you can hear the kissy noises they’re making.
“Did you two just collectively decide not to hear me say ‘me and Em’, the idiot got wasted last night and I don’t have anything at home, courtesy of that drunk idiot. So me being the great friend that I am, decided that it was better to get breakfast than having to deal with a hangry and hungover Em.” You can hear the way they let out sounds of realization, understanding what you mean.
“Hey, why didn’t you bring us treats when we were hungover?” Leah asks, apparently offended that you hadn’t done this for them.
“Well, you two never took me out to parties so I never knew when you were hungover.” Despite them not being able to see it, you shrug absentmindedly, it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t get to go with them.
“Fair enough.”
“Listen, I’ll call you back later, I’ve got to carry everything home and I only have two hands, so.” The two say goodbye before hanging up, and you slip your phone back into your pocket as you walk up to the counter, taking the paper bag with you as you walk out into the warm weather again.
The walk back home is just as peaceful as the walk to the bakery, maybe the usual Boston had decided to take a break for just a day. Well whatever it was, you were thankful for it, your sleep deprived mind couldn’t handle much more than it already had.
When the lock clicks and you open the door, you’re met with the sound of groaning coming from the kitchen. Taking off your shoes at the entrance, you hang your keys back on the designated hook before you move towards the kitchen.
Peeking around the corner and into the kitchen, you quickly find the source of the noise. Because Em was standing in the middle of the room, banging her head against the counter clearly in quite a bit of pain.
Why she was hitting her head against the counter then, you didn’t know, it’s completely irrational. But if that’s what she wanted to do then you’d let her, it wasn’t really any of your business.
“Em? What are you doing?” She looks up at you when she hears your voice, her gaze murderous, her hands in her hair, massaging her head like it was the last thing she’d ever do.
“Oh, grumpy you’re finally home, where have you been and why did you let me drink so much last night?” She groans out from between clenched teeth, your laugh filling the room pitifully within seconds at her words. It is funny after all, it was Em herself who insisted on drinking last night and her suffering the consequences of her actions was hilarious.
“I was out being an amazing friend and getting us both some breakfast.” You place the bag on top of the counter, almost right in front of Em’s face, but when she makes the motion of grabbing the bag and consuming the contents, you snatch it from the counter.
The older girl whines at your actions, her head coming down against the marble countertops again, the repetitive thumping annoying you more than you’d like to admit.
“Listen, I didn’t spend 14 dollars just for you to throw it back up. Off you go, get ready and for god’s sake please do not throw up in my living room.” Putting your hands on the back of her shoulders, you gently lead her all the way out of the room and into your bathroom, sitting her in front of the toilet before going back to the kitchen. “Oh, I talked to Luce earlier, she wants to thank you for making me ‘experience college the right way’.”
Emma lets out a groan that sounds like a hybrid of a hawk getting piped and the death whistle, was getting praised by THE Lucy Bronze really worth the terrible hangover? Only Em could answer that, and she was currently hanging over the seat of your toilet, puking her guts up.
You can hear Em flushing and then moving to the sink, turning the tap on and taking some into her mouth, swirling the water around. Her bare feet slap disturbingly against the wooden floor as she makes her way towards the kitchen, your back turned towards her as she comes up behind you, her arm slinging around your shoulders.
“Wait, Luce? Luce as in Lucy Bronze? Lucy Bronze, the three time Champions League winner?” You shrug at her, turning back around to face the rest of the kitchen with Em hot on your heels.
“Yeah, I mean knowing her is not impressive.” Em’s wide eyes suggest a different story, her hands coming up to lay on your shoulders as she shakes your body back and forth.
“Wait, you know THE Lucy Bronze?” Taking her hands off your shoulders, you push the coffee cup into her free hand and a croissant into her other one. She nods thankfully before she hops up and sits on the counter, the small bag being placed between your bodies as you sit beside her on the counter.
“Did I forget to tell you that? And also why would she call me if we didn’t know each other?” Your eyebrows knit together, thinking back to all the conversations you and Em had over the past two and a half weeks.
“UH yeah, how do you know the best defender in the world?” The brunette girl slaps your shoulder playfully, studying your side profile out the corner of her eye. You look back at her in the exact same way, a small almost unknown smile on your face.
“Our mums knew each other, I’ve known Lucy since I was in diapers. And besides, I wasn’t the only one out here hiding family.” Raising your eyebrows accusingly, the girl beside you gives you a look of perplexion, not understanding what you mean by the statement.
“What do you mean?” She asks, her feet swinging off the edge, nearly smacking against your cabinet doors every time.
“I mean your scary older brother that you never told me about.” You say matter of factly, pointing at her with a ‘you know who I’m talking about’ look. The ‘ahhh’ sound that escapes her lips when she realizes who you’re talking about sounds out through the kitchen, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
“Oh, Cal? Cal’s not scary, he looks like the rat from flushed away. Oh and that reminds me, you have to come with me to this dinner he invited me to next week. No way I’m third wheeling all night long with him and his latest girlfriend.” The snort you let out is involuntary, the American girl’s description of her brother very vivid, and hopefully correct. It wasn’t like you’d seen her brother ever before, so you didn’t actually know what he looked like.
“Yeah sure I’ll help you feel less single, but no hand holding and no pretending to be together.” You look at her pointedly, making your point totally clear, no fake dating, that never turned out right. Em nods her head as she shrugs, as if to tell you ‘fair enough’.
“No way that I’d go out with you anyways, you’re far too grumpy for my liking. Maybe you can set me up with one of your mates in England.” Her hand covers her mouth so that she doesn’t laugh at your horrified expression, clearly you’re disturbed at the mere thought of Boston Tea Party part two happening if they ever broke up.
“One Boston tea party is enough mate, we don’t need another.” The sip of coffee that Em had just taken covers basically the entirety of your kitchen in a single second, the girl beside you spitting it out in surprise. “Em, come on. I’m not cleaning that up just so you know.”
Jumping down from the counter, you nearly slip on Em’s newly spit out coffee, only escaping the sticky mess by a millimeter. Her laughter clings out through the apartment, and Em makes sure to let you know that she’s sorry by telling you through her bouts of laughter.
“Look under the sink, you’ll find what you need under there.” The sound of the cabinet door opening can be heard from where you’re standing in the middle of the living room, picking up all the various things littered around the space.
“Girl, why do you have everything under here except paper towels?” The brunette calls out for you, and you shake your head in amusement at her, there was no way that Em hadn’t thought about looking in any other cabinet than the one she had her head stuck in at the moment.
“Look in the compartment above, see if you’ll find them there.” You get the confirmation that she’s found it when she lets out a short ‘aha’, you can almost imagine the way her head hits the corner of the sink when she gets up, the loud ‘fuck that hurt’ being very telling.
“You okay?” Looking around the wall in the direction of the kitchen, you see Em sticking her hand out, the thumb sticking up telling you that she was fine.
It didn’t take as long as either of you had thought to clean the kitchen up, only a few minutes and even less to clean the mess in the living room. Soon enough, the television was turned on and the two of you were sitting in silence watching the looney tunes.
“Do you think the duck piped the rabbit or is it the other way ‘round?” Em questions, her tone completely serious, as if she wasn’t asking the craziest question ever.
“Uh I don’t think Bugs Bunny piped Daffy Duck.” Looking at her incredulously, she only responds with a shrug, her theory about the two cartoon animals being shot down almost immediately.
“Well they do have sexual tension that’s for sure.” She states matter of factly, pointing at you like you would agree. Spoiler alert: you didn’t agree at all.
“Mate what goes even on in your head?” You ask her, looking at her as if she belonged in a mental institution. Em scratches her head nonchalantly, stretching out her legs and placing her feet in your lap. “Do you not have anywhere to be?”
“Like where?” She asks, her words coming out mumbled as she’s biting her nails, chewing on the bits before she spits them out. When she looks at you she sees the judgemental look on your face, stopping what she’s doing with no real sense of urgency.
“I don’t know, maybe at home? Do you not have like a hundred plants that need to be watered?” She springs up from the couch, running to the entrance where she puts her shoes on before she shouts out a quick ‘bye’ and runs out the house.
“What is she on?” You laugh through the sentence, the pure hilarity and absurdity of most situations involving your newest best friend making you laugh more often than not.
With Em being in and out of your apartment practically every day, the week leading up to the dinner with her brother and his ‘newest’ girlfriend passes by extremely fast, feeling more like a day than a week.
“Em, what am I supposed to wear? Is it like a fancy restaurant or more chill?” You shout from your room, Em changing into her clothes in the living room. The clothing hangers click against each other as you look through the clothes you’d managed to put up over the past few weeks, many different button ups and a few normal t-shirts.
“You’re asking me this 10 minutes before we go?!” She shouts back, surprised that you’re not already finished dressing yourself and getting ready, seeing as you were the first one out the house normally.
“Yeah, I just realized that I never asked you what to wear.” You shrug to no one in particular, seeing as you were the only one present in your room.
“Didn’t your parents take you to a bunch of dinners with their clients?” Em’s voice carries through the walls, especially with the woman coming closer and closer to your door.
“I’ve been to a fair few, but in my defense I’ve always had stylists helping me so putting together outfits isn’t really one of my strong points.” Pulling out a few items of clothing, you hold them up so that they’re almost exclusively in your line of sight, looking to see if they’d match.
“Fair enough, it’s not too fancy, just wear that linen shirt and some of your fancy pants.” She peeks her head into the room, looking at where you’re standing in your jeans, seemingly debating whether to wear the simple white button down or a Harvard t-shirt.
“Trousers?” You raise your eyebrow cheekily at the brunette, a small teasing smile on your face.
“Yeah yeah, you know what I mean.” Emma rolls her eyes at you whilst you place the two articles of clothing back into your closet, the hangers clicking easily against the pole they’re hooked on.
“I do, I just like to annoy you.” Hearing the door click closed, you pull the linen shirt off its hangar and pull it over your head before you unbutton your jeans and pull the ‘fancy pants’ over your legs. Buttoning up the various buttons on the slacks, you quickly tuck your shirt in before opening the door and tapping Em on her head as you pass her.
“Shut up man.” You look back at Em when you reach the entrance, picking out your fanciest pairs of shoes to show her.
“Those look good?” She studies them for a second or two before nodding diligently, pulling on a pair of relatively fancy shoes too.
“They’re better than your beat up sneakers at least.” She shrugs at your offended look, almost telling you that it’s only fair since they are beat up.
“They still have at least two, three years left in them alright. There’s no need for new ones if they work just fine.” For the second time that day, you take your keys off the hook in the hall, letting Em walk out the open door before you so that you can lock everything up.
“Are we finally taking your car?” She asks, seeing the little metal key on your keychain with hers nowhere in sight. Normally you were insistent on taking hers as your baby was almost priceless, a reminder of home that you’d come to love over the past week, seeing as you’d gotten it shortly after signing your first professional contract.
“Yeah, I need to impress your brother, right?” Smirking cheekily over your shoulder, you see Em smiling widely at you as the lock on the door clicks closed, waiting for you to follow her into the elevator.
“Can I-” She starts off, the cool air in the lift making the hair on your arms raise, the skin becoming all prickly like that of a goose.
“No.” You can see the way Em pouts almost like a petulant child through the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest as she glares at you.
“You don’t even know what I was about to ask you.” Raising a single eyebrow at her, you look down at her through the corner of your eye, like you did more often than you were willing to admit.
“No, but I do know you and that’s enough, no one other than me will ever drive my car.” The late afternoon sun glows bright orange like hot coals as the two of you step out into the humid air, the garage not too far away from the building’s entrance. Picking out the right key, you quickly unlock the door before pulling it up, revealing the gorgeous red ‘67 Mustang that Em always wanted you to drive.
The girl in question wolf whistles when she sees the car, a hand coming up to shelter her eyes from the sun beaming into them, moving towards you with slow steps. Walking into the garage, you motion for the other girl to open the door on the passenger side as you plop down into the driver’s seat.
You don’t have to feel around for very long to find the ignition, as you push the clinking keys in, smiling satisfied as the motor revs up loudly. Applying a small amount of pressure to the gaspedal, it’s not long until you’ve navigated your way out of the garage successfully and pulled onto the main road.
Pulling the seat belt over your body as soon as you’ve made it out to the main road, you waste no time in pulling your sunglasses out of their compartment and putting them over your eyes so as to not get completely blinded by the sun.
“Okay, give me the rundown of your brother, likes and dislikes, hobbies, aspirations, all the basic knowledge apart from him looking like the rat from flushed away.” Tapping your fingers against the steering wheel, you peek down at the phone that’s currently giving you directions for the restaurant, the beautiful nature almost mesmerizing.
“His full name is Callum Adam Whitmore, he’s 23 years old and he plays basketball for UConn. He likes sports, hitting on anything that has a pulse, pretending he knows how to play the guitar and pretentiously explaining movies. He dislikes losing, being told no by our parents and me on a few occasions. Hobbies are partying and gaming, aspires to go to the NBA. That’s all.” Em lists, giving you all the information you need to adequately make the assumption that Callum Adam Whitmore is kind of an arse.
“Well he sounds…nice?” There’s no denying how questionable you sound, clearly not believing the words coming out of your own mouth. Em looks at you over the tops of her own glasses, giving you a skeptical look.
“No he doesn’t, he’s an ass and to use the correct terminology, a fuckboy.” Em pushes her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose, turning the knobs on the inbuilt stereo for it to start playing music, ‘My Girl’ by The Temptations flowing softly out the speakers.
“Sing with me grumpy! I’ve got so much honey, the bees envy me, I’ve got a sweeter song, than the birds in the trees.” She sings loudly, her hands gesturing for you to join her in singing as you shake your head, a small smile on your face at her antics. “Come on, sing it man! I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way?”
Finally relenting at the last second possible, you join the older girl in song happily.
“My girl, my girl, my girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl.” Tapping along to the beat just as the last note of the song rings out, you pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, effectively ending the little karaoke session you were participating in.
“Holy shit man, that went so fast.” Em pats your shoulder as you pull into a parking space at the corner of the big parking lot, taking the keys out of the ignition before you fold your sunglasses and place them back into their compartment.
“Perks of having a really fast car.” Waiting from the brunette to step out of the car, you don’t waste a second in locking up the extremely expensive piece of machinery. You take a second to fix your hair in the rear view mirror, even though you don’t really know why, there wasn’t really anyone in that restaurant to impress now that you knew that Em’s brother was a total ass, but your instinct told you to.
“Can you hurry up?” The girl in question asks from her place in front of the restaurant door and you send her a sarcastic smile in response, half running half walking up to her.
She doesn’t say anything as she pushes the door open, in fact she doesn’t say anything until you two reach the hostess stand where she tells the worker the name of the reservation.
As the worker leads the two of you over to the table there’s a million different thoughts running through your head, why were you nervous? Why did it feel like your stomach was about to explode? Why were there so many tables in the restaurant?
You only really tune back into the real world around you when Em pinches your side, her head turned towards a table with a man sitting alone, presumably her brother. The man stands up and walks around the table to reach your side, bringing your friend into a familial embrace, before he turns to you and sticks his hand out.
There’s no avoiding the sense of deja vu you get from the action, remembering the girl from the party almost a week ago who’d done the exact same thing, but then again it was the most common form of introducing yourself.
“Cal Whitmore.” His voice is on the deeper side, not Darth Vader deep but definitely on the deeper side of the spectrum. His calloused hand grips onto yours in a confident handshake, fingers gripping onto yours harder than needed, which fits the cocky description Em had put forth.
“Y/n Y/l/n.” You smile staley at him, the man moving back to his side of the table as you pull out the chair for the girl beside you, only sitting down when she’s settled.
“So, where’s your darling date Cal?” Em asks her older brother teasingly, looking around the restaurant like she’d appear just out of anywhere.
“Calm yourself Em, she went to wash her hands.” He leans back in his chair cockily, his eyes glued to the backside of one of the waitresses passing by like some horny teenage boy.
“You know what, he does kind of look like the rat from Flushed Away.” You lean in closer to Em as you whisper, studying the man’s face carefully and noticing increasing similarities between the stopmotion rat and the tall man.
“Em, what the fuck, have you been telling people that I look like the rat from Flushed Away again? I don’t look like the fucking rat from Flushed Away, stop telling people that.” He looks at the girl beside you in disappointment, his thin lips turning down quickly. Well that was until a sweet voice cut in, a soft hand with fingers adorned with rings placed on his shoulder, moving down to his chest softly.
“What has she done now?” That accented voice was familiar, and as your eyes trail up from the stranger's hand to her chest and then lastly to her face you soon realize why it was so damn familiar. The careful upwards tug of her lips to the slight curls of her hair and the furrow in her brow, there was no denying that the girl standing before you was someone you recognized.
Fucking hell, you’d just taken your best friend’s brother’s girlfriend out on a date a mere week before meeting him officially. You were officially fucked.
#woso#woso x reader#lionesses#barcelona femeni#woso imagines#leah williamson x reader#lucy bronze x reader#lucy bronze#nika muhl x reader#nika muhl#uconn wbb#wbb x reader#10/10 series
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Wake Me Up - Part 2
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader
Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.
AN: Thank you so much for your lovely responses on Part 1! Last week's angst was very physical. Now let's get into emotional...
Song Inspo: “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers.
Word Count: 6.4K
Tags/Warnings: Angst, PSTD, hurt/comfort, medical trauma and injuries…and a bit of Nurse Benjamin? lol
💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist
Part 2: “All in Your Eyes”
At first, it was all shapeless color.
It felt like a small eternity before your vision cleared, and you dimly became aware of being in a hospital room. Your steady heartbeat clipped away on the monitor.
You had an IV in your hand and wires suction-cupped to your chest. Your raggedy clothes had been replaced with a blue paper gown, hidden under the blankets keeping you warm.
It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well-trimmed.
His head soon rose, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”
You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.
“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.
His green eyes went blank for a moment. His hand fell from your cheek.
Then he chuckled in disbelief.
“Eyes are barely open, and already you’re fucking around,” he said.
That confused you even more. You were saved from answering, however, when there came a knock at the door. A blonde young woman peeked in. She brightened with a shocked, but happy smile when she saw you were awake.
“Hey! Oh my God, you’re awake,” she whispered in excitement. She went to your bed on the other side and picked up your hand. It took you a moment to remember her name, but you did recognize her.
“A-Annie? What…what happened?” you asked. You didn’t recognize the roughness in your own voice.
Annie shared a sobered look with the man sitting beside you, and she looked down at you again.
“Oh, hun. What do you remember?” she said.
You tried hard to think…but you couldn’t. It was all blurry and muddled in your mind.
Then, it was incredibly painful. A sharp, piercing pain that permeated through your skull and rattled down your spine, waking up the rest of your body in the worst of ways.
You whimpered, and the monitor began to beep more incessantly as your heart rate began to climb. You uttered a cry of pain while you held your aching head. You felt the gauze wrapped across your temples, forehead, and under your chin, half-covering your face.
The man turned to Annie with an angry frown.
“Get the goddamn doctor!” he snapped. But he reached for your closest hand and held it gently. He met your tearful eyes. Part of him didn’t know quite how to comfort you though. His eyes flit over your pained face, the way you were gripping your head with one hand.
He brushed his thumb over the one he held.
“…It’s okay, I got you,” he said eventually. “Just breathe.”
You couldn’t respond. There was too much pain, too much confusion. The last thing you saw was the worry in his eyes, before your head fell back against your pillow.
Your world faded away once again.
Dr. Helen Jeong, the neurologist Grace hired specifically to attend you, had been with you for a while. When she came out, Ben, Annie, your mother Marie, your sister Louisa, and the rest of the team (except for Butcher) were in the waiting room. All of them wanted to hear how you were doing, as well as the doctor’s prognosis.
Ben stood with his arms crossed, and Marie and Louisa followed suit. Technically, Marie was your next of kin, considering you and Ben weren’t married. She was close to tears again, but Louisa was supporting her.
“She’ll need a few more tests to confirm, but it looks like dissociative amnesia,” said Dr. Jeong. “It could be selective. Meaning, she remembers parts of her life, but not others, specifically tied to the past few days and the past year.”
“And me,” said Ben. He was frowning angrily. “Why doesn’t she remember me?”
She gave him a patient look.
“Her skull is fractured, but she’s also gone through an emotional trauma, as well as a physical one," she said. "The memories she’s lost are likely linked to that trauma, and so, her brain is trying to block out anything related to that painful time. It’s the body’s way of coping.”
Somehow, that explanation didn’t make it any better. Something dark and unfamiliar had been churning in Ben’s gut for days, but now he was forced to reckon with it.
It was guilt, and it was eating at his insides, clawing up to his throat. He covered it up with a hot layer of anger.
“Aside from time to heal from her injuries, it’s important that she be taken care of in a familiar, low-stress environment,” said Dr. Jeong. She aimed that last bit at Ben.
“How long until she’s better?” Louisa asked. “Will her memories come back at all?”
Ben shot her a dark look for even asking that question, but the doctor bobbed her head.
“It may take a while. Weeks, or even months, but have patience with her. As she heals, and with therapy, her memories should come back eventually,” she said. She gave Ben in particular a more reassuring glance.
He wasn’t interested in being reassured. He wanted results.
The doctor moved on so she could schedule an MRI for you, among other tests. Annie went over and laid a tentative hand on Ben’s arm. He glared at her touch and slid his gaze over to her.
“Look, we’re here for her…and for you,” she said. Even though she withdrew her hand, she looked sincere. “Whatever she needs, just let us know.”
Hughie was just behind her with a sympathetic look of agreement. M.M., Kimiko, and Frenchie were quietly supportive, if somber. You’d recognized Annie and Hughie earlier, but the others were strangers to you as well—likely because you’d met the other two at Supe Affairs, before you took on one fateful mission that would lead you to Ben. And him to you.
He let out a breath and gave Annie a minimal nod.
She smiled a little, and she and Hughie went back into your room to say goodbye for now. They promised to come back and visit, along with the others.
Meanwhile, Marie and Louisa were talking quietly. Ben’s ears perked up to it.
“I think she should come stay with you, Mom, until she’s better,” Louisa said.
When Ben heard that, he approached them. His darker frown was back in place.
“She’s coming home with me,” he said, in a tone that boded no argument. He should have remembered that your sister was too much like you sometimes. Fucking stubborn.
“If she doesn’t know you, she’s not going to be comfortable with you,” Louisa pointed out.
Marie gave her daughter a look, one that said she could’ve had a little more tact there.
“The best way for her to get her memories back is for her to stay with me, in a familiar place. In her home,” Ben said, his voice terse and shoulders tense.
“But trying to remember is hurting her,” Louisa said. “She needs to heal from her injuries first. And oh, how about this? No one will even tell us how the hell this happened in the first place!”
Ben’s frown deepened. Your younger sister had been warming up to him a bit more since the Christmas holiday you all spent together last month, but it seemed she was just as protective of you as you were of her.
Fine. Ben understood it, but Louisa was just a college student, not even old enough to order a fucking beer. He wouldn’t have this little girl telling him what was best for you.
However, as he glanced at your mother, he also couldn’t bring himself to answer Louisa’s non-question. At least, not with the whole truth.
“It was retaliation,” he replied, “for a supe we put away a while back.”
Louisa sighed heavily. Her lower lip trembled as tears welled up in her eyes, and she bit her lip and shared a look with her mother.
“Why did they want her though?” Louisa asked Ben, sniffling.
He held the tremor of unease deep inside, and he thought fast.
“He had connections in the CIA. She was the only part of the team here at the base, so he singled her out,” he said. The lie rolled off his tongue without much effort, even though part of it did add to the dark churning in his gut. His gaze fell beyond them.
“All of this is a moot fucking point,” he said. “All she needs is my blood, and she’ll be just fine.”
Louisa wiped under her wet eyes and scoffed.
“You think she’s going to accept a blood transfusion from a supe? Look, I’m sorry, but she’s not the person you know right now—”
“All the more reason to fix this sack of bullshit,” Ben snapped.
He turned on his heel and headed for your room. By now, Annie, Hughie, and the rest of them had cleared out. You were dozing, it seemed, but your eyes opened when Ben thundered in, followed closely by Marie and Louisa.
“Ben,” Louisa warned.
“What’s going on?” you asked weakly.
Ben shook his head and went to your bedside. He took up your hand and didn’t notice (or ignored) the apprehension in your eyes.
“Look, I know you think you don’t know me. You’ve been through…a lot,” he said. He paused when he considered the hell you’d probably endured the past few days. His gut began to roil again, but he pushed forward.
“Last year, you got hurt. Bad enough that you were going to need surgery,” he explained. “But I gave you some of my blood, and you healed right up. I’m gonna do the same for you now.”
You saw that he was serious, that he probably believed he was telling the truth. You just didn’t know this man—this supe that they’d told you was actually Soldier Boy. Instinctively you tried to pull your hand out of his grasp.
“No thanks,” you said, trying to hide your nerves. “I think I’m good healing on my own.”
Ben frowned. He held your hand a fraction tighter.
“Look—”
“No, you look,” you said in frustration, and a frisson of wariness. “I know you think I’m your…girlfriend or life partner or whatever the fuck, but I don’t know you.”
Just as the words left your lips, something sharp and painful flashed in your skull.
You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.
“But you do. You fucking know me!” Ben insisted. His grip on your hand tightened enough to make you flinch, a whimper sounding in your throat.
“Hey!” Louisa snapped at him.
“Ben,” Marie said, more gently, but not without urgency.
He realized what he was doing, and he forced himself to relax his grip. He watched you take your hand back and look at him like he was some kind of animal. He also realized then that you were scared. Scared of him.
Fuck me…
By degrees, he relented. Heaving a sigh, he carded a hand through his hair and gave a short nod.
“All right,” he said, and he met your eyes. “I’m, uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He held your wary gaze until you nodded in acceptance. He took in your face, bruised, and still stained pink from the blood that had been cleaned away with antiseptic wipes. Your neck, arms, and chest were the same; your other wounds were stitched up and bandaged.
According to the first doctor who evaluated you after you came out of emergency surgery (Ben had already forgotten the broad’s name), you’d also sustained broken ribs and a fractured cheekbone, aside from your other injuries.
“And…what about the rest of it?” Ben had asked. He spoke alone with the doctor, just outside your room. Marie and Louisa were in there with you now in the ICU.
The doctor shook her head, offering a look of professional reassurance.
“No. There’s no evidence of sexual trauma,” she said.
Ben took that information in with a nod. Inside his chest, however, the clenching around his heart eased a great deal.
But even with that relief, just your battered face, and the way you were looking at him now…it was all too much.
Ben ignored the voice deep inside that said this was what he deserved.
He stood up, and he left you with your family.
While Louisa had to go back to her dorm for school tomorrow, Marie stayed with you that night. You zoned in and out while New Girl played on the little TV on the wall.
Marie caressed your hair gently, though she was mindful of the way most of your head was wrapped after surgery to fix your skull. If only they could fix your mind too.
“That man…” you trailed. “Um, Soldier Boy. All that crazy shit he was saying…was it true?”
Marie gave you a look for your use of language, but she nodded gravely, and with sadness.
“Yes, Ben was telling the truth,” she said. “He’s the one who saved you. Believe me, he’s very upset that you’re hurt like this.”
You tried to process that as you frowned in contemplation. He’d certainly been…pushy. And determined, like he could actually heal you.
It didn’t matter though. You weren’t about to let a supe feed you his blood like a damn vampire, or whatever Compound V-tainted shit he tried to give you. You weren’t Bella Swan, and this wasn’t fucking Twilight.
“Ben” was rough, and demanding, and gave off a real assholish exterior. Just before he left, though, you also saw his upset. He had taken in your injuries like he was angry, just at the state of you. Like he was mad that he hadn’t been able to prevent it.
“I guess he went home,” you said. Marie shook her head.
“No, he’s still here.”
Your brows knitted together. “What?”
“He���s in the waiting room downstairs,” she explained. “Grace made sure he had a special pass so he could stay with us in the hospital, just in case…”
“In case of what?” you asked. Marie smiled and continued to brush your hair back.
“In case we need him,” she said. “For protection, he said.”
Her eyes shone with sadness again, like she knew something you didn’t. It made you suspicious, but you were surprised that he was still here, despite what you’d said to him.
…Huh, you thought.
Thanks to the (fucking awesome) power of morphine, you fell asleep shortly after.
A week later, you were still recovering in the hospital. The shitty fact of it was, between the medication for your injuries and the risk of pulling your stitches, you could barely move. Dr. Burke was pleased that you at least had feeling in your extremities. One of her main concerns for you had been mobility issues.
Well, you still had to use a bedpan, and sometimes you missed your mouth when you ate pudding, but at least you could feel your feet.
Marie took the whole work week off from her job in order to stay with you. Louisa visited you every day she could after her classes, but she had a recital coming up, and you didn’t want her to lose focus. You encouraged her to only come if and when she finished getting in all the practice she needed.
And Ben…well, he came often. Mostly when you were sleeping. And every time you woke up, you saw something new from him: a beautiful bouquet of flowers, imported chocolates, a snack from the deli down the street from the hospital, a good breakfast from your favorite café in the city, or even several orders of takeout for you, him, and Marie.
You also noticed how your mother doted on him almost as much as she did on you, offering to grab him cups of coffee, or laying her blanket over him while he napped in the big lounge chair close to your bedside.
The guy just refused to leave. So you didn’t say anything about it. You just watched him whenever you were lucid enough to notice he was there.
As it became easier for you to stay awake, and to observe his quiet, but solid presence, the more your wariness of Ben bled away.
You soon began to realize that you were curious about him. If you really had been with him before, how had you two met? And what had made you get with a supe, let alone the original supe Vought ever introduced to America?
You considered him now while he dozed in that uncomfortable looking chair. His brown locks had once again swept over his brows, almost obscuring his eyes. Part of you itched to lean over and brush it all away from his face. If only you were close enough.
You could admit, if just within the safety of your mind, that he was a damn fine specimen of a man. Between the cut of that bearded jaw, the broadness of his arms and chest, the length of those widespread legs…
“Keep staring at me and you’ll wear a damn hole in my face,” he muttered.
You inhaled sharply, and his eyes cracked open. A small smirk raised his lips in amusement. You smiled as well, more in embarrassment at being caught.
Ben let out a long breath and rolled the cracks out of his neck, confirming your assumption that the chair was even more uncomfortable than it looked. You felt a bit bad for him, that he was putting himself through all that for your sake…for someone who didn’t remember him.
He turned to you in askance. “How’re you holding up?”
You shrugged.
“Okay. Pain meds are finally kicking in, at least for the hour.”
He nodded, dragging a hand over his beard. He knew that you’d eaten lunch with your second dose of the day not too long ago.
“You still hungry?” he asked. “I don’t know how they could give you that shit. What was that, some poor fucking excuse for baby food?”
“Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant,” you agreed, but the doctor had requested something you could easily digest, with all the medication you were on.
Ben shook his head and rocked onto his feet. He’d get you a candy bar or something. He knew Twix was your favorite.
“Um…Ben,” you said, halting his steps. He turned to you with a raise of his brows. You pointed over to the folded quilt at the foot of your bed. Your mom had brought it from home.
“Would you give me that blanket over there?” you asked. “I’m a little cold.”
You’d get it yourself, but it pained you to fold yourself over. Ben was gracious enough to go over and get the blanket for you. He even opened it up and covered your body up to your chest. His face was stoic, more or less, but there was care in his hands. You found yourself staring up at his face. He leaned against the guardrail of your bed and met your eyes.
“Thank you,” you said, in a near whisper. “And, um…my water?”
You pointed to the plastic cup and jug on the rolling tray to his left. He shot you a look, but he did as you asked, pouring some fresh water into the cup and handing it to you. His fingers brushed with yours on the pass, but you tried not to focus on the warmth of his hand. Instead, you took a few sips from the cup and handed it back to him. He set it back on the tray for you.
“What’d I do to get the hot nurse?” you couldn’t help but tease.
Ben’s brows rose again, somewhat incredulous this time. Then, he was unable to restrain a cocky smile.
“Hmm, I’m a let that one go, since you’re laid up,” he said.
His gaze roamed your face. He noted that your purplish bruises were easing up somewhat, to green and yellow. Your lacerations were beginning to heal. And before, where there had been wariness, he now saw curiosity in your eyes.
“Can I ask you something?” you drew enough courage to ask.
His lips twitching to one corner, he lowered the guardrail and sat down on the edge of your bed. He gave you an expectant look. You sucked in a breath to steel yourself.
“How long have we been a…a thing?” you asked, pointing between the both of you.
Ben quirked a brow. “About a year now.”
You nodded, though your eyes were wide in surprise. You actually began to blush.
Ben smirked. He reached for the phone in his pocket and handed it over to you, after scrolling to find his photo album.
“Does that look like we don’t know each other?” he asked.
You shot him a wry glance, but you took the phone and started looking through the album. Many of the pictures that featured both of you looked like ones you’d taken, just from the angle. One picture was rather innocuous of him sitting on a couch, presumably watching TV, while you rested on his shoulder and smiled at the camera. His arm was wrapped around your waist.
Another was of you glaring at him in surprise, mid-bite on a large chili hot dog. He wore a Cheshire grin while leaning in close to your cheek.
There were several more than you flipped through, but each one made you sting with the unfamiliarity of it all. You couldn’t remember any of this, but it was undeniable what you and Ben were to each other.
Then you happened on a picture of just you, fresh out of the shower with a towel barely wrapped around you. You looked annoyed, but by the evidence of your smile, also amused that he’d surprised you with the picture.
Your blush intensified as you scrolled past that one. Then you encountered more pictures of you and him, each position filled with more bare flesh—and even more compromising than the next. You refused to press play on any of the videos.
“Oookay,” you said with a full flush heating your face and neck, and the tips of your ears. You minimized the album and all but tossed the phone back at him.
Ben’s smirk had deepened the longer he watched you peruse through the pictures. Now he chuckled and pocketed his phone.
“Like what you see, huh, sweetheart?” he couldn’t help but tease.
Frankly, you were adorable, getting all embarrassed, crossing your arms and pulling the blanket up to your neck. You shot him a look of warning.
What, you could eye him like a honey-glazed ham, flirt with him even, but you couldn’t take a little on the return side?
Ben chuckled some more and reached for your hand, to uncross your arms. You allowed it with a thinly veiled wariness. You weren’t afraid of him…anymore. But that didn’t mean there was no reason to keep your guard up around this guy.
Meanwhile, Ben actually struggled to figure out what he wanted to say to you. Something that wouldn’t put you off, or come off too strong. This was just too fucking strange…
He met your gaze with a heavy exhale.
“You’re going to be let out of here soon enough,” he said. “You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m not gonna hurt you. Matter of fact, I saved you.”
I’ve saved you more times than I can fucking count at this point, he thought wryly.
You stared back at him in contemplation. He sensed you were listening, really trying to hear him.
“You do care about me, don’t you?” you asked, almost in wonder.
Ben didn’t answer you right away. Your question took him off guard a bit, but he also found himself meeting your gaze.
“I think that’s pretty fucking obvious,” he said. You frowned at him then.
“Not entirely," you said. "Not if you don’t say it, Romeo.”
Ben stilled. Against his will, he remembered the last real words he’d said to you before this nightmare began.
“I love you,” you’d said. He could hear your pretty smile through the phone. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”
“Mhmm,” Ben replied, smiling himself. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”
He could also hear your disappointment, there in your brief silence.
“Come on, say it,” you implored.
Ben restrained a sigh. He cast a subtle look from the corner of his eye, watching Butcher, M.M., and Kimiko loading the car with their weapons, along with the supe they’d captured. They were all too close for comfort.
“Say what?” Ben asked, feigning ignorance. Your sigh reached him, stinging him.
“You know exactly what,” you replied.
He knew what you wanted, but he still didn’t give it to you.
He didn’t allow himself.
Now, he brushed a thumb over the back of your hand, and he sighed. Sometimes, regret weighed just as bad as guilt, even if you couldn’t admit to either one.
His gaze now slid up to yours.
“Well, I do… I care about you,” Ben said.
You’re fucking mine, his selfish heart added. He just didn’t think you’d react well to that admission.
“What do you say about coming home with me?” he asked. “I think being around all your stuff will help you…get better.”
You debated his proposition, and you realized his idea made sense. If this man was really your boyfriend, and you’d been living with him for a year…then maybe you could trust him.
Just not entirely.
“I want my mom to come too,” you said.
Ben smiled. It was a small, but true smile, and it took you by surprise. But you only felt your face getting warm again when he pressed his lips to the back of your hand.
“Yeah, she can come help me take care of you, ‘til you’re feeling better,” he said.
You regarded him for a moment, still wondering if you could trust him. The longer you stared into his eyes, the more you found yourself relenting.
“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll go with you.”
After you were finally discharged from the hospital, Ben drove you and Marie out of the city to his apartment in Scarsdale. Technically, it was your apartment too.
He promised that it had been fitted with a much better security system, now with motion cameras around the apartment, and sensors on the roof. (You didn’t know that Hughie would have to explain to Ben how all that shit worked on his phone.)
The apartment itself was familiar to you, but it felt fuzzy in your mind. Like you had a dream of being here, living a life that wasn’t yours.
Thanks to the stairs, Ben left your bags at the foot of them, before he carefully maneuvered you into his arms without pressing on any of your stitches. You sucked in a shaky breath and held onto his shoulders, squeezing your eyes tight for a moment as the movement jostled your sense of equilibrium.
“You okay?” he asked. You blinked your eyes open and met his. His brows were furrowed in concern, but it was the intensity of his eyes that stole your breath. Part of you wanted to smile, half out of nerves, but you tempered it.
“Peachy,” you replied.
His lips twitched. He then moved carefully up the stairs.
He set you back down on your feet once he reached the top, at your insistence. Marie came in from behind with her suitcase and your forearm crutch, but Ben still kept a supporting arm around your waist.
“I’ve got it,” you told him, a bit nervous and hasty to escape his hold.
He released you, and reluctantly watched you head further into the apartment on your own two feet (and crutch). You wandered into each room like you were looking for a damn portal into Narnia.
It was hard for Ben to watch you like this. With a sigh, he went back downstairs to grab the rest of your things. He set them down in the living room while you ambled off into the guest room. Marie touched his arm in comfort.
“It’ll be okay, honey,” she said.
She’d developed a soft spot for Ben not too long after meeting him. And though he’d never admitted it, the sentiment was reciprocated.
He didn’t answer her, but after a moment, he nodded. She rubbed his arm with a faint smile and went to check on you.
Marie soon found you in the office you and Ben shared. It didn’t look like he used this room often, while your desk was covered in papers and files. It did, however, smell like his cologne in here.
Or, well, the scent was masculine and woodsy—like sandalwood and spice (and a hint of weed, as evidenced from the ashtray on his desk). You had to assume the scent belonged to him, even though you didn’t think he’d worn cologne at all in the hospital. Or maybe you just inherently recognized it as his.
Huh. Smell is the strongest sense, you mused to yourself.
The thought of you remembering anything at all from what you’d lost had you the slightest bit excited, and nervous. Dr. Jeong said you’d been through a terrible trauma. The evidence of it now littered your body and had nearly broken you. So you were fairly certain that there were things you didn’t want to remember.
The touch of your mother’s hand on your shoulder had you jolting. You breathed in relief when you saw her. Her eyes widened and she held up placating hands.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said. “You okay?”
You nodded, though you continued to take in your surroundings with a small frown. She helped you sit in one of the office chairs, as your strength was already waning.
“It seems like everything he said was true. It’s just…it’s a lot,” you said.
“Of course it is,” said Marie. “But if it helps, you seemed very happy here. You were just glowing all night with him at the Christmas party.”
Great, yet another event that was entirely blank in your mind. If you couldn’t remember celebrating your favorite holiday, then what was the point? You huffed.
“I just find it hard to believe that I’d end up with a supe,” you admitted. You worked at Supe Affairs for God’s sake.
Marie only laughed and rubbed your back.
“Well, you found a good one,” she said.
A good one, huh? you shook your head in true wonder.
Now that was food for thought.
When you first arrived, Ben had led you to the master bedroom and said it was your room. So why the fuck was he climbing into bed with you?
“Excuse me,” you frowned at him, drawing the blankets closer over your body. You only had on a large shirt over your underwear. It was how you preferred to dress for bed, and it was easier than pulling a pair of shorts over the healing scars on your legs.
Ben had on a gray shirt and some plaid pajama pants. He’d shucked off his old man loafers before making the right side of the bed dip with his weight. He raised a brow at you.
“What?” he asked.
“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.
“Going to bed, sweetheart. Been a long fucking week,” he retorted.
“I thought this was my bed,” you said.
“It’s our bed,” he corrected. He grabbed the edge of the blanket to pull some of it towards him, but you pulled it tighter against you.
“Look,” you said flatly. “I agreed to come here and stay with you, but I didn’t agree to this kind of close quarters.”
Ben stared back at you in annoyance and willed his temper not to snap. So fucking what if he shared the bed with you? It was a California king. The odds of your bodies even touching were slim to none.
However, he saw that stubborn look in your eyes. It was all too familiar.
Christ on a cross. He forgot how goddamn difficult you were in the beginning.
And really, you two were at the beginning, all over again. He’d gotten you to trust him, slightly, but he knew the rest would take time.
Is this really fucking worth it? came an insidious thought deep inside. The selfish part that had ruled for most of his life.
Then, he spied the silver Rolex on his nightstand—the one you’d gifted him for Christmas, along with the photo album that you’d put together for him. It included the only pictures he kept of his mother, and new ones you’d made with him. They were pictures you’d collected and captured of your life together so far.
With a deep sigh, Ben wordlessly got out of bed. He grabbed up his pillow and a throw blanket that had slid to the floor, and he made his way to the living room. Marie was taking up the only guest bedroom, so he supposed he was relegated to the couch in his own home. How the fuck did that happen?
He sat down heavily in the middle of the couch and had to take some deep breaths. His head slowly fell into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. With both hands, he tried to rub the exhaustion and frustration from his face.
There were words he couldn’t say. However, within the safety of his mind, he was forced to reckon with it.
This was his fault. He knew it, down to his bones.
It was all really his fucking fault.
He should’ve gotten you a protective security detail from the beginning. He just didn’t think anyone would have the balls to…
Ben breathed past the tightness in his chest that was once again clawing at his throat.
Well, this fucking blows like a cheap whore, he thought.
And as you might expect, he slept fitfully that night.
The next morning, you winced at the ache in your head that was now customary for you. You had practically drowned in this giant-ass bed, but the reality was, you’d barely slept. You just couldn’t get comfortable enough to stay asleep.
You didn’t know if it was because it was an unfamiliar place, or because you now had a lower dose of pain meds than you’d been given in the hospital, or if it was because there was just something missing here.
You sighed and hauled yourself out of bed to freshen up. Really, you should’ve waited for your mother or Ben to help you out of bed, but you weren’t used to being incapacitated like this. And even when you were down, it had been ingrained in you (through your father’s special brand of “parenting”) to play through the pain.
So you grabbed your crutch from beside the bed, and somehow you managed to make it to the bathroom by yourself.
After dressing in sweatpants, a bra, and a tank top, you padded out into the hall. Your mom was still sleeping, but you found Ben in the living room.
He was sprawled out across the couch. Half the covers had slipped off his body and pooled on the floor. Again, you tried not to admire the length and broadness of his form, and the way that shirt stretched across his chest and arms.
His arm was curled across his closed eyes, but he lowered it when he heard you approaching.
His eyes were a bit red and bleary. It didn’t look like he’d slept very well either. You felt bad for that, as you leaned on the back of the couch to greet him.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you teased him a little. “You slept like shit out here, didn’t you?”
“What was your first damn clue?” he groused. You had a feeling he was grumpy in the morning, regardless of how well he slept.
“Okay, I’m sorry about that,” you said. Even though you had every right to sleep alone, you still felt bad for making him sleep out here. “How about I make us some coffee?”
He nodded with a grunt. You smiled and teetered only slightly on your way to the kitchen. Ben frowned as he realized it.
“You shouldn’t be walking around like that yet,” he called after you.
He forced himself to get off the couch, rolling to his feet. You shot him a stubborn look.
“I’m fine,” you said.
Ben’s frown deepened with annoyance.
…Right. Okay, you weren’t exactly fine.
You were still exhausted. Still felt like utter crap, as stiffness pulled at your muscles and pain at your stitches and broken ribs. And, oh yes, your head was still broken.
But, this was the most mobile you’d been in a few weeks. You were determined to do at least one normal, productive thing today. Even if it was just making coffee, then you were going to count that as a win.
By the time Ben joined you, the coffee was done percolating and you handed him a mug. He took a sip before he remembered to tell you…no cream.
He looked into the mug in wonder. You’d actually made his coffee with sugar, no cream. Just like he liked it.
Noticing the look on his face, you paused.
“Oh, sorry. I forgot to ask how you take it.”
“No,” he said, sitting across from you at the breakfast bar. “It’s just right.”
You blinked in surprise, but then you shrugged and sipped at your own cup of coffee, which had both cream and sugar. While you were preoccupied with brainstorming where to order in for breakfast, Ben allowed himself to smile a little.
You were in there, somewhere.
He just needed to help you come out.
AN: See? I promise, there's hope. 💚
(But there's also still drama ahead...)
Next Time:
“We’re not gonna have this discussion again. You need to fucking eat,” he said. “I could feed you, though I promise you’re not gonna like it.”
His surly, frowning face was annoying you. His deep voice was annoying you. His tall, ridiculous wall-of-man body in your line of vision was annoying you, clothed in a rumpled shirt and the sweatpants he’d slept in.
Everything about him annoyed you right now.
But that could also have something to do with the pounding ache in the back of your skull, radiating forward and between your eyes.
“Bro, I’m on like, three kinds of medication,” you replied in weary irritation. “With what appetite do you expect me to eat?”
Bro? His eyebrow twitched.
Ko-Fi Me ☕
Break Me Down Masterlist
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BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):
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Choices
I'm currently in the middle of flying overseas for my schl's exchange trip and yes I typed this all out whilst turbulence was crazy it was not a fun experience.
Summary: You and Astarion talk the night before you confront Cazador
"I thought you did your brooding in your tent."
"Sometimes, my dear, a change of scenery is good for brooding." He looks up at you, shifting to the right a little. You sit down in the spot created, legs dangling over the edge just like his. His shoulder gently brushes against yours as he turns his gaze back to the sprawling city that is Baldur's Gate. You follow the direction of his gaze, taking in the flickering lights of the city at night and breathe in the crisp cool air.
"So, what's the brooding about on this fine night?" You turn to look at him, admiring the way his curls gently sway in the breeze, the way the moonlight highlights the silver of his hair. He was always beautiful, elegant, handsome, all at the same time, with that hint of sorrow in his ruby red eyes. The same pair of eyes shift to rest on you, taking in your splendour and searches for a way to put his thoughts into words. He isn't even sure what the brooding is about today, all he knows is that he wanted some time away from camp, away from the rest of the party and their energy so that he can take in what will happen tomorrow. He wasn't expecting any company, the others knew better than to disturb him but yours is a welcomed one, lest his thoughts drown him.
"Everything, I suppose." He hums, turning back to look at the city again. It's been a while since he's set foot in those streets, and the last time he was here he was a slave to Cazador, prowling the streets at night for naive prey. Now he's back, free from Cazador's control, free to walk in the same streets in the sun, free to do whatever he wanted. He couldn't be forced to bow to someone else's whims, he was his own person and could choose his own path, as you had told him many times over. Sometimes, he still struggles to comprehend that, he's been a slave for so long that thinking about himself is something long lost to him, but you're patient, catching him when he falls along the way, never demanding anything of him.
"It's been a while since we were last here." You nod. "It is a lot to take in, so many things have changed."
"Everything has changed." He whispers, but you catch his words. Resting your hand on top of his, you give it a gentle squeeze followed by a soft smile of reassurance, the silent promise reaffirmed. He blinks, slowly, and returns the smile, a smile he only ever shows you. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Neither would I." You agree. "I like the change."
"If you keep complimenting me like that, my love, I will have to return the favour." He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Are you sure you're ready for that?"
When he leans in closer, you start blushing. His lips are a hair breadth's away from yours, tantalizingly close yet so far and you yearn to close the gap but you wait for him to make the move. He pauses, seeking your approval before closing the gap, feeling the softness of your lips, your sweet taste flooding his mouth. His kiss is gentle, filled with yearning and uncertainty, just like his current turmoil of emotions. You kiss back, never wanting to let him go but your need for air forces you to and the both of you part unwillingly.
"Tomorrow we confront Cazador," he murmurs.
"We do. Together." You say firmly. "You're not doing this alone, we'll all be right there by your side."
He gives you a sad smile, "I still…I still worry. I don't know if I can do this, if I can fight him."
"If you can't, we'll fight him on your behalf. Don't worry, we'll make sure he pays dearly." You feel an anger burn deep within you at the vampire lord, swearing vengeance on him for Astarion's sake, but you also know in the end, Astarion will have to be the one dealing the final blow, or Cazador will have him forever, even in true death. It doesn't matter if your party manages to defeat Cazador without Astarion, if Astarion doesn't defeat Cazador, it will all have been for naught.
"But what if Cazador tells them about all the things I've done? What if that causes them to turn on me? You and I can't win that fight." His hands tremble, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "What if Cazador still has control over me and forces me to attack you?"
"Then we'll make sure none of those come to pass."
"He's a vampire lord, Y/N! He's powerful, terrifying, he —"
"Isn't the worst thing we have and will face. We've stared down one of the Dead Three and we know we have to defeat an elder brain controlled by the Crown of Karsus, Cazador is nothing compared to them. If we can survive a fight with Myrkul and emerge victorious, we can defeat Cazador before he gets the chance to open that damned hole he calls a mouth." You snarl out the last part, much to Astarion's surprise. His lip quivers and he feels tears start to stream down his face, the liquid quickly cooling in the night air. His shoulders start shaking with silent sobs and you panic. This was not the reaction you wanted out of him, this was far from the reaction you were looking for.
"I'm sorry Astarion! I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry, I —" Before you can blabber on, he wraps his arms around you tightly, burying his face into your shoulder, effectively silencing you.
"You didn't say anything wrong. You said everything perfectly, like you always do." He sniffs, adjusting his hug. He buries a hand in your hair whilst the other rests on your back. "You're always full of surprises."
"Well, that is one of my strengths," you smile, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. You return the hug, nuzzling into his hair and simply hold him while he lets everything out.
Astarion cannot deny that he's still worried about facing Cazador, that the very thought sends his undead heart thundering in his chest. In his two hundred years under Cazador, not once had he ever thought about standing against Cazador, all that fight had been long beaten out of him, but that all changed when you crashed into his life, dragging a few others along with you. To think that one day, he would find the courage to fight Cazador alongside people he considered friends (to a certain degree), that he would find someone he wanted to devote his life to. If he told his past self about this, his past self would have scorned him, told him to stop dreaming and face the reality of an eternal life as Cazador's puppet. But this was real, all this was real. He wasn't dreaming, he was in reality, a reality he had thought was long lost to him.
Your warmth washes over him, anchoring him in the reality that is his. When the sun dips below the horizon tomorrow, the future will be his to dictate. His and his alone. Looking into your eyes that hold so much love for him, he decides right there and then. He chooses to have you in the future that awaits him, he chooses to forge a future where the both of you can be together, unbound by fear.
He chooses you.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#astarion bg3#baldurs gate astarion#astarion romance#astarion x durge#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion ancunin#tavstarion#durgestarion
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GUILTY AS SIN? – MATT STURNIOLO <3
warnings: RELIGIOUS METAPHORS, edging, male masturbation, sub!matt, use of, goddess/mistress, don’t like don't read xoxo <3
author's note: this is one of my favorite works, I'm fucking so happy that it's my 500 FOLLOWER fic, thank you so much everyone, I love you all.
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"my bedsheets are ablaze, i screamed his name..."
Matt's skin prickled with anticipation as he approached the altar. The air was thick with the smell of incense and candle wax, and the flickering flames cast shadows on the walls. He laid down and closed his eyes, feeling the heat of her breath on his face as she asked him to say the prayers she usually says. As he began to pray, he felt a surge of energy coursing through his body, a heat that traveled all across his bed like a fire. But just as quickly, his hand was pulled away and the feeling was gone, replaced by a deep sense of longing and frustration. He knew he could never attain the ultimate release he craved, not while he worshipped his goddess. Agony ripped through his throat as he screamed out the name of his goddess with all his might, his voice pleading for mercy and release from the unrelenting punishment that he was enduring.
The searing pain in his throat was almost unbearable, but he kept on shouting, hoping that his cries would reach the divine ears of his beloved deity and she would take pity on him.
"...building up like waves, crashing over my grave..."
Matt had been yearning for a release from his agony for what seemed like an eternity. His mistress had been subjecting him to unbearable suffering, and he had been pleading with her to let him let go. He had been praying fervently, hoping to be heard by his higher power. Every moment felt like a lifetime, and he whispered to himself that his pleas would eventually reach his deity, and he would be granted the relief he so desperately craved.
As he stood there, gazing up at his mistress, he suddenly heard her voice. It was like nothing he had ever heard before - beautiful, yet ominous at the same time. It was as if a pure, divine creature was singing to him. The sound flowed through him, filling him with a sense of relief that he had never experienced before. He felt his chest heave with emotion as he finally let go of all his held-back tears and agony, as he began to chant his gratitudes to the sky - to the goddess that he knew was watching over him from above. It was a moment of pure bliss, a moment that he would never forget.
"...Without ever touching his skin, how can I be Guilty as Sin?"
The sensation of her touch lingered like a ghost, but he could never quite feel it. He yearned for his goddess to appear and envelop him in her embrace, amplifying the euphoria he felt. He begged and pleaded for her to reveal herself, to let her hands glide over his skin and intensify his state of bliss. However, despite his fervent prayers, she remained elusive, leaving Matt with only the memory of her touch.
Matthew found himself in a state of inner turmoil, wondering if the situation he was in was a form of punishment for his past wrongdoings. His hands were clenched tightly around his bedsheets as he struggled to maintain his composure in front of the divine figure before him, who seemed to possess an all-seeing gaze. He couldn't help but wonder how he could be held accountable for sins he had not committed, and how he could be considered guilty without ever having laid a hand on his goddess' golden, sun-kissed skin.
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THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS MWWWAH <3!
#paxi talks#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#paxi's stuff#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo angst#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo imagine#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo
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Can you do Sae x female reader x Rin? The brothers are fighting for her love
LOVE OH LOVE — itoshi brothers
i don’t do love triangles much but this is going to be comedic and not angsty ;) but here is your order‼️ ( i apologise for the later post )
itoshi sae is not blind to the ways his brother looks at you. sae sees the way rin looks at you with such a tender look in his eyes, the sparkle with a emotion that sae too knows well. it twists sae’s heart into a pit of turmoil — because no way in hell he’d ever let his brother up him with the romantics.
“you like [name]?” sae had asked out of the blue. rin is stunned. the younger of the brothers is in pure shock. rin had never once thought that his brother would ever notice such a thing. sae awaits on an answer, with each passing tick of the clock he itches for a conformation about his doubts.
“and what will you do, if i did like her?” rin bites back with the same energy. his eyes cold as he stares into the similar hues of his brothers. sae bites away at the inside of his cheeks as he glares down at his brother. he had been proved right and there is certainly no way rin was getting the upper hand here.
it is the hilarity of the situation that the two brother have been brought into. there stands a similarly too, and that is they like the same person, they like the same girl — that their heart is certain with the feelings towards her, but oh, so, oblivious are you, blinded by the fact that you cover their love for you with the glitter of friendship.
each and every time any of the two brothers had bet of that who would be able to take you on a date first. the bet always ends in vain for it is either of the two together with you, no dates, just sae, you and rin. their attempts are shutdown, their trial and error of unending methods are always blocked some way of the other.
but in the itoshi household, there is war. it is utter chaos. there are screams, there is hair pulling, there is punches and cut throat inner alpha male challenges, there is flying pillows and wwe body slam attack, there is also loud shout matches and choking instances, but none is the victor, for both either way will find their way into the chasm of horrors in love.
love is chaotic. it is hurting sae as much as it is hurting rin. it is like a rope around their neck that constricts them breathing whenever they feel for you. their love is binding in such a way that it has tied them down and not you. you walk unaware — you walk free.
but for love has got a grip on them, they fear that there is no escape and the least they could do is burn in this war. but it is weird to make you choose, of course it would be, you had seen the two since young, you had been together since young and there is no way in hell that you’d ever choose between them.
so they bite a bullet. they are and forever will be at war. but they would never make you choose, but they’ll try their best to forge their very own paths in your life. they will until the end keep trying, so you choose on your own, so you could break a heart and make one just the same. it is better this way.
it is this love, oh, love that makes one feel like a loser. it is love that has such a grip on the poor and fickle heart and it is this love that makes you insane, but for love between three is never lucky. the itoshi brothers will keep trying, until one day — there is one heart broken and one heart made.
NOIRFLMS 2024 ! all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime , do not translate my works without permission.
#౨ৎ ⋆˚｡⋆ 𝒔.tamped#blue lock#bllk#blue lock x reader#itoshi sae#itoshi rin#itoshi brothers#bllk rin#bllk sae#sae x reader x rin#love triangle#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi rin x reader#blue lock x you#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x female reader#blue lock drabbles#blue lock imagines#blue lock rin#blue lock sae#bllk fluff#bllk scenarios
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i want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you…
a drabble for anonymous taken from this prompt list.
pairing : ghoul/lucy maclean
word count : 846
warnings : some good old fashioned self-loathing, rope to restrain, mentions of sex. 18+, mdni
divider credit
It’s been centuries since Cooper Howard has gotten this involved with anyone.
He’s a bit like a stunted foal: clumsy yet reluctant to admit it; so used to being somewhere dark and grisly and detached that when the sun hitched to Lucy MacLean shines, it burns his irreversibly damaged skin. Gives it a kind of glow that he has to kill every time it threatens to bloom.
Self-inflicted wounds are easier to nurse. What’s the point of watering the dead garden his innards are overgrown with?
He winces when she touches him. That’s why her wrists need to be kept bound when he explores her. So she can’t feel how much she affects him. So she doesn’t get the wrong idea.
This ain’t love. Not that she has much experience with the romantic variety. He’s got plenty to keep close to the chest.
He gave himself to his Barb and she trampled him so far into the dirt that he might has well have been buried that fateful day.
The consequential marks don’t seem to bother Lucy. She’s a curious sort. One of the things Cooper admires about her. In the same breath, however, he doesn’t mind if for once she’d give it a proper fucking rest.
She moves too fast for him. He’s not entirely certain he wanted to budge in the first place.
Here she is with his face entombed in her neck, kissing and licking and nibbling as she opens herself to him. Thinking about how he would drag his nose along the slopes and valleys that comprise her if he could. How she deserves a man who’s whole and not whatever husk was violently spat out.
He can plainly see she yearns to reciprocate. Restless energy makes her grit her teeth and clench her thighs, squirming about as he gets to roam free. A low, long-winded hiss manages to escape between the soft, swollen lips he’s already branded.
“Tell me what y’want, angel wings. Use your big girl words. Y’had no trouble up t’this point.” He smiles against her throat, keeping her body caged. His voice cuts through like a saw hacking down a tree. Chop chop chop. Devastation as it crashes to the ground.
She sighs heavily and attempts to fix her posture. He’s very skilled at distracting. It’s not lost on her that he does so on purpose.
“Can you look at me first, Cooper?” she asks, chest heaving. He wonders how their hearts would feel galloping together. He doesn’t take his clothes off for her.
Some days, he wants to.
“Alright,” he begins, angling himself backward and resting one palm on the wall above her head. He can humor her. “I’m lookin’.”
And boy does he look. How can one not, with those doe eyes, large and all-encompassing like a lush forest of green and brown and gold?
His expression takes on that of a predator’s honing in on its prey. Except she’s taken hold of his hide and shredded it until it’s all mangled and indistinguishable. He feigns he has the upper hand. He feigns many things.
Lucy utilizes a few more moments to compose herself. Logic has been replaced with emotion. That requires a different type of effort to navigate.
Normally he would hurry her along, he don’t got all day. But really, he does. Why not spend it admiring a work of unabashed art that spawned from, according to him, the depths of hell?
“As much as I enjoy you getting your excess of me, I feel…” She exhales, shaky. “I feel like that excess has snatched away my enjoyment of you. I, I feel incomplete. It’s not as satisfactory as I know it could be.”
The old, tattered cowboy doesn’t answer. It’s difficult to swallow. She is expectant, but she’s also learned to lower said expectations when it comes to him. So she carries on of her own accord.
“What I want, Cooper, is you. All of you. I’m not satisfied with this half-baked sex we’ve been having. I want to pleasure you. Have you gasping for air and unable to think clearly.”
If she only knew.
“I want you to orgasm in my vagina and mouth and hand and, and wherever else, I don’t care! Except that’s really not true. I do care. I want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you. And I want you in all the ways you haven’t let me have you. That’s what I want.”
She’s so technical sometimes that it usually makes him roll his eyes or laugh. Now, he doesn’t do either.
Instead, he grasps her chin and tilts it upward. He shoots her one last isolated once-over and seals their fate with a fervent kiss. The hand once above her travels below and deftly releases her from her binds. The rope falls to the dusty floor with a resounding thud.
“Best get t’work then,” Cooper murmurs against her cushioned mouth. Like a warm, forgiving blanket waiting to surround him, even after being away from home for months, years.
“‘Fore I change my mind.”
#ghoul#the ghoul#cooper howard#lucy maclean#ghoulcy#vaultghoul#ghoul x lucy#lucy x ghoul#fallout#walton goggins#ella purnell#drabble#prompt#i want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you#my writing#first foray into this fandom! i hope you enjoy! thank you so much for requesting and reading 🥹🥰
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hiii!!! i was wondering if you would write baby!sainz having a photoshoot with one of the teams like how irina did with ferrari in vogue italia 🤍
Hi loves! This is for all my Lance fans out there. Enjoy reading and send some requests.
-XoXo
On Vogue
Amira’s heart raced as she stepped onto the set, surrounded by the sleek curves of Aston Martin cars. The photographer, his lens hungry for magic, greeted her and Lance Stroll. The air crackled with anticipation—two worlds colliding: high fashion and the adrenaline-fueled racetrack.
“Hello, Lancelot,” Amira greeted, her eyes dancing with excitement. Lance’s smile was disarming, and he replied, “Amira, you have to stop taking my breath away with your beauty.” Her giggle was a symphony, and suddenly, the studio lights seemed dimmer.
“Where’s Fernando?” Amira asked, her gaze searching. “They told me the whole team would be here.” Lance’s smile faltered. “He couldn’t make it,” he replied, masking disappointment. In truth, he’d misled the Spaniard, claiming the shoot was in Portugal. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
The photographer beckoned them to the center of the set, where two Aston Martins awaited—a modern masterpiece and a vintage classic. “Amira, Lance,” he said, “it’s an honor to have you here. Let’s go over the plan. Couple shots in the modern car, individual portraits in the vintage one. Are you both okay with that?” Their nods sealed the deal.
As the camera clicked, an electric energy enveloped Amira and Lance. Their chemistry transcended mere poses; they became a story—the passionate racer and the enchanting muse. The photographer captured stolen glances, whispered secrets, and laughter that echoed through the studio. It felt like they were the king and queen of a realm where speed met elegance.
For the individual shots, Lance stepped behind the camera, coaxing genuine smiles from Amira. His antics—pulling funny faces, mimicking engine sounds—had her in stitches. She reciprocated, capturing Lance’s intensity as he stared down the lens. It was a road trip through emotions, each frame revealing a different facet of their connection.
After the shoot, as the studio lights dimmed, Lance leaned against the vintage Aston Martin. “Quite an interesting day, no?” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. Amira’s smile was radiant. “I’ve never had so much fun during a shoot. And for Vogue!” She pulled him into a hug, gratitude and exhilaration intertwining.
“Thank you for making this day even better, Lance,” she whispered. His reply was simple: “Anything for you.” Then, with a courage born of adrenaline and shared moments, he asked, “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Her nod was all the confirmation he needed—the start of a new chapter in their story.
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AN ENDING - 3/?
“No nononononono…” Blitz muttered over and over between sobs and jagged tear filled breaths.
He had no idea how long he lay there sobbing and barely breathing, but it felt like a lifetime. An abandoned and empty lifetime.
How had the day ended up like this? Why was he there crying on the ground, instead of curled, content, in Stolas’s arms?
It had been months. MONTHS! And Stolas had finally wanted to see him… And for what? To tear his fucking heart out? To throw him away?
Blitz shivered. He curled tighter into himself, trying to warm the chill that cut through him to his bones.
Between sobs, he began muttering to himself.
“I can’t do this… I don’t know how to do this… I don’t know how to be without you, Stolas… What was life even LIKE before you were in my life?… I can’t even remember…”
Something about verbalizing his thoughts, eased the weight in his chest.
“I don’t want to remember what life was like without you in it… I need you in my life… You mean more to me than you can possibly imagine…”
As he talked, his body slowly relaxed until he lay limp; all his energy gone.
“And that’s my fucking fault… I should have told you… I never meant to hurt you… I knew I probably would, but I honestly never meant to… I just destroy everything I touch - no matter how much I… I care about it…”
Blitz knew Stolas wasn’t there - wouldn’t ever be there again - but it didn’t matter. It felt good to finally say these things out loud.
“You said you wanted someone to care about you… Well I do… I really fucking DO…”
Blitz squeezed his eyes shut; his heart clenched.
“I should have told you that… Should have fucking told you I love you when I had the chance…”
Blitz buried his face in his hands and cried.
***
Stolas opened his eyes and found himself alone, kneeling, in his mansion’s upstairs hallway. He looked around expecting to find a disaster; the last times his demon had taken over without prompting had ended in massive property damage. But everything was as it should be. Nothing out of place.
Well… That’s one thing that’s gone my way today…
Stolas felt a thrum of power pulse through him like a heartbeat. He clutched at his chest.
He’d never felt his demon so close to the surface before - without being afraid. It put him off balance. This feeling… It was a strange feeling for Stolas. Feeling… Almost WHOLE… It was definitely going to take some getting used to.
I should tell, Bli-
The thought cutoff immediately as his heart crushed in his chest.
Stolas hugged himself tightly, tears stung his eyes. He choked back a sob.
In the past he would have excitedly told Blitz about what happened. He wouldn’t have hesitated to call him or text him to share the news. And Blitz would have listened. Maybe even have been excited for him. But now…
Blitz is gone… I gave him the choice… And… He didn’t want me…
Stolas let himself cry. He was heartbroken - true - but he had been prepared for Blitz to walk away. Just hadn’t been ready for the outburst Blitz gave him… That had ripped him open, letting his demon free.
He sighed between sobs.
Get off the floor… Get yourself together… You knew this might happen… So stop crying in the hallway and go cry in bed like a NORMAL person…
Stolas stood, tired of kneeling on the floor, and headed to his bedroom. He was done with this day. Done feeling his feelings. Done hurting and missing Blitz…
Blitz…
His heart clenched.
I hope Blitz is ok… I hope the portal worked, and he’s safe… DANG IT!
Stolas grabbed his head feathers in his fists, squeezed his eyes shut, and stifled a scream.
STOP IT!… STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM!…
Stolas shook his head vigorously, trying to shake the thoughts of Blitz away.
Stop… He doesn’t want you… He doesn’t love you back…
He choked back a sob, feeling his body go numb.
He doesn’t love you…
Stolas released the grip on his feathers and slumped where he stood. He’d made it to his bedroom doors, all he had to do was reach out, turn the doorknob and walk in. It all seemed an impossible task, but somehow he did it. He felt himself open the door and enter his room, all as though someone else controlled his body and he was just a passenger.
He didn’t feel himself in control of his body again until he had removed his cape and was seated on the edge of his bed.
All the memories, good and bad, washed over him. He felt like he was drowning in them all at once.
I cant… I cant stay here…
He stood and rushed to the balcony doors.
Air… I need air…
Stolas grabbed the handles and pulled.
Locked..? Why the FUCK are these locked?!
In the moment he paused to flip the lock, Stolas heard something.
What…?
His heart clenched, his throat closed, and tears rushed down his face.
With a shaking hand, he flipped the lock and opened the doors.
****
#helluva boss#stolitz#blitzø#stolas#fanfic#blitz x stolas#stolitz angst#stolitz fanfiction#stolitz fanfic#helluva boss stolitz#blitzø x stolas#blitzo x stolas
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Make sure you all have your sunglasses, it'll help in case Sun gets excited.
Sun: I'll try my best to keep calm!
Thank you Sun, here is Sun in his actual form. Much like Moon, he's very wyvern-like in design. His wings are longer though with no split ends. He relies on Soaring/Gliding flight, this means he doesn't flap a lot to stay in the air. This does come with a set back, he can't take off immediately like Moon does. He and other stars alike have to get a running start to get the wind speed up enough to create lift. With a powerful jump at the end to get them in the air. To stay in the air, he relies on vents of hot air that are produced in particular spots on land or sea. Much like vultures and other gliding birds do. This means he can stay in the air far longer than Moon as well as use less energy to do so.
He doesn't have any barbs but his body is covered in flames that he controls for the most part. This is usually seen emotion wise. That's why it's best for Sun to stay calm during this example. He can increase the heat of his body to that of an actual star, and get brighter as well. His body will always feel warm and his skin will be like poprocks. Sizzling with occasional pops here and there. You may see a small flame pop out from his head, wings or tail occasionally. Those would be solar flares and those are common. These are very hot and will catch things on fire, he must stay away from any area that's flammable.
He has spikes that rear upwards for defense but he can also breathe fire. This is incredibly effective as it leaves a lasting radiation poisoning on the victim or area. In fact, being in a certain radius of an angry star for a long period of time will leave you exposed to radiation. You will die slowly and painfully, that is why it's best to leave as soon as you see signs of this emotion. This alone is what makes stars so deadly. They don't even have to move to kill something. Many would consider it a blessing for a star to eat you rather than let you live to suffer the effects of radiation.
Sun: b-but I always do my best to keep calm and happy! Unless someone really...REALLY deserves it. Then I won't hesitate to do what is necessary for the benefit of others or myself.
Yeah, it's best to be careful around stars as they are far worse than a nuclear bomb. Some are friendly however! The best way that I've seen to earn one's trust is with food. Stars need to eat constantly to keep their energy up that they always burn. So feed, feed and feed, even if it's burnt. They can't really taste much as everything they consume is quickly incinerated. Liquids are rapidly evaporated, this means they also can't get drunk. Never enter a drinking contest with a star, it won't go well for ya.
Sun:*chuckles* I remember drinking the hidden stash of one of the imperial lords with Moon. He couldn't fly!
Hehe, alrighty Sun. I think I covered everything, if anyone has any questions. Don't hesitate to ask! Sun and I are here to answer.
Sun:*nods* Please ask! I always enjoy a good conversation!
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Touch of Ruin
──── 004. Undercurrents
pairing ☆ natasha x reader, wanda x reader
chapter summary ☆ As you continue to mentor Wanda, Natasha's unease grows, straining your relationship. Meanwhile, a new threat demands the Avengers' collaboration, but the mission's success only drives Natasha further away, troubled by your bond with the other.
word count ☆ 2.2k
SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST
The gym at the SHIELD facility was bustling with activity, the air thick with the sound of grunts and clanging weights. Yet, in one corner, a quieter, more intense form of training was taking place. Wanda, her focus razor-sharp, was attempting to harness her powers under your watchful guidance.
"Concentrate, Wanda. Visualize your target and nothing else," you instructed, your tone both commanding and encouraging.
With a deep breath, Wanda raised her hands, her fingers twitching slightly as red energy swirled around them. She nodded, acknowledging your advice, and with a sudden thrust, directed the energy towards the dummy target across the room. The burst was well-aimed but more forceful than intended, tearing the target apart.
"Better, much better," you praised, clapping lightly. "You're getting a handle on it."
Wanda flashed a grateful smile, the intensity of the session still visible in her flushed cheeks. "Thanks to you. I never thought I could manage them like this," she gestured to the wisps of energy dissipating into the air.
"It's all you, Wanda. I just guided you a bit," you replied, your tone light, trying to bolster her confidence further.
As you both walked towards the benches lining the edge of the field, Wanda's demeanor shifted slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "You know, I’ve been wondering," she started hesitantly, "about you… about your story. You've helped me so much, but I realize I don’t know much about you, beyond the training."
The directness of the question took you off guard, not because of the personal nature of the inquiry but because of the implication of how much Wanda valued your relationship. You considered how much to share; the scars from your past were always a sensitive topic. "Well, there's not much to tell that’s not SHIELD files and mission reports," you began, offering her a half-smile. "But I guess, like you, I’ve had my share of struggles with my abilities."
Wanda nodded, sensing the weight behind your words. "It means a lot, you know, having someone who understands. It’s… it’s made a big difference."
The sincerity in her voice warmed you, and without fully realizing it, you found yourself sharing more about your past, the challenges, and the few triumphs. Wanda listened intently, her eyes never leaving yours, a silent support that you hadn't realized you needed.
The gym became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the complexities of your lives as Avengers could be set aside, if only for a moment, to focus on the shared goal of mastering Wanda’s powers.
In the quiet moments between exercises, conversations veered away from techniques and strategies, delving instead into personal anecdotes and shared experiences. Wanda spoke of her upbringing in Sokovia, the devastation wrought by war, and the guilt she carried for the role she played in her homeland's turmoil. You, in turn, opened up about your own struggles, the isolation that came with your destructive abilities, and the slow journey towards acceptance and control.
With each revelation, the bond between you strengthened, rooted in a mutual understanding of the burdens you both carried. It was a connection that surpasses words, an unspoken camaraderie born from shared pain and shared growth.
Yet, amidst the growing closeness with Wanda, a subtle undercurrent of tension began to simmer beneath the surface of your relationship with Natasha. Though you had hoped that your reassurances and continued dedication to your partnership would alleviate any lingering unease, it seemed that Natasha's doubts only grew with each passing day.
The signs were subtle at first—a missed meal together, a strained smile in the corridors, a slight hesitation in her touch—but they soon escalated into something more palpable, more insidious. It was as if a distance had formed between you, a gulf widening with each passing interaction, until it felt like you were standing on opposite shores, shouting across an unbridgeable divide.
You tried to ignore the growing rift, burying yourself in the distractions of training sessions and missions, but it was impossible to escape the weight of Natasha's silent withdrawal. It gnawed at you, a constant reminder of the fragility of the bonds you had worked so hard to build.
One evening, as you returned to your shared quarters after a particularly grueling training session with Wanda, you found Natasha sitting alone at the small table in the center of the room, her gaze fixed on a mission report spread out before her.
"Hey, Nat," you greeted her softly, the tension in the air almost palpable. "How was your day?"
Natasha looked up, her expression guarded, her usual warmth replaced by a distant reserve. "Fine," she replied curtly, her tone clipped. "Yours?"
You hesitated, sensing the barrier between you growing thicker with each passing moment. "It was… good. Productive," you offered, trying to keep the conversation light.
There was a pregnant pause, the silence stretching between you like a yawning chasm. You could feel Natasha's eyes on you, probing, searching for something you couldn't quite name.
Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you spoke up, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Nat, is everything okay? You've been… different lately. Distant."
Natasha's gaze flickered, her mask slipping for a fraction of a second before it snapped back into place. "I'm fine," she replied, her voice brittle. "Just busy, that's all."
But you could see through the facade, could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. It was clear that whatever was troubling Natasha ran deeper than mere busyness, deeper than she was willing to admit.
Before you could press further, a shrill alarm pierced the silence, signaling an incoming mission briefing. With a shared glance, you both rose from the table, the tension lingering between you like a shadow.
The mission was urgent, demanding the full attention and cooperation. As you gathered in the briefing room, you couldn't help but notice the strained atmosphere, the feeling of unease that pulsed through the air like a living thing.
Natasha, as always, was the picture of professionalism, her focus unwavering as she absorbed the details of the mission. But even her stoic facade couldn't entirely mask the tension that coiled beneath the surface.
As the briefing concluded and the team dispersed to prepare for the mission ahead, you found yourself lingering behind, your gaze drawn inexorably to Natasha's retreating form. There was a longing in your heart, a desperate desire to bridge the gap that had formed between you, but you knew that some wounds ran too deep to heal with mere words.
With a heavy sigh, you turned away, steeling yourself for the challenges that lay ahead. The mission demanded your full attention, your unwavering focus, and as you stepped into the waiting aircraft, you pushed aside thoughts of Natasha and the fractured bond between you, focusing instead on the task at hand. But as the aircraft soared into the night sky, carrying you towards the looming threat that awaited, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, something irrevocable had changed.
As the aircraft hummed through the sky, each member of the team was wrapped in their own thoughts, preparing for the confrontation. Your mind, however, was split between the mission and the unresolved tension with Natasha. This internal conflict added an extra layer of weight to your already burdened shoulders. Despite your efforts to compartmentalize these concerns, the emotional turmoil subtly eroded your usual sharp focus.
The mission location was a stark, remote island that seemed almost untouched by time. Upon landing, the team quickly mobilized, each member slipping into their role with practiced ease. The sense of unity in purpose was palpable, but so was the underlying strain in personal sense. You found yourself occasionally stealing glances at Natasha, trying to gauge her state of mind, but her expression remained an unreadable mask, her attention fixed on the objective.
The threat was a rogue faction equipped with advanced, experimental technology, posing a significant risk not only to the local area but on a global scale if their plans came to fruition. The strategy was clear: infiltrate the base, neutralize the threat, and secure any intelligence related to their operations.
As the operation unfolded, you found yourself paired with Wanda. Her powers, now more controlled and precise, were crucial in navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the enemy stronghold. Her focus was impeccable, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in how far she had come under your guidance.
Navigating through the shadowed corridors, your communication with Wanda was minimal yet effective, a testament to the mutual understanding and trust that had developed between you. She cleared pathways with her energy, manipulated electronic locks, and provided cover when needed. It was during these moments of cooperative silence that you could see the reflections of your earlier self in her — the raw potential slowly being honed into something formidable.
"You're doing great, Wanda," you whispered after she discreetly disabled a security camera with a flicker of red energy, her control precise enough to leave the surrounding equipment untouched.
"Learning from the best," she responded, her voice low and tinged with gratitude. The brief smile she flashed your way was not just an acknowledgment of your compliment but a recognition of the deeper bond that had formed through the countless hours of training and conversation.
However, despite the satisfaction derived from Wanda's progress, your mind couldn't entirely shake off the discomfort regarding Natasha. During a brief moment of downtime as you waited for the next phase of the mission to commence, you saw Natasha coordinating with other team members, her leadership as assertive and effective as ever. Yet, there was a stiffness in her movements, a forced distance in her interactions that she usually didn't display. It was subtle enough that others might not notice, but to you, it was glaringly apparent.
The mission pressed on, demanding your full attention as you approached the main control room where the rogue faction's leaders were believed to be. The team split into two groups: you and Wanda were tasked with entering the control room and securing the area, while Natasha and others handled the extraction of information and prisoners.
As you and Wanda breached the control room door, a burst of chaotic energy greeted you. Hostiles armed with unconventional weaponry attempted to barricade themselves, but between Wanda's telekinetic abilities and your tactical expertise, you quickly subdued the threat.
Once the area was secured, and as you awaited Natasha's team to join you, Wanda leaned against a console, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "Every time I think I’ve seen it all, something new comes up," she commented, her gaze scanning the high-tech equipment around her.
"It never really stops, does it?" you replied, checking your weapon before holstering it. "But you handle it well."
Wanda’s expression softened, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of respect and something more—a depth of emotion that hadn't been there before. "Thanks to you," she said quietly. "You’ve made me feel like I’m really part of this team, not just an outsider with too much power and nowhere to put it."
Before you could respond, Natasha’s team entered, breaking the moment. Natasha's eyes briefly met yours, a flicker of something undefinable passing between you before she redirected her focus to the task at hand. Her professionalism was impeccable, but the personal connection that once defined your interactions felt strained, almost as if she was purposefully maintaining a barrier she hadn’t before.
The completion of the mission brought a mixed sense of relief and tension. While the team had successfully neutralized the threat and secured valuable intelligence, the dynamics within the group, particularly between you, Natasha, and Wanda, remained subtly altered. The ride back to SHIELD headquarters was quiet, the usual post-mission debriefings and conversations replaced with introspective silence.
Upon returning, the debrief was thorough. Natasha led the session with her usual efficiency, outlining the mission's successes and areas for improvement. However, her interactions with you were perfunctory, lacking the warmth and private smiles that once punctuated even the most serious debriefs.
As the meeting disbanded, Natasha lingered by the conference table, organizing her notes and avoiding unnecessary conversation. You paused by the doorway, watching her for a moment, contemplating whether to bridge the gap with conversation or give her the space it seemed she might need.
Deciding on a middle ground, you approached quietly, stopping a reasonable distance away. "Natasha, if there’s anything we need to talk about…"
She looked up, her face unreadable. "We’ve covered everything mission-related. Good work today," she replied, her voice steady, her eyes briefly meeting yours before shifting away.
The formality stung more than you expected. "I meant about us, Nat," you pushed gently, feeling the rift widening with every guarded word she spoke.
Natasha set her papers down, her posture stiffening slightly. "I think it’s clear we’re both busy, and things are running smoothly. There’s no need to complicate matters," she stated, a hint of finality in her tone.
"But it’s not smooth, is it? Something’s off," you persisted, trying to reach the part of her that might still want to resolve whatever this was between you.
Natasha sighed, a rare sign of her patience waning. "Maybe I just need a little space," she suggested, not unkindly, but with a firmness that suggested this was not up for further discussion.
The conversation ended there, leaving a lingering sense of unease as you both walked out of the room. The space she requested was given, out of respect and perhaps a hope that distance might restore what closeness had begun to erode.
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i see ur in a mood tonight .. how would tendou behave if u returned the same energy out of nowhere one day ….
perceiving my patterns... are we?
mmm i imagine this texting scenario particularly in a universe where reader and satori are friends and haven't fucked yet, but there's so much tension that it literally hurts. if reader sent this text to satori, he'd probably (FIRST OF ALL) fuck his fist. sorry, he would and he'd edge himself doing it too. yeah, but he'd let you have your little victory i think, even if he wants to crack so bad. the tease is part of the fun.
next day though, he comes up behind you and corrals you against the table you're standing in front of in the library of your university, tucked away in a quiet little corner. leans in close by your ear and places his hands on either side of you.
"you're such a tease," he states quietly, letting his breath hit the shell of your ear.
you startle, but don't turn to look at him.
"can't take what you dish out?"
he laughs a little and you feel the brush of his forehead against your shoulder as he drops it.
"when i do it, it's cute," he says. "when you do it, it's provoking."
you turn around to look at him, half insulted and half wet at the insinuation. you don't know why you do it. maybe it's because when you turn around, he's an inch from your face, or maybe it's the lopsided and cat-like nature of his grin, like a wolf about to catch the rabbit it's been chasing, or those low-lidded eyes of his that don't falter when your gaze meets his, but when you turn to face him, you shy a away a little. you press your ass back against the table and he leans in over you, leering.
"what?" he grins, clearly amused. "getting shy?"
"stop fucking around," you say.
"i'm not," he leans in a little more. "never was. you haven't figured that out yet?"
#cal care package#mutuals!#steam is coming out of the top of my head#im sweating#im sweating bad#he's such a sicko i think#looks at you like he could eat you#all pinned up against the corner.. a little bunny with no where to go#a rabbit that wants to play with the big dog#MANNNN!!#char.tendou#cal.writing
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I JUST LISTENED TO HITS DIFFERENT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE—-
#speechless at her ability to take a feeling bottle it and recreate it in song/verse form#the tightness of the structure (and literally I don’t think there’s another songwriter in the world who has song architecture on lock#the way she does)#Somehow the perfect outlet for the explosion of emotion#like this is what the people don’t understand. Taylor Swift is the HEIGHT of craftsmanship and discipline#combined with the most uninhibited emotion#she’s the fusion point between structure so strict it’s almost cold and emotion so unbridled it’s almost embarrassing#but she holds both at the same time#it creates something that’s so hard to look away from#I sometimes think people only hear the one or the other#but it’s the meeting point that matters#Sorry but Taylor Alison Swift is a little more Johann Sebastian Bach than any of us realize#anyway. Like sometimes I fool even myself into thinking she’s normal#and then I wake up and remember she’s a genius#Anyway anyway I am sooooo scared of tortured poets department#because Taylor albums scare me before they come out#where is she going to drop kick me to next time#what preconceived ideas of her is she going to blast into pieces#like I just. She is astonishing. no other way around it#and it takes all my breath and energy away
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having the issues i have is literally exhausting. like why do the miseries have to be ceaseless and the horrors unending.
#purrs#idk if im swaddling my inner child or str*ngling her (sorry) but she needs to stop crying bc my GOD i can’t keep living like this. my counse#counselor literaly told me i could get fired if i end up working somewhere else (🤨👊💥) and don’t heal AJD it’s like ok you’re right but also#shut up don’t fucking say that. but he is also so right like i can’t keep living like this. i was anxious and agitated all day and it’s good#that no one noticed but also like it takes so much energy just to sit in one place and do my work and respond to the stimuli and not start a#sobbing and howling. i hate this shitty fucking situation i want it to be over so i never have to feel this helpless again but im feeling pr#pretty helpless right now mutuals. i am feeling pretty helpless and i also cannot breathe because the elephants are taking up too much space#and i mean that in more ways than one. i don’t even have the energy to play video games rn like literally all i want to do is sleep. omg#still not as bad or in as bad a place as last week. and thank god i have not been dizzy since friday. but this is really pushing my limit. l#like im scared my heart is gonna give out from pounding so hard and i was trying to do affirmations w mysef and talk myself through the#logic and it didn’t work really and im like 😐 plus like almost every triggering / upsetting kind of situation that can happen has happened#today and i haven’t flipped out abt it it’s been more like slowly chipping away at me and.. i am at my fucking limit. i need to sit in a#sensory deprivation tank. and i also need to get married and/or a phd immediately. and i also need a lobotomy.
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I want their fuckin freedom they have no chores no responsibility they can go out with their friends when ever they want for however long they want they can sleep in there bed all day they eat drink drive vehicles use the phone have a home with no bills no expenses they can spend their money on stupid things that bring them joy with no worry of the gas they burned in someone else's vehicle or if there's dinner at home they have no worries about laundry no worries about dishes no worries about the messes they make because they know I'll clean it up always I want to be viewed by my family and by my friends as someone who is an actual person with limits and boundaries and who has goals and dreams they'd like to accomplish in the day besides laundry for 16 people and not a tireless cleaning machine. I want to be able to rest and have hobbies I want to be able to do things with my partner and my friends again I want to be able to fuckin daydream and make up stories again for Christ sake I want to feel like a person and not a corpse forced into playing "tradwife" I want the freedom they all have while I'm in the background doin they're dishes.
#i don't mind helping with chores but it's the fact I'm the only one qnd i can get my four youngest to help me with bribes of sweets#but there's several adults living here who don't care that they make. more mess then a four year old#and could definitely start doin their own laundry#or take the trash out if it's full instead of cramming more into it so that the bag splits and is to heavy for me to lift#and I'm actually kinda strong like I've def lost a lot of energy n strength this year tbh but this bitch can lift pretty heavy boxes at work#and i split logs pretty regularly so im not the strongest gal by no means like of lord i had to carry my mother around everywhere#because she was a stubborn asshole who refused to use any mobility aids and then wanted to go shopping or go out and i had to just carry her#like i can carry an adult women but fuck if it didn't hurt me bad doin it and i had to stop several times to catch my breath#like I'm not super Strong but I'm not weak the trashbag cant weigh more then an adult#it takesn nothing to rinse a bowl out so your food don't turn into cement#or throw away the wrappers of your bandaids instead of tossing them on the floor#or wipe your shoes before you come in and track big chunks of dried mud and grass all over the home#my parents wanted 12 kids wnd our house to look like a magazine and they beat that mentality of the house must be clean as a whistle#because what if Jesus was to stop by we must have our home look so clean that we would be unashamed if jesus stopped#so clean we encourage him to look in cupboards and under the bed clean#i dont think that's a Bible verse but there was a biblical book that was all about having a home that was so clean constantly#just so you wouldn't be ashamed when Christ cand because cleanliness is closer to godliness#i really hate my mother like so much I'm glad i can finally say it I'm glad i don't have to work to earn her love or buy it#you shouldn't have to have to earn love especially from your parents I'm glad she can't constantly condemn me#i have nightmares about my mom condemning me or being smug n proud and ruining my life in the name of her cult#like throwing away all of my belongings and only having a bed a Bible some christan fiction four floor length Jean dresses baggy tshirts#also her giving my sister she favored a bunch of my organs since I'm broken anyhow and slowly dieing because i don't have a liver anymore#or her ruining my relationship and friendships because she didn't think they were godly enough so i have no one in my life except church#she tried to have an arranged marriage for me not a dream that happened#i know she loved me i hate that i think so low of her but her love felt like hate most of the time#i know she loved me though andni love her to I'm just glad i don't have to constantly hve to perform for her#i have so much garbage in my brain
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