#ended up working a longer shift at work than expected after not getting any sleep the night before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lilliumrorum · 5 months

Text

What does he have that I don’t? (Part One)

<<Previous | Masterlist | Next>> Synopsis: After discovering your lover's affair with his best friend, you found yourself in emotional turmoil. Seeking comfort, you end up in your captains office for the second time that night.

WC: 2k

Content/Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Verbal abuse, Smut, Cheating, Unrequited love, Threesome is mentioned.

Notes: Sorry this took so long to post, I've been in school, at work or stoned so I didn't have the time. I do now and I'm back!

Betrayal, heartbreak, shock, and confusion are common reactions in such situations. However, this was definitely not just some situation. The head that was once thrown back in pleasure was now gawking at you, awaiting your reaction.

"[Name]..." Simon sighed.

How could he have expected you to respond? He shared intimacy with someone who understood him better than you ever did—the person he introduced you to just two weeks into your relationship. Johnny was his closest confidant, his right-hand man, the one he would willingly take a bullet for. You're not even sure he would even identify you on the battlefield.

"Sorry I barged in, I'll leave you to yourselves."

"Wait-"

Without granting him the opportunity to finish, you swiftly closed the door and slung the robust duffle bag over your shoulder.

You always had a feeling that he was attracted to Johnny, but didn't think he was aware. Simon wasn't one to express admiration openly, but he consistently praised Johnny as the best sergeant he had ever witnessed in action. You wished Simon would speak about you the way he talked about Johnny, but you never felt jealous. Now, you felt numb, the only sensation you feel is that of your knuckles turning white as you tightly grip your bag.

Wandering aimlessly, you had no idea where to go without a single friend nearby. Sure you had teammates, but you weren't close to any of them. You were genuinely alone, and it seemed even Simon didn't want you around (not that you were planning on going back tonight anyway). You couldn't comprehend how something so right could turn so wrong. Maybe it started when those morning kisses shifted to him leaving under the guise of going for a "run." The movie nights together evolved into you being isolated, reading a book in your dimly lit bedroom, with him conspicuously absent. Your bed was usually always empty, due to Simon's "workload", but there was going to be one less body tonight. It was no longer your bed.

"Really? Are you actually going to leave me when you've just come home?!"

Simon seemed unbothered by your tear soaked face.

"I don't always want to walk in and deal with your naggin'. Fuckin' Christ, I can't even go for a lap around the base with out your crazy ass losing your shit!" He lashed out.

A whimper left your lips.

"I just missed you, Si! I love you! It's not nagging if I tell you that I want to see you! Where is the man I fell for? Where did his love go? This is not you Simon! It's not fucking you!"

"I never fell. 'Si' does not exist. Simon doesn't fucking exist."

"So you never felt any of it? You've just been faking your way through this entire fucking relationship? Do you even want to try anymore? You don't even fucking care!"

He paused.

"How can I try to feel remorse for a love that was a lie? The only thing I even remotely enjoy about you is that after we fuck you leave me the hell alone and go to sleep." He spat at you coldly.

"Okay... well if Simon doesn't exist then whos been sleeping in my bed?! Who used to kiss my tears away? I want him back. All you ever do now is cause them."

"A ghost." his words dripping with malice as he slammed your door.

You were too caught up in the sadness of your relationship to realize you were crying or understand what was going on around you. The sadness caused something to decay in your heart. The thought of what you witnessed made you feel nauseous, so you tried to get your conscience off of the present matter. Your thoughts drifted to your captain, the only person you felt you could trust now. He had repeatedly mentioned his availability in his office, even beyond regular hours.

Captain Price was consistently kind. Despite the necessity of sternness in his role as a captain, his gaze was always gentle when directed towards you. As you started to notice the features of the building, a sense of lightness washed over you, as if all your problems faded away upon its sight. You observed a light flicker in response to the loud steps you took across the terrain. The door cracked open, and you saw his eyes start to crinkle when he noticed you.

"Things aren't goin' very well I reckon?" He smiled sympathetically.

"Not at all. I think things wont be going anywhere now. I have nowhere to go."

He cocked an eyebrow at your words, then turned to hold the door. John Price was a genuine gentleman, not someone pretending to be what they weren't, but the authentic, real deal. At times, you wished Simon could be more like him—kind yet firm, resembling an actual person.

"You can tell me about it once we get to my room." He shot you a soft, closed lip smile.

After reaching the stairs in the hall, both of you climbed them wearily. You could sense his gaze on you; he was studying your face. He could see that the whites of your eyes were visibly red from crying, and there was a faint trace of a tear on your cheek. He stopped examining your face as you reached his door. Once more, he held the door open for you as you entered.

"You can place your bag in the closet {name}, I know you've had a hard night."

You followed through, placing the oversized bag on his closet floor. He entered his bedroom with you, staying close in case you needed any assistance. Your face became heated for some reason as you found yourself in the bedroom with your captain. You hurriedly left his bedroom, while he followed slowly with fatigued movements. Upon reaching the living room, he sat down on the couch with a grunt, and you followed suit.

"Tell me all that happened after you left my office." He commanded.

Price was always very protective of you, intervening with Simon when he observed your distressing situation. When he witnessed Simon screaming at you for reaching for his hand, he nearly lost his mind. He couldn't bear the way his lieutenant treated you. Some part of you had always been drawn to your captain. His soft smile and sweet demeanor made you ponder what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. The only obstacle in your path was the age difference, and you were aware that if he ever found out, it would complicate things between you.

"I found him. I found him with someone..."

Your face told him it wasn't just someone.

"Do you know who?"

You nodded slowly, a tear rolling down your cheek. His eyes widened. Just as he was about to ask, you answered.

"Johnny."

His jaw dropped almost comically. He would never suspect Simon to be interested in men, and hearing that he was involved with Johnny just made the news ten times more shocking.

"How can I compare to his best friend? The one who understands him more than I ever will?" You sniffled.

"Sometimes a man does foolish things.."

You turned your gaze to John, anticipating the completion of his sentence. He looked lost in thought.

"But?"

"But nothing. What Lieutenant did was beyond foolish. I've seen the way he's treated you, dear. For the last several months, to be exact."

You stared at him with a questioning expression. If he had noticed, why hadn't he said anything?

"You have?"

A smile tugged at his lips.

"Everyone has, Sergeant. Why else would I be comfortable with you staying here?"

You huffed out a breath,

"If you knew then why didn't you tell me?"

John found himself at a loss for how to respond to your question. On one hand, his lieutenant demonstrated exceptional skills and garnered respect among comrades. On the other hand, you were hardworking, determined, and notably stealthy, often taking the lead in infiltrating enemy bases. Both of you held immense value to the 141, and he was reluctant to risk losing either of you.

"I'm caught in a position where I can't say anything, love."

Your heart fluttered at the nickname.

"Ah. I'm sorry John. I don't want to get you caught in this mess."

Another droplet fell onto your combat pants.

"You weren't the one who made it." He said as he placed his hand on your shoulder.

The pain of witnessing your partner with someone else lingered in your mind, and tears continued to stream down from your reddened eyes. Your cheeks noticeably swelled as you fought to contain your emotions. Did Simon ever truly exist?

Maybe he was right. Maybe the whole time he really did just want a reliable source of pleasure.

"Stop thinkin', love. How about you take a nice shower and change out of that uniform. There's no way in hell that that's comfortable."

With a sniffle and a nod of your head, you made your way to his front door and proceeded to undo your bulky military boots.

"John..."

"Yes Love?"

"Where is your bathroom?"

He huffed out a laugh and tilted his head, signaling for you to follow him. The sound of his laughter enveloped you in a warm, appreciated feeling. As he walked you down the hall, you found yourself imagining what it would be like to truly be loved. The thought crossed your mind that if only John were younger, maybe you could have felt that. You sighed at your thoughts, and he looked at you with a puzzled expression. He opened the door and held it for you once more.

"Make sure not to use all the hot water." He teased.

As you walked in, he left you to yourself. The room had a certain charm to it, although it was evident that a man lived there. It featured dim lighting, a burgundy rug, and a stylish shower that housed some kind of sauna tub beneath it. You couldn't help but doubt whether he had even had the chance to use it. Everything about it appeared brand new.

As you stripped yourself from your clothing, your mind began to wonder. What would've happened if you didn't leave. What would they have done? What would Simon have done?

For some reason, you found yourself fantasizing about them. You were still mad of course, but Imagining Simon feasting on your core as Soap sucked him off was so arousing. It was almost repulsive how vividly your fantasies stirred up that sensation within you. Running the tips of your fingers through Simon's messy blonde hair as his tongue conquered your cunt, looking up at you with those blown out brown eyes. God, Just the thought of it was making you clench.

You started the shower, feeling a sense of self-disgust. Here you were heart broken and now all you can think about is having a threesome.

You took a deep breath and increased the temperature, attempting to divert your attention from the unsettling thoughts in your mind.

He didn't know what to do with himself. You hadn't stomped back to the room like you usually do. You didn't have any friends nearby to stay with, and you couldn't have gone far.

He glanced at the clock in your living room. It had been almost four hours since you walked in on them.

Where the fuck could you be?

"What're yae so bloody mad about mate? It's not like it's the lass' fault." John said sarcastically.

Simon slammed his hands on the cheap coffee table in front of him as he stood.

"I fuckin' know that."

Johnny searched his eyes, attempting to discern any trace of emotion and understand what thoughts were running through his mind.

"I was kind've hopin' she would join in."

That piqued Simon's interest.

"Yae think it's a proper idea too, huh? I told yae I'm secretly a genius!" The Scot comically jumped as he spoke, adding a touch of humor to the situation.

Maybe Johnny was right. Maybe it was a good idea.

#cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #soapghost #john price x reader #john price

382 notes · View notes

oftenwantedafton · 15 days

Text

the new hire | steve raglan x female reader

rating |explicit

part 5/?

words | 5k

cw | dom/sub, oral sex

ao3 link

Three more nights at Freddy’s.

Three uneventful evenings, three boring shifts where you sit and stare at the monitors in the security office and see nothing unusual. You know you should feel grateful that there are no intruders. No sign of the rabbit.

No sign of Steve Raglan, either. It still hasn’t occurred to you that those two might be linked. For now, they are separate phenomena.

Friday morning you return home from work and shower and lie in bed, willing your eyes to shut. Sleep is still evading you, even though you’re tired. Your phone rings and it startles you. You rarely got calls. You have no friends. Few living relatives, and those few don’t care to contact you.

You answer and you know, before he even speaks, that it’s Steve on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello. It’s me. Just checking in,” he says, using that same deceptively cheerful tone he’d had when you’d first met in his office. “Doesn’t sound like I’ve woken you up.” You doubt he’d feel remorse if he had. “How have things been going at Freddy’s?”

You sit up, your fingers fussing with the comforter. You can’t imagine he’d call just to shoot the breeze. So what did he want now? “Everything has been quiet.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. Listen, you’ll need to swing by the office to collect your wages today. I am booked solid for the weekend and won’t be able to stop by like I did last time.”

“Um…okay.” You wonder what’s going to be keeping the social worker so occupied. Of course it’s none of your business, but still. The lack of attention you’ve received these last few nights has been unpleasant. Even Raglan’s strange company is better than none.

You squint at the alarm clock beside the bed. It’s not even nine yet. “I guess I could just head on over now.” You fling the blanket back, preparing to slide out of bed.

“No, that won’t do. I’ve got a full schedule of clients to see today, and you need to get some rest before your shift tonight. Can’t expect you to function properly without it. It’s really best if you came later. Say, around six?”

You can’t imagine that it will be that big of a deal to hand you cash. That should take all of several seconds. But of course he’s going to make this complicated. “Doesn’t the office close at five?”

The friendly tone slips a bit. He doesn’t like being questioned like this. You know it. You know better than to argue. You wonder if you don’t secretly enjoying bringing out the darker side of him. Spread over his lap. God, you’d been absolutely soaked…“Yes, it does. Which is why you’ll be arriving after hours. I’ll be getting caught up on paperwork until then.”

“How am I going to get into the office?”

A heavy, exasperated sigh. “I’ll let you in, obviously. Be prompt. I’m not going to stand at the door waiting forever.”

“Okay. I’ll be there at six.”

“Excellent. See you then. Sweet dreams,” he adds, and those two rough words make you feel warm and aching all over again.

***

If you have any sweet dreams, you don’t recall them.

You debate about getting dressed for work before heading back to the DSS office. You’ll have several hours to kill. Maybe you could come back home and squeak in another nap. In the end, you decide to wear something casual. It’s not like you were going for a job interview. You’re not trying to impress Steve.

Except that’s not entirely true, is it? Because you spend a little longer getting ready, making sure your appearance is tidy, applying light makeup and body spray and earrings. You choose a v neck tee that clings to your figure, draped over dark wash jeans and you tell yourself, as you look in the mirror, that you are strictly going there to collect your pay, and that is all. There’s no reason to expect anything else might happen.

You hate how you have butterflies in your stomach. You hate that you’re so eager to see the older man, so eager to please him. By the time you leave your apartment, your anxiety is through the roof.

There are still cars in the parking lot when you arrive, so apparently the social worker isn’t the only straggler in the building. Not a lot, though; it was Friday night, after all.

The entrance to the office is framed in glass. You can see the tall man waiting for you on the other side, arms folded. You check your watch. You’re on time. A little early, even. Which meant he’d been waiting early, too. Anticipating…what, you don’t know.

There’s a bruise on your hip from your last encounter with this man; a bruise on your soul and you don’t know which is worse, the physical harm or the emotional manipulation. Why do you crave him so much?

Raglan opens the door once you reach it, the narrow wedge you’re allotted no longer surprising you. You brush past him, eyes downcast, that brief touch of his body against yours like lighting a match, heat blooming. You hear the snap of the door being locked behind you and then without a word he begins walking down the hall, leaving you to catch up.

When you reach Steve’s office he shuts the door behind you. He could have already handed to the cash and been done with you. So why bring you here? Why shut that solid wood barrier?

He drops into the leather chair behind the desk, much as he had in the cloth one in the security office, with that same careless abandon. The seat rotates back and forth and you wonder if he ever just spins around like a child would, just for fun. There are little details in the room that you hadn’t noticed the first time you’d been here. The many framed awards lining the walls. The wire rabbit with its slotted ribs to organize and tuck mail into. A map of the local district and some generic looking nature scene that was probably mass produced, something the company had provided. There’s an eyeglass case and some change and a set of car keys on the desk, the rabbit’s foot now a familiar sight. A lot of keys on that ring. Some of them for Freddy’s, most likely.

Raglan runs his index and middle fingers over his moustache, then strokes the facial hair covering his chin. Whiter there than other places. He looks at you like he might a puzzle piece, trying to discern where you fit in, which way he needs to align you to make you slot properly into whatever grand design he’s orchestrating; his secret, meant for none but him alone to enjoy.

The money is curled in his other fist. You notice it now, when he relaxes his grip and reveals it. You imagine it is warm from his body heat. He stretches the arm out and you walk towards it. His wrist turns and the bills land in a pile on the carpet. You descend to your knees, reaching again, but his foot shifts and swiftly covers the currency, leaving your fingers empty. Your lashes lift and you see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Your hand curls around his calf. You press your lips to the inside of one knee. His breath hitches.

You stare up at him. Still wrapped around one leg, still watching him warily. Wanting. Waiting. His hand reaches for you face, fingers curling under your chin. Thumb spread over your lips and then speared between, pushing past your lips and teeth and stopping when he’s nestled against your tongue. Your eyes linked as you suck that digit, curling around it with the wet muscle and stroking, clutching it against your palate, feeling creases and whorls, joint and nail bed. Discovering the taste of the currency he’d clutched, that odd metallic flavor sunk into cotton and linen blended threads.

It’s not enough, you want to taste more of him, reaching for the button fastening his shirt sleeve. A small alarmed sound when you succeed, catching another glimpse of that pink scar you thought you’d seen during your interview. Was he ashamed of it? You don’t mind it, tongue darting out to lick along the pulse there, and the sound he makes, that deep groan, echoes in your core.

“Stand up.”

Your mouth abandons his skin. You frown a question at the older man. You’d thought he wanted you at his feet, on the floor, between his legs, worshipping at what dwells at the apex of them.

“Up,” he grates again, and you hastily comply.

“Why didn’t you wear something easier to remove?” The chair creaks as he leans forward, fingers at the button fly of your denim. “Surely you had some inkling…” The zipper is yanked down and his fingers curl around the waistband, dragging the jeans down until they’re resting midway across your thighs. “The scent of your depraved fantasies…oh.” A little huff of surprise when he shoves the hem of your shirt up and you scramble to hold it out of the way—why had you worn something so awkward, honestly—and he sees the discoloration he’s left. The ecchymosis has faded a bit, shifting from dark blue and purple to a fainter shade of maroon. He strokes over that bruised patch of flesh with a soft caress, completely ignoring the lace panties you’ve chosen to wear (yes, you’d had an inkling, as he’d called it, hopeful and lusting but you don’t want to admit it, not to yourself nor to him) keeping his attention solely focused on that injury he’d previously inflicted.

Then he kisses the spot and you think you might just die then, just spontaneously combust, because it’s so awkwardly tender and so near the area you really want his mouth at, feeling that brush of facial hair stroking your mound, between your thighs. He pulls at the damaged skin with his mouth, sucking, and a fresh sting erupts there while his fingers curl around and knead one cheek, another reminder of where he’s been before, meting punishment to balance the pleasure he’s about to gift you now.

The crotch of your panties is dragged to one side—a tight strain, the fabric isn’t very giving—wedging against your groin, digging into the crease while his tongue delves over the exposed pink flesh, the tip curling and thrusting between legs you wish you could part better, but you’re restricted by those stupid jeans you’d decided to wear that he clearly has no intention of removing further. So you stand on legs that are already trembling like a newborn foal’s, this older man seated in front of you with his nose digging into your mound and his tongue trying to collect whatever essence it can, scraping and prodding while the beard you’d imagined to be coarse and abrasive is instead a soft textured brush that only heightens everything. His glasses are knocked askew and you pull them off with your free hand, setting them on the desk beside you, the other still occupied with keeping the hem of your shirt out of the social worker’s way, letting you see the glory of him ravaging your cunt even in this limited fashion and it’s the single most erotic thing you’ve ever seen or felt in your life.

You’re touching his hair now, sifting through the layers, and you realize it is many, many colors, not simply gray and white but every shade in between, silky ribbons shading from dark to light, stormy sky to bright daybreak. The fervor with which he consumes you only intensifies, sending your hurtling through the path of ultimate bliss, your twitching bud finally surrendering to the relentless lashes of Steve’s tongue. You cum in his mouth and you hear the strangled inhale through his nostrils, your body mashed against his face, the fingers on his head cupping and shoving him closer and closer. A hum of sound and the hand on your ass tightens and the hypersensitivity that makes you want to recoil and push him back for respite transcends into something else. He’s got you there again, right on the brink, and you bite your tongue to stifle the wail when you climax a second time, still unsure if anyone else is left in the office to hear you.

Raglan eventually moves away, slouching against the back of the leather chair, looking disheveled and this, this is what you had envisioned when you’d called him, asking him to come to the restaurant that night. Climbing out of bed, hair tousled, clothes rumpled, that careful, neat appearance suddenly wild and raw and natural. You’re still trembling, still caught in the turbulent throes post orgasm, managing to lean over and capture his lips and he allows it, allows you to smooth back the slightly curled lock of hair that’s descended across his forehead, lap at the damp mouth that tastes familiar, like your own sex, while you reach down for his crotch and find him hard and straining.

Your descent to your knees is less than graceful—your thighs are still effectively shackled—but you manage the task, just as you manage to open his fly and shove the waistband of his briefs down. There is a lot there for your mouth, for your throat; daunting, but you’re determined. You want to take this man apart, enjoying this sudden shift in power, where he’s allowing you to direct the course of every action. You tease a few licks before you properly take his cock in your mouth and suck and the noise this elicits is one you know you’re going to savor again later, when you’re alone and you remember this, a backdrop for self pleasure. It’s a needy sort of whimper, a surprised sort of pleading sound. You can feel the tremors wracking his thighs already. He’s not going to last long. Your mouth is as relentless as his own had been, working up and down, straining with a lewd, wet slap each time he collides further and further back. He spills so deeply in your throat you don’t even taste it at first, until the pulsing head rests on the base of your tongue, when he jerks your head back so he can see your depravity, blown pupils meeting blown pupils, white cum still staining your red mouth and that breathy little moan hummed through his lips betraying just how much he’d enjoyed it.

You swallow the rest of his load down—bitter, as you’d known it would be—and sit back on your heels, realizing the two of you are still panting, still struggling to recover. You watch him shove himself back into his pants and you take that as a signal that you’re to do the same, grabbing up the cash you can finally reach off the carpet—and damn if that doesn’t make you feel like more of a whore than collecting your wages at the diner ever had, like he’d insinuated—before you push yourself upright, shimmying back into your jeans after tugging the crotch of your panties back towards the middle where it belongs.

You have absolutely no idea what to do now. He had started this, whatever this was, and you’d finished it, and now you’re struggling not to feel used and empty. In the heat of the moment everything had been perfect, but now you want all of that stupid, sappy stuff that you believe should come after intimacy. You want cuddles and pillow talk and of course this is hardly the time or the place for that. This isn’t anything even remotely resembling something like that; it’s not a relationship, not anything really, just the release of pent up tension between the two of you, but you stare at his face and you crave those lips and you want his arms around you. You know he’s going to tell you to leave and you’ll do it because he told you to but you wish, for one silly little moment, that he’d request the opposite instead. Ask me to stay. Tell me you want more. I want more than this.

Raglan’s refastened his shirt sleeve and slid those ill fitting glasses back into place and he almost resembles his usual tidy self. Some of his hair is still mussed and your fingers itch to help straighten it (or better yet make it messier) but you resist the urge. It had been okay, before. You know it wouldn’t be now.

“I have to finish my work. You should try to take a nap before your shift.” His voice is quiet. He’s not meeting your eyes. You follow him out of his office. Everyone must be gone now. It’s dimly lit and quiet.

There are a million things you want to say as you wait for him to unlock the door. Instead you remain silent. You force yourself to walk away, knowing he’s watching every step you take.

***

You don’t sleep.

Can’t, not after what’s happened in the career counselor’s office. His mouth on you. Your mouth on him. Taking each other apart. Those memories alone are going to be enough to fuel your next rounds of self pleasure for a long time.

The first hour of your shift passes without incident.

Then you see movement on one of the screens. Not the rabbit. A human. Male. Dressed in dark clothing. It looks like he’s climbed in through some vent on the outside.

The security door is unlocked, as Steve had instructed. You’re already dialing his number, keeping a wary eye on the stranger. He’s brought a flashlight, shining the beam around. Thief? Thrill seeker? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

The phone keeps ringing. Come on, Steve. Nothing. You redial in case you’ve hit the wrong numbers, even though you’re certain they’d been correct. Even try the office, thinking maybe he’d fallen asleep at his desk. No answer, just voicemail.

Police, then. You don’t have any other choice. You’ll deal with the consequences later. Surely pissing off Steve couldn’t be worse than letting this guy do whatever it was he was planning on doing.

You lift the receiver again and hear nothing. No dial tone. Complete silence. The phone is no longer working.

The threads of panic that had begun to squirm through you earlier now writhe, demanding attention. You don’t even have any kind of a weapon to defend yourself.

You should really lock the door. Again, Steve be damned.

You stand, intending to do just that. From the distance you hear the sound of glass shattering. Shit. Not just a casual explorer, then.

The lights go out.

You’d completely forgotten about the warning you’d been issued about how the electricity tended to be fickle. You normally just switch it on at the start of your shift and back off again before you leave. The office is completely dark. No more monitors. The emergency lighting in the hallway glows red. You’ll have to reset the breaker if you want full power restored. Which means leaving the office. That pitch dark room you no longer want to hide in.

Another crash. This sounded like something heavy. Metal striking another object. You’re still hovering in the open doorway. The switch for the power isn’t that far away. You could make it there and back again, surely. You take a step forward, your fingers still hooked around the doorframe. Another step. Now you hold only air. You keep walking. Your chest feels tight. It hurts trying to breathe so shallowly. You try to keep your tred light. It couldn’t be much farther. Just a few more steps. You think you can make out the shape of it, the box jutting out from the wall.

You’re not alone in the hallway.

The intruder has found his way here. He starts towards you and you jerk to a halt, taking a step back.

From the depths of the service room, the figure of the decaying rabbit animatronic emerges.

You don’t see the silver eyes. Its back is to you, facing the other man. You hear the sound of something striking the mascot, the clatter of that object as it hits the floor. The human male’s body is lifted and flung against the nearest wall. You can hear bones snapping.

You’ve lost your footing in your haste to back up. You scrabble backward on hands and feet, the soles of your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. You’re no longer trying to quiet your breathing. It comes and goes in a harsh, desperate whine. The rabbit’s bulk does nothing to slow it down. It’s right in front of you. Those strange glowing eyes focused on this vulnerable prey. You can hear it breathing, a dry, rusty sort of drag. There’s a roaring sound in your ears. It’s getting harder and harder to see, to focus. You’re blacking out. Darkness.

***

You awaken to feel something cool and wet being pressed against your forehead.

You blink rapidly, struggling to get your bearings. You’re no longer in the restaurant. You’re in a car. Steve Raglan’s car.

There’s a blue flashing light nearby. Police cruiser? You catch a glimpse of blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The young female officer gets behind the wheel of the vehicle and drives away, the tires screeching as she peels out of the parking lot.

“What…”

“You’re okay. Look at me.”

You try to focus on the social worker’s features. His hair looks a little damp. He’s still dressed in his office attire. “What happened?” You lick your lips. They’re so dry. You can barely get the words out.

“Someone broke into Freddy’s. The police just escorted them away.”

“I didn’t call them.”

“I know. I did.”

“I tried to call you. There was no answer. I even tried the office. Then the phone went dead.”

“The line was cut.”

“By that man?”

“Yes.”

“So how did you call the police?”

“I didn’t call from Freddy’s. I called the police as soon as there was no answer here. I knew something was wrong.”

“You’ve never called me at work.” You frown, shaking your head. Things still seemed fuzzy. You feel like you’re missing pieces of the puzzle. “What did that guy want, anyway?”

“That’s for the authorities to sort out.”

“Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

Steve stares at you for long moments. “I was unavailable.”

“At midnight? What were you doing?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“I could have gotten hurt. Seriously hurt. You realize that, right? This is so asinine. You’ve got me guarding this place with no training, no weapons, you tell me just to call you when I need you, and when I needed you, you weren’t there.” The words spill out in a rush. Fear and anger, betrayal and hurt coursing through you.

“I apologize.”

“You apologize? No, that’s not good enough, that’s—” He cuts you off by leaning over to kiss you. Your brain short circuits instantly. Why does he always feel so good? “You can’t just do that and expect it to make everything okay,” you manage when you part for air.

“It makes it better though, doesn’t it?”

Kiss it and make it better, Daddy. Oh, fuck. How can you be thinking about sex at a time like this?

“Where did you find me?”

“The hallway in the back. Why?”

“The rabbit was there again. It was fighting with the man. I think it was trying to help me. Don’t tell me I didn’t see it. It was there. I heard it breathing.”

“The animatronics don’t breathe. They’re not alive.” His voice is surprisingly gentle and patient, as if he’s explaining to a child how the Easter bunny isn’t real.

“This one is,” you insist stubbornly. “You can think I’m delusional. I know what I saw. Something is happening here.”

The older man turns his attention to the steering wheel, reaching to turn the key in the ignition. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day, I think. I’m taking you home.”

“What? My shift isn’t over.” You look at the digital display that glows green on the vehicle’s dashboard. It’s barely two.

“You won��t be docked for not completing the shift.”

“I’m capable of driving myself home.”

“I’m taking you,” he repeats, the firm disciplinary tone taking hold once more.

“I don’t want to leave my car here.”

“No one is going to touch it. The police are keeping watch for the rest of the night in case the intruder had an accomplice. They’ll be doing frequent patrol sweeps to make certain.”

“There wasn’t anyone else. Just him.”

“That you saw, until the power went out and you lost the monitors.”

You fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of a comeback. “Do you ever sleep? How come you’re always so wide awake in the middle of the night?”

He glances over at you and smirks, flicking a finger over the tip of his nose before returning to view the road. It’s deserted at this hour. “Coffee. I tried to tell you.”

“It tastes awful.” You’ve never admitted it out loud before.

“I never said it doesn’t. It’s much like alcohol in that regard. It has to be tempered to make it palatable.”

“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” you realize out loud.

“I’m not taking you to your place. I’m taking you to mine.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

“Any more complaints?”

“No.” You stare hard out the window. You hadn’t been expecting this. Any of this. How was it possible for this man to keep disarming you at every turn?

“Good.”

A house. He lives in a house, you silently answer the question you’d wondered previously. Two stories. Two car garage that he neglects to use, pulling into the driveway. You realize suddenly you’ve never once asked if he was married or had children. You’d just assumed.

Just assumed he was alone and waiting for you to fall, quite literally, into his lap.

It seems like a big living space for one person, but you don’t dare question it. You follow him meekly inside. He tosses the keys onto a table by the door, flicking on the lightswitch and then turning the deadbolt.

So far today you’ve gotten eaten out in the career counselor’s office, sucked his dick, almost gotten hurt by a trespasser at your job, possibly rescued? by a monster rabbit that doesn’t really exist and now you were in said career counselor’s home. All in the span of less than twelve hours. Unbelievable.

“I’m sure you’re ready to knock out. The master bedroom’s up here,” he invites, ascending the nearby stairs.

“What, I’m not going to spend the night on the couch?”

“You’re getting awfully mouthy. I’m not certain I like this new brashness,” he tosses over his shoulder as he continues climbing the stairs.

“You liked the mouthiness earlier,” you mutter softly, thinking he won’t hear you.

“I can see I’ve been too lenient.”

Oh, he’d heard.

You both reach the top of the stairs and he leans, reaching around you to flip the hall lights back off. Suddenly you’re in the dark again. Listening to breathing.

His hand finds yours. You’re pulled into one of the nearby rooms and a lightswitch is flipped, partially alleviating the tense moment. You watch him rummage in a dresser for a shirt, tossing it at you and pointing as you hastily clutch it to your chest. “Bathroom’s that way. Get changed.”

As if you’d want to sleep in the security uniform, especially after being on the floor of the restaurant. You wouldn’t mind a bath or a shower but you think that’s asking for too much. You duck into the other room and quickly get changed. It’s just an undershirt, solid white. You stare at yourself in the mirror. What, exactly, are you doing? Spending the night at this man’s house. In his bed.

You run your tongue over your teeth. You want to brush them. “Hey, Steve, is there a spare toothbrush? I don’t want to rummage through your stuff.” You open the door to find him standing just outside. Your mouth goes dry again. Fuck, you want him so bad it hurts.

“Here.” He steps inside, crowding you slightly against the sink as he reaches to open the medicine cabinet, withdrawing what you’d requested. “Don’t squeeze the toothpaste in the middle. I hate that.”

You glance, bemused, at the tube with its neat, empty curl at the end. “What will happen if I do?” You murmur.

“Don’t tempt me.” His hand grazes your ass and then he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You don’t spend too long cleaning your teeth. There’s too much want in you, want for what’s behind that closed door. You open it and find him waiting his turn, leaning against the wall. You discover the comforter and top sheet are now pulled back. Slate gray. Masculine. You have pastel pink at home. Full. Not a King size like this. Luxurious. How many thread count in these sheets? Your head sinks into the pillow. Perfect. Not too firm, not too soft.

Steve exits the bathroom. Watches you get comfortable. Sits on the other side of the mattress and reaches for the light. Darkness again. You hear the sounds of fabric shifting as he gets undressed. You wonder why he doesn’t want you seeing him bare. Are there more scars? The springs creak as he changes positions, standing again to remove his pants. Back down, now lying beside you.

Your face turns in his direction. Your heart is pounding. His arm reaches, dragging you against him. Spoons laid together. His breath by your ear. “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

You don’t want to behave. You want to turn over and touch and taste. But you obey. You close your eyes and try to soothe your racing pulse. You concentrate on the crisp feel of the bed linens beneath you and Raglan’s warm arms around you and you find yourself enveloped in slumber.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #william afton smut #divider @cafekitsune

55 notes · View notes

strawberrystepmom · 8 months

Text

pairing: vampire!natsuo todoroki x f!reader

word count: 3.5k

about: natsuo is handsome, well dressed, charming, and everything you’ve ever wanted but something tells you there’s more to him than meets the eye - given you can only see him after the sun sets.

contents: sfw, no smut here but suggestive behavior in the final scene. modern au, the todoroki family are vampires, natsuo is mid twenties and so is reader, a scene containing touya, fuyumi, and shoto, meet cute, reader struggles to sleep at night, mentions of blood. i will be further elaborating on this dynamic/au in the future!

notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! welcome to week three! this is just good ol fashioned halloween romcom nonsense you'd come to expect from me. natsuo was the pinkprint and deserves his time in the sun so this is the first of TWO stories about him. the next will have smut, pinkie swear, but in the meantime hopefully this is something everyone can enjoy! thank you for reading ♡

Natsuo Todoroki, at his core, is a morning person.

How is one a vampire and a morning person? The two ideas seem contradictory but it’s just who he is, unable to be changed no matter how much time passes.

As a child, he would solemnly park himself at window sills and wrap himself up in the complicated and lacy curtains his mother dressed them in to keep light from getting inside. Waking with the sweet song of the birds outside his own heavy curtained windows, he’d watch the orange ball rise higher and higher into the sea of blue that it would come to rest in, only to be pulled away by his older siblings or his mother tutting at him for messing with the curtains again.

He wondered what it would be like to be the sun. Bright and blazing, warming everyone around him without effort. It’s just what the sun naturally does.

Now, as an adult, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his scrubs after his shift in the emergency department ends and wonders what it must be like to be the sun as he wanders out onto the streets, zipping his jacket up over his chest and sinking into the warmth. It’s cold and wet in a way that is typical of an October night, the sliver of the moon sinking lower and lower as the sun begins to make her ascent to start the day.

He works his overnight shift for obvious reasons.

Dr. Todoroki’s reputation as affable and easy to work with is something the entire shift celebrates when he’s scheduled. He is well liked but nobody bothers to ask him to stick around once the shift is over because he’ll turn down the offers anyway.

There’s nothing more that he enjoys than his walks before dawn. It’s the only time he can even get this close to daylight, to feel the world heat up while he remains cold.

Tonight, though, he isn’t alone on his walk and he’s all too acutely aware of where you walk several feet away from him on the adjacent sidewalk. He smells you long before he sees you, one of his fangs that keeps retracted at all times jutting out of his jaw and slicing his lip, and after verifying he isn’t bleeding he decides to keep a respectable distance despite his concern for your well being.

Why in the world are you out walking the city sidewalks by yourself at 3:58 AM?

You notice him, tall and broad and wearing green scrubs that obviously indicate he just got done working at the hospital, but you keep your distance. Walking the city is a choice you make well aware of the danger that could befall you but you also live by the “don’t start any and there won’t be any” mantra when it comes to trouble. So far it has served you well but it isn’t like you’ve ventured far from where you live, only around 6 blocks away from your tiny interior apartment.

You struggle to sleep at night, trying every remedy under the sun but it never comes, so you walk until you can’t think any longer. You pace until you stumble into your home after the sun rises, almost too exhausted to move and then finally you are tired enough to sleep.

Looking around the sidewalk, you splash in a puddle and hear a chuckle from the sidewalk across from you. Natsuo stands, hands still buried in his pocket, glancing at you from the corner of his eye and curiosity gets the better of you so you turn in his direction with your arms folded across your chest.

“What’s so funny?” Your tone is light hearted and he catches onto it immediately, gray eyes casting you more than a sidelong glance. The distance between the two of you keeps him from getting too good of a look at you but he likes what he can see.

Natsuo finds you undeniably attractive, there’s something sweet about you besides your scent, and it makes him even more anxious to know you’re pacing all alone. The area around the hospital tends to be pretty safe but he worries what would happen if you went further down the road, where the amount of street lights grows fewer the further you go into the residential areas. So he bites, simply in an effort to make sure that you’re alright and will be okay after he departs.

“You, I guess.”

You laugh and he feels a thousand sunrises in his chest. Whatever he witnessed through curtains, whatever he has seen rising above the horizon like a beautiful balloon in the sky will never compare to this. He isn’t sure how to act so he slaps his hands against his thighs, shrugging and offering his signature Dr. Todoroki grin, toothsome and bright.

“I’ll be here all week.”

There’s an undeniable pull between you and this man but you stop just short of walking across the street. He seems safe and trustworthy, a good haircut and a killer smile but all of those traits were also attributed to Ted Bundy at one point or another so you decide to play it safe and stay in your place across from him, arms folded over your chest to ward off the chill in the air.

He watches your body language change and tries to match it the best that he can, keeping his hands buried in his pockets and his chin tucked into the collar of his jacket. Making you anxious is the last thing he wants and he won’t prod if you aren’t interested but his gut tells him to take a chance, to break the silence and see where it gets him.

So he does.

“Seriously though, why are you out here at this time of night?”

Shrugging, you squeeze yourself where your arms are wrapped over your torso. It’s a soothing action, the equivalent of a hug. You feel better after it.

“Do you want the long story or the short one?”

“Whichever you’re most comfortable sharing.”

He chuckles again and you focus on his face, deep dimples visible even from several feet away and your heart beats hard against your chest. He’s handsome, he’s funny, he’s obviously employed…you shake your head to loosen this line of thinking, still holding yourself tightly when he takes the steps toward you to close the gap. You hop back from the edge of the sidewalk slightly, keeping a bit of distance between the two of you, and Natsuo feels that ache in his upper jaw that indicates his teeth are going to descend.

He takes ten steps to the side of you, leaving ample room between your bodies, and the ache stops enough that he can focus on what you’re about to say. You appreciate how respectful he is of your space although you have no idea his reasons aren’t wholly altruistic and it softens you toward the man further.

“I have never really slept well at night,” you start and he hums empathetically. He understands more than you could begin to know. “Even when I was a kid, it’s like sleep terrified me. Closing my eyes and not thinking and just being for a while. What could be more terrifying than not overthinking all night?”

“I get it. I have the same problem, that’s why I’m on overnights.”

You nod, smiling at him.

"Good to know there's someone else that doesn't have good luck with melatonin gummies."

A kindred spirit. Perhaps that's why you still feel so drawn to him despite the ten big steps between your bodies and you relax for the first time since he laughed at you, taking the time to really look at him now that he's so close.

He's just as handsome as you imagined when your mind was filling in blanks from across the street, hair as white as snow, tanned complexion, gray eyes. It's intimidating to see a man who looks like he belongs in the pages of a magazine face to face, much less one who is obviously flirting with you and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

Noticing your discomfort, he decides to introduce himself.

"I'm Natsuo. I'm a doctor." He cringes at himself upon realizing what he just said but you smile, arms still folded but posture slackening. "I don't know why I felt the need to tell you that."

You introduce yourself and he takes the time to memorize your name, repeating it and savoring the feeling of it across his tongue. A name as pretty as the person carrying it.

"It's okay, at least I know that you aren't some creep that stole a pair of scrubs off of the dude you just beat down for them. Unless..."

Natsuo laughs and heat rushes to your cheeks.

"Nah, I'm more of a lover than a fighter. My fatal flaw some might say."

You laugh and that same feeling blooms within him, rivaling the sun that is steadily beginning to rise over the buildings in the distance. He sighs when he sees it, removing his hand from his pocket and rubbing it over his face.

"I don't want to be weird or anything but I do this every night and..." he trails off, uncertain of what he wants to ask you, but you seem to get the message.

"I do, too. Same place and same time?"

Smiling, he nods and begins to walk in the direction opposite you toward where his car is parked at the hospital. He has to get home before the sun rises and he'll be cutting it close if he continues to slow play his departure but it's worth it for another second spent around you.

"Thanks for tonight. I needed it," you admit aloud and his ears turn red in response, bright and vivid through the snowy white hair barely covering them.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

“Where do you think you’re off to lookin’ so pretty?”

Natsuo rolls his eyes as he readjusts the buttons of the long sleeved shirt he donned just for the occasion of the evening while his brother reaches up and attempts to ruffle his meticulously spiked hair. It isn’t hard work for him to dodge his shorter brother but he shoves him with his shoulder anyway, frowning.

“Stop it, Touya. I’m not going anywhere you need to know about.”

The thing about saying those words in reference to you, feeling them leave his lips in shapes he would rather not experience, is that they make his stomach flip. Anxiety turns the organ inside out, the man sighing through an army of uneasy butterflies in his stomach. He knows he can’t tell anyone about you, least of all his family. They have their own secrets but they’ve always strictly forbidden the taboo romance between a vampire and a human knowing it only ends in pain.

He’ll risk the trouble for you, though.

You - sweet, easy going, beautiful. Glowing with life beneath the dimly lit booths you snuggle in to press your knees against his long after the sun has set. Grinning as you grab his hand beneath the surface of the bar four blocks away from your apartment and two away from the hospital, the floors sticky with substances neither of you have cared to imagine.

It has been months since that fateful first dawn walk, the two of you making a habit out of striding side by side. Natsuo ignores the ache in his jaw, you ignore the way he hasn't asked you for anything physical yet beyond holding hands, assuming he's just a little old fashioned.

“I’m starting to think you have a secret, little brother.”

He's keeping secrets from more than just Touya; the guilt gnaws at him if he thinks about it too long so he doesn't.

Natsuo shakes his head and raises his brows, a smirk playing across his lips. He happens to know where his own brother goes after the sun sets, eagerly bringing books and paintings to the home of the vampire that has been alleged to have started their family curse by biting Enji, their father; a woman perpetually 26 despite the many many centuries that have passed since her turn.

“No worse than the one you’re keeping, I can assure you that.”

With that, Touya clears his throat and takes his space, fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants rather than making eye contact with his brother. Caught red handed and he knows it, he chooses to play offense rather than explain himself.

“You know about that?”

His younger brother smiles and claps him on the back with a nod.

“Keep mine and I’ll keep yours?”

“Obviously, dumbass.”

Taking a deep breath, Natsuo rolls his shoulders and lifts his hands to his hair, fingers running through it to calm him down. He yanks at the strands for a moment, thick fingers twining between the white strands, and Touya wonders what has him so uncertain.

It’s not like he’s dating a human.

“I’m seeing someone and we have a date tonight.”

Oh, he’s dating a human.

“Jesus, Natsu,” Touya’s brows pinch together in the middle and he wraps an arm around his brothers’ shoulder, pulling him to his side. “You’re such a simp.”

Scoffing, the taller of the two looks down at his brother and frowns. He’s never truly astounded by Touya’s audacity but it does catch him off guard considering the only bigger rule you can break than consorting with a human in the Todoroki household is the one he’s currently attempting to bend.

“Who taught you that word? Your thousand year old girlfriend?” Touya returns his scoff, shoving him with the arm that isn’t wrapped around his shoulder and raising his voice. “She isn’t a thousand fuckin-”

Before he can finish the sentence, Fuyumi peaks around the corner and arches her brow wordlessly. Neither of the men can hide anything from their older sister so they don't bother, scooting over to let her into Natsuo's walk in closet just like they used to do as children when they were discussing the events of the world.

"So you're both breaking the big two?"

Natsuo sighs and nods sadly but Touya chuckles, clapping his sister on the shoulder just as he did his brother. That's one thing the siblings have always appreciated about one another - everyone is equal. Equal to give shit to, equal to protect, even Shouto who they all go to pains to take care of even more than the older siblings do one another.

"Please don't tell dad," Natsuo isn't above begging if it means he gets to keep you. He looks up at his sister through his lashes and she smiles back at him. "Of course, Natsu. We're all breaking some rule at the end of the day."

Both of her brothers raise their eyebrows and she shrugs, zipping her lips dramatically while the youngest of the four peeks around the corner with a deadpan glance.

"What are you guys doing in here?"

They look at his mismatched eyes and bunch together, making enough room for the fourth of them to squeeze inside.

"Natsuo's dating a human."

Fuyumi and Natsuo open their mouth to gasp and Shouto shakes his head. How his elder siblings haven't noticed at this point is beyond him, given Natsuo narrowly stumbles in the door as the sun rises every single morning, but the youngest has always been the most astute of the bunch.

"Yeah, obviously. He reeks of her every time he comes home."

Despite the terror of being caught, Natsuo belly laughs. There's nobody else he could be shoved in a closet with, admitting to lying to their parents and breaking the codes of honor the entire family have taken seriously as long as they've existed.

They all have secrets, Fuyumi was right. He is relieved and he feels full of love, group hugging his siblings and squeezing them as tightly as he can until all three start to groan and slap at his biceps.

"Okay well now that the cat is out of the bag can you guys leave me alone? I'm already running late."

Fuyumi and Shouto are the easy sells, wishing him luck and leaving to go gossip across the house but Touya sticks around, looking at his little brother that has become a full grown man with his own life and career and apparently, love.

He's proud but he'll never say it out loud instead choosing to further antagonize.

"Does she know?"

Natsuo shakes his head and Touya hisses through his teeth, clapping his brother on the shoulder and walking out of the closet.

"Good luck with that."

He knows that he'll need it.

"Do you want to come inside?"

This is the first time you've offered the option to Natsuo, his discomfort with any physical affection keeping you from broaching the subject this far, but the time feels right. The two of you spent the evening at an outdoor art show, admiring pottery and painting with your hands joined.

You are undeniably attracted to this man and you hope that you aren't misreading his affection toward you as more than simple friendliness, your evenings spent with him some of the best you've had since you can remember. Your hands remain linked, fingers twined and dangling in the small space between your bodies where you both lean against the frame of your front door.

Natsuo smiles down at you and it feels like the world disappears, walls and floors and atmosphere melting into something that doesn't matter when he looks at you. You've known it for awhile but there's no denying it - you're in love with him and asking him to spend the night, or morning rather, feels like the most logical next step.

His hesitation makes you doubt yourself, though.

"You don't have to, Natsuo. I know you're busy an-" he cuts you off by grasping your cheek with his free hand, thumb running along the soft skin beneath it. He has never been this close to you before, his teeth aching despite his self restraint, and he knows that tonight he must decide to be honest or leave you behind.

The thought of leaving you behind breaks his heart. You are the sun that he has so badly craved his entire life and there's no way he can continue without you, even if it means telling the truth and putting you both in the way of trouble in the process.

"I want to."

Smiling, you reach for the door and unlock it, keying in the code that you know he watches. You hope he has it memorized, if not you'll remind him again later. The lock unlatches, a mechanical whirring in the door, and as soon as the door opens he has you pulled against his body.

Pressed against the door, he finally kisses you. It's hungry, something raw and fiery beneath his exterior coming to the surface and you know that you'd let him have every bit of you right here on the floor if he wanted it. The scent of his cologne and the feel of his hands across your sweater clad body make you moan into his mouth and you yelp when something pokes your lip, assuming he nipped you a little harder than intended.

Mortified, Natsuo backs away from you with wide eyes and you see his tooth poking out of his top lip. The tip of it is dotted with blood from your lip and he backs away from you unable to hide his horror.

"I'm so sorry, I..." he mumbles a string of apologies and you put your hands on his chest to stop him, close enough to him that his body reacts naturally and his second fang descends through his jaw and peeks out of his top lip to join the first.

Your wide eyes gaze at him but hold no fear and he marvels at you. You are so trusting, so brave, so kind despite now knowing he's a...

"Vampire."

It takes all of you to contain the smile on your face from becoming too big when the word leaves your lips. You had an inkling something was different about him but you never assumed it would be this.

Dr. Natsuo Todoroki, your walking buddy, your companion, is a vampire.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Using the grip you have on his chest, you pull him down until he's face level with you. The same smile dances across your face and you waste no time kissing him for real this time, paying no mind to the way he whimpers when his tongue laves over the small puncture wounds his teeth have left on your bottom lip. You let him lick over the spots until he gets his fill, head swimming and heart full.

"Yeah, me too, because I would have done all of this months ago."

Natsuo laughs, kissing you again. His brows knit together when he laps at another pinprick of blood on your lips, another sweet groan leaving him.

You taste as good as you smell and his instincts tell him that you've just given him a tiny taste of all you're willing to offer.

#natsuo todoroki x reader #todoroki natsuo x reader #kendall writes #thot-o-ween 2023

133 notes · View notes

chelseachilly · 10 months

Text

THIS LOVE - chapter four | you can hear it in the silence

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.2k

summary: you try to keep your distance from ben after italy, but after a terrible day, there's no one else you'd rather be with. i wonder why that is...

A/N: sorry it took longer than usual to update guys, it's been a very busy week for me! this one's a bit short as well but the next will be longer. i'm so happy the prem is back and we're getting so much good ben content though, the chelsea media team is keeping us well fed (and inspired one line of this chapter lol). title is from you are in love by taylor swift 🙈

previous chapter | view all chapters

Your plan when you got back to London seemed almost foolproof at the time.

You picked up a bunch of shifts at work, more than you would ever normally take on in one week. If you’re constantly working, then that gives you 1) an excuse not to attend any more events with Ben and 2) a good distraction from the developing feelings you’re experiencing for him.

The facts are simple.

He is your best friend in the world. He most certainly doesn’t return whatever weird feelings you’re having. Nothing is going to happen.

You’re sure it’s just a weird side-effect of this fake dating you’ve been doing, but that’s just playing pretend.

Seeing him return to his usual ways - that perhaps he never left - of sleeping with beautiful models, firmly planted you back in the real world.

And there’s nothing that can help you snap out of your fantasy life than a double shift in an East London emergency department.

By the end of the week, you’re burnt out, exhausted, and you’re coming off what might be the worst shift you’ve ever had. Everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong, and it takes all your energy just to make it home on the tube and get yourself up the stairs to your flat afterward.

You don’t know whether you want to cry, scream, sleep, eat, or something else entirely when you finally make it to your couch and collapse into it.

Some time passes - you’re not sure if it’s minutes or hours - without you moving a muscle, your face buried in a pillow as you try to forget about your nightmare day. You’re snapped out of it when there’s a knock on your door.

You’re not expecting anyone, but you reluctantly force yourself off the couch and trudge your way over to open it.

And there stands Ben, who you haven’t seen or really spoken to except a few texts in a week and a half. Perfect.

“Ben, what are you doing here?”

You’re aware it’s not the most polite greeting, but you don’t really have much more than that in you.

“Are you alright?” Ben asks as soon as he has a moment to take you in, his eyes scanning your face. “You didn’t answer my call yesterday or my texts this morning, I was worried.”

Although you missed the texts because your phone was off at work and haven’t had the energy to check your messages since, you did dodge his call.

“I’m fine, I just had a long day at work and I-“ You pause as it dawns on you what day it is, as well as the fact that Ben is dressed a bit more smartly than usual, in black trousers and a nice leather jacket. “Oh, shit. The Nike thing. I completely forgot.”

You had agreed weeks ago to attend a big flashy party for Nike as Ben’s date tonight, but as you focused all your energy on work this week it completely slipped your mind.

“I’m sorry, just give me a few minutes to get changed and I’ll-“

“Hey, hey,” Ben says softly, stepping into your flat and closing the door behind him. “Forget about the party, is something wrong?”

You shake your head. “I just had a rough day at work.”

Ben nods, gesturing for you to go on, and something about the sincere worry in his eyes makes it impossible for you to remain closed off from him.

“We were really understaffed, and it was just one thing after another and then I lost a patient and I just-“

You cut yourself off as you feel that you’re about to cry, the sheer weight of your awful day and week catching up with you, but Ben can see it in the way your lip is trembling slightly and you’re avoiding eye contact with him.

“It’s alright, come here,” he says, stepping closer and pulling you into his arms before you can insist that you don’t need to be comforted. You definitely do, and there’s no better comfort on earth than Ben’s hugs.

He holds you close against him, letting you hide your face in his chest, and you can’t resist letting out a few sobs now that he’s opened the emotional floodgates.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Ben says so softly that it almost makes you cry harder. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, and never breaking contact, Ben shuffles you both backward until the back of your legs hits the couch and eases you both into a seated position. He pulls you even closer so your legs are draped over his lap and your face rests in the crook of his neck, his hands slowly rubbing your back as your sobs taper off into quiet whimpers.

You can feel everything bad and stressful about today slowly leave your body with every soothing murmur and stroke of Ben’s warm hand against your back.

He’s like an instant cure for everything wrong with the world, and it occurs to you that a big part of your terrible mood is probably the result of not seeing him for longer than usual.

Now that you’re back in his presence, in the strong arms that have held you when you were eight and you scraped your knee falling off a bike and when you were sixteen and a boy broke your heart for the first time, you never want to leave.

You’re no longer crying when you finally find the strength to pull away from him and look him in the eye.

Ben releases you but keeps his hands firmly on your arms as he examines your face with worried eyes and a creased brow.

“Are you alright?” he asks barely above a whisper.

You nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Sorry, I guess this week was just a bit overwhelming.”

“You’ve been working a lot lately, yeah?”

“Yeah, well, have to pay the bills,” you shrug, as if that’s the only reason you’ve been drowning yourself in shifts on purpose.

You do regret the comment slightly as Ben’s mouth opens and you know what he’s going to say before he even says it.

“Y/N, if you ever need money, you know-“

“Ben,” you interrupt. “I don’t need money, I’m fine. It was just a stressful week, but I’ve got a few days off now.”

You’ve had this dispute before, with Ben freaking out whenever you seem overworked and insisting on covering some of your expenses. You never take him up on it, obviously. You do mostly love your job and helping people, and Ben knows that. He just worries about you.

“Alright, fine,” Ben accepts. “Now why don’t we order some food and pick something to watch?”

You blink at him in confusion. “What? What about the Nike thing?”

Ben shrugs. “I’ll skip it. No big deal.”

“Ben-“

“Y/N, you had a shit day, you’re not going to some dumb party, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s his job to take care of you when you’re sad. Like he’s more than just your friend.

You can’t help but smile at his sincere expression, and how he’s gently rubbing your calf that’s still draped over his lap, as if you touch each other like this in private all the time.

“I thought you said it would be a fun party?” you raise an eyebrow. “Or were you just trying to trick me into it?”

Ben laughs. “Well, it might be alright. A couple of the boys are gonna be there. But not as fun as watching a film with you.”

There it is again - that damn fluttering in your chest that is equal parts exciting and terrifying.

Suddenly, doing anything with Ben sounds pretty good. Even a dumb party.

“You know what, let’s go,” you say, wiping any remaining tears from your cheeks. “There’s no point in this whole fake dating thing if we don’t commit, right?”

“Are you sure?” Ben asks, frowning a bit. “We really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure. Let me go get changed.”

You get ready fairly quickly, putting on your go-to little black dress and comfiest heels, because you did just work a 12-hour day. You make your hair look presentable and apply a bit of makeup.

It’s nothing special, but the look on Ben’s face when you walk out of your bedroom says otherwise.

The stress of your day continues to fade away to nothing as you and Ben make your way over to the party. Ben drives as they have a match Sunday so he won’t be drinking anything, and he loudly sings along to the Taylor Swift song on the radio in a clear attempt to cheer you up. It’s definitely working.

The party is a cool, lively affair at the Nike HQ. There are loads of athletes there, some that you recognize from television and some that you know through Ben.

As you navigate the party, chatting with some Nike execs and some of Ben’s past and present teammates, Ben maintains some kind of physical touch with you. His fingers intertwined with yours as you walk in; his arm around your waist as you talk to his mates; his hand rubbing gentle circles on your lower back as you order a drink.

You don’t know if it’s the fact that this is an event hosted by one of his biggest sponsors and he wants to play up the “man in love” thing or if he’s still trying to comfort you, but you can’t help hoping it’s the latter.

After a while, Ben is approached by someone from Nike asking if he can do a short interview for social media.

“Your girlfriend is welcome to join too,” the woman says nicely, flashing you a smile.

“You don’t have to,” Ben whispers in your ear, but you just shrug.

Normally you would shy away from any press, but maybe a part of you doesn’t mind being called his girlfriend tonight.

“I’ll do it,” you say with a small smile at the interviewer.

Ben keeps his arm protectively around your waist as the interview begins, glancing at you from time to time to make sure you’re alright.

They ask him a few questions about football before diving into the personal stuff, which you know is juicer for social media.

“So, Ben, we see you’ve brought your lovely girlfriend Y/N here tonight,” the interviewer says. “How does she keep you grounded during the hectic football season?”

You tense a bit as you wonder what Ben is going to say, or if he’s going to be able to come up with anything on the spot, but he barely takes a second to respond.

“She’s such a calming presence in my life, really,” Ben says, squeezing your waist slightly. “She’s a nurse, so her job is infinitely harder than mine, and she still supports me emotionally whenever I hit a low point with my career. She’s…just the best person I know.”

Your heart is beating so wildly that you’re worried Ben is going to be able to tell, but you don’t have much time to stop being flustered before she’s directing a question at you.

“Y/N, I’ve heard that you two have known each other for quite some time before your relationship began,” she says. “What’s your favourite thing about Ben?”

There are a million things that come to mind right away, most of which feel too personal to share.

You love how he takes care of the people in his life without expecting anything in return. You love how he cries every time you watch Marley and Me together, even though he’s seen it a thousand times. You love close he is with his family and how he calls his mum every Sunday night just to chat.

You love…

“I love how positive he is,” you say after a moment when you realize it’s taking you too long to answer. “He’s overcome a lot of adversity in his career, but he always has a smile on his face and makes everyone around him feel better by being in his presence.”

While you try to keep your answer somewhat football-related, since this is a work function, it’s also completely true.

And when Ben looks at you with that same bright smile, you think he knows that.

“Well, it seems love is in the air at Nike HQ tonight,” the interviewer swoons. “I hope you both have a nice evening, and we wish you all the best this season, Ben.”

As she leaves you standing there alone with Ben, trying to process the weight of your feelings, he turns to smile at you and tightens his grip on your waist.

When you meet his gaze and your stomach churns, you know two things for certain.

The first is that you’re in love with your best friend. It’s absolutely terrifying, due in part to the fact that you think you may have been in love with him without realizing it for a long time, but there’s no disputing it anymore.

The second is that you’re going to have to end this fake relationship before someone gets hurt.

You just hope it’s not too late.

a/n: let me know what you thought, predictions, etc!! love chatting with all of you and your comments/asks make my day! <3 tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe @batmansb1tch @ncentic @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine #this love #my fics

138 notes · View notes

renecdote · 1 year

Note

how about "this reminded me of you" if it sparks? <3

Hi Kate ily I hope you don't mind that I took some creative liberties with the dialogue here <3 It also got way longer than expected oops so enjoy 4.4k of these two being ridiculously in love.

Also for @starlingbite who requested the same prompt.

[Read on AO3]

The package shows up on the doorstep on Wednesday afternoon. Eddie is supposed to be at work—the last shift in the cycle before their four days off—but instead he kissed Buck goodbye at the door, made him promise not to do anything too dangerous, then stayed home to look after his sick kid. He’s expecting groceries when the doorbell rings just after five p.m., not the lumpy grey package left by a USPS driver who is already climbing into his truck and driving away.

Eddie skims the label as he shuts the door—sent to: Evan Buckley; description: boyfriend hoodie—curious because he doesn’t remember Buck mentioning anything he ordered recently. He doesn’t open it, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He pulls out his phone instead and types boyfriend hoodie into the search bar, only hesitating a moment before he hits enter. A dozen links pop up, but none of them are all that enlightening. Eddie is left with no clearer idea of what a boyfriend hoodie is and a vague disgust at how expensive they are to buy. He’s pretty sure that if Buck ever put together a budgeting spreadsheet it would look something like:

Food $200

Data $150

Rent $800

Hoodies $3,600

Utility $150

And Eddie knows he’s so, so far gone for his boyfriend. He knows he has been for a long time. But damn he’s got it bad because he knows that if Buck put a budget like that in front of him, he’d never be able to talk him out of spending a fortune on all his cosy, tempting hoodies.

The doorbell rings again, cutting into his thoughts, and Eddie leaves the package on the dining table to collect his groceries. Milk and eggs and the deli bacon Buck likes go in the fridge, oranges in the fruit bowl, crackers and pedialyte left on the table, everything else in the pantry. He checks on Chris—sleeping, no warmer than he was an hour ago when Eddie brushes a hand over his forehead—and somewhere between folding laundry and ladling chicken soup into a cup, the mystery of the package slips to the back of his mind.

****

Buck tries to sneak in when he gets home, but Eddie is dozing on the couch, half awake in case Chris needs him, and he hears the rumble of the Jeep’s engine before the door is unlocked.

“Hey,” he greets sleepily, “you’re early.”

He’s not really: it’s twenty past eight. Eddie is just so used to calls taking them overtime, or lingering in the station at the end of a shift, or the hell beast that is LA traffic in the mornings. Their shifts end at eight, but he rarely sees the inside of his house any earlier than eight forty-five.

“Hey,” Buck echoes, yawning. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Eddie shakes his head, swallowing back his own yawn. “Nah, I’ve been up for a while.” Sort of up, anyway. “How was work?”

“Busy,” Buck answers. “I missed you.”

He looks tired, which means he probably didn’t get much sleep in the bunks. Hard to tell whether that was because of the busy or the I missed you though.

“How’s Chris?” he asks before Eddie can question him further. “Is he feeling any better?”

It hits Eddie sometimes, in the moments he least expects it, that he’s been coparenting with his best friend for far longer than either of them realised. Buck letting himself into the house, asking how Chris is when he’s been sick—none of it feels new. They could have had this conversation just as easily three years ago as they are today. The only difference is that now, after Eddie has reassured his partner that Chris seems to be on the upswing, he can tip his head back against the couch and Buck will lean down and kiss him; first on the forehead, then, when Eddie pouts upside down at him, on the lips.

“Hi,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling with his smile, and Eddie can’t help smiling back at him.

“Hi,” he echoes. Thinks: I missed you too.

Buck starts to straighten up and—it’s fine, he’s not going to go far, but—a sound of protest catches in Eddie’s throat and he reaches up and snags his boyfriend by the hoodie string and—

Oh. The hoodie!

“You got mail,” he blurts, sitting up so fast he almost smacks Buck in the head.

“Mail…? Oh!” Buck’s eyes light up as he grabs the package. “I didn’t think this would be here until next week.”

“You bought another hoodie?” Eddie asks, trying to sound casual and probably failing. He hopes it’s a nice blue that will bring out Buck’s eyes. Or the kind of pink that makes his lips pop. Or that burnt orange he looks so good in. Or green, or white, or maroon, or purple. He’s pretty sure Buck doesn’t own a purple hoodie yet.

“Actually,” Buck is already ripping open the packaging, his grin bright and unrestrained, “this one is for you.”

Eddie frowns, confused. Why? he almost asks. We both know I’d just steal it from you anyway. And then Buck gets the hoodie out of its packaging inside the packaging (Eddie mourns the environment) and holds it up, the material unfolding to show a grey-blue hoodie that says I stole this from my boyfriend on the front. He blinks. Reads it again.

“Doesn’t it defeat the whole purpose if it’s for me? I mean, if you give it to me, I didn’t really steal it from my boyfriend, did I?”

Buck rolls his eyes, but his grin hasn’t faltered. “I can wear it a few times first, if that helps.”

“I think you should,” Eddie agrees, reaching out to run his fingers over the white letters. They’re embroidered, thread bumpy under his fingers, not the plastic feeling of writing that will flake off after a few too many washes, and when he dips his fingers under the hem, the inside is so soft and cosy he almost shivers just thinking about wearing it.

“Dad?”

They both turn—and Eddie’s heart thumps, a pain that doesn’t really hurt, at the way Buck responds just as easily—to find Christopher making his way towards them.

“Hey, buddy,” Eddie says. “How are you feeling?”

Christopher shrugs, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m thirsty.”

Buck’s hand presses against Eddie’s shoulder just for a second—I’ve got it—and then he’s moving into the kitchen while Eddie fusses over Chris, checking his temperature and getting him settled on the couch and convincing him to try a piece of toast.

“Buck,” Christopher says between nibbling bites of toast, and Eddie watches Buck shake himself back to attention, the long shift starting to catch up with him. “Do you really need another hoodie?””

Buck blinks, slow and cat-like in his confusion, and then his face twists into such exaggerated affront that Eddie has to bite his cheek on a laugh. The packaging is still scattered on the dining table, the new hoodie hanging over the back of a chair, and Chris couldn’t have seen who it was addressed to, but he didn’t even question that it would be Buck.

“There’s no such thing as too many hoodies,” Buck tells Chris mock-seriously. Mostly mock, anyway; Eddie knows there’s a part of him that really believes there is no such thing as too many hoodies.

Christopher’s teeth poke out with his smile. “But we live in LA.”

“LA gets cold,” Buck insists, the same way he insists whenever anyone brings up his absurdly large jacket collection (“it’s not just me! why does no one ever talk about all Hen’s sweaters?”). He looks at Eddie for help, but Eddie just shrugs.

“Kid has a point,” he says, as if he doesn’t spend half his time stealing from his boyfriend’s side of the closet.

Buck grasps his chest in mock betrayal, but there’s a smile pushing at the corners of his mouth.

“Now I know you’re feeling better,” he says, tousling Christopher’s curls while Chris giggles and ducks away.

It’s overwhelming, sometimes, how much Eddie loves them both. His heart is doing that thing again, that hard thump that makes his breath catch, and when Buck glances at him—you okay?—he just shakes his head, smiling back: I love you, I’m okay.

Buck reaches out to take his hand, tangling their fingers together: I love you too. His eyes in the morning light are a pale, glittering blue and Eddie leans over and kisses him, just because he can.

****

Eddie has been expecting to be taken out by the germs from the moment Chris first pushed his food around his plate on Tuesday night and said he wasn’t hungry.

Somehow, it’s Buck who catches the bug next. He crashes for four hours while Eddie putters around doing housework, sleeps right through lunch, and when he wakes up in the afternoon, he’s achy and shivering.

“I’m okay,” he still tries to insist, slumped at the kitchen table while Eddie watches him warily, putting all the sandwich fillings that were offered and rejected back in the fridge. Christopher and Buck are more alike than they both know, their appetites always the first thing to go when something is wrong.

“You’re sick,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “I don’t know why you’re denying it, it was bound to happen.”

Buck grumbles. “I was fine earlier.”

Eddie thinks back, tries to remember if he missed any sign, but Buck really did seem fine earlier. It doesn’t really reassure him; Chris seemed fine when they picked him up from school on Tuesday as well.

“Go lie down,” he suggests. “The sooner you give in, the sooner you’ll be able to kick this bug.”

More grumbling, but Buck goes to lie down on the couch. Eddie mentally files that under feeling worse than he’s willing to admit. He stands by the table for a moment, listening to Buck and Chris through the open doorway (a muted “hey buddy,” and, “sorry I got you sick, Buck”), the sound of a cartoon explosion on the TV, a funny line of dialogue that should get twin laughs from the couch but doesn’t.

Definitely feeling bad, Eddie thinks, and it’s not like it’s the first time germs have been shared around between the three of them—he’s lost count of how many times they’ve huddled on that couch and taken care of each other—but it still makes his heart squeeze.

When he checks in on them fifteen minutes later, Christopher is fast asleep at one end of the couch and Buck is huddled under a blanket at the other, eyes closed but not sleeping. His face is flushed with fever heat, but even under the blanket, he’s shivering.

“Are you cold?” Eddie frowns, checking Buck’s temperature with the back of his hand.

Buck shrugs, lethargic. His face is half hidden by the blanket, but there’s a tight little scrunch between his brows that means he probably has a headache as well.

“Okay,” Eddie says, quiet. “Hang on.”

He heads for their bedroom, but the dryer beeps so he backtracks to the laundry instead. He pulls out the clean clothes, dumping them all in a basket to be dealt with later, then fishes out the new hoodie that he threw in with the load earlier. It’s warm in his hands, feeling even softer and cosier than it did coming out of the packaging.

“Here,” he says, smiling as he drops it in Buck’s lap. “The sooner you wear it, the sooner I can steal it.”

“You might not want to steal it if I throw up on it,” Buck mumbles, but he puts the hoodie on, struggling for a moment with the left sleeve before his head emerges, curls sticking up in every direction. Eddie runs a hand through his hair, then kisses the top of his head.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t throw up on the hoodie,” he agrees, “but I’d still love you.”

“You always love me.”

Buck blinks up at him, pale and miserable, and even after all these years there’s a persistent thread of wonder in his voice, like he can’t quite believe how much he is loved. Like he can’t quite believe that they made it back here, together, after everything. Eddie can’t blame him because he still can’t believe it sometimes too. He doesn’t know what to do except kiss Buck again, holding him close and hoping that some of his warmth will soak through the layers between them. Buck sinks against him, boneless, and Eddie thinks they could stay like that forever, just holding each other, until Buck pulls away with a low groan.

They spend a while on the bathroom floor after that.

“You’re going to get sick,” Buck tries to protest, but it’s half-hearted; getting sick has pretty much been an inevitability since Christopher brought the note home from school a week ago warning parents that the stomach flu was going around. Once Buck was taken out, it became a certainty. It’s not like Eddie is going to move out of their bed until the germs are gone, after all.

“I’ll risk it,” he says, rubbing Buck’s back. He’d risk a hell of a lot more than a virus for his partner, but it doesn’t feel like the time to say it.

Buck shakes his head, but it’s not really a denial, just, “You don’t want this, Eds.”

Eddie kind of wants to shake him sometimes. To take him by the shoulders and say: I want you, remember? all of you? But he’s pretty sure it would be labouring the wrong point, right now, and it doesn’t really matter anyway because Buck is scrambling to get his head over the toilet again and Eddie can only grimace sympathetically and rub his back. Buck is right: he doesn’t want this bug. But he does want Buck and Chris, so. Germs are a pretty small price to pay.

****

He tosses and turns, sleeping fitfully, and by three a.m. they’re both sick and miserable together.

“Is this what they mean by ‘in sickness and in health’?” Buck asks the ceiling, and Eddie’s sluggish brain has to think through that for a long moment before he remembers:

“We aren’t married.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Buck’s voice sounds far away. “Should we get married?”

Eddie thinks about that for a long moment too.

“Probably,” he decides. And then his stomach twists again and it doesn’t really matter if they’re married or not because he’s too busy throwing up to think about anything except how awful he feels.

****

When Eddie does steal the hoodie, it’s mostly an accident. He wakes up freezing, desperately thirsty, and when he staggers up in search of water, he grabs the hoodie that has been tossed onto the end of the bed without thinking about it. It’s already over his head before he realises that it’s the one Buck was wearing when they crawled into bed.

The next time he wakes up, he’s too warm, Buck a long line of heat pressed up against his back, and he has to wriggle free to wrestle the hoodie off again. It’s damp with fever sweat and he tosses it on the floor in disgust. He just did laundry yesterday, but he’s already thinking about how they’ll need to do it again.

“Okay?” Buck asks, still half asleep.

The answer is yes but also no, I feel like crap, and I hate how never-ending housework is, which is all too much to explain. Eddie just groans and buries his face in his pillow. A sound catches in Buck’s throat, something vague and sympathetic, and he slips a hand under Eddie’s t-shirt to rub his back. Eddie shivers, pressing back into him.

“Your hands are cold,” he mumbles, but it doesn’t mean stop.

Buck shuffles a little closer and kisses the back of his neck: I’ve got you.

Eddie still feels awful, but he thinks he’ll feel a little less awful as long as he has Buck there rubbing his back. He knows this isn’t what either of them meant when they promised to have each other’s backs all those years ago, but it feels inevitable that they ended up here anyway. Buck’s hand moves over his skin, warm and solid and familiar, and Eddie wonders—lets himself wonder, the way he doesn’t usually dare—how it might feel with a ring on his finger. He’s pretty sure it would feel just like this; like home.

****

The hoodie spends two days waiting for someone in the house to have enough energy to do another wash cycle, then three more days at the bottom of the laundry basket waiting to be folded and put away. Buck is the one who finally puts it in the closet, his hands moving restlessly when they get home from a busy shift, jittery from too much caffeine and too little sleep.

“I love you,” Eddie says when he pulls oven cleaner out from under the sink next, “but if you’re going to deep clean our whole house, I’m going to nap without you.”

He’s exhausted, slumped at the kitchen table because even sitting up feels too hard right now, and Buck’s energy is starting to make him a little dizzy. He doesn’t think twenty-four hour shifts used to be this exhausting, maybe he should be more worried about getting old?

“Twenty minutes,” Buck bargains, already reaching for a cloth to scrub the oven with. “I just want to do this and then I’ll join you.”

Eddie considers insisting—he knows Buck is just as exhausted as he is and if he lies down for ten seconds he’ll probably crash—but compromise is the foundation of all good relationships, or so Bobby keeps telling him. It’s a foundation, Eddie is willing to concede, but he’s pretty sure the foundation of all good relationships is trust.

“Twenty minutes,” he agrees. “I better not wake up alone, Buckley.”

Buck smiles, like he can see right through the faux-stern Buckley to the heartfelt honey underneath, and ducks in to kiss Eddie on the cheek on his way to the oven.

“Twenty minutes,” he says. “I promise.”

****

Eddie is out as soon as his head hits the pillow, so he doesn’t know if it is twenty minutes, but when he wakes up and rolls over, he finds Buck sprawled on the bed beside him, dark green hoodie rucked up around his waist, one leg sticking out from under the covers, breath whistling faintly between snores. He smiles and closes his eyes. Chris is at school, the house smells vaguely like lemon disinfectant, he’s warm and comfortable and they have nowhere important to be. He can spare five more minutes before getting up, he thinks.

Half an hour later, they’re still in bed, wrapped up around each other, and Eddie has forgotten why he ever wanted to get up at all.

****

“Uh, isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” Chimney asks, pointing between them.

Eddie glances at Buck, I stole this from my boyfriend embroidered right over his heart.

“Looks fine to me,” he answers, shrugging.

Buck grins. “You think I look fine?”

Eddie opens his mouth, a dozen answers to that on his tongue, half of them straying dangerously close to NSFW, but Hen beats him to it was a drawn out, “Oookay, save it for when we don’t have to stand here and listen to your foreplay, boys.”

Eddie can feel his cheeks turning pink, but Buck is as unrepentant and shameless as always.

“You could stand somewhere else,” he suggests, and he’s laughing when Hen smacks him in the arm.

****

The hoodie is traded for an LAFD one instead, relegated to Buck’s locker for the duration of their shift. Eddie isn’t fussy; he’s just as happy to watch the LAFD material stretch over Buck’s arms and chest and broad shoulders as he is any other kind of clothing.

Buck goes home with the hoodie tucked into his bag the next morning, but somewhere between walking in the front door and leaning against each other in the kitchen while the coffee maker works its magic, Eddie ends up wearing it. It’s like wearing a hug, he thinks, but that might be the way Buck’s arms are wrapped around his waist as well, a solid wall of heat at his back. Eddie doesn’t want to step away when the coffee machine beeps, but the lure of caffeine is strong enough to get him one step, two, three, cold as soon as his partner’s arms are no longer around him.

“Thanks,” Buck murmurs when Eddie hands him a mug.

Eddie kisses him, a quick peck on the lips, you’re welcome, and Buck catches him by one hoodie string to kiss him again when he starts to step away. The coffee mug in his hand dips and Eddie takes it from him, setting it aside without looking. The space the movement put between them is only there for a second before Buck hooks his hands in the hoodie pouch to pull Eddie closer, deepening the kiss.

“Have I told you lately,” he says between kisses, “that I love when you wear my clothes?”

Eddie hums, busy working his hands under the hem of Buck’s shirt so he can touch as much warm skin as possible. It takes him longer than it ordinarily would to string together the words to say, “I thought you bought this hoodie for me?”

“I bought it because it reminded me of you,” Buck agrees, his own hands under Eddie’s hem now, hot enough to brand everywhere he touches, “but you’re the one who said it doesn’t make sense unless it’s my hoodie.”

“And you said you’d just wear it a few times first,” Eddie reminds him, distracted enough now to frown, hands stilling on Buck’s waist. “Hang on, are you trying to steal my hoodie?”

Buck’s next kiss is more like a bite, teeth nipping under Eddie’s jaw; the promise of a mark that will sit just above where the hoodie might cover it.

“Right now,” he says, the same kind of promise in his voice, “I’m just trying to get you out of it.”

Eddie is more than happy to help with that. He lets Buck take him by the hand and pull him down the hall towards the bedroom, coffee forgotten on the counter, hoodie tugged off and quickly forgotten on the floor. Buck lips press against his skin right over this heart, right where the embroidered words would be, and Eddie feels like there is a mirror image of them etched into the beating muscle beneath his skin: my boyfriend stole this from me. He would have given it—has given it, a dozen times over—but every time he reached into his chest, he found Buck’s name already there.

I love you, Buck presses into his skin with his lips.

And Eddie holds him close and kisses it right back: I love you, I love you, I love you.

****

“Our hoodie.”

“Huh?”

Buck pushes himself up on his elbow and Eddie blinks up at him, his brain still feeling a little melt-y.

“It can be our hoodie,” Buck says, idly tracing a pattern over Eddie’s ribs, just because he can.

“Like a timeshare?” Eddie asks, musing, the start of a smile breaking through. “You steal it this week and I’ll steal it next week?”

Buck flicks him and Eddie grins.

“I take it back,” Buck says, rolling away onto his back. “It’s my hoodie now.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to push himself up on an elbow, going far enough to lean over Buck and kiss him, cradling his face in one hand. It’s just supposed to be one kiss, but Buck kisses back readily, arms wrapping around Eddie’s back, and it’s easy to lose themselves in it after that, the thread of conversation unravelling as they make out.

“Okay,” Eddie says eventually, the word quiet and breathy in the space between them. “Our hoodie.”

It gives him a thrill, the same way it always does, whenever he refers to the two of them as an our. Our home, our family, our hoodie.

Buck’s smile is a brilliant thing. It burrows in through bone and blood and tissue to reach the heart underneath, making itself at home.

“I love you,” he says, so sincere Eddie feels it in his chest.

“I love you too,” he replies, punctuated with a kiss. “You know Hen and Chimney are going to give us so much shit about this hoodie for the rest of our lives, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Buck agrees. “Maddie too. Don’t tell Chris, but she thinks I already own too many hoodies as well.”

Eddie laughs. God, he’s so, so far gone for this man.

“She might have a point,” he says, but he’s pretty sure it just sounds like there’s no such thing as too many hoodies.

Buck rolls his eyes, still crinkled with his smile. “See if I ever buy you a hoodie again.”

It’s an empty threat. And it doesn’t really matter anyway because—

“That’s fine,” Eddie answers. “I’ll just steal yours.”

He can’t be sure, really, which happened first: that first stolen LAFD hoodie, or Buck stealing his heart. He tried once, wine drunk with Hen and Karen, to answer their question about when he knew he was in love, but the only answer that came to him was I’m pretty sure I loved Buck before I knew him.

“I don’t think it’s stealing if I let you,” Buck tells him.

“You’re going to let me, huh?”

“Yeah.” Buck nods. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I kinda like it when you wear my clothes.”

Eddie grins. “I might have had some idea.”

The proof is on the bedroom floor, or whatever that saying is. He never did understand why it was always in the pudding. It’s on the bedroom floor, and in the way Buck is smiling at him, and in the laundry all mixed up in the basket. It’s the way Buck kisses him, soft and lingering, and the way Eddie’s heart thumps once, twice, a pain that doesn’t really hurt. It’s our home and our family and our hoodie. It’s I love you and I love you and I love you.

It's the fact that they’re here, together, despite everything. Because of everything.

It’s kissing Buck again, and again, and again. Just because he can.

****

(Eddie wonders—lets himself wonder, the way he doesn’t usually dare—how it might feel with a ring on his finger. He’s pretty sure it would feel just like this; like home.)

#Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #911 Fox #fic #clothes thief eddie my beloved<3

193 notes · View notes

marie-swriting · 8 months

Text

Confession Of Love - Jake "Hangman" Seresin [1/2]

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Speak Now TV Masterlist

Part two

Part one - two (French version)

Summary : You've been seeing Jake for four months but you're still not officially dating. It's going to happen soon, though, right ?

Warnings : Jake is an asshole (it's not against him, I love him, I swear), angst, cheating, alcohol consumption (be careful with your alcohol consumption), maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.7k

Song inspiration : Foolish One (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift

you take the new arrival of books in the box next to you and put them in the correct shelves. You pay attention to place them in alphabetical order and sometimes, you take a look at the back cover, adding then a new book to your - long - to be read list. You set the last book of a saga in its place when a masculine voice comes behind you.

“Sorry, would you have a book on how to apologise after cancelling a date last minute ?”

“Jake !” you exclaim, taking him in your arms. “What are you doing here ?”

“I felt bad about yesterday. Those are for you.” he says, breaking the embrace and handing you a big bunch of red roses.

“Oh, thank you ! They’re beautiful.” you smile, pecking his lips, “But I already told you it was okay. You were tired because of your day at work, I get it. We can always plan something another time, like tonight for example. My shift ends at 6:30 P.M, you can come pick me up at seven.”

Hope can be heard in your voice on top of nervosity. Jake and you can’t see each other frequently because of his job as a naval aviator and he’s also often hanging out with his friends. You’re aware it’s normal for Jake and you to not spend every single day together though, two or three times a week would be a good start you think.

You look at him, waiting for his answer impatiently but as soon as you hear him sigh, you guess his answer. Even if you expected it, you can’t help but feel disappointed.

“The problem is I already told my colleague I would spend the night with them.”

“It’s okay. You can send me a text when you’re free.” you affirm, forcing a little smile.

“Perfect. I’m not gonna bother you much longer. See you.” he says and kisses you.

You lovingly watch Jake leaving. Once he’s not in your line of sight anymore, you smell the roses and your disappointment leaves your body to let affection take over. It doesn’t matter if he wasn’t able to have some free time for you that night, he always makes sure to make it up to you like today. You stay in your bubble and walk in the direction of the backshop to put the flowers down. You find a container to put your roses in when your colleague Cora blows your bubble.

“Who gifted you those roses ?”

“Jake. They’re pretty, aren’t they ?”

“Wow, he must feel ashamed about a lot of things.” she comments, gazing at the flowers while you put them in the makeshift vase.

“Not at all. Why do you say that ?”

“Like they always say, the bigger the bouquet, the bigger the guilt.”

“No one says that.” you state, frowning.

“He cancelled again, didn’t he ?” she says, her question sounding more like an affirmation.

“He has a good reason.”

“I bet he does ! I don’t understand how you can still be with him. If my boyfriend was always cancelling dates, I-”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” you interrupt her, avoiding her gaze.

“What do you mean ?”

“We’re not really dating.” you inform and she gives you a look so you quickly add : “We’re taking things slow. Jake can be on a deployment any day so we don’t want too many strings attached.”

“Wait, you’re telling me you’ve been with a guy for more than four months, you go on dates, you kiss, you sleep at each other’s house but you’re not official ? He’s worse than I thought. I mean, Y/N, don’t forget about his reputation ! Jake doesn’t do serious relationship. And just to prove it to you, has he finally presented you to his friends ?” Cora asks and you stay silent. “That’s what I thought. Why are you still with him ? He’s going to break your heart just like Logan.”

“He’s different !” you say, angry by her words and the mention of your ex. “Look, you don’t know him and you know nothing about my relationship with Jake so stop giving me unsolicited advice. I’ve learned from my mistakes, I know what I’m doing.”

On that note, you pass by your colleague and go back to your work. While you keep reorganising the books, you can’t prevent yourself from thinking back to your conversation with Cora. You know she didn’t mean any harm but you’re annoyed by the way she thinks you’re too foolish to know how to handle your love life on your own. You’ve known men… stupid ones, to stay politically correct, however you know better now and Jake has proven to you he’s different from your exes. It’s not because he cancels a lot of dates that he’s a bad guy. He is a nice guy. You’re sure of it.

At the end of the day, you take back your roses and bid Cora goodbye without adding anything else, still pissed off by her words. Upon arriving at your place, you put the roses in a real vase and set it on your dinner table.

That night, you spend it alone eating, watching Pride And Prejudice. As you’re watching it, you can’t help but melt because of Mr.Darcy’s confession of love to Elizabeth. You’re waiting for the day where it’ll be your turn, the day where, like those cheesy romances you read, you will get your confession full of love by the love of your life. You know you look like a hopeless romantic but you grew up with this idea of great love stories where the man is perfect and you’ve been searching for him since your teenage years. Maybe Jake will be this man and he’ll confess his feelings to you soon. You like him a lot and you wish you could share the future you have in mind with him.

Once your movie is over, you take your phone and check your notifications. You haven’t received anything. Not a call, nor a message. You thought that maybe Jake would send you a text to tell you about his day or at least say some nice words but nothing. Radio silence. It should be a good sign he’s having fun with his friends and yet, you can’t stop yourself from thinking this silence sounds like some bad signs ; he doesn’t seem to miss you. Sure he’s with his friends, you know he’s not spending his night on his phone though, a text wouldn’t be too much ! With mixed feelings, you put down your phone and start watching another romantic movie.

During the whole night, you keep checking your phone without any change. When you go to bed around midnight, you keep on sighing and your mind starts thinking back to your relationship with Jake and to doubt it.

Once you’re laying down on your bed, you glance one last time at your phone and when you see nothing new, you groan and aggressively put your cellphone on your nightstand. You change position in your bed and try to fall asleep, in vain. You toss and turn and yet, you don’t seem to be comfortable enough and your mind who is currently overthinking doesn’t make things better. This lack of message from Jake hurts you more than you care to admit. One thing is certain, you won’t get your love confession tonight. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten ahead of yourself so much ? Maybe your relationship with Jake won’t last ? Maybe there was a little bit of truth in Cora’s words ? You shake your head, hoping to get rid of these voices who start to make you more puzzled. If you discuss it with Jake, surely the situation will get better. Right ?

At least, you feel like the situation gets better the following week. You haven’t really talked with Jake but you’ve been able to see each other more often.

Today, you spend the afternoon together. You don’t do anything special. Jake just came to your apartment and you stay on the couch watching movies and talking about random things.

Your head on his shoulder, you think you were right to trust Jake. When he has the time, he’s the perfect… boyfriend ? Partner ? Friend ? Whatever the word may be, he is perfect. You never argue and your conversation knows no awkward silence ; everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds. You even feel like you’re getting closer and closer to the moment where you’ll finally be official. You’ll finally be able to call him yours and you’ll be able to share more than some hours here and there with Jake. You can imagine a whole future with him, that’s why you want to believe so hard that what you have is something good, despite the particular circumstances.

As soon as it’s getting late, Jake gets ready to go back to his house. From time to time, he stays to sleep at yours however when he has to wake up early the next day, he prefers to go home, his apartment being closer to his workplace. Once he’s set to go, Jake walks to the door while you follow him, tiredness visible on your face.

“Send me a message when you’ve arrived.” you say, yawning and Jake tenderly looks at you.

“I will.”

“Can we see each other next Saturday ?”

“I’ve already got something planned with my squad at the Hard Deck.”

“And do you think it’d bother them a lot if I came with you ?” you ask with a small voice before embarrassment catches you. “Sorry, it was rude. I shouldn’t have invited myself like that. It was stupid. I… Tell me when you get home. Good night.” you exclaim, ready to close the door but Jake stops you.

“It wasn’t stupid. Actually, I’ve been thinking of introducing you to them for a long time now.”

“Really ?”

“Sure. We’ve known each other for four months, it’s normal for you to meet them. I’ll pick you up and we’ll spend the whole evening together.” he states, putting his hands on your cheeks.

“Perfect.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Jake gives you a smile before pressing his lips on yours. Your kiss only lasts a few seconds and you enjoy it as much as possible, celebrating this new milestone in your relationship. You’re still not official, nonetheless he wants to introduce you to his friends, you’re on the right track. Once Jake breaks the kiss, he tenderly strokes your cheek before turning around and walking away. You watch him leave then close your door, a goofy smile on your face.

When you get to the Hard Deck, Jake’s arm around your waist the following Saturday, it’s not a goofy smile you have on your face anymore but a nervous one. You know Jake is close with his colleagues and you want to make a good impression. You hope with all your heart this moment will go well. For you, this is a key moment and you can’t allow yourself to make a wrong move.

As soon as you find the group of people wearing Khakis, except one man is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, your hands become a bit more clammy. Jake quickly introduces you to every member of his squadron and you do your best to remember their names. For now, you only know Natasha’s name, as she’s the only woman. Jake proposes something to drink and judging you need to relax, you ask for a beer. He kisses your cheek before going to the bar, leaving you alone.

“I can’t believe you’re real.” Natasha starts with eyes wide open. “When Bagman told us he wanted to present us to someone, I thought he was joking. I never thought he was the kind of guy to settle down and I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you can put up with him.”

“Once you get to know him, he lets the arrogance go and you realise he’s a nice guy.” you respond, laughing.

“Hangman said you two met four months ago, right ?” Bradley questions.

“Yes, at a café. I had just gotten my coffee when Jake bumped into me and, long story short, he offered me a new coffee with his number on the cup.”

“I see he still knows how to make a good first impression.” Natasha jokes. “What do you do in life ?”

“I work in a bookshop. I’m paid to be surrounded by books, I couldn’t have dreamed of anything better.”

“That’s so cool ! I should come sometime. I haven’t read a new book in a long time.” Bradley informs you and instantly, your eyes shimmers with excitement.

“Oh ! I can give you recommendations if you want. What genre do you prefer ?”

Ensued then a conversation about your favourite topic : books. Bradley tells you some titles he likes, novels he’s been meaning to read for years and you listen to him with passion. You give him a whole list of authors and books to check out and he writes them down on his phone. Thinking you might have some other recommendations for him later, you ask him to give you his number. At the same time you’re saving his contact, Jake comes back to you and puts his arm around your shoulders.

“You’re not stealing her from me, aren’t you Bradshaw ?”

“We were talking about books, a subject you might not be familiar with.” Bradley retorts and Jake smirks.

“Oh no, she talks about it all the time. You haven’t finished getting new suggestions.” Jake says, faking desperation in his voice.

“Hey ! You’ve discovered good books thanks to me.” you defend.

“True. Anyway I’m going to play pool. You’re good here ?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Jake smiles at you before going to find his friend at the pool table. You stay with Bradley, Natasha and Bob, who just came next to you. You keep getting to know each other and you feel better, realising you don’t struggle to fit in - you’re not really the social butterfly, preferring your books more than people.

As the conversation goes on, you learn that Bradley is a good pianist and you ask to see him play. He doesn’t need to be asked twice and walk to the piano before playing Great Ball Of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis. Natasha, Bob and you sing with him and you’re quickly followed by the other people in the bar. Jake comes to you and sings by your side and sometimes he spins you around.

Once Bradley finishes the song, you laugh with your new friends, glad to realise you’re having a good time. Jake asks you if you want something else to drink and you inform him you haven’t finished your beer yet. He tells you he’s going to grab another drink, leaving you for a moment.

“Natasha wasn’t joking when she said you were an outstanding pianist ! Very good choice of song, by the way.” you compliment Bradley.

“It’s my favourite. My dad used to play it when I was a kid. I have good memories with this song and my parents.”

“I can see that. Your parents seemed to be cute together.”

When you talked earlier, Bradley quickly told you about his parents and you have to admit the way he speaks of their relationship, it looks like a story from one of your favourite books.

“They were !” Bradley confirms with nostalgia. “Maybe too much. I’d like a relationship like theirs.”

“I’m sure you will. You seem like an amazing guy. You deserve a love story as beautiful as theirs.”

“You too.”

Bradley smiles at you before talking about his pianist skills while you’re searching for Jake next to the bar. You expected to see him with a drink in hand, but it’s a vision of Jake with a woman who has her arms around his neck that you find. Your eyebrows furrowed, not knowing who this woman is and why she’s so close to your… to Jake. Jake gets rid of the woman’s arms then tells her something. He comes back to you at the same time where Bradley excuses himself to use the bathroom.

“Who was she ?” you question, not giving him the time to start a conversation.

“Who ?”

“The woman who was literally in your arms.”

“Oh, huh, I don’t know. She tried to flirt with me but I told her I was already in good company.” Jake explains with a flirty smile yet, you stay sceptical. “Y/N, I swear I don’t know her. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m not. I’m curious, that’s all.” you lie.

Not fully convinced by your affirmation, Jake put his hands on your cheeks before leaning in and kissing you with passion. Even if you still have some doubt, Jake’s kiss helps you to calm down.

However, it’s really during the following weeks that you feel much better. Jake is being more present, casting away every doubt you have in mind. He’s managed to have some free time for you and you’ve even spent three days together, something never done before in your relationship. This time, you’re sure, everything is alright. Everything Cora told you or even everything you thought was fake. No matter what people say about Jake and his love life, you are the exception. Jake cares about you and he’s honest. Your relationship has a real future.

You’re so over the moon that you’re not as sad as usual when Jake tells you he can’t spend the evening at your place because he’s exhausted. You wish him a good rest before reading your book again. You’re in the middle of a chapter when you receive a message from your friend Laura who you haven’t seen in months. She asks you if you want to come to the bar next to her place. As you miss your friend, you accept without a second thought before getting ready.

Once you arrive at the Scented Sky bar, you have a big smile on your face, impatient to meet Laura. Once you leave your car, your eyes find their way to a vehicle not too far away who looks like Jake’s. At first, you think it’s just a mere coincidence then you pay attention to the licence plate and recognize that it is Jake’s. Instantly, you frown. You don’t understand how he can be there when he told you he wanted to sleep, not to mention the fact this bar is far from his place.

You keep searching for a rational explanation while you go to the bar. Before you walk through the door, you glance at the window and your eyes get teary at what you’re seeing. Jake did lie to you. He is at the bar and far from being tired as he presses his lips on a woman, the same woman at the Hard Deck he swore to you he didn’t know. The world is crumbling down your feet as you’re looking at them kissing passionately and being in each other’s arms. Tears are running down your cheeks and you can’t stop them. You want to go in and insult Jake with every bad word you know yet, the shock is so strong you turn around and go back home, trying to understand what you just saw.

When you close your door, you lean on the wall before sliding down and bursting into tears. You have your head in your hands, totally desperate and angry, not only at Jake but at yourself too. You wonder how you couldn’t see the signs. Now that you think back on it, you realise that, indeed, every element was in front of you : he keeps an emotional distance, he never uses pet names, you’re never his priority and so and so forth. You thought you found someone honest and you feel like a fool as you realise it isn’t the case. You should have listened to Cora, you should have listened to your instinct. You thought you learned your lesson, especially after your relationship with Logan, apparently you still have a long road ahead of you.

Once your sobs calm down, you stand up and throw yourself on your bed, not really taking the time to change your clothes. You stay there, laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, without understanding what’s happening. In the end, you are not the exception. As always. And you never will be. You will never have your love story, your confession of love, your happily ever after.

Your phone notifying you of a new message interrupts your downward spiral. You take it and when you see it’s a text from Jake wishing you a goodnight, you want to answer him with a long paragraph, explaining how much you hate him. However, you don’t have the strength so you delete his number and block him on your social media. You feel lighter but still miserable. You don’t want to see him ever again.

Your wish is not granted. You’ve been able to avoid Jake only for a week. Despite all your efforts, Jake forces the hand of destiny by coming to your workplace. You see him entering the bookshop but you keep working, pretending to be too busy. You don’t even react when he’s in front of you. Your lack of reaction confuses Jake. He expected you to throw yourself in his arms and yet, he is taken aback by your silence.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s me.” he starts with a big smile, “I saw you weren’t answering my texts and I can’t reach you on social either, weirdly, so I got worried. Everything okay ? Are you ignoring me ?”

“I don’t know, did you give me a reason to ignore you ?” you question looking up to him, forcing a smile.

“Huh, no. I mean, I don’t think so.”

“Then no, I’m not ignoring you. You’re such a nice guy, I don’t see why I’d want to ignore you.” you exclaim, ironically.

“Ok, I’ve missed something. Can we talk about it ?”

“I don’t want to talk to you !”

“If you don’t want to talk to me anymore, I think I deserve at least an explanation. I mean, we’ve had something for four months.” Jake demands and this is your last straw.

“In the back shop. Now.”

Because of your authoritative tone, Jake doesn't dare to make an inappropriate comment and follows you while you go to the backshop. Cora looks at you from afar, completely confused by the angry expression on your face - you haven’t told her anything about your discovery, feeling too ashamed.

Once you close the door behind Jake, you cross your arms on your chest and glare at him.

“So, what’s up ?” Jake casually asks.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” you start, trying so hard not to scream, “I thought you were too tired so why were you at the Scented Sky ?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try to outwit me ! A week ago, I asked you if you wanted to come to my place to which you gave me the stupid excuse of “I’m too tired to come”. And yet, when I went to the bar, I saw you, in great form.”

At your last sentence, Jake’s eyes widen, panic visible on his face. His brain tries to find a rational explanation however before he can say it to you, you quickly add.

“And do I need to specify you weren’t alone when I saw you ? You were with the woman from the Hard Deck. You know, the same woman you didn’t know at all. And not to mention you were kissing her.”

“I have a good explanation,” he fastly says.

“Oh yeah ? Which one ?”

Jake stares at you and chooses his words carefully before speaking, as if he was in front of a wild animal. He never saw you mad before. He didn’t even think it was possible so he doesn’t know the way you could react if what he says came out wrong.

“She was flirting with me again and before I could react, she kissed me.”

“I just told you I saw and you keep taking me for a fool ?” you retort, shocked by his lie. “You were the one who pressed his lips on hers, your hands were on her hips ! How can you think I’m gonna believe what you’re telling me ? How could you do this to me ? I thought we had something !”

“I…”, he stutters before starting with a calm voice, “Look, I told you I wasn’t ready for a relationship, nothing was official between us and-”

“And I get it !” you cut him off sharply, “But It doesn’t give you the right to make me believe you care about me just for you to go see someone else. You know, if you had told me you weren’t ready for a relationship and you wanted to meet other women at the same time, I would have told you I didn’t want that and we would have called it quits ! You haven’t been honest with me when I’ve given you everything ! You’ve betrayed my trust just like the others.” you sigh, your eyes getting teary.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear I had the best of intentions.”

“If that is you with the best of intentions then I don’t want to imagine how you’d act if you didn’t care about the person ; you’ve ruined everything. You’ve taken me for an idiot for months and you have no remorse about it ! All I did was defend you, repeat to everyone you were someone nice and you’ve proven to everyone you live up to your reputation and that I am the stupid and desperate woman who only sees the best in the worst guys. Tell me honestly, were you even gonna tell me one day you didn’t want anything serious with me or were you gonna let me guess it by ghosting me ?” you question and Jake doesn’t answer. “Your silence says it all. I can’t believe I could have thought you were good. But, at least, you were useful for something. I had to learn to listen to my instinct when it tells me to walk out from a relationship instead of persisting. Thanks to you, I’ve finally learned my lesson. I hate you, Jake.” you pronounce, staring him right in the eyes. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Y/N, wait-”Jake tries to say.

“No ! Leave and never talk to me again.”

Jake doesn’t add anything and leaves the room without looking back. Once the door is closed, you let your tears run freely down on your cheeks. You sit down, not having enough strength in your legs when the door opens once more, letting in Cora. She doesn’t wait before taking you in her arms. She affectionately strokes your back while you’re sobbing.

“I didn’t know what I was doing. You were right, Cora.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“He’s the stupid one here, he doesn't know what he’s lost.”

Cora’s words should be comforting and yet, it makes you feel worse. Jake might not know what he’s lost but you sure do know what you’ve lost, time, love, energy and above all, trust. You know you’ll need time to heal from it.

And indeed, you need several months before you can spend a day without thinking about Jake. Now you can finally start to move on. This relationship, though short, has left a trace in your heart, just not like you wished. Since your split-up, you’ve decided to put yourself first instead of waiting for a man to show you his love. You need to understand what you want and what you deserve in a relationship and you can only do that alone. You need to know how to exist and to love without depending on the gaze of a significant other.

For the first time in your life, you are your own priority and you feel good as a single woman. You wouldn’t be against the idea of living your epic love story one day but you are satisfied with your current life. You’re self-sufficient and that is the most beautiful confession of love you could ever have.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Speak Now TV Masterlist

Part two

135 notes · View notes

bigboysteveharrington · 2 years

Text

Argyle and Jonathan talk on the phone almost every day after the Byers move back to Hawkins

They talk more often than Jonathan talked to Nancy and are better at keeping in touch long-distance, but that’s really more a testament to Argyle’s dedication than anything else

Jonathan expects their friendship to drift away the longer he’s gone, but Argyle’s calling him all the time… Slow shift at work? Better call Jonathan and catch him up on what’s been going on in his life (and get the second hand scoop about people in Hawkins from Jonathan when he runs out of new things to tell him about because it’s only been 20 hours since their last phone call)… Argyle has very important high thoughts that are as deep as they are urgent to share? Better call Jonathan and share every last one of them that exact moment… Someone insults pineapple on pizza? You can bet Jonathan’s going to hear about it

The only problem is Argyle keeps forgetting about the time difference between California and Indiana so he regularly calls when it’s not that late in California, but it’s 3 hours later for the Byers

When Joyce is the one to answer the phone, she tries to politely tell him that it’s nice that he and Jonathan are still so close but maybe he could call back in the morning and try to keep his calls to earlier in the day from now on and Argyle always promises will do, Mrs. B only to forget all over again within a few days so she tries to work on getting Jonathan to convince him to call at more reasonable hours instead

When Will answers the phone, he rolls his eyes at how often he’s calling (while he’s also a little jealous that Jonathan is getting way more calls from Argyle now than he got from all his friends combined while they were in California) but he listens for a little bit as Argyle excitedly jabbers away at him and asks him questions until Will decides it’s getting annoying and either hands the phone over to Jonathan (or if it’s too late, he doesn’t listen to him at all and just says to call back tomorrow and hangs up before Argyle had a chance to respond)

El doesn’t answer the phone, but she’s not so bothered. She thinks it’s nice that Argyle calls so much and doesn’t see why Will rolls his eyes about it so often

When Jonathan answers, he stretches the phone cord as far away from the bedrooms as he can and stays up talking with Argyle with his voice low to try not to wake anyone else up

But Hopper? Hopper cannot stand losing sleep because some idiot from California can’t remember that it’s 2 in the morning for them (and honestly why is he trying to call to talk for an hour and a half at 11 pm his time anyway???) Every time, he forces his exhausted ass out of bed, whether he’s the first to the phone or not because it could be official police business and there could be a crime scene he’s needed at or some other kind of emergency putting them all in danger, but nope it’s just Argyle calling to catch up again

Hopper grumbles about it to Joyce when he gets back to bed and ends up unintentionally making sure that she’s just as awake now as he is with his tired bitching and Joyce is getting a bit fed up with it too, but she plays devil’s advocate and says I know the times he calls aren’t always great, but I don’t know. I think it’s kind of sweet he wants to keep in touch so much. It’s nice that they catch up on everything going on, even while they’re living so far away and Hopper gets back in bed as he grumbles how much could they possibly have to catch up on? They talked for hours two days ago

Argyle unintentionally and unknowingly becomes near Mike Wheeler levels of annoying to Hopper and Hopper grumbles nearly daily about how the phone line is always busy and he can’t get any consistent kind of sleep to save his life and could Jonathan please tell his friend to stop calling so late at night

From the moment it becomes clear that the long (and often late night) phone calls are going to be such a regular thing, Hopper is a little passive aggressive and huffy whenever he’s the one who answers the phone, but Argyle doesn’t mind and just brushes it off

It takes until one night when Hopper’s particularly sleep-deprived and grumpy and he gets to the phone first and full on yells into it that the time zones aren’t that hard to remember and that if he’s going to call, he can’t do it after 8 pm his time for Argyle to finally stop calling so late (but that doesn’t stop him from calling at a reasonable hour and him and Jonathan staying up talking until an unreasonable hour)

#This is going to be a plot point in the multi-chapter Hopper-Byers centric fic I haven’t started posting yet #The one related to my Steddie fic (which also btw that’s not just going to be El and Will‘s POVs anymore it’s going to be Jonathan’s too #Nancy’s a busy woman with things to do and she doesn’t have the time to sit around and talk on the phone that Argyle carves out for himself #Jargyle #Argyle #Jonathan Byers #Stranger Things #ST4 #ST #Jim Hopper #Joyce Byers #Will Byers #Eleven #Hopper-Byers family #Stranger Things headcanon #Jargyle headcanon #Spicy Six #Mine

400 notes · View notes

britcision · 2 months

Text

Woooo I’m getting through these… so, fun fact, there’s another two lil snippets covering the same time frame as this one, but they’re gonna be over on the other lil series on AO3 because they’re a) longer and b) directly the Kabumisu storyline

So, y’know, check that out and go follow that series too if you’re into that, I’m gonna try and get the not-smut one out first because it pretty much covers what’s going on during the day for this bit, and where Mithrun’s gonna end up

But for today, our favourite rogue teleporter is going extra rogue! Luckily it’s not like Kabru was sleeping well either, so he can wrangle him back to bed.

And cuddle. For body-heat reasons, obviously.

Warnings: body horror in the context of nightmares, neglect of Mithrun by himself and also his caregivers

AO3 link:

—————————

After Dinner Mints - Definitely Not Watching You Sleep

If he was honest with himself, Kabru had assumed he wouldn’t have much to do with the Canaries now that everything was over. Unless they still planned on arresting him and returning him to Milsiril, but that wasn’t to be (thankfully).

He knew they’d be staying around until the dragon had been fully eaten, and then he assumed they’d sail back west and he’d never see any of them again.

If he was even more honest with himself, that thought ached, just a little. Which was ridiculous; he’d known the captain barely more than a week, and the others for the change between that and the final battle. They were hardly close comrades.

It was probably just trauma bonding; they’d been through a lot together, and Captain Mithrun especially had saved his life half a dozen times. And relied on him for just as much, if not more.

But they were out of the dungeon, and Captain Mithrun’s squad would obviously take over his care again; why would they leave their vulnerable captain anywhere near Kabru? He’d already kidnapped him once.

And then Laios had come and asked him where the captain was, and they’d found him under a tree. Waiting to die, and while he wasn’t taking any actions to speed up the process, he also wasn’t willing to do anything to slow it.

Kabru had not taken it well; he could admit that much, but since it had also worked he wasn’t about to apologise either.

It had seemed obvious that he’d be the one to stay with Mithrun and take care of him that day. He’d half expected to be turned away the next day, and mostly only went to the clearing that morning to check the captain was still moving.

But no, the prisoners had welcomed him cheerfully, and even directed him to go and find the captain himself when he wasn’t already up a day later. (With ulterior motives; all four of them shared a damn tent, and Cithis had been snuggled close enough to Mithrun that their silhouette almost looked like one multilimbed creature.)

He’d even officially been added to the captain’s care roster by Flamela, the other Canary captain who seemed to hate pretty much everyone. So by the third day, he’d fallen into an easy routine: get up, grab a cheap breakfast at the inn, and wander to the Canaries’ encampment to get the captain’s schedule from Pattadol.

Officially, he’d have about a four hour shift at some point in the day where he’d be expected to come and take care of the captain. Unofficially, he could wander over pretty much whenever he liked, and the convicts were all very happy to “trade”. Not that they ever came back on his shift, of course.

Not that he really wanted them to either. Kabru was no cook, and while he did want to help, he… wasn’t good at anything relevant. Anything except dealing with Captain Mithrun.

He could carry pots and pans, he could wash dishes, he could move around vegetables and fruits and touching the actual dragon meat made him want to scream but when it was frozen he could pretend it wasn’t meat at all. He could, theoretically, just peel vegetables all day and be helping.

But he was good with Captain Mithrun, and apparently no one else was, because this morning, on the fourth day he’d been up early and gone for a walk before the sun rose (there may have been dragon-meat related dreams involved). And he’d found the captain pulling apart more of the dragon’s carcass, although not for long, since he’d collapsed half way through Kabru trying to argue him out of the hole.

It was deep enough that Kabru had to put him on the elevator they’d been using to get the meat out, then climb the ladder and haul him up that way. And the bastard had tried to roll off the platform. Couldn’t even stand, and he still wanted to keep going.

Luckily Kabru’d had the foresight to put him in the middle, so he’d had the whole thing up and on the ground before Captain Mithrun reached the edge. Hauling the stubborn asshole up and onto his back, Kabru frowned around. Someone should have been keeping an eye on him.

“Who’s meant to be at your tent, Captain?” Because of course, Captain Mithrun hadn’t been set up with the rest of the Canaries, down at one of the beaches. He’d kicked up a fuss the first night (well, kept turning around and walking away the second no one was physically holding him, and Pattadol had declared it not worth the trouble), and wardens got their own tents anyway, so his was just off the clearing and a little further in the woods. The plan was to both keep the carcass out of his line of sight and to keep anyone from wandering into it by accident.

But he needed someone else to make him sleep anyway, so Kabru had made sure a second cot was inside so they wouldn’t have to leave him alone. Of course, Kabru had his bed in his usual room at the inn, and wasn’t really all that into camping so he hadn’t pushed for a night shift.

He didn’t know sleeping spells anyway. Although apparently they weren’t particularly effective.

Captain Mithrun huffed impatiently against his neck, but didn’t have the energy to try and poke him around.

“No one. Cithis put me to sleep. I assume she left,” he grumbled almost inaudibly, and Kabru bumped him a little higher to try and rouse him and also move the grumbles closer to his ear.

He was pretty sure the captain also called him an oaf under his breath, but he couldn’t prove it.

Honestly, he’d assumed Cithis would especially enjoy an opportunity for a more private place to sleep when he’d put the second cot in. He’d have to… half way to the tent, he paused.

“Did she do it wrong?” He asked, suddenly uncertain.

The Canaries had been drugging or enchanting Captain Mithrun to sleep for fourteen years. Cithis specifically had him sleeping in late yesterday. He shouldn’t have been up at all.

“No. Doesn’t always work,” the captain huffed, his head flopping forward so a pointy chin stabbed at Kabru’s shoulder.

“That’s more of a reason for her to stick around in case it needs redoing,” Kabru grumbled, but got going again anyway.

He’d probably just exhausted his mana again, especially if he’d been going part way through the night. Sleep wasn’t going to be optional now, even if Kabru had to watch over him personally.

At least the tent was protected from the early morning chill with a few additional enchantments, and they had a proper cot along with the bedroll. Which was still Falin Touden’s, so no one had done anything at all to the set up Kabru had made himself.

He’d be annoyed about it later. For now, he moved the captain carefully onto the bed and hissed in irritation as he noticed something else.

The captain had been in full uniform, so Kabru had assumed he’d dressed himself as part of getting up. If he had, he hadn’t bothered putting on his fucking boots.

The elf was barefoot, and had been standing on frozen meat for who knew how long. His feet were a nasty purplish grey that did not belong on a human of any variety, even one as pale as the captain. Cupping one with both hands, he drew a line of pressure with one thumb and waited for the white mark left behind to fade.

It didn’t.

Captain Mithrun frowned at him.

“Ow.” It didn’t sound particularly emphatic or like an actual exclamation of pain, but that didn’t mean anything.

Beginning to actually worry, Kabru pushed the elf down onto his back, sat on the end of the cot, and tugged up his tunic so he could press both fucking freezing feet directly to his torso. Captain Mithrun tried to pull them away, but Kabru held on tight.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, Captain, and probably painful, but your feet are dangerously cold. You can’t just stand on a block of ice without your boots, what were you thinking?” Kabru asked sharply, well aware that it was probably a futile question.

He wasn’t sure if Captain Mithrun could even feel hot or cold, but one of the first things that went with this kind of injury was sensation. Warming back up was always painful too, but at least Kabru’s body heat couldn’t accidentally burn him.

He did have to shift position though, wincing as he moved the captain’s feet to a spot they hadn’t already leached all the warmth from.

It took a moment for him to notice he hadn’t actually gotten any kind of response at all, and he frowned up at the captain’s face again. Captain Mithrun looked… embarrassed? He wasn’t even pouting as hard as he had before.

When he met Kabru’s eyes, he even looked away again.

“I wasn’t. I just…” the next words from anyone else would probably have been “wanted to help”, and it made Kabru desperately curious about what the captain would say, but apparently he didn’t know the end of the sentence either. He fell silent again.

Huffing softly, Kabru rubbed at the tops of both feet quickly, hoping to generate some extra warmth. The good news was that they were already less grey than they had been before; they were still more purple than a normal skin tone, but they were picking up more red.

Captain Mithrun just stared at them, brows puckered like they’d let him down rather than the other way round. He also kept shifting them uncomfortably, which made Kabru’s fingers catch on his toes, and Kabru was running out of stomach that wasn’t already cold to the touch.

Gritting his teeth, he shifted Mithrun’s feet a little higher at the next change of position, tugging his shirt and tunic back down over them as much as he could. The captain pulled another face, toes curling against the upper part of Kabru’s chest, and he covered both feet quickly over his clothes with his hands.

“I know, Captain, bear with me. Maybe try to remember this part the next time you’re wandering off somewhere and check you have your boots?” He tried, more than a little exasperated.

Mithrun shot him a sharp look, which faded almost immediately into that same strange little frown, his eye drifting straight back off Kabru’s face. His feet still felt icy against Kabru’s skin.

Maybe he should actually get someone who knew some healing magic… except he didn’t want the captain walking around anymore, and leaving him alone was out for obvious reasons. He’d have to carry him, and Kabru was at least aware that he himself should warm his core back up before leaving the warmed tent for the cold night.

He took a moment to bring one of Captain Mithrun’s feet back out of his shirt, checking the colour and doing the pressure test again. Definitely more red than purple now, and the white line he drew began fading back to red as he watched, if not as fast as he’d like.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to get someone to check later today. Pattadol, probably. She was a good healer, and would deal with Cithis leaving the captain alone for the night too. Because that absolutely wasn’t happening again.

Letting out a little sigh of relief, Kabru cupped one frozen foot in both hands and half smiled at the captain.

“The good news is I don’t think there’s any harm done, but we’ll get Pattadol to check in the morning. If they keep hurting or you get any numbness or tingling you have to tell someone, okay?” He asked, not really hoping for much of anything.

Captain Mithrun sunk down like he was trying to hide in his own tight collar, frowning past Kabru at the wall of the tent. Even the quiet “I’m fine” was less annoyed or bored than usual.

Kabru’s smile widened in spite of himself. Now that he’d gotten the sudden panic under control and the worry with it, he had to admit that the captain was kind of sweet when he obviously felt bad about something. Like a little kid who hadn’t expected to need rescue.

That raised a new worry, because Kabru had a sudden dark suspicion that he was playing the role of Milsiril in that little analogy and he did not like it. He’d been in the captain’s place more often than not with his stepmother, although he’d like to believe he’d been less careless with his own safety.

He’d like to. He wasn’t sure he actually believed it.

Clearing his throat, he pulled the captain’s other foot out for a quick check. Both were definitely looking better already, still starkly red instead of their usual pallor but at least his circulation had started up again. The white lines left by his fingers faded, still not quickly, but they filled in with red as he watched.

“I wasn’t out long,” Mithrun put in quietly, his eye on Kabru’s face until the moment that Kabru looked up to meet it, and then it skittered away again. His lower lip slid out in a pout that was definitely less irritated than usual. “I wasn’t awake long. I just. Didn’t wait.”

His gaze skittered over to the door of the tent and Kabru sighed softly, covering his feet with both hands again and tucking them into his lap. He wasn’t about to remove any layers to give the captain direct skin access there, but it was the warmest spot he had and the heat in the tent would help too.

“Honestly Captain, you shouldn’t have had to. I’m just glad you got… dressed…” about to shake his head, Kabru stopped, brows drawing down into a frown.

One of the things Mithrun had been emphatic about was that if he had a routine, he could usually follow the steps. When he was in a dungeon or on a mission, that broke the routine, and carving the dragon had been a singular mission for him until now.

But when he had a dungeon or a mission, he didn’t do any steps.

And now he’d actually taken the initiative to pull a corner of the blanket from under his body and tugged it over his head. Kabru’s lips twitched again, but he got the urge to smile under control very quickly.

And helped the captain rearrange the blanket so that he was wrapped in it on all sides to keep what little body heat he had in. Once the elf was securely burrito’d (except for his feet, which Kabru was keeping custody of until they weren’t noticeably cold against skin), he rested a hand gently on a covered knee.

“Captain, you didn’t get dressed did you?”

The top half of his head having been excavated during the wrapping, Mithrun made another attempt to turtle back into it, his lone eye peeking out at Kabru.

“No.” It was muffled, but still audible. And honestly, even the idea that the captain could be embarrassed by his own behaviour was news to Kabru; new enough that it might not be the actual explanation.

He’d never shown any indications when Kabru had literally caught him mid collapse, or even really any gratitude. Even hiding to avoid the nagging would be a good sign though, since it might be part of a desire to avoid it.

Usually he just bitched about it until Kabru shut up or was distracted by something trying to eat them.

That little revelation could wait though, since now Kabru was suddenly angry.

“Have you even had a change of clothes? We’re not in the dungeon anymore, Captain, I understand you’re still on a mission but there’s no reason you can’t have clean clothes or comfortable sleeping things! Didn’t Cithis even try?!”

On the ships there wasn’t a practical way to do any kind of laundry, and thanks to the changeling spores Kabru had actually washed himself and his clothing a lot more in their last dungeon adventure than he usually would. Wearing the same things for days at a time wasn’t a problem, when there wasn’t any alternative.

They were practically in town. There were plenty of alternatives.

Captain Mithrun poked his head out a little further, brows drawn down as he examined Kabru through his dark eye. Whatever he was looking for, he either found it or gave up quickly, and lay back.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t mind, and it saves time.”

Frustration rising, Kabru forced it back down and took a few deep, calming breaths. There was half a chance he’d ordered her not to make him change in the first place, although she shouldn’t have listened. It wasn’t like she was particularly diligent with orders.

Either way, getting angry or upset with him was pointless. It wouldn’t do anything useful, and wouldn’t make him more likely to listen to anything else Kabru said. At most, he’d get angry back and that would be much worse.

Five slow, deep breaths later and Kabru shook his head, looking around the tent.

“Do you have sleeping clothes, Captain? Whatever you’d usually use?” He had no idea how much it’d be, given how little time Canaries in the field spent with any laundry beyond whatever cleaning spells someone might know, but surely there was something.

The captain stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. Didn’t expound on it or explain, but Kabru had already spotted a solution.

Laios’ shirt was still bunched in a corner of the tent.

Tucking the captain’s feet carefully into the blanket, he hurried to grab it, shaking it out and frowning at it. It had been cleaned at least once since everything had ended, which was good. It might not be pristine anymore, but it was better than nothing. And, being in the tent, it was warmer than the clothes Mithrun was actually wearing.

Turning back to the bed, he looked at the wrapped and round bundle of elf and hesitated again. Would asking the captain to change now do more harm than good?

It’d depend if he’d been sweating into his other clothes, because if they were wet they’d have to come off. Honestly, Kabru should have worried about that sooner, but he’d been distracted by the state of his feet. If they were that bad, how bad was the rest of him?

Chewing on his lower lip, Kabru sat back on the edge of the cot and frowned at the captain, who was just staring at the ceiling. In the end, he had to ask. It was just simpler.

“Can you feel the cold, Captain?”

Captain Mithrun glanced over at him again, then back to the tent.

“Yes. I just-”

“Don’t care, I understand,” Kabru agreed, sagging a little in relief. That would help. “I do care though, Captain. If you get sick, you won’t be able to move or do anything, even use your mana. So we have to get you warm again, right?”

There was a long moment where Mithrun looked over again, actually keeping eye contact as he examined Kabru. Who tried not to visibly fret. With the demon, reframing things to follow the captain’s desire had always resulted in immediate compliance.

Maybe even his desire to help Falin be eaten wasn’t a whole desire yet. Not so powerful as his need to find the demon again, certainly.

But finally he nodded, shuffling under the blanket for a while. Kabru was about to ask what he was doing when a hand finally emerged, pale and cold.

“The cape too. More layers will help.”

He managed to get changed without actually getting out of his blanket wrapping, passing out the cold and slightly frosted armour instead of just dropping the blanket when Kabru pointed out he’d need the heat.

In the meantime, Kabru found a second uniform under the cot, with clean trousers, underwear, and socks that he immediately passed over, along with the extra cape. The one he’d used for cutting was out of the question.

The captain let Kabru check his temperature without question, at his temples and then both his arms, and a finger down the back of the overlarge shirt to get a feel for his core.

The elf always felt cold to Kabru, but at least the rest of him wasn’t so badly off as his feet had been. It really mustn’t have been long, but it shouldn’t have happened at all.

What if Kabru hadn’t had that nightmare? What if he hadn’t gone for an early walk? Who would even have found the captain, and when?

Did the Canaries even have an established night shift? What the hell did they think the second cot was for? Why was Kabru the only person even trying to account for the captain’s needs?!

Shaking his head, Kabru forced himself to let it go. He could have a word with Pattadol in a few more hours when the sun was fully up, and. They.

No, that wouldn’t work. Cithis definitely Did Not Like Pattadol, and going through her wouldn’t make Cithis want to listen. He’d have to find a way to appeal to her self interest directly; maybe asking her if she could heal Captain Mithrun, and see the risk herself.

It wasn’t like Kabru would always be around to catch him when he was doing something dangerous.

And since he’d be sticking around here for the next few hours, and also needed to warm up (and try to get the captain to sleep)… Glancing around, Kabru fetched the second unused blanket from the other cot, then nodded to the captain.

“I’m cold now too. We’ll warm up faster if we use both blankets and share body heat, if you don’t mind?” Asking was mostly a formality, since the captain didn’t seem to care who did anything, but Kabru wasn’t going to stop trying.

Having desires could be like a muscle, so encouraging him to care about anything in any way might be helpful later on.

This time, Captain Mithrun considered him for a moment, then nodded and opened his blanket burrito. Kabru was about to climb in when he realized there was one important concern first; how the hell they were going to position themselves after.

Ideally, he’d like to get the captain lying down and see if he could sleep some more. That’d make tucking the ends of both blankets in more complicated, but they could do it. But it would also but a limit on the comfortable positions they could be in, if it was going to be a while to heat up.

He was probably overthinking it. After a moment’s thought, he pulled off his coat and tunic, and his own boots, leaving him in just his shirt and pants. It’d make it easier to share his heat with the captain. Then he wrapped the other blanket around his shoulders and sat on the edge of the cot.

“Your back to my chest should be the easiest, I think. If we lie down, maybe you can get some more sleep?”

Captain Mithrun gave him a very flat look at that, but since it was pretty much the same look he’d been given the first time he suggested a foot rub could help the captain sleep, Kabru ignored it. Being warm and comfortable was a pretty good soporific, especially when someone was already exhausted.

“You’re awake.”

That caught him off guard a little, although Captain Mithrun was already shuffling to lie down on the bedroll, keeping some of the blanket under him. Kabru fussed for a moment to get it under them both, trying to decide how to answer.

It wasn’t exactly a cogent argument. It was pretty much what that little kid he’d compared the captain to earlier would say. But… he wanted Captain Mithrun to feel respected, like his wants and needs were important enough for him to care about.

And. Maybe. Mithrun might be the only person who’d understand about the nightmares. Or at least the only person who wouldn’t judge him for having them.

Sliding carefully in behind the captain, Kabru waited until they were both mostly balanced on the cot while he tried to find the words.

“I… couldn’t sleep either, but probably for different reasons. I had a nightmare.”

There was a long moment, then the captain’s back relaxed and pressed against him. Pulling his own blanket over them both, Kabru wrapped an arm around him, enjoying the warmth of another person. He’d been sleeping alone for too long.

“About Utaya?” Mithrun asked softly, something tight and sad under the words. Kabru’s arm tightened reflexively around him at the words, holding him close.

Like the past might come and take this person away too.

He forced a short chuckle, shaking his head. Not being able to see the elf’s face helped. He didn’t have to worry about what he was thinking.

“No, actually… not exactly. I’m used to those. I used to have them a lot more, when I was younger. This one was just… about what we’re doing now.”

Mithrun made a noise that he could tell himself was inquisitive, although it was probably just an acknowledgement. Kabru pressed on anyway.

“I dreamed about eating the dragon meat. There was so much of it, and I couldn’t say no, but the more I ate the more scales kept coming up through my skin, and I scratched them off but then I had to eat those too, until my nails were claws and my teeth were too sharp and… and then…” the words had been easy until that point, spilling faster and faster but suddenly they were choking him.

One cool hand came and pressed over his, where he was holding the captain… probably way too tightly, it was probably uncomfortable, and he forced his grip to loosen but Mithrun’s hand held his in place.

“And then?” The elf asked softly, his voice still calm and even. Not judging. Not disgusted, or annoyed. Not pitying or condescending.

Kabru buried his face in the top of Mithrun’s head and breathed for a long moment, forcing himself to calm down. To let his heart stop racing.

“And then it wasn’t dragon meat I was eating,” he whispered against the soft waves of dulled silver.

He’d have wondered if the captain heard him at all, except that the elf’s hand tightened over his for a moment. Then it peeled his hand away, pulling it up and out of the blankets where Mithrun could examine it with both of his.

Kabru had never really noticed how much smaller Mithrun’s hands were than his before. Most of his acquaintance with the captain had involved being very hands on, grabbing the captain or carrying him when he’d fallen or passed out. Captain Mithrun was a pretty small guy, though he was solidly built for an elf and heavier than he looked.

His hands were rough too, hardened and battle scarred, and not the most delicate where they turned Kabru’s hand this way and that, pressing at the ends of his fingers and sketching the knuckles.

They were so much smaller. He could probably hold both of the captain’s wrists in one hand, or cup his hands together and fully contain both of Mithrun’s inside. The contrast of pale skin against his brown made the difference all the more stark, and he found himself watching with equal attention as Mithrun examined his hand.

Then the captain pulled it back under the blankets and placed it against his chest again.

“No scales or claws.” It was so incongruous that Kabru blinked, taking hold of the elf automatically.

“What… Captain, I know it was just a dream. I didn’t think I was actually going to…” he trailed off, trying not to sound too annoyed. Maybe it had been a mistake to mention it.

Captain Mithrun shook his head, pressing his hand to the back of Kabru’s.

“You don’t dream, under sleeping potions. Or sleeping spells when they’re done right. You’re not supposed to. But… I do. Sometimes. And the dreams don’t go away just because I wake up.” His fingers traced the backs of Kabru’s slowly, then pressed more firmly again.

Kabru’s mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to process the weight of that revelation. He’d known that sleeping potions and spells didn’t usually let people dream, it was one of the reasons you weren’t supposed to use them all the time to sleep, but…

Could it be something the demon had done? Left Mithrun with unusually strong or vivid dreams, too powerful to be blocked by the magic?

And his first thought had been to comfort Kabru. Not by telling him that it was just a dream, or hadn’t been real, or any of the patronizing crap he already knew.

He’d taken the fear seriously, had physically checked, and made sure there really was nothing there even when they both knew there couldn’t be.

What the hell did the captain dream about?

For some reason Kabru couldn’t bring himself to ask, the words trapped under a sudden lump in his throat. He wrapped his arms tighter around the elf, held him close and was sure Mithrun made a soft, almost pleased sound in response.

“I… understand. Thank you, captain.”

Mithrun made another quiet, contented noise, leaning further back into Kabru. He felt warmer already, the places where they touched much warmer than the rest even under the blankets.

Kabru had left his bed looking for a distraction, because the thought of trying to sleep again with that in his head was too much to bear. The thought of trying again now still wasn’t exactly appealing, but he couldn’t deny it felt… easier. Better.

Less terrifying. Less like he might actually throw up. The gentle warmth of the captain in his arms, the heartbeat he could feel against his hand and his chest, were grounding. Soothing.

He could only hope it was working as well for Captain Mithrun as the silence stretched between them, comfortable and familiar. It was a little surprising to realize that he actually felt safe, even in a tent in the middle of the woods.

Of course, knowing that every monster had fled as far and as fast as it could days ago helped. Cuddling up to the undisputed scariest person on the Island helped more.

It was interesting, actually; the dichotomy Mithrun represented. In an actual fight, Kabru was completely sure he’d never seen anyone more blatantly terrifying; there was just no defence against wayward teleportation. If Mithrun decided to swap a rock for your brain, the only thing that could stop him was his own lack of depth perception.

His casting was quick, precise, and almost instantaneous; if he had a loose object to send, the only question was if he would miss. It was hard to imagine anything being able to beat him, even after watching him go toe to toe with the demon twice and fail… actually, maybe moreso. The demon was basically magic incarnate, infinite power given form, and if violence was capable of killing it Kabru was pretty sure Mithrun would have succeeded.

He’d diced it finer than the dragon and even running on empty would have killed Marcille at full dungeon lord power if not for the demon protecting her. He was the epitome of an unstoppable force.

An unstoppable force who’d give himself frostbite because it didn’t occur to him to put on boots before standing on a block of ice. Who’d starve to death from sheer ignorance of his own body in a week. Who had no choice but to rely on others for every single one of his needs, all day, every day, because he couldn’t feel them.

Captain Mithrun really was the perfect weapon; completely impotent without someone else to wield him.

And Kabru had to believe he could find the human being under all of that, the determination and reckless power, and apathy and emptiness. The man he saw in those flickers of emotion that took over the captain’s face at the first stirring in his heart; usually irritation, stubbornness, or anger, but there were others too.

Smugness was probably the first thing Kabru had ever seen break the intensity/apathy combo that Mithrun usually wore; handing a room full of mercenaries their asses as easily as if he was herding children. There were other moments too though.

More since the dungeons fell, which was understandable; they had more to feel good about. Kabru had never expected to see Captain Mithrun cry, or really to see him laugh either, but he’d seen both almost at once.

There were the softer smiles too, and those were what Kabru held onto when the captain was being extra difficult. Usually uncertain, usually small, every single one held the promise that actual, genuine happiness was something that Mithrun could feel again. That he could still find joy in life.

(If pressed, Kabru would admit that he had some less than selfless reasons for clinging to those moments, and pushing so hard for Mithrun to recover. If someone as obviously, tangibly broken as the captain could still find worth and purpose in his life… well, obviously Kabru could too. How could he not?

Captain Mithrun couldn’t fix himself breakfast with a knife to his throat. Kabru couldn’t make a good breakfast necessarily, but he could get by.)

It wasn’t until his musings were interrupted by a soft, familiar snore that Kabru realized Mithrun had fallen asleep again, even without a foot rub to relax him. He wondered belatedly if he should have asked more questions about why the captain had woken; had it just been a shoddy sleeping spell? Nightmares of his own?

Hell, had Cithis not bothered to toss a blanket over him? The tent wasn’t cold exactly, especially not compared to the night, but with nothing but his uniform between him and the air, the captain didn’t exactly run warm.

He’d have to ask later. In the morning, once the sun had fully risen and it was actually a decent time to get up.

Actually, he’d probably have to tell the captain’s squad to bugger off and leave them alone for a few more hours, once they got up. The Canaries rose early, so it’d probably only be a couple more hours at most until they came looking.

As much as he’d like to get the captain’s feet looked at, he’d rather the elf get some more sleep first. It wasn’t like he had the mana for a full day of continuous teleport-cutting, so getting a lie in would probably do more for him than rising early. And it wasn’t like Kabru had anywhere else to be; ideally, he’d like Captain Mithrun to sleep until he woke on his own.

Hopefully they’d come in before calling out, and he could tell them to leave the captain alone for a while.

Which. Would mean they’d find them both on the cot together.

A perverse part of Kabru kind of wished he’d taken his pants off; they’d wanted to tease him when Cithis had the captain in her bed, it would only be fitting to repay them in kind. Of course, it wouldn’t actually fluster the fucking elves.

Actually, it’d probably make Fleki cackle and definitely wake the captain, and even if the others wouldn’t be so loud, they’d certainly have commentary for him later. So it was probably for the best that he hadn’t.

Still, it wasn’t like he could miss them opening the tent. Despite being a chronic overthinker, it wasn’t like there was much to distract him just lying in bed with the captain in his arms.

It was just… peaceful. Warm, comfortable, and the rise and fall of another’s breathing to soothe him. Kabru found himself drifting in a haze of contentment, and hurriedly shook himself awake again.

But then again, why bother?

He’d barely gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep himself all told, and while he’d insisted they lie down for the captain to sleep (which had worked), being warm and tucked up in bed was working on him too.

It wouldn’t be hard. And if he did have nightmares again… well, he’d found out years ago (by Rin throwing things at him) that he was a grabber and a cuddler, especially when he had nightmares. And he already had Captain Mithrun held close; if either of them moved away they’d probably fall right off the cot.

If nothing else, he’d have someone with him. Be able to reassure himself, have someone to hold until he could breathe again. He’d hate to wake the captain up though.

Of course, he might not have the nightmare again. It had felt inevitable before, made him want to vomit just staying in his bed below the inn, and he’d had to get out. Not anymore though.

Now it felt far away and far less frightening; pushed back by Mithrun’s absolutely wild reaction. It felt silly that he’d been that upset in the first place, with Mithrun quietly reassuring him that he definitely wasn’t actually becoming a dragon, but not in a bad way. It even pulled a smile to his face.

And, well, it was hard to imagine what could frighten him while he held the most dangerous person on the Island to his chest, snoring like a squirrel.

Pressing his face to Mithrun’s hair to hide from the encroaching dawn, Kabru pressed his eyes shut.

Just a couple of minutes. Maybe an hour.

None of the convicts would deliberately wake them up if they saw he was there too; it was a solid 50-50 that Lycion or Fleki would just sit their asses down and wait to watch them wake up and see what happened, but Otta and Cithis would probably just leave and decide how to try and make his life hell with it later.

Since Kabru was already planning on making their lives uncomfortable for leaving the captain unattended, he wasn’t worried about it.

So waking up about four hours later to find himself and Mithrun festooned from head to toe with daisy chains wasn’t exactly expected, but nor was it hugely surprising.

The day itself was unremarkable; he spoke to Cithis early on, which went. As well as could be expected. She refused to see the problems even while casting a healing spell on the captain’s feet (mostly just to be safe; there didn’t seem to be any lasting damage).

Kabru was fully aware she was baiting him by suggesting he simply take over the night shift again himself if he didn’t trust anyone else to do it, but honestly? That had become his goal somewhere between falling asleep in Mithrun’s cot and chasing the captain and Cithis down.

He couldn’t force the Canaries to care about their captain. Or to realize that the easiest answer wasn’t always the best, though he hoped spending more time with Senshi might help there.

He could take matters into his own hands, and personally make sure the captain didn’t try anything like that again. Let Cithis think she was manipulating him.

Of course, having them both sleep squished up on one cot wasn’t a long term solution; there was a reason he’d brought a second. But through the course of the day, he also realized that he probably couldn’t trust the captain to wake him up if he was up early.

Kabru could put his cot in front of the entrance of the tent, and the captain could teleport out. And possibly get himself stuck in something. But Kabru already knew how to keep him from teleporting. Contact with a large enough surface.

Explaining it to the captain himself was a little more complicated; Captain Mithrun just stared at him blankly, standing to his full height inside the tent (which Kabru was a little jealous of; he had to hunch).

“You want to what?” He asked flatly. Kabru stifled a smile.

“To move your cot back and turn it, so I can set up the other one at a right angle to it. That way once you’ve gone to sleep, I can sleep with my head on your chest, so that if you wake up it’ll wake me too and I can help you.” It was an ingenious solution if Kabru said so himself; much less touchy feely than they’d had that morning, it’d give them both at least a semblance of personal space.

Sure, he’d still have to be invading Mithrun’s, but he had to anyway to keep him from teleporting away. But at an angle like that, he wouldn’t be able to grab or pull the elf into another hug in his sleep, even if he did have another nightmare.

Just his head had to be less annoying for the captain to deal with, right?

And Captain Mithrun clearly agreed, since he just stared at Kabru for a while and then helped him move the beds into position! Okay, he didn’t actually say anything to agree or disagree, but he actively helped set things up, which was the same thing.

It even felt comfortingly routine for Kabru to sit at the end of the cot and give the captain his foot rub, feeling him relax gradually under his hands. He’d been a little worried that sleeping in that morning might have thrown the captain’s schedule off, but it clearly hadn’t; he fell asleep as quickly and easily as usual.

Getting to then move to the other cot, even if he did shift himself up so that his head rested on Mithrun’s chest instead of his pillow, was less routine. Part of him still wanted to sit watch, but there was no point.

There were no monsters nearby, and no one on the Island likely to try and start trouble with the Canaries. Even if there was, Kabru was a pretty light sleeper. There was no way Mithrun would be able to slip away from him either. If he moved, Kabru would wake up, and could help him either get back to sleep or deal with whatever issue had arisen.

If nothing else, Kabru was sure he’d help the captain get a better night’s sleep.

Mithrun wasn’t exactly sure what woke him, which was pretty much his normal. Most of the time it was likely as simple as the sleeping spell running out, or potion wearing off, even if it was early. But he never could tell.

It took a moment for him to remember that he’d not had either that night, which was a new puzzle. It was still dark, and while his sense of time wasn’t the best, it didn’t seem like it had been long since he fell asleep.

Kabru was lying with his head on Mithrun’s chest, still deeply asleep, which was. Possibly related. It made it a little harder to breathe, and Mithrun took a few deep test breaths. Didn’t seem to be a major problem though.

He lay in the dark for a while, watching the outline of Kabru’s head in the monochrome world of twilight. He understood the purpose, of course; that Kabru would be awakened if he moved, so he couldn’t wander off alone again.

Tedious. Potentially effective, although he was plainly awake now and Kabru wasn’t.

Although. It wasn’t like he wanted to move. Or had anywhere else to be. Did he?

It’d be a pain to dislodge Kabru. So maybe it was effective in keeping him in bed at least.

Slowly, unbidden, a hand rose as if to rub at the spot on his chest that was usually the most hollow, but occasionally sparked a glow of warmth, or sorrow. It was warm now, in a soft, gentle way, but Kabru’s head was directly over it.

As if the tallman knew that was where the best path to Mithrun’s desires lay.

(Well. He assumed it was the best path. It was where all the feelings he didn’t understand lay? And he wasn’t sure he remembered enough of desire to understand it.)

His fingers stroked through messy dark curls instead, which was an interesting sensation. Kabru’s hair was soft and thick. Pretty and boyish, the curls combining with wide blue eyes and a charming smile that made him look almost elven.

With his head turned away like this, Mithrun could almost imagine that one ear was just folded down against his chest, the other… wait. That might be a memory. The way a slender brown ear would rise out of dark curls and twitch.

There had been a lot of changeling mushrooms in the dungeon, and while even the changes to his own physique didn’t really register with him, his imagination also wasn’t usually up to even the hazy impression of an elf ear.

He almost wondered what an actual elf-Kabru had looked like. Probably still taller than him. Mithrun wasn’t the shortest elf around, but he was definitely shorter than average. Although, he didn’t know where Kabru stood on a tallman average either.

Elf-Kabru wouldn’t be able to haul him around as much. Expecting to feel petty satisfaction, Mithrun was surprised by the disappointment accompanying that thought.

The manhandling was annoying, or at least not being able to do what he wanted was annoying. The actual grabbing was… fine. Better than the weight of Kabru’s head on his chest, although that wasn’t actually all that bad.

He was still touching Kabru’s hair. That was… he hadn’t been thinking about it. But it was soft, and felt nice between his fingers.

Kabru would probably wake up if he kept doing it. But he was supposed to wake up and put Mithrun back to sleep.

He wasn’t awake.

The string of facts trotted through Mithrun’s head with the usual lack of any interest or any will to do anything about them. Including stopping his fingers from twisting slowly through Kabru’s curls.

He could wake Kabru and get more sleep. Unless Kabru’s head on his chest was what had woken him, which would just happen again. That’d be annoying.

Any kind of decision would have to involve him wanting something, or finding one option preferable. He kept playing with Kabru’s hair. Deciding to stop would also involve caring what happened next.

Kabru would probably be able to help him choose, but Kabru would make the decision he wanted anyway. He could make Mithrun agree with him though, which was nice. Cithis never bothered waiting for him to agree.

The difference hadn’t seemed important, since he didn’t usually disagree either, but… there was something there. A thought he couldn’t quite finish the shape of.

It tugged back to something that had happened that day, a conversation he’d almost been part of.

Why was Kabru so good with him?

A frown creasing his brows, Mithrun stared down at Kabru like his sleeping head might hold the answer, hand stilling.

He wasn’t sure. Everyone else agreed that Kabru was very good at handling him, but it was harder for him to tell.

He liked Kabru, as much as he liked anyone. More than most people, really. He wasn’t as grating, or as scared and inclined to kiss his ass. For all that he wouldn’t stop talking, Kabru was restful company.

Who absolutely wouldn’t help Mithrun work this out, because he was also very distracting. That was the talking, but also sometimes the things he did. That was part of the restful; Mithrun didn’t have to do anything or think about anything, because Kabru would entertain him.

Not necessarily on purpose, but that was fine. Mithrun was entertained, and Kabru preferred when Mithrun wasn’t doing anything else, so it worked out.

That was probably uncharitable. There were plenty of things Kabru wanted Mithrun to do. They just weren’t usually things that interested him.

Watching Kabru was usually interesting, if only because after a while he got flustered about it.

His fingers had started stroking through Kabru’s hair again. He hadn’t decided to. It was just… pleasant. A soothing sensation as soft curls swirled around at his touch, flowing like water. It made him feel more real.

He wasn’t going to find any answers here.

He couldn’t wake Kabru, or Kabru would try and put him back to sleep. Kabru had been very sure he’d wake if Mithrun moved, but he hadn’t yet.

Just his head probably wasn’t enough contact that Mithrun couldn’t teleport without bringing him.

There were probably any number of sensible options, but Mithrun didn’t bother thinking past the first one. Tugging the blanket free, he wadded it into a bundle about the same size as his own chest and held it up above him. Right above Kabru’s head, as far as he could tell.

Switching their positions was easy, although he did almost fall directly into Kabru’s head because he hadn’t bothered raising his knees first. Still, he caught himself, sitting back on his heels to see if Kabru would wake up.

The blanket was tucked under his head as neatly as Mithrun’s chest had been, and though his face scrunched a little he didn’t seem about to wake up. Nodding in satisfaction, Mithrun turned to leave the tent.

Stopped. It had been important that morning.

Sitting carefully by the tent entrance, he pulled his socks and boots on before wandering out into the night. It was entirely possible that there wouldn’t be any answers out there either. Probable, really. It might not even be a puzzle he could solve.

But Kabru had been so very sure he could keep Mithrun contained, and as much as Mithrun did like him, he wasn’t a fucking pillow. And he was self aware enough to recognize the pettiness in the slight smile as he wandered off.

Maybe he could find that friend of Kabru’s who’d been around during the day.

———————

It is so important to me that you know there was about a solid chance of Mithrun intentionally teleporting himself into the ground outside so Kabru’s head was held up by dirt and then had to dig himself out

I resisted, obviously. But it was hard

(Also Mithrun hid his head under the blankets on the off chance Kabru didn’t have object permanence and would forget he was there if he couldn’t see him because listen he doesn’t know how tallmen work)

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi fanfic #after dinner mints #after dinner mints: definitely not watching you sleep #they’re both liars they’re both definitely watching each other fucking sleep #kabumisu #kabru dungeon meshi #mithrun dungeon meshi #captain mithrun #kabru of utaya #kabrumithrun #fun fact the warming the feet thing is something i do with ny partner sometimes #cuz he has reynauds tho not cuz he walks on ice barefoot #gotta be real careful about not burning frozen feets

15 notes · View notes

jerzwriter · 10 months

Text

A New Chapter

Book: Open Heart (Book 2)

Characters: Tobias Carrick, Casey MacTavish (F!MC)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Very minor talk of hospitals, serious illness

Words: 1,500

Summary: They met. They fell hard. He screwed it up. But when a crisis hit, he rose to the occasion; but where does that leave them? When the doctor goes to visit his patient, he finds out.

A/N: This is technically the first part of the "From Here to There" anthology I'm working on to bridge how Tobias & Casey went from broken up to friends to so much more. I've told you guys the future, but I've never shown you how. This is me fixing that. :)

Tobias shifted uncomfortably, mumbling something about the chairs being far more comfortable at Kenmore. He arrived at Edenbrook a little over an hour via the staff entrance. And why wouldn’t he? He wasn’t a visitor but a doctor there in an official capacity. At least that’s what he told himself and anyone else, regardless of whether they asked. Just checking in on a patient he helped save two days before. The excuse was so flimsy he didn’t even believe it himself. And if the stuffed animal under his arm didn’t give him away, the fact that he had no interest in seeing Raf, the other person he helped save two days ago, made Tobias’s intentions pretty clear.

A couple of nurses stopped in, Ethan and Sienna, too. All offered to tell Casey he passed by and, in their own way, encouraged him to go home and rest. But his schedule was clear, and his mind made. He was staying until she woke. As the clock ticked away, he wondered if this was selfish. Sure, they shared some kind words during that dreadful ordeal, and she had thanked him profusely after an antidote was found. Still, given their history, he knew he might be the last person she wanted to see.

That’s why he stayed away until now. Casey had family and friends who had far more right to be at her side. He’d only be in her way. A reminder of things she’d rather forget. Perhaps she’d even blame him for everything that occurred. Heaven knows he did as he lay awake in bed since the night of the attack. But after two days, he couldn’t stay away any longer. This woman had consumed his mind and soul from the day they met. Bewitched, that’s what he thought it was; no one ever had that effect on him before. But with everything he was forced to face this week, he had to admit it to himself. His mind and soul weren’t the only things she had stolen. She also had his heart.

Still, he was there without expectations. He only wanted to talk to her, to reassure himself that she was all right. If she woke up and ordered him out, he promised himself he’d leave without incident and never bother her again. But how he hoped it wouldn’t go that way.

He sat at attention, perched on the end of that damn chair, when Casey began to stir. That’s when it dawned on him... he had no idea what he was going to say. So he waited patiently until she opened her eyes.

“To.. Tobias?” she asked groggily, flinching with discomfort as she tried to sit up.

“Yes,” he jumped to his feet. “Don’t get up; you can stay lying down.”

“No,” she insisted. “I want to sit up for a bit... I didn’t fight to stay alive to lay on my back and sleep all day.”

He helped adjust her bed into an upright position and got an extra pillow from the closet to help support her head.

“There,” she sighed with relief. “That’s perfect.”

“How are you feeling? I looked over your chart... are you still getting headaches?”

“It’s never gone away, but it’s getting better every day.”

“Good,” he replied nervously. “I.. I also looked at your bloodwork. It’s unbelievable, really... better than any of us anticipated....”

“I know. They may even kick me out of this joint tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about that?”

She shrugged her shoulders, face devoid of expression. “I don’t know. But if I say I’m not ready, Ethan will move heaven and earth to make sure I stay.”

He knew it was foolish to feel a twinge of jealousy when Casey said Ethan’s name. He was in her past as much as Tobias himself. And the two rivals had buried the hatchet the other night. But Tobias knew he might not be the only fool who had come to his senses when faced with the prospect of losing her. Perhaps they...

“So he’s taking good care of you, then?” The words escaped without permission.

“He is. Him and everyone else. It’s amazing, but if you nearly die, suddenly everyone gives you the royal treatment,” she half smiled. “Is that why you’re here, too?”

“No..” he stuttered. “I..uh.. uh... I came to check on you... you know, in a medical capacity, because...” he stopped when he caught her grinning at him. “What?”

“Do you always carry a neon dinosaur under your arm when you’re visiting patients... in a professional capacity?”

He was caught.

“Sure,” he smirked. “It’s kind of my thing. I’m known for it.”

He pulled his chair slightly closer and handed the stuffed animal to Casey.

“But, I think he’s a little offended because he’s a rhinoceros, not a dinosaur.”

“A rhinoceros?” she chuckled.

“Yeah, the Edenbrook gift shop is seriously lacking. I was hoping for something cuter... but my choices were the rhino or a stingray... I thought the rhino was better, given my options.”

“Well, I think he’s plenty cute,” Casey replied as she played with her gift. “I’ve always wanted a neon purple rhinoceros.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” she grinned with a tiny wince. “It’s been on my Christmas list for years.”

“Well, maybe Santa dropped a clue. We’re tight, you know.”

“Of course you are! He has to consult with you to see who’s been naughty in the greater Boston area. At least that’s the rumor.”

“Yeah,” Tobias replied, his enthusiasm diminished. “That is what most people think of me.”

Casey was about to reply when a nurse entered the room. After taking her vitals, she asked if she’d like assistance taking a shower.

“Oh, I would love that!” Casey enthused. “Could you come back in maybe fifteen minutes?”

“Of course,” the nurse smiled, flashing Tobias a sharp look. He looked down at the floor, wondering how much his reputation preceded him.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” he mumbled. “But, since the rhino blew my cover... I didn’t come here professionally.”

“No kidding?” Casey smirked.

“I just... I needed to see you were doing better with my own eyes. And I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am for everything. So, I really appreciate that you didn’t call security the second you opened your eyes.”

“Well, that would be mighty rude of me, considering Raf and I might not be here right now if not for you.”

Tobias smiled tenderly and quickly fought the visceral reflex to take her hand in his.

“I would have helped anyone, Casey. But I worked extra hard because it was you.”

Casey looked down at the rhinoceros sitting on her lap, anxiously twirling his purple fur between her fingers. Tobias spoke quickly in an attempt to put her at ease.

“Now, don’t feel like you’re obligated. I know you didn’t exactly want me around before this all happened, and, well... I know that may not have changed. I just want you to know I’m happy you’re doing better... I'm so happy you're here. I’m going to head out, but if you ever want to report anyone to Santa, you know who to call.”

“Tobias, wait...” Casey called after him, patting a spot beside her on the bed. “That sounded like a goodbye, and after all I’ve been through the past couple of days, I realize just how much I don’t want any more of those. I’m not saying you and I... that we...” she motioned between them, unsure of exactly what to say.

“Casey,” Tobias smiled. “I never expected that we’d...” he said, copying her actions.

“I’m not in a place to deal with anything like that... not with you or anyone else. But I wouldn’t mind if you checked in on me every now and then. And if it’s OK with you, maybe I could bug you sometimes.”

“You would never bug me.”

“I’ll remind you of that,” she grinned.

“Casey MacTavish, are we becoming friends?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, taking his hand. “I guess we are.”

“I like that,” he whispered. “So as your newest friend... remember, I’m a phone call away if you need me. Even if it’s just to help name your new purple rhino.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll need help with that. Thank you, Tobias, for everything.”

“You got it, kid,” he smiled, exiting her room as the nurse returned.

Thoughts raced in his mind as he approached the elevator; still, he hadn’t felt this at peace in some time. Casey MacTavish was now his friend. Although she meant much more to him, he had no illusions... But she didn’t toss him away; he’d still get to care for her, to hear her laugh, and his name would be on her lips without a curse preceding it. Casey was his friend. The elevator door opened, and he stepped inside with a smile. Life doesn’t always have perfect endings, but sometimes, they're good enough. And right now, he was grateful for the new chapter that was beginning.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesmonthlychallenge - National Friendship Day - let's go with that :)

#choices fanfic #open heart #open heart fanfic #open heart choices #choices open heart #tobias carrick x mc #tobias x casey #tobias carrick

36 notes · View notes

space-helen · 2 years

Text

Overworked

Words: 572

Pairing: Spock (tos) x Reader

A/N: I think I’ve slightly forgotten how to write Spock but I hope this is ok!!

Request: How would Tos Spock react to you being overworked?? - Anon

______________________

It was odd. Spock was always the one to finish his shift after you, he never knew a time where you'd finish after him. He, as a higher ranking officer, had longer shifts than you. He also inevitably got called into more work after the official end of his shifts.

That was up until recently. The past couple of days he'd been finishing before you. Getting back to you shared quarters to not find you there at all. The first night he came to find you. You were sat at your desk still, working away through reports.

The next two nights he left you to it, 3 hours later than you should have been, you were wandering back into your quarters.

Tonight he'd waited two hours, but he'd had enough. Moving to leave your quarters he bumped into you on his way out. "Y/N, finally."

You followed the man back inside, "I'm sorry"

"There is no need to apologise." He insisted as the door closed behind you.

You moved straight for your bed and began to get changed. The man handed you pyjamas as you undressed and grabbed you some food and drink as you went to the bathroom.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he handed you the drink. "You've been overworking yourself. What is this all for?"

"No I haven't." You took a sip of water

"I believe you have"

"I've only done what you would do in this situation." You continued to drink until all the water was gone.

"And what is the situation?" Spock took the glass from you

"I have to finish up all the reports Ensign Kylers has been ignoring. He's recently taken leave and you know what the reporting deadline is like."

"You cannot be expected to pick up after everyone."

"I know." You said defeated.

"I shall speak to the Captain-"

"No." You dropped the snack he'd handed you but quickly picked it up. "I don't want to bother anyone. It's nearly done. A couple more hours left tomorrow morning and then it's over and I'm never letting him fall behind again"

He contemplated what you said "I suppose that is logical. I would be a hypocrite to push this any further. I apologise."

You reached over to the man and placed your hand on his shoulder "thank you Spock. It really does mean a lot"

"I have done nothing to aid you, other than scold you. I have missed your presence the past couple of days"

"It's the small things that you don't realise you're doing, like bringing me a drink or handing me a change of clothes. I've missed you too"

He looked at you again and could see the exhaustion immediately. Taking the sheets he covered your legs as he collected up the items you no longer needed. "It's the minimum I could do. You should sleep."

You nodded as you settled into the sheets as Spock walked away to discard the items. But he was soon back in the room changing before settling into bed beside you.

Turning toward the man you rested your head in his chest and your arms around him as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Thank you for looking out for me" you muttered, sleep slowly taking over as the tension lifted from all of your muscles. No matter what he could always melt the tension away from you.

"It's my honour"

#spock x reader #star trek x reader #star trek tos x reader

341 notes · View notes

prettyiwa · 2 years

Text

I do not authorize the translation or reposting of my work anywhere. Do not mention me or my work on Tik-Tok.

Relationship: Iwaizumi Hajime x GN!Reader Content Warnings: Fluff, Slice of Life, Neighbor!Iwaizumi, Little Bits of Clueless!Reader, Post-Graduation, Mentions of Minor Character Death, Manga Spoilers Summary: You and Iwaizumi always seemed to drift in and out of each other's lives like two parallel lines never quite destined to touch, until one day, you do. Word Count: 2,175

A/N: I'm a fucking liar (my excuse is this is short). Anyway, I broke @tyga-lily's heart this morning and promised some fluff, so here? I hope this helps make up for it~ (don't judge me for switching to a different project momentarily)

It starts slow, the dissolution of your friendship with Iwaizumi.

He moves away to California and you no longer get to see him on a daily basis. Your walks to your favorite cafe are now solitary and when you get home late, you know you can’t expect to see him stargazing, almost like he was waiting just to chat even though he wasn’t (doesn’t stop you from looking over every single time, disappointed that he’s not here). You two were nothing special, not best friends and definitely not anything resembling dating, but you quickly realize how accustomed you had grown to his quiet presence in your life.

He must feel it, too, because not two weeks go by before he calls you out of the blue, just to chat. It surprises you if only because he’s had your number for years but never once did he use it. But you listen to him tell you of life in California, how everything is so big and busy and lonely. He tells you how different it is, moving to another country, one almost wholly unfamiliar with his native tongue, how he’s a little anxious to start classes next week. And when he asks about you, how your past two weeks have been, you find yourself telling him a little bit more than you thought you would. Like, how you never before noticed the beauty of the trees on the walks you used to take with him, how your studies are getting more difficult but how you like it, how your shift manager is getting on your nerves.

And you start to notice things that you never paid attention to before. He doesn’t listen to respond, like many of your other friends do, but actually listens to what you have to say. Though he may be abrasive about it, he cares about the well-being of his friends, fussing over whether you’ve eaten and whether you’re sleeping. And he’s much more nervous than he lets on (and he’s letting on). It’s a cumulation of little things that you start to appreciate and you find it a little funny it took him being 8,619 kilometers away for you to see them.

The calls become a regular thing, happening at least once a week. Sometimes the two of you catch up, tell each other about your weeks, and sometimes it’s just you two studying together, having virtual parallel play sessions. And it lasts, for a time, but the end of his school year has him stressed out and he’s starting to make friends in California and the calls become less frequent, turning to weekly texts. You feel bad, knowing you could be the one to reach out, but school’s getting busier and your mother’s gotten sick.

He calls after she passes, about two months later, months of hardly any conversation, and it warms your heart. The two of you video chat for hours, talking about everything and nothing, and it ends with a promise from him to come see you when he visits in two months. It’s a small spark, a tiny thing to look forward to, but life happens and he comes but you’re busy so it never happens. You apologize over text and he tells you not to worry, but the two of you hardly chat after that.

And… that’s it. It’s the quiet fizzle of a candle having run out of wick, turning into a fond memory of the boy who grew up next door. You think of him infrequently, seeing a Godzilla charm and thinking, “Oh, Iwaizumi would like this,” or catching a volleyball game on television with your friends, but you don’t reach out.

It starts slow, the reintroduction of Iwaizumi into your life.

When you accepted the position with the women’s volleyball team, you never, ever expected to see him. It’s not often that you cross paths with him, especially as he works as an athletic trainer for the men’s team and you’re the performance analyst for the women’s team, but each time you do, it almost feels like coming home. With health and safety restrictions being what they are, there’s not a whole lot of room for casual conversation, but that doesn’t stop him from shooting you a text.

Work keeps you both busy—his a little more, given the exuberant personalities of the male athletes—but the texts come pretty frequently. The conversation’s always light, asking after the other’s day, talking about work, sending pictures of team shenanigans, but he’s opened that door again. More often than not, it’s him texting you, and more often than not, he does it without expecting much of a response in return.

After the completion of the games, you’re sure that things will trickle back to normal, that he’ll find somewhere to stay in Tokyo and life will sweep you both away once more, but that’s not what happens.

When you return to your home in Sendai, tired after another long day, you find Iwaizumi, stargazing as he used to. The shock you feel is shared, evident in his wide eyes and confused smile, though it quickly melts into something a little more genuine. Your exhaustion vanishes and you both laugh at the strong sensation of déjà vu before you two start talking like you used to in university.

He tells you how he’s staying in Japan for a bit, trying to figure out what his next step is, to sort through offers and figure out where he’s going. You, in turn, tell him that you’re looking for work internationally, wanting to see more of the world than just Sendai. It’s light and familiar and you aren’t sure what it is, but you sleep a little easier that night.

Sometimes you’ll go to that cafe together and other times you’ll both end up working alongside each other in relative silence. He’ll leave for an interview or for a personal job and you won’t see him for a week or two and it’s fine. You don’t think anything of the way you two seem to slip in and out of each other’s lives, how comfortable you two are with what little you have.

Things change when your athletic trainer quits and his name is brought up as a possible replacement. You mention knowing him, respecting his work and the next thing you know, they’re bringing him in for an interview, almost hiring him on the spot. Talking a couple times a week turns into professionally coordinating with one another turns into commuting together turns into him bringing you the soup his mother used to make when you’re sick because he got used to having lunch with you.

It starts slow, the recognition of your feelings for Iwa.

You think you feel a flutter in your stomach when he catches you after you trip, ready to faceplant into the street after misstepping on the curb. He smiles and teases you, calling you a clumsy idiot, but you don’t think much of it. It’s just the adrenaline from embarrassment, nothing more.

But as time passes, you start to notice little things about him, things you didn’t quite appreciate before. Like how the sound of his laugh changes depending on what he’s laughing at and how he’s feeling, or how he never fakes a laugh. How his smiles are always genuine, all or nothing kinda things that are dangerously contagious. How he can quell almost any argument or bickering with a single, disapproving look. How he pushes everyone to be their best, working within their limits and appreciating their strengths to encourage them to keep going.

And when he complains about the people who ask him out clearly only wanting one thing, you can’t help yourself from blurting out in agreement, “Well, they aren’t wrong in thinking you’re attractive. Have you seen yourself? You’re so pretty it’s stupid. But it’s a shame they don’t know how wonderful everything else about you is.” Your eyes widen and heat spreads across your cheeks but it’s not like he’s any different. His face is red and he’s looking at you in absolute shock but… you kind of like it. And it’s not like you regret saying what you said, not like you didn’t mean it.

He bows his head and you notice the tips of his ears are red, too, and you think you see his cheeks lift from a smile. When he looks back up, his blush is contained (though his ears are still red) and his smile has turned into a haughty smirk and there’s something in his eyes that prevent you from looking away. “You think so? Cause I think I don’t even hold a candle to you.”

It’s your turn to fluster, to feel heat spread across your cheeks, to try to hide your face. He laughs, different from before, and he brushes his hand against yours on the table. You look up at him, find him staring at you with singular intensity, eyes flickering to your lips for but a moment. “Honestly, I wouldn’t say no to a date if you were the one asking,” he tells you and it’s like you’re finally getting it.

The way your heart flutters around him, the way you look forward to morning coffee and the commute home, the way your eyes search for him throughout the day. You realize how he’s embedded himself into your life and you aren’t upset by it (if anything you’re upset it took you so long to realize). In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind asking, wouldn’t mind bringing him closer, being aware of the constant presence he’s had in your life.

“Yeah. So do you want to?”

“Is this you asking?”

“I could change my mind.”

“Please don’t,” he laughs, bowing his head again. “I didn’t know how to ask you all this time.”

“Well, now you don’t need to,” you laugh, covering his hand with yours.

It’s fast, how quickly you fall for Hajime.

You didn’t expect much to change, not when you see him express his love to everyone else in a million little ways, but it does. Eating breakfast with him turns into him making breakfast for you, trying to learn what you like and don’t like with your food. Trips to your favorite cafe turn into mini-dates with the owners gushing over you two each and every time while you two laugh and learn as much as you can about the other. Instead of coming home late to him stargazing, he makes sure you get off on time so you two can stargaze together.

His affection is given freely, whenever you seek it, whenever you ask. You never have to wonder, never have to question how he feels or what he’s thinking because he tells you everything, more than happy to share. And you start to wonder how long you’ve felt like this, how long he’s felt like home, how long he’s been something irreplaceable in your life.

When you get the job offer from that school in the U.S., he’s excited for you, telling you how proud he is of you, celebrating your hard work instead of worrying over what will become of you two (and part of you is glad he isn’t worrying and part of you is upset because you’re worrying). You bring it up, ask him what he wants and what he wants to do, and he smiles, no sign of stress to be seen.

“I’m happy to support you in whatever you want to do. I’d like to be with you every step of the way, but only if it’s what you want, too. What do you want?”

So you tell him that you’re afraid. You’re afraid because it’s a new land and you won’t know anyone and you’re worried about the language barrier (because you know English but you’ve never had to communicate in nothing but English before). You’re excited because it’s the opportunity to experience something new, different from the comfortable and safe life you’ve built for yourself in Sendai. And you’re worried, really worried because—

“What if I said that I don’t want to lose what we have? What if I said that I wanted to take you with me?”

“Then say it. I still have connections from Irvine and I’ll make it work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. If you still want me, I’m not going anywhere.”

It makes you smile, his constant reassurance, knowing he doesn’t say these words lightly, that he’s never been the type to say something he doesn’t mean. So you two plan, work towards making your dream a reality. He finds an opening at a university not too far from yours and they aren’t stupid enough to turn down the athletic trainer of Japan’s national volleyball team.

Not even six months into living in America, you propose, simple and sweet, late at night while you’re both stargazing. He doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

It started slow, your romance, but there’s not any point in your story that you would trade.

Haikyuu!! Masterlist

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #✒.it starts slow #✒.ix writes #🏐.haikyuu!!#ハイキュー!!#hq.✒

181 notes · View notes

spinningwebsandtales · 1 year

Text

The Shape of You Pt. 5

Michael Myers X FemReader

Rating: M

Warnings: Michael attacks reader, mentions of death, bruising, choking, steamy parts, lots of kissing (this is just the beginning), angst, arguing, and mentions of blood

Word Count: 6.8k

Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Part 4: here Part 6: here

Taglist: @the-marshals-wife @msghostface @izumima @cavern-creature @101killer @scooby-the-soviet-soldier

(A/N:) Hello lovely readers and followers of this series! This part was a booger to write as it fought me basically every step of the way. I had to do a time skip though as I felt it was time and I was beyond ready to get to the good stuff! So I still have no absolute idea when this series will end but I’m trying to get chapters out as fast as I can and write for other fandoms and characters I’m interested in at the moment. I’m trying to keep them longer chapters as well so I can put as much detail and moments in without overwhelming everyone. Also all the comments and reblogs are so amazing and I can’t thank my readers enough! Y’all are so awesome and thank you to all the ones sticking with it through every part release! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

After that night Michael stayed with you after the incident he never left your side. Michael made it a habit to stay with you and sleep in the same bed, and you couldn’t bring yourself to kick him out. Just his presence alone made you feel safer and the warmth he added under your blankets made the bed even cozier. After the bruising and assault from Ian, Michael checked you over every day when you came home. He didn’t care if it meant he would be back behind those blindingly white walls, if you were ever hurt like that again there would be no stopping him from doing whatever he wanted to the person who deemed it acceptable to hurt you. Now as a few months had passed and a routine had came naturally into your lives you found yourself looking forward to returning home after work. Home had used to be your place of alone time and escaping. But now the dark that always greeted you after your shift turned into one of light and the attention Michael gave you as soon as you stepped through the door always made your heart flutter.

But still deep inside you were frustrated that nothing had happened between you two. There was always the gentle touches and looks but you wondered what his lips felt like. What did he taste like? It was driving you crazy that you tried not to dwell upon such thoughts, though your mind like to conjure them up. Especially when you had quiet moments with Michael around. He had yet to catch you watching him more than the TV when you both had your regular movie nights every Friday night. Unsurprisingly horror flicks were his favorites. Surprisingly Michael had a slight fondness for romantic flicks and you found yourself whisked away from whatever you were doing when you least expected it to dance around the living room or carried to your bed or couch for impromptu snuggling sessions. But still no kiss. No tender touches of exploration. You were going to go mad if the dam didn’t break sooner or later. You’ve sheltered him for months now and you could tell feelings were emerging from yourself, you tried to show that they were there but you didn’t want to scare him. You didn’t want this dance to end and you most certainly didn’t want to see him taken away. So you decided, though it hurt, that you would let Michael move first. If he had any feelings toward you or wanted whatever between you two to flourish it would be on him.

While some people would think that you were asking too much of him, they didn’t understand that Michael had to make his own decisions. Deep inside you had chosen yours and you couldn’t push it on to him. You couldn’t torture yourself with the thought of him not wanting anything more between you two. You sucked in a breath trying to concentrate on your sketch while Michael’s deep brown and icy blue eyes focused on your movements. His own sketchbook on his lap he tried to copy what you were doing and it was distracting you. While Michael’s skills were growing every day and he showed so much potential, yours were suffering as you had been unable to finish anything with him sitting so closely and his gaze so intense. You could have sworn he was heating the room just by his stare alone and you were very aware how much his body was pressed against yours. You chewed on your lip going back to concentrating but his thigh pressed harder against yours as he leaned in a little closer, then his warm breath was puffing against your neck, almost causing you to snap your pencil in half. Your body shook and Michael had no idea what he was doing to you. He continued to stare at your abandoned paper waiting for your next move when you closed it. He cocked his head concerned with the sudden difference in your body language and expression. He knew you didn’t have to go to work tomorrow since it was Saturday night, so worried about facing another day with Ian was definitely not on your mind. You always assured him anyway that Ian was never going to be a problem again, you hoped anyway.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” you stood up abruptly causing Michael to have to move out of your way. “I’m tired so I think I’ll go to bed.”

You started to walk off but before you were two steps away from Michael, who still sat on the couch, his firm grip clasped around your wrist. You looked backwards trying to hide the tears from your frustration so he wouldn’t think he did something wrong. Despite his demeanor beforehand Michael was a kind person, especially when it came to you. He pointed to the clock on the wall wordlessly and you didn’t need him to speak to understand what he was trying to say. It wasn’t even 7 yet and you were heading to bed. Now he would really be able to tell something was wrong.

“Sorry Michael,” you replied before letting him lead you back to the couch. “I guess I’ve had a long week.”

“We can watch TV instead,” he suggested. While he still had yet to talk much, leaving you to carry most of your conversations. He had become better these past few months that he spoke more often and let you know what he was thinking more.

Breathing deeply you relaxed yourself, unwilling to hurt him or make him think something was horribly wrong between you two. You nodded, pasting a wavering smile on your lips.

“Sure Michael I’d like that very much.”

He watched you bypass the part of the couch you had been occupying for the last hour to sit in a lone chair that you had forsaken for these many months. Michael just chalked it up that you were needing some space that you both had talked about not too long ago. He started channel surfing trying to decide on something you both would enjoy. Fortunately a channel was playing on of you two’s favorite movie and all the awkwardness was forgotten within moments. Though you still did not move back to the couch.

After watching a couple hours of TV you decided to go to bed, still too early for a weekend night, so Michael stayed up a little longer. You were glad he was taking a little bit longer to come to bed as it left you to think and calm yourself within the quiet and dark room. Guilt began to eat at your being as you knew Michael didn’t understand your behavior and he didn’t deserve to be treated like the way you had done to him. Life wasn’t fun walking on eggshells around each other and if you didn’t get a hold of yourself that was exactly what was going to happen between you both. You wearily rubbed your face with the palms of your hands. Sometimes life handed you problems you couldn’t solve so easily. Sometimes they came in the form of unexplained emotions towards a knife wielding serial killer. You chuckled darkly as you didn’t like to think of Michael that way. There was more to him than just some psycho with a knife. He had his own emotions as well and thoughts. What could his thoughts possibly be on you? Did he see a moody woman that he rather not deal with? Or did he see a woman just as confused as him on the growing emotions between you two.

Your head began to hurt as you spiraled down in your thoughts. Despair grew into frustration making you want to punch the wall. That would definitely bring the large man running to see what was wrong, so you refrained, barely. You hadn’t really lied to him when you said you had a long week, so exhaustion finally took a hold of you despite the whirlpool pulling you down. You yawned widely snuggling deep in the blankets. The clock read 10 when you heard the squeak of the bedroom door’s hinges before feeling the mattress dip with Michael’s familiar weight. Drifting off you heard him rustling around with the blankets as he tucked himself in before an arm draped over your waist and you were pulled into his chest. You melted, the safety radiating off of him like warmth from a cozy winter fire. While you remained confused you knew deep inside that whatever came from this, you never regretted any decisions you made up to this point. With a small smile and the quiet breathing of Michael you fell into deep restful sleep.

Weeks went by and the dance between you and Michael continued, much to your frustration and that frustration made you moody. Michael couldn’t figure out what could be happening to you and what had shortened your fuse so much. He was comfortable where he was at and he couldn’t realize what had you so riled up everyday. You flinched if he got too close, you didn’t want to sit by him, and sometimes if he held you while trying to go to bed you wiggled your body away from his. One night you went so far as to leave to go sleep on the couch. It hurt him to think that he had done something to hurt or anger you. He left you alone while you showered and he hadn’t made an effort to sit close to you while you sat in other chairs besides the couch. But now he was growing frustrated with you and the lack of communication between the both of you. Did you regret bringing him here? Were you tired of hiding and taking care of him? If you felt that way you needed to tell it to his face as he would rather leave then leave you in misery by his presence alone.

With Michael questioning everything as you were, sparks flew and arguments began to happen between you both. One moment silence was between you two and then everything exploded. You had just came home from your shift when you walked in to see all the lights turned off. Michael was nowhere to be found and you found your heart stop at the possibilities running through your mind on what could have happened. When he stepped out of your extra room holding his sketch pad you melted in relief, before that turned into a fierce anger that you couldn’t explain.

“What are you doing,” you shouted slamming your purse on the living room floor. “You scared me! I thought you left or something happened to you!”

Michael looked at you surprisingly before anger took over his features. He turned away knowing that if he wasn’t careful he could lose control of himself. “Don’t walk away from me! Every freaking day you are in the living room waiting for me to come home and now you just think you’re going to change things up?!” You paused seeing Michael turn stiffly a new look you had yet to see blazing in his eyes. One that had never been reserved for you, but now you were poking The Shape of Haddonfield and he didn’t like it. You had been living with him for so long and seeing the gentler side of the man that you never thought about the side that had plagued the town for so many years. You stuttered stepping backwards an apology forming on your lips as you had no idea where these harsh words had come from, though you had a pretty good idea. This was bound to happen sooner or later because of the way you had been acting. Walking on eggshells could only go so long until somebody exploded. First you blew up and that lit the fuse that had laid dormant within Michael’s subconscious. Now the fuse was dwindling down to the powder keg at the end and you had to find some way to stop it before he painted your walls with your blood.

“Michael…” you whimpered.

His hand shot out taking you by the throat and you gasped at the tightness of the grip. Gone was the tender grip you had come to known and love. This was The Shape in all his horrific glory. While his blue eye always remained sightless the brown that had always glowed at you warmly was blank with rage. He lifted you from the ground your feet dangling inches from the carpet. One of your work shoes slipped off your foot to clatter against the floor. You gasped and clawed at his tight fingers but if you cut him or hurt him Michael didn’t seem to notice. “Stupid woman,” he spoke and you knew Michael’s victims never heard him speak before their end and you knew that if he did that they would die from the sheer terror of his voice alone. You had come to know his tone as the man you were beginning to love but no trace could be found in this horrifying moment. You pushed him to this and now you feared you were going to pay the consequences. If he would regret it later you were beginning to think that you were never going to know.

“I-I’m s-sor…sorry,” you choked. Gasping out the words as his grip tightened further. If your apology was what calmed him or your voice penetrated the fog you wouldn’t know. Michael dropped you and you fell the floor sprawled out as his feet as you held your throat and coughed. He looked down at you horrified as he saw the marks beginning to form from where his fingers had squeezed brutally at your tender neck. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you looked at him with open terror on your face.

“(Y/N),” Michael started but you got up as quickly as you could and rushed to the bedroom and slammed the door shut locking it. Knowing that Michael could break down the door if he wanted to but you didn’t care. Whatever had just happened, the fact that he got mad enough to do something so horrific as strangle you had you contemplating turning him in. Whatever had transpired and grown between you both was at the far reaches of your mind as you remembered the strength of his grip and the weightlessness you felt when he picked you up off the floor. You touched your throbbing neck whimpering at the bruising. What Ian had done to you was bad enough but this, you never thought Michael would go so far as to hurt you this badly. Surely you would have not survived if whatever had penetrated his darkness hadn’t reached his more lucid side that had been buried beneath his old wounds.

Michael stood there in stunned silence as you raced away. He flinched at the sound of your bedroom door slamming and he could hear your sobs behind the wood of the door. Unbridled remorse hit him, knocking him to the floor at the horror of what he had just done to you. Here he was vowing to protect you from anybody who wished to bring you harm and here he was almost killing you with his own hands. And for what? Just getting angry at him? Sure it was uncalled for, but something had been bothering you for awhile. He should have asked you about it, talked it out before it got to this point. But he couldn’t lie to himself he had been afraid of what you could have said. Would you make him leave? Were you tired of this game between you both? He didn’t know but it was going to take a miracle if you ever felt the same about him now. Wounds were made and he didn’t think that they were ever going to heal now. If he wanted to he would have screamed in anguish, but it wouldn’t help and out of the both of you, you were the most hurt of them all.

You cried yourself to sleep behind your bedroom door, not trusting Michael to stay away and finish the job he started. You no longer felt safe in your own home and with a hoarse voice you called into work the next morning and didn’t leave your bedroom once that day. You called in for the next day that afternoon as you waited for night to come. You didn’t feel safe leaving your room until Michael fell asleep. You didn’t care how hungry or thirsty you got throughout the day, you refused to leave the sanctuary you had created. While it was false security, if Michael really wanted in nothing would stop him from doing whatever he wanted, it was still a comfort. A door and walls between you both was something that brought you relief. As night fell you quietly sneaked out of your bedroom to see all the lights off and no sign of the large man looming anywhere. At the end of the hallway you saw his laid out form on your couch, with quieter steps you made your way to the kitchen unaware that Michael was indeed awake and watching you out of the corner of his eye. He made no move to scare you as he knew that everything hinged on you getting the space you would need to heal. He grimaced at the sight of the bruises circling your skin, the bruises he had put there and was now regretting horribly.

As you stayed separate from him he wallowed in grief the overwhelming despair of hurting you so badly. He choked on regret every moment you hid from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move just yet. It would take time and space to get you to open up. You grabbed water and a few items to eat before dropping them into your room before making your way quietly to the bathroom. Once again you shut the door and locked yourself from the world and him. You ate and drank before going back to bed, sobbing more until you tired yourself out. The next day you stayed in your room again and Michael paced the floor restlessly. He was beginning to miss your smile and carefree attitude. He shattered the peace like an idiot. You were going to get mad sometimes, it’s human nature. He had no right to lose himself to his temper and hurt you so severely. He needed what you two had back immensely as it was the only thing holding him together. He didn’t want to hurt or make you run further away from him, but he couldn’t take a moment longer. He had to set things right, to see what made you go off and what he could do to fix it. This was never what he had planned and you were too important to let it go on.

He made his way down the hall before turning back from your door. He paced more back and forth his bare feet soundless against the carpet. He heard your muffled sobs and pitiful sniffles. You were suffering as much as him, maybe more as he knew your throat had to hurt. His strength boundless and your body so fragile. He vowed to protect you and who would protect you from him? Hours passed and he couldn’t bring himself to knock, until the sun had set and the darkness had covered the house. You still hadn’t emerge, it couldn’t be good for your health. Enough was enough, he had to fix this before everything became worse. He knocked quietly and your sobs stopped. Nothing was said and you made no move to open the door or acknowledge his presence. Michael tried again and waited, before knocking the third time. Finally he got some form of reply but it wasn’t the one he was searching for.

“Go away,” you yelled your voice unused and raw from the bruises at your throat.

“I’m,” Michael tried to start but something slammed into the door.

“I don’t want to hear it!”

The monster before knocked at the surface and Michael smothered him back down, taking a deep breath to calm himself he knocked again. You huffed getting more angry at his persistence but he wouldn’t back down. Not when it came to earning your forgiveness and bringing you back to the woman you had been before. All this was mainly for your sake and a little bit for his benefit as he couldn’t take the guilt any longer.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, before you could interrupt again. “I hurt you and I can’t take it anymore. Please.”

You glared at the door your guard not wavering until you heard a thud. Michael hit his forehead against the wood, drowning in the bitterness welling inside. His throat swelled and he could feel the sting of tears threatening the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he was even close to crying, but here he was about to bawl like a newborn just at the thought of never being able to earn your forgiveness and at the thought of your abandoning him.

“Please,” he pleaded hoping to tug at your heartstrings.

Hearing the emotions in his voice, a rarity as he normally spoke calmly without anything overtaking his tone. You slid from your bed stepping softly towards the door as you didn’t want to raise his hopes too high in case it was a trick and he was just using your softhearted being to finish what he had started two days ago. When he didn’t make a move to break down the door or speak you sighed finally ready to give him a slight chance to make things right.

“I’m sorry too,” you said right behind the door.

Michael’s head jolted upwards hearing how close you were to him. He could almost feel your skin under his palm and the puff of your breath against his cheek stirring his curly hair.

“You didn’t try to strangle me to death,” he chuckled darkly.

“Well I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” you sighed again before sliding down the door to set in front of it. You still didn’t trust him enough to open the door and he really couldn’t blame you. “I haven’t felt myself in awhile and it’s not your fault. It’s mine for not talking to you about it sooner.”

“I should of asked too,” Michael sat placing his back against the door too. He tried to imagine that it wasn’t the door but you pressed up against him and it made talking a little bit easier, as he still had a hard time dealing with closed doors. “Can you open the door and we can talk?”

You thought about it seriously before the terror inside won out. “No. I’d do most of the talking anyway and I don’t feel comfortable around you yet.”

Michael sighed anguish gripping him before he made himself get up. You heard him retreating, only to hear the bathroom door squeak open and the faucet begin to run in the tub. He didn’t return and your curiosity got the better of you. Opening the door a crack you peeked out to see the bathroom door still open and the light on. The running water hid the sound of your movements but as if he had a sixth sense about you, Michael suddenly appeared in the hallway. You squeaked trying to get the door closed and locked again before he could enter in. His movements were too fast and he caught the edge just before you could shut it for good, you sobbed as the door swung open and you fell backwards. You just knew this was the end as he loomed over your smaller form. Michael scooped you up wordlessly, holding you to his broad chest. You struggled and fought, beating your fists against wherever part of him you could reach, but unsurprisingly it did nothing to faze the giant of a man.

“Put me down,” you squalled like a cat who’s tail got stepped on. “Why are you doing this to me?! Haven’t you hurt me enough?!”

Your words stung but still Michael did not let you go. He stepped into the bathroom, the water still pouring from the faucet where he plopped you unceremoniously into the tub, clothes and all. You stared up at him dumbly, mouth agape as you now sat soaked in the hot water.

“What,” you sputtered splashing a little water towards him. “What was that for?!”

Naturally Michael did not reply but stooped down his face right in yours. Your heart stopped for a moment before he pressed his forehead to yours. His body language melted before he reached into the water. His arm wrapped around your waist tugging you up towards him. You pressed your palms against his chest trying to keep yourself from being brought too close but all fight left you when you felt his lips press against yours. You stiffened, your yelp of shocked muffled by him. You felt your body being pressed against the tub as he continued to move forward his body caging yours in as the water sloshed at his entrance into the tub. His lips never leaving yours he kissed you deeply. Michael lost himself in the taste his one arm keeping you as close as possible while his other hand kept him from smashing you with his weight. He quickly became intoxicated leaving your lips to nibble at your tender bruises. You moaned trying to push him but quit when he bit your collarbone softly. Michael explored your skin, breathing deeply and lavishing you with his attention. Finally you melted, the tension floating away on the water during the impromptu make out session in the tub. You stroked his head pressing his mouth closer to your neck before pressing little kisses to his temple.

Michael grunted kissing back up your neck to your jaw before taking your lips once again. He forcefully parted your lips with his tongue and the taste of you weakened his knees. He wobbled almost losing his grip and coming crashing down before he regained focus. He licked, tasted, and explored uncharted territory. He was unexperienced as you were too but he quickly knew what he wanted to do and explored to see what you enjoyed. You pressed him closer winding a leg up to his hip like you were trying to melt right into his being. He released you for air, taking in two big gulps before going back. You sighed and whimpered fighting between pulling him closer or shoving him away. You still wanted to be mad at him, but this was what you were craving all along and his taste was one you were never going to forget. Minutes passed and Michael left no inch of your face and neck uncharted with his eager mouth. Along with the bruises you were going to have to hid his little markings of affection. Your chest heaved and cheeks flushed a bright blood red as the intimacy settled down. Michael climbed off of you leaving puddles in his wake.

“Enjoy your bath,” he whispered, voice hoarse from trying to control himself. “We’ll talk more when you’re done.”

Honestly you were beginning to wonder if he meant talk as in talk about what had happened days ago or talk as in what the heck had just happened this very moment in your bathroom. Your lips were swollen and your heart raced while your whole body longed for more. These were feelings no man had ever brought before, unexplored and exciting mixed with a little terror. Pulling the plug you let the water out since it was dirty from you both and running fresh hot water while you stripped your sodden clothes to leave in a dripping pile in the corner. Running more water you heard the door ease back open and Michael placed a fresh pair of your favorite pajama pants and one of his shirts on the counter without staring. You gazed longingly as he left back out into the hallway and shutting the door all the way. Your heart leapt at seeing a new mark of progress from the man.

Michael touched his trembling hands to his lips, the memory of your soft plush mouth against his still fresh he felt the phantom pressure without kissing you. He listened to the soft splashes of you enjoying the hot soak while cleaning the memories of the last two days away. While you had stayed away from fear, Michael had retreated from the guilt of his actions towards you. He couldn’t stand the thought of the way you would look at him after he almost throttled the life from you. He thought that his anger wouldn’t bring him to harm even a hair on your head, but his actions had proved him otherwise. He vividly remembered the horror glazing your eyes as you clawed at the tight grip before he dropped you to the floor. If the horror in your face hadn’t snapped him out of his fog the look of pure revulsion and fearfulness humbled him immediately. He couldn’t say a word before you had retreated and locked yourself away.

Then he had to endure your misery and sound of you trying to silently cry, but failing, as he heard every single whimper and tear. And with every sound of your misery it wrenched the knife deeper in his heart, knowing that he was the cause of this pain and anguish that consumed you. The silence that used to be his friend was deafening. He couldn’t take the thought of your smiles no longer lighting the room or your laugh echoing through his mind. Michael gripped his head, a headache settling in from the stress that had been kept at bay for those two days. Now that you were back in his presence it seemed like he had hope again and the fear of losing that was about too much to bear. The moment Michael began to start spiraling down into emotions that he had purged from himself a long time ago threatened to consume him, he heard the water begin to drain from the tub in the bathroom. Like the steam that billowed out of the bathroom and faded with the change of temperature so did Michael’s turbulent conscience at the sight of you.

You towel dried your hair, now dressed in comfortable clothes while his shirt swallowed you. He had to take moment to keep himself from scooping you back up, just to carry you back to the bedroom and kiss you until you were breathless. You both needed to talk and despite the opposite feelings trying to control him this time, things needed clearing up and maybe after everything between you got fixed, you would be open to more embraces like had happened in your bathtub. You slipped by brushing your hand against Michael’s gaining his attention. He followed behind you towards the couch his heart starting to beat harder. You sat first while he stood before you unsure if he needed to sit close to you at this moment. While not too long ago he was basically shoving his tongue down your throat, that was in the heat of the moment where he was drunk off just the touch of you after so long. Now he was sober by his sense of morality, but you smiled and patted the seat at your side.

Michael took the offer, sitting stiffly and awkwardly while you just stared at the floor unable to think on how to start the conversation. You both were in this mess from lack of communication, you knew it wouldn’t be solved by quiet awkwardness. There wasn’t anything spectacularly interesting about the floor but you and Michael looked at every grain in the wood like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Deep down you wanted Michael to start talking but the more reasonable side knew better, so you cleared your throat. Michael jolted like you had just shocked him before he gripped his pants leg still staring holes in the floor.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you the other night,” you started, ready but nervous on telling the reason behind everything.

“I’m sorry I almost killed you,” Michael’s voice trembled.

“Well you didn’t. That has to count for something,” you chuckled darkly. “But I pushed you and that was wrong too.”

Michael didn’t know what else to say, everything buried beneath tons of dark past and secrets couldn’t be uncovered in just moments. It was going to take him years to recover from so much abuse, but he could strive to heal the abuse he had put you through as it was fresh and staying on the surface of your being. So he didn’t say another word, he wanted this moment to be yours as you needed to reveal and relieve yourself from some things you had been tamping down, apparently for awhile. It took a couple moments for you to gain some courage before you took his hands. Michael started again at the sudden touch but softened when you started stroking his skin with your thumb. Tracing the scars and imperfections on his skin you distracted yourself to give a little time to finalize what you were going to say.

“I can’t say how you feel Michael, though what just happened before my bath gives me some idea, and I’m not going to force you into anything,” you looked back up into his eyes only for the intense gaze causing you to focus back on his hands. “But I’ve had feelings a little after I brought you home with me. It’s not just friend feelings as it is something more. I know that you are still working through some stuff and healing from it every day. As am I. We are all beings trying to make our way through this world, it’s just some of us are more broken than others and require more time and treatment than others. I’m not forcing myself on you and you don’t have to return these feelings, especially if they’re confusing for you.” You had tears flowing from your eyes. Michael took one of his hands from your to brush the tears with kind gentle strokes. “But I have to tell you that’s why I have been so cranky. That’s why I snapped. I would like more but now that you know I can be patient. I can’t do more than tell you unless you want me the same way. There’s no pressure ‘cause I want to be here for you always as you have been here for me. I was really lonely before you and now I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and thank you Michael for everything.”

Now that you had said your piece you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of what you could possibly see. Michael eased his digits to tangle with yours as he moved his other hand from your damp cheek to your chin. With a curled pointer finger he lifted your chin while your lower lip trembled in fear. He kissed your forehead gaining your attention and your gaze. You relished in the touch before Michael kissed you again, the fog in his mind and heart giving way to elation when you kissed back. He had dumbly waited for you to return his feelings, only to be fearful that you had no willingness to return them. Now here you were confessing the very thing he wanted to hear the first time he met you. Hearing everything though made him a little sad, just because he yearned for you to have someone better than him, but he selfishly pushed them away longing to keep you forever.

“My hands have done terrible things,” he warned when he parted from your lips. You smiled sorrowfully taking the hand that held the knife, took the life of so many people, and hurt your throat. Watching in fascination Michael let you do what you needed to. You explored his fingertips, parting the digits from one another, and surveying the veins running under his thick skin. Michael sucked in a breath when you laid one kiss on his fingertip, before moving to the next one. Not one finger missed being blessed by the touching of your lips.

“Let’s work on getting them to do wonderful things now,” the beaming glow on your face could have made the sun jealous. All Michael could do was dumbly nod as you got up and walked to your bedroom. He watched you leave and when you finally disappeared he looked at his hand that you had kissed so tenderly. He could still feel the tingle of your touch and it made his cheeks flush even darker. He didn’t know he could still blush. After moments of just staring he lifted his fingers to his mouth brushing his lips against his digits like you did. It wasn’t the same as your touch but he could have sworn he still felt the touch of you.

In your bedroom you retreated to take a moment as everything had finally come to light and the sudden daringness that had come over you as you had confessed and kissed his hand several times. Did he find it weird that you had lavished such attention on his hand? You felt silly for doing what you did now but you wanted to explore and show him that you loved every part of him, even the parts that had hurt you so viciously. Would everything be awkward now between you or would that wall that had kept you both at bay disappear leaving things to grow? You couldn’t be sure until the days passed.

You trembled at the adrenaline in your veins mixed with a little bit of nerves before the door swung open. Michael stood there, a look upon his face that you were not familiar with. A jolt of fear pierced you at the thought that you had pushed too far again and he didn’t like it. That concern was quickly dashed when Michael bolted forward pulling you towards his body. You melted in his tight embrace before he was kissing you again. You moaned in his mouth letting him sneak his eager tongue in to intertwine with yours while he backed you up to your bed. Your legs hit the mattress before you fell backwards. Careful not to crush you beneath his weight Michael loomed over you before engaging your mouth again. It was a battle you would gladly lose as his comforting weight caused you to sink further into the mattress. You giggled giddily at the feel of his curly hair tickling your cheek as he nibbled at the skin of your neck before yelping at the harsh bite of his teeth.

“You’ve already marked me with bruises I have to hide,” you scoffed teasingly. “I don’t need bite marks to hide either Michael.”

His only answer was another bite to your neck, one that wasn’t as harsh this time. He tempered his excitement as he didn’t want to hurt you but he was riding a high and elation that you had brought forth as the doubts in his head had been dashed. When he had his fill he released you from his grip to lay at your side. He pulled you back in tangling you in his arms where he breathed in your sweet scent. You nuzzled deep in his chest, enjoying the warmth of his body as you clung to his shirt.

“Next time just talk to me,” he whispered squeezing you a little tighter.

You nodded, “I will.”

He kissed the top of your hair stroking your back underneath his shirt you wore. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep against him as you had barely slept the last two days. Michael watched you for a little while before he too fell into a deep slumber he hadn’t had being away from you. Both of you slept sweetly with no dreams, just holding onto one another. You no longer feared on what the future held, as long as you got to be with Michael nothing else mattered. Though you were scared at the possibility of someone finding the marks of his affection and the accident that had happened. But that was something that you would deal with down the line. Now you just wanted to enjoy every possible moment awake and asleep just being close to him. Michael wanted the same as the sound of your bedroom was filled with both of your slow even breathing.

#Michael Myers X Reader #Michael Myers / Reader #Michael Myers #Halloween #Michael Myers Imagine #Halloween Imagine #Halloween Fanfic #Halloween Female Reader Insert #Not My Gif #My Writing

64 notes · View notes