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You had his baby and he didn't know (Pt. 2)
A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! I am so beyond grateful that you guys enjoyed the 1st part. I never fathomed to get this much attention from my first post, which means I didn’t really intend on making a part 2. But with such gratitude and motivation… here it is!
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She had told him everything, and through it all he did nothing but soothe her, keeping her small hands in his as her soft voice filled their ears. It wasn't until now that she had realized how absurd it was to feel nervous to tell him the story of her unaccompanied pregnancy, and her introduction to motherhood.
Like herself, he also held no resentment, or distaste toward the secrecy behind the conception and birth of their beautiful baby girl. Simon's only intention was to understand her and her decision to keep their child a secret from him, but in the midst of her reminiscent disclosure he couldn't help but feel alienated, guilty and a rollercoaster of many other emotions revolving her and his daughter.
His usually hard, and stoic gaze had softened for her -- which wasn't an unusual occurrence for him when it came to her, the mother of his child. "Hey, you're alright" he soothed when he noticed a stray tear race down her soft cheek. His thumb instinctively coming up to stop the salty drop of emotion in its track, and likewise she instinctively leaned into the feeling of his large hand that cupped the side of her face.
The moment was tender, intimate, comforting -- it was everything that she craved from him from the moment she found out she was carrying their child. Their baby girl seemed to be emotionally connected to her mother. The sound of her fuss and whimpering coming from the playpen where she had been placed to rest. Both her and Simon's attention was drawn to the infant the moment her restful cooing was replaced with the sounds of discomfort. Her mother knew that she was most likely hungry, but her father, Simon seemed to only be alarmed by the sudden crying. It was evident that his protective nature had taken over -- a quality of his that could not be tamed or ever be put to rest.
"She's just hungry, Si" she spoke, breaking the silence between the two. The melancholy aura of the room immediately being lifted as she chuckled softly at his high alert behavior as it only reminded her of the first few nights that she was home from the hospital with her daughter.
As she normally would she gently picked up their daughter, making sure to keep a firm hand on the back of her neck to support it. Her maternal nature was in full effect as she spoke sweet and soft words to the baby girl. Her cries being soothed, and her simple mind now distracted at the sight and sound of her mother. Simon watched this all divulge in front of him. He didn't know whether his heart ached because he had missed hundreds of moments like these or if he felt such sorrow because he didn't share the same bond with the tiny being that he helped create.
He let his the thoughts and endless "'what if" possibilities consume his mind while she prepared a bottle with the infant still resting in her arm. She was small, measuring out the length of her mother's forearm. Normally she would make the bottle with ease, but as time went by and the baby girl grew, the process slowed down. She was careful and calculated making sure that the baby was always safe in her arms.
"I can take her if you're alright with it" spoke Simon in a mildly nervous tone. “It’d make it easier for you to prepare her bottle, yeah?” he spoke again, using the feeding time as an excuse to finally hold their daughter. But he was nervous? Simon doesn’t get nervous. He has always been incredibly calm and collected to the point of mastering stoicism. He wasn’t nervous to hold the infant — that was the less of his worries.
There were so many special events that he had missed while he was away. Core memories that he doesn’t have with her or her mother. He missed the pregnancy, the first kicks, the birth, the first powerful cries from her little lungs, the first feed from her mother’s full and lactating breasts, the first skin-to-skin contact —which he read was essential for bonding in newborns, the dad walk out of the hospital after being discharged as a family — the one where he knew his overprotective nature would automatically take over.
So many factors playing into the aggregation of his nerves, but there was a single one that was keeping him on edge the most. Simon was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to bond with the small and fragile being that shared half of his DNA. Being absent for so many critical events made him doubtful in his ability to be and feel like a genuine father. All of his nerves dwindling down and relying on this very moment.
But none of it mattered. The pessimistic thoughts that lingered in his brain practically disintegrating. As if the warmth of his daughter’s small body destroyed every doubtful fiber in his own. She was no longer just his biological daughter, but a part of him. His soul was tied to hers, his emotions was connected to hers, his breath was for her. His entire being was engulfed by her.
The baby adjusted herself in his broad, tattooed and muscular arm by leaning her small face into his chest, as if she sensed some sort of familiarity in him. Like mother like daughter.
She watched their entire interaction curiously. She saw his hardened exterior breakdown at the moment their daughter’s infant body fit into his arm like a puzzle piece. It was obvious. Just like she felt her daughter was made for her, she was just as equally made for him. The instant connection between the father and daughter was electric. This was everything she had wanted and more.
She always knew Simon would be a great father — he was a great guy after all — he was attentive, protective, polite, masculine, and so much more, but she never fathomed that it would have been as magnifying as she felt it to be.
Simon’s gaze turned to her and she swore she saw his eyes glistening, tears threatening to spill. No words were exchanged between the two, but she knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking. As their daughter’s mother, she felt those exact emotions as well.
She was then engulfed by his scent. His arms embracing the two most important girls in his life, but it was not just a typical embrace of joy — it was firm, passionate and filled with urgency. He needed them.
With their daughter still resting in his arm, he used his free hand to remove a stray strand of hair from her face before he firmly cupped it. A soft kiss landing on her forehead.
He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled softly before breaking the silence, “I am so proud of you” he said — his english accent thick and correlating respectively with how emotional he was.
“I am so proud of you” he repeated again, “but you are never doing anything like this alone. We do it together. As a family”.
#simon riley x you#ghost cod#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#cod modern warfare#dad ghost#cod fanfic#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#fem reader
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"don't post links to pirate sites" as a security through obscurity strategy seems... weak. if a pirate site is so obscure that almost nobody can find it, it's also essentially pointless.
but yes, if a pirate site is common knowledge, the feds will be working on destroying it. so the idea is i assume to achieve an intermediate level of obscurity, where you have to have a certain amount of talent for asking the right people or searching the right things to find it. but... whatever capacity for research you are asking people to have on that front, the feds are equally capable of it, and they have a whole lot more time on their hands for tracking down pirate sites! security through obscurity is a losing game for piracy. the perfect sweet spot where people can find your pirate resource but the feds cannot is something of a mirage.
if not that, than what?
the current piracy system involves a few different tiers of accessibility, and various components that are more or less decentralised.
torrents are the most resilient tech because to stamp out a torrent (with DHT enabled) you have to suppress every seed. so, you have big public torrent trackers like TPB; these are well known and rely on hopping domains and redundancy for security. the ratio of seeds to leeches tends to be low, but the number of users is large enough that there will be at least a few seeds out there for most stuff. torrent clients have gotten a lot better at seeding strategies that take into account your seed ratio and what's currently available in the swarm, so if you just leave everything on seed and open your torrent client fairly often (use a VPN though lol), you don't really need to think about it.
then you have private trackers; these operate on an invite basis. the problem with this is that when the pool of users is so small, the odds of a given seed being online are also small. to prevent torrents dying, they gamify it: you get points for seeding and if you don't have enough points you can't download anything until you seed more. to help people get back in the game there will be 'freeleech' events. being active on a private tracker takes a bit of work.
and of course you have to get in in the first place, which tends to require a proven track record of seeding on other private trackers, and some kind of interview with the operators. getting involved in private trackers is a much bigger ask, you have to figure out where to get your foot in the door, and work your way up to the more insular trackers. it's like a mini subculture. it's valuable, but not scalable.
at the top level of inaccessibility is the warez scene. this is a whole subject that i'm not even gonna get into, go read wikipedia. historically this is where the files actually come from, before getting distributed on public trackers, usenet etc. but good luck getting in there lmao, they are understandably quite paranoid.
of course, for stuff to get on pirate sites you need somebody to go the effort of ripping and encoding it. this is where a major point of failure exists. when RarBG went down recently, the biggest loss was not the existing archive of torrent links, which can be backed up - it was that they were very active at converting scene releases into torrents with a decent balance of file size and quality, which then filter out into the various public trackers. that is much harder to replace! but what killed RarBG wasn't even suppression by authorities - according to their statement, it was a bunch of the admins getting covid or dying or fighting in the Russia-Ukraine war, which made the whole operation impossible to continue. so despite the thousands of people who download RarBG torrents, this single point of failure was overstressed and broke.
as far as the ethics of spreading links to pirate sites go... if it's something like a mega drive, yeah, the chances of a takedown are pretty high if it gets noticed! no question. but those things are by nature short-lived; if you want to use that for archival you're building on sand. there's also databases like emuparadise, but there was no saving that through obscurity, it just took Nintendo a minute to bring the case.
in this kind of centralised case, the clock is ticking from day 1. what we want is to maximise the number of people who are able to save copies while it's up, and then some of those people can put it up again somewhere else and keep the authorities playing whack-a-mole. (for a small collection of files, a sensible measure would be to make a torrent and a mega drive side by side, so that people can download the mega drive and then add the torrent to their client to seed if it gets nuked.)
as for torrent sites, the thing is that torrents rely for effectiveness on a swarm that is either very large or very responsible about seeding. if it's a public tracker, it has to be well known or it's pointless. instead of security through obscurity, the form of security for these sites is try to make the resource itself hard to take down - operating the tracker/archive in countries that don't have copyright treaties, maintaining mirrors, and of course distributing as many seeds as possible so the torrent can stay alive even if the site goes down.
the major problem with a dead torrent site is discoverability. if it's harder to find the torrent, fewer people will download it, the existing seeds will gradually go offline, and of course you can't download a torrent that you don't know exists. and while you could imagine a system of broadcasting metadata about a torrent (title, encoding etc.) in a DHT-like way but that would be so vulnerable to fakes and spam. maybe some kind of cryptographically signed 'this torrent is good' declaration is possible? I know certain torrent clients tout discovery features, but honestly I don't know how well they work. I'm sure there are projects that are way ahead of the game than me on this question.
but yeah anyway trying to browbeat people into not sharing links to pirate media is 1. futile, by the time you see it the cat is out of the bag 2. not a sustainable strategy for security. if you wanna lecture people, 'use a VPN and seed your torrents' is evergreen ;p
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okay it's been over a year and i keep saying i'm going to make a new post and it's too exhausting to even think about the whole thing so i keep pushing it-- here's the link to the old post if you want a more detailed thing i wrote back then.
anyway, a year ago, out of the blue, our apartment got raided by the police, they broke our front door, they broke a bunch of shit inside, they took a bunch of our stuff, they barely gave us answers or an explanation, they took my dad and made it seem like he would have to sign some stuff and answer some questions and come back, but it's been over a year (since june 2022) and he hasn't come back, and his case is still up in the air. they're barely working on it. they didn't pay for all the shit they broke, they haven't returned all the shit they took, we had to spend a lot of money on that, i had to take a loan to buy a new computer so i could keep working and studying, on top of spending even more money on basic needs for my dad in jail and lawyers, plus blood pressure and anxiety medications, plus he's old and he was scheduled an eye surgery that he obviously couldn't go to so he's like, practically blind in one eye now, also new clothes for him to wear there (there's a bunch of rules for that), honestly i already lost track of how many things we had to pay for. it's been incredibly stressful and it still is even now that we've gotten used to it. he's been detained for a year for something that they still don't even know if he did and the case is barely moving, i don't know if they're like... i don't know, waiting for the man to die in there since he's already old so they don't have to admit they don't have enough proof for all the mess they made? i don't know. like i said back then, please don't ask me for details on the case or show up in my inbox trying to play tiktok true crime and guess what he did/didn't do. it happened a few times and it's extremely triggering, please don't. please.
this blog is basically my job. it's my primary source of income, i don't have anything else, no matter how many interviews i go to, in the country/city i live and in the state our economy is, if you don't have contacts it's impossible to get a job. i'm always signing up to free programs to learn new things while i don't have a job, try to make my cv bigger, but it doesn't matter. if you don't have someone saying “please hire my friend/family member” or you don't have 500 years of experience, they won't. so like i said, donations people make to this blog are how me and my mom (and my pets) stay afloat. it's what we use to pay for food, general groceries, transportation, electricity, wifi, water, gas, health insurance, stuff for my dad in jail, meds for my mom who has diabetes, food and meds for my pets. i don't go out much, i haven't gotten a haircut in a year, i barely spend money in anything that makes me happy except once in a blue moon when i stop feeling guilty lmao i had a redbubble account also that helped a little too, but last week it got suspended without an explanation as i was uploading new designs, so i don't even have that now. i made a new account on teepublic, but all my designs in high quality are locked behind redbubble and i can't even log into because of the suspension. it's... complicated, and it's a lot, but it is what it is.
i'm always keeping an eye out on new collections, new designers, new cool things. like i said, i love fashion, i studied fashion, and i know a lot of you use this blog as inspiration whether it's for yourselves or for your art, so i don't want to post all similar stuff all the time, i want to post all kinds of styles and brands as much as i can. which is why when i say if you like this blog, if you want to support me, sending even the smallest amount of money helps me keep going. living in latin america, the exchange rate is kind of insane, so truly any amount of money donated helps. unfortunately, i never stop needing money to survive and help keep my family afloat, but in the past year more than ever.
as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my (new) teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. if my redbubble account gets reinstated, i'll add that link eventually too. and as always, thanks for loving this blog and for loving fashion like i love fashion, even when i post crazy looking stuff, and thanks for helping. you have no idea how much your support helps, but it really does, i don't even know if i'd be alive right now if it wasn't for this blog.
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When you call them "babygirl" (COD:MWII)
rating: mature
characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Captain John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, König, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound
warning(s): language, a smidge of suggestivness
a/n: calling them bbygirls>>>>>calling them fictional crushes. also, my personal Roach hc is that he's a selective mute that took up ASL to communicate.
EDIT: there's now a reversal! What if you were called babygirl 👀
Gaz
His eyebrows raise almost impossibly high
"Did I hear that right or did you just..."
He's not upset, just... surprised.
Pleasantly surprised.
He doesn't mind it but man... it might've sparked something inside him. Might've.
You've given him nicknames before, both teasing and affectionate, but he never expected to be called that before. It's a new feeling.
You don't use it too much with him, but when you do, it gets the cutest laugh out of him. Gets him acting like he doesn't like it, but you know he absolutely does.
If you catch him off guard, he'll tilt his cap down and try to stifle a laugh to distract himself from how warm his face feels.
"Fuckin' hell, the things you do to me..."
You cheekily grin in response and give him those adoring eyes because you know that he knows you do it because you love him just that much to torment him :]
Now you only use it to amuse and tease him just to hear that golden laughter. You don't think you'll ever get tired of it.
Price
First time you said it, he nearly choked on his cigar.
"Sorry, what did you just say?"
He doesn't mean to be rude, it's just that you caught him so off guard. Give the poor man a break.
You repeat it to him and he chuckles, a little awkwardly because him? Babygirl? He can't see it, at least he doesn't see if he even has the qualities for such a title.
But oh, do you disagree. In fact, you start using it more, regardless of what he thinks.
If it's in front of the other task force members, it usually gets him to stop in his tracks and let out a knowing groan, shaking his head and trying to get the team to focus back on whatever they were doing before.
Which is extremely hard with how Gaz and Soap are trying to fight back their giggles.
When you're alone, he sighs but leans into your touch a little more.
He's actually amused by it and has even tried to give you something equally cheesy or teasing just to bite back at you.
It works.
He knows he's egging you on to use it more but truthfully?
He can't bring himself to get actually upset over it.
Soap
You decided to test his reaction on a whim one night at a visit to the pub after a successful mission, walking up behind him and greeting him.
You've never seen his head whip around so fast, and you wonder how he didn't snap his neck.
Oh and there it is.
The classic McTavish SmirkTM.
He's grinning so wide, leaning into your side and wrapping your arm around his waist.
"Would'ya mind repeatin' that, love?"
You're starting to regret this, seeing as he's enjoying it a little too much.
Then again... it could make this night a little more rewarding.
After that, he practically pushes you to use it more, says something about getting butterflies or how it "rolls off your tongue so well"
Either way, you don't mind it, seeing how it makes him happy and how he seems more obliged to listen to you.
And every time you do, he's always got that adoring glint in his eyes and an excited grin on his lips because fuck yeah,
He is your babygirl.
Ghost
He freezes so badly, the only movement being his shallow breathing.
To be honest, you were a b i t nervous to try, but you figured there was no harm in it with how far your relationship was.
But now you're starting to regret even trying, wondering if you've crossed a line or-
"Say it again."
Ohfuckohfuckohfuck-
You do as he says, and it gets a dry laugh out of him. He shakes his head and brings a hand to his forehead, mumbling about how stupid it is.
Except you don't miss that softened look in his eyes, the one weakness of his mask.
So you start rolling it out slowly and steadily, mostly in private because god knows he would strangle you for using it in public.
Much to his dismay, the 141 still overhears it thanks to you "teasing" him with it as a "joke".
Regardless, you don't mind limiting it to being used in private because you're the only one that knows and uses the fact that the Simon "Ghost" Riley secretly loves being called your babygirl.
Specifically in a soft or smooth way that gets him to just fucking melt on the spot. Even a simple, "How's my babygirl doing today?" in passing gets him all worked up at the idea of him being yours and yours only. It's even worse when you use it in bed.
So use it wisely!
König
He's looking around as if you're talking to someone else. Poor thing's all confused.
When he finally figures it out that it's him you're talking about, ohhh the way you wish you could take a peek under that hood.
The man's got his face buried in his hands, gripping and pulling the hood down on his face as if any inch of skin would further reveal how flustered he got.
Though you can already imagine it for yourself, his face burning brightly with his lips pressed tightly, causing all his stammering and sputtering.
Even worse, because of that, you add it to the list of various nicknames you have for him.
What you didn't expect is for him to adjust so well to it. At some point, he just sheepishly laughs and smiles whenever you use it, and of course, he's still a little shy about it,
But he starts leaning into it more, responding to it like he would any other name. Loves it like any other nickname when he just buries his face in your shoulder and cuddles you while you whisper reassurances to him.
Just be careful using it around the others, he'll implode if they find out.
Roach
What surprises you is how quickly he accepts it.
You had called out for him, and he just turned and responded with a signed "Yes?"
It kinda caught the both of you off guard.
He snickers and signs again, "Would you want me to call you something similar?"
You know where this is going, and before you can do anything, he starts calling you "hot stuff".
So now the two of you keep coming up with a bunch of corny, cheesy nicknames to sign to each other, some of which don't even make sense.
It's until that you call him it again he's like Soap in that he goes, "You know what? Yeah, I am your babygirl!"
Now he wears the name loud and proud. Almost too proudly. Pretty much the whole base knows it by now.
He got a goddamn name patch of it.
Occasionally, you'll get other 141 members commenting, "Looking for your babygirl?" or "Surprising that you don't have your babygirl with you today." with emphasis on the nickname.
So basically, what was supposed to be you teasing him was now him teasing you.
Hound
They first overheard you using it when you were conversing with some other force members, mostly talking about Hound and you. To many, it was a strangely unlikely relationship come true. He didn't think too much about it. You probably fumbled with your words.
Then he overheard it a second time. Then, a third. Then it came to a point where they just figured that it was now another term of endearment for them.
In all honesty, he's confused why you specifically like using that of all names, he simply can't see how such a cute, loving name could fit someone like him
You explain to them how it's kind of your way of showing them as yours, that they're your baby, and to you, they're one of the sweetest things to exist.
He melts at that.
So now when he hears it from you close or from afar, his head perks up, and he'll give a quick glance in your direction.
Sometimes, you use that fact just to get his attention, and he knows that, but he never minds when he gets to see you grinning so brightly.
#x reader#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty#cod#codmwii#codmw2#call of duty modern warfare 2#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#captain price x reader#john price x reader#soap x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#könig x reader#roach x reader#gary roach sanderson x reader#task force 141 x reader#hound x reader#cod oc#call of duty oc
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DUDDDDE!!
I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!
Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭
But any whosies.
I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)
Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.
You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.
I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼
Take your time! <3
pairing: han lue x racer!reader
words: 11.4k
warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one
notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.
trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.
anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!
i really really hope you like it!!
Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.
You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.
His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.
'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.
People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.
The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.
You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"
Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.
You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.
"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.
"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.
That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.
It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.
"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.
"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.
Han chuckles, "Not you too."
"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?
Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."
"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.
"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.
You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.
Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.
He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.
Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.
"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.
Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.
"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.
"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.
If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.
"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.
You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.
"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.
"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.
"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.
"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.
"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.
You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.
"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"
You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.
You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.
"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.
"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.
He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.
"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.
Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.
"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."
"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.
"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.
"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."
You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?
Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.
You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.
"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.
"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.
"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.
Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.
Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.
When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."
'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.
With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.
Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.
Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.
To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.
"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.
Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.
"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.
"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.
"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.
The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.
Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.
"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.
"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.
"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.
It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.
Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.
Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.
They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.
As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.
"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.
You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.
"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."
"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."
Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.
Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.
You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve.
Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.
With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.
The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.
The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.
Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.
"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.
"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.
"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you.
"You did," you nod, biting your lip.
Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.
"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.
Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.
It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.
Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.
You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.
Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.
"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.
Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."
A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.
Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.
Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.
You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.
It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.
He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.
The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.
Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.
As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.
Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.
"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.
"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.
Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.
His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.
"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.
"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.
Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.
Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.
"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.
"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.
"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.
"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.
Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.
You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.
"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.
"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.
Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"
"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.
"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.
"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.
"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.
Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"
A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.
"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.
"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.
"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.
"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.
"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.
"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.
"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.
"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.
"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.
Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.
You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.
"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.
"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.
A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.
Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."
"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.
"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.
You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.
"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.
"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.
"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.
The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.
"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.
"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."
"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.
"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."
Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.
"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."
"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.
"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.
"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"
"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.
Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."
Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.
Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."
"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."
You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.
Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.
You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.
"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.
"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.
"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.
"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.
Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"
Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.
You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.
"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.
"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.
There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.
Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.
Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.
Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."
"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.
"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.
"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.
"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.
Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.
His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.
It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.
A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.
You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.
You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.
"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.
"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.
"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.
He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.
You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.
Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.
Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.
"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.
"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.
"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.
The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though.
As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.
You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.
Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.
Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"
"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.
"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.
Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.
Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.
His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.
Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.
Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.
"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.
Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.
"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.
"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.
"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.
You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.
Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.
Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.
"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.
"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."
Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.
"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.
Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"
You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."
"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.
"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.
"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.
You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.
"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.
The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.
Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.
"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.
"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.
You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.
Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.
"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.
"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.
"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.
Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.
Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.
"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.
"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.
His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.
He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.
You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.
Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.
He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.
When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.
You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."
Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.
"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.
The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.
"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.
"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.
His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.
You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.
"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.
Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples.
"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."
Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.
You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.
Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.
"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.
You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.
His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.
After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.
You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white.
Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist.
"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.
You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.
"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other.
"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back.
"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.
Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.
'Such a tight pussy just for me.'
'Taking me so good, Angel.'
'Can't get enough of you.'
You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours.
Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.
The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him.
With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.
Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.
Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop."
"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."
Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.
Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.
"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you.
"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically.
Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.
Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.
" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.
Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.
Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"
"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier.
The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.
One Year and a Half Later...
You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.
"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.
Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.
"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.
It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.
"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"
There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.
"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.
"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.
"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.
With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds.
You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two.
As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.
You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.
"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.
"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.
The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.
The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.
"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.
"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder.
From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.
"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.
Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.
Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.
"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.
"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.
"You let me win," you then say assertively.
"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.
"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.
"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.
"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.
Fin.
thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!
this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!
requests are still open ❤️
#request#han lue imagine#fanfiction#fast and furious fanfiction#fast and furious#han lue fanfiction#han seoul oh#han lue x reader#han lue request#han lue#han lue imagines#han x reader#han x you#han lue smut#smut
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Let's trade shoes | Matt Sturniolo
Matt Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N feels pain in her feet from wearing high heels for hours, and Matt gives her his sneakers to wear.
Warning: None.
Requested?: Yes, by anon.
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
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From an outsider's perspective, the dynamics of the relationship between Y/N and Matt were incredible and unique. The two had their hearts overflowing with love, and they were not ashamed to show it.
Nick joked that the five love languages were few compared to all the ways they loved each other.
But it was safe to say that out of the five, the one that was most part of their daily lives was the language of acts of service, precisely because of their busy schedules and daily tasks.
Matt would do absolutely anything to make his girlfriend's day easier, from turning on the coffee maker in the morning while she took her sacred morning shower, to combing and drying her hair after she washed it. He is always watching her from afar, making little mental notes of new things she does, so he learns and fits them into his routine so that he can help her in the future.
And Y/N isn't far behind, knowing how heavy the routine of recording three times a week can be - sometimes more, when the triplets need to catch up on some podcasts or car videos -, she always comes forward to help his day get lighter, from starting the car in the garage on cold days so the engine is ready when Matt gets in it, to helping him shower after a tiring day, washing his hair with his favorite shampoo while watching him nap in the warm water of the bathtub.
It was Thursday, and Matt and Y/N were leaving yet another weekly date night.
Matt and Y/N had created a habit almost a year back that, every Thursday after the triplets recorded the car video that would be posted the next day, they would have a date night, with the aim of always dedicating quality time together and cultivate a healthy relationship.
Y/N mentally cursed herself for her choice of shoes that night, having opted for high heels.
Don't get me wrong, the girl loved wearing heels and always felt prettier in them; Besides Matt, who was completely in love with the way his girlfriend's legs looked in heels, he said that they looked longer and more appealing, leaving him drooling and staring more than usual.
But if there's one thing they both knew, it was that when Y/N wore high heels for long hours, she always ended up with pain in her feet.
And that was exactly what was happening at that moment, the girl had been wearing those heels on her feet for about three hours and her toes were starting to hurt, squeezed by the front strap, while her heel screamed with every step she took.
It didn't take Matt long to notice her face contorted in pain and how she squeezed his hand - which was intertwined with her own - with every step they took.
The two were walking through the streets of the restaurant where they had dinner, observing the various restaurants and bars open, full of people of all types and music of all tastes, while chatting a bit about their day. This meant they were far from the car, and it would be at least a 10-minute walk to get back to it.
Therefore, Matt abruptly stopped in his tracks as they approached a wooden bench, followed by Y/N, who watched him with a confused expression.
"What is it, baby?" She asked worriedly, traveling her eyes down the street briefly, trying to find what could have made her boyfriend stop so suddenly.
Matt knelt on the sidewalk and removed his sneakers from both his feet, keeping his socks on.
"What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?" The girl looked down at him, watching him with a frown.
"Sit here, baby. Please." Matt asked, standing up on his socks and pointing to the bench, taking Y/N's right hand and helping her sit down on the wooden surface. "Give me your foot." He kneeled on the ground, placing his sneakers near her feet and reaching his hands towards his girlfriend's right foot.
"What? Why?" She asked, eyes wide, feeling cimpletely lost, bending her body slightly forward so that she brought her face closer to his, a sound of pain escaping her lips from the movement.
"You're in pain, my love. Come on, give me your foot. I'll give you my sneakers." Matt explains, touching Y/N's right ankle and pulling lightly.
He raised his blue eyes, looking into his girl's eyes, staring at her so that she understood that he wasn't open for arguments.
Y/N sighed before resting her left hand on the cold and hard surface, lifting her right ankle so that her foot was off the ground. Matt unfastened the buckle on her high heel, leaving it on the sidewalk on his side before reaching for his right sneaker, fitting it onto Y/N's foot with ease.
He untied the shoelaces and tied them again so that they were firmer, knowing that they were bigger than Y/N's feet and could escape with her steps.
The girl kept her eyes on Matt the entire time, feeling her heart speed up more and more and her skin heat up, taking on a reddish tone. She didn't deserve him. He was so kind to her.
Matt carefully lowered the foot he was holding, waiting for her to steady it on the ground before taking her left ankle, doing the same process as before.
When Y/N had both feet inside Matt's white sneakers, the boy adjusted his posture, still crouched, so that he could fit his feet one at a time into the high heels, leaving them unbuckled due to the difference in size, knowing that if he closed it, he could ruin them.
Matt slowly stood up, regaining his balance on the pair of heels that he wasn't used to wearing before intertwining his left hand with Y/N's right, helping her stand up. He briefly adjusted the strap of the black sparkly purse on his left shoulder.
"I can't believe you're doing this." The girl commented as the two walked back to the car, a laugh escaping her throat as she shook her head, watching the wobbly steps her boyfriend took.
"I won't let my princess feel pain. And I didn't want to get dirt on my socks from this sidewalk. Our washing machine thanks us for that." Matt responded with a smile on his face, watching his girlfriend's reaction from the corner of his eye, keeping his focus on his steps in order not to fall.
"I love you, Matt." Y/N squeezed his hand lightly, massaging the soft skin with her thumb.
"I love you more, my love." The boy responded quickly, returning the squeeze.
He let go of his girlfriend's hand as they reached his car, opening the purse on his shoulder and looking for the key, before unlocking the doors, opening the passenger seat for his girlfriend.
Y/N smiled in gratitude, approaching Matt and sealing her lips over his cheek chilled by the cold of the night, stroking the soft skin with the tip of her nose before taking a step away, finally getting into the car.
She felt her heart warm with love while observing him walk around the front of the car with slow steps. She knew that there was nothing in the world he wouldn't do to make her happy and comfortable.
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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋
~ taglist:
@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore
(If you want to be added to the taglist, comment here, please)
#x reader#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#love#matt sturniolo x yn#matt sturniolo fic#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x reader#matt x reader#matt au#matt fanfic#matt#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#imagine#oneshot#fluff#acts of service#matt sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo x reader
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pov: megumi has a crush on you
summary: more megumi headcanons i fear… ya’ll like my texts way more so this is definitely written for me.
warnings: reference to catcalling? other than that sfw + gender non-specified!!
masterlist
reserved! megumi who takes his time getting to know you. he studies all your qualities and aspects personality as if one day he’ll be quizzed on your features. megumi admires your ambition and drive but most of all your tenderness and selflessness. he’s drawn to people with good and expressive hearts. people who like to help others and perform nice gestures just because they can.
attentive! megumi who focuses diligently when you’re speaking, concentrating on every single trivial detail, even those that slip absent-mindedly past your lips without much thought. he listens to you ramble on and on about your interests yet it never bores him (and he gets bored of people alright). speaks so softly with you in a tone that surprises everyone around you (mainly nobara and yuji who have never seen him so interested in another human before… he’s always this soft to animals, though).
nerdy! megumi who prefers reading non-fiction but will pick up your favourite fantasy novels just because he wants to feel close to you. seeing your eyes light up when he mentions the titles to you makes his heart swell. highlights his favourite quotes and annotates in between pages. he’ll share them with you, gaze fixated on you as your eyes scan over all of this thoughtful comments. you feel such genuine happiness knowing he has gone so far to do this for you.
sappy! megumi who picks up one of your romance suggestions next, finding himself relating to the hopelessly enamoured protagonist. again, he annotates his copies and scribbles exclamation marks when he comes across passages that resonate with his growing feelings for you. doesn’t show you these ones, of course. at least not yet.
shy! gumi who admires your kindness from afar. all the little things you go out of your way to do just to help someone else. when you assist yuuji in the kitchen with his high-protein meals or paint nobara’s nails with great precision. when you’re the first to offer your seat up for an elderly woman on the metro or when you bounce out of your seat to help your teachers carrying piles of school documents.
observant! megumi who notices all of your little habits. the kind of things that make you feel so loved and cared for when he mentions them back to you. those things that no one else really noticed even if you badly wanted it to be seen.
love-sick! megumi would configures multiple playlists about you. one playlist containing all your favourite tracks and another with all those that you recommended to him directly. the type to listen to ‘i wanna be yours’ and fall asleep to thoughts of being with you. so many random romantic playlists often come up on his spotify profile. one time he made you a physical mixtape. yes, it was mostly just love songs… you swore it was just a coincidence. mostly.
insecure! megumi who constantly thinks he could never be good enough for you. dismisses your concern when you notice him distancing himself (because somehow you can distinguish between this and his usual quietness) but can never fully push you away. feels his heartbeat accelerate when you offer him physical comfort (with less reluctance than with anyone else). hugs from you are so comforting.
touch-starved! megumi who craves your physical affection all the time and it gets very noticeable. his arms instinctively circle around your waist whenever you greet him, rushing over for a hug. at first it was always you initiating the affection, but it’s starting to feel so natural reciprocating it. your hand will subtly slip into his when you are walking around central tokyo together or you’ll cling onto his side for comfort and warmth. he worries that you’ll be able to hear his obnoxiously loud heartbeat when you do so, but nothing could make him pull away.
annoyed! megumi who glares at his friends when they tease him about your physical affection (or when they hear your nicknames for him). but at least they have the decency to wait until you’ve left, he thinks. i give them one more week, yuuji says to nobara as megumi walks away in the same direction you just went.
if looks could kill… nobody would want to experience angry! megumi. even yuuji and nobara started to feel unsettled seeing him like that after some old loser started to catcall you. you had barely registered what was called out to you before he fearfully disappeared around the corner.
kind! megumi who opens his arms for you when he sees you’re upset. sometimes struggles with verbal comfort, but he remembers how nice it is to be hugged by you, so surely this should help. it does help - and he feels his heart swell when you thank him for being there for you.
even more nervous! megumi who finally musters the courage to confess his feelings for you. rehearses the speech in his head (and surprisingly to yuuji) tens of times only to be left astounded after you make the confession first. finally kissing you felt like the sun rising after months of darkness.
megumi who has infinite amounts of layers!! getting to know him is truly a magical experience. ultimate green flag he is perfect end of discussion!!
haven’t published anything in so long… hey ya’ll. how is everyone doing. pls send requests i am out of ideas!!
#jjk x reader#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#fushiguro x reader#megumi comfort#megumi headcanons#megumi my beloved#jjk drabbles
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youtube
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American education has all the downsides of standardization, none of the upsides
Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.
We moved to America in 2015, in time for my kid to start third grade. Now she's a year away from graduating high school (!) and I've had a front-row seat for the US K-12 system in a district rated as one of the best in the country. There were ups and downs, but high school has been a monster.
We're a decade and a half into the "common core" experiment in educational standardization. The majority of the country has now signed up to a standardized and rigid curriculum that treats overworked teachers as untrustworthy slackers who need to be disciplined by measuring their output through standard lessons and evaluations:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Core
This system is rigid enough, but it gets even worse at the secondary level, especially when combined with the Advanced Placement (AP) courses, which adds another layer of inflexible benchmarks to the highest-stakes, most anxiety-provoking classes in the system:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advanced_Placement
It is a system singularly lacking in grace. Ironically, this unforgiving system was sold as a way of correcting the injustice at the heart of the US public education system, which funds schools based on local taxation. That means that rich neighborhoods have better funded schools. Rather than equalizing public educational funding, the standardizers promised to ensure the quality of instruction at the worst-funded schools by measuring the educational outcomes with standard tools.
But the joke's on the middle-class families who backed standardized instruction over standardized funding. Their own kids need slack as much as anyone's, and a system that promises to put the nation's kids through the same benchmarks on the same timetable is bad for everyone:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/28/give-me-slack-2/
Undoing this is above my pay-grade. I've already got more causes to crusade on than I have time for. But there is a piece of tantalyzingly low-hanging fruit that is dangling right there, and even though I'm not gonna pick it, I can't get it out of my head, so I figured I'd write about it and hope I can lazyweb it into existence.
The thing is, there's a reason that standardization takes hold in so many domains. Agreeing on a common standard enables collaboration by many entities without any need for explicit agreements or coordination. The existence of the ANSI/SAE J563 standard automobile auxiliary power outlet (AKA "car cigarette lighter") didn't just allow many manufacturers to make replacement lighter plugs. The existence of a standardized receptacle delivering standardized voltage to standardized contacts let all kinds of gadgets be designed to fit in that socket.
Standards crystallize the space of all possible ways of solving a problem into a range of solutions. This inevitably has a downside, because the standardized range might not be optimal for all applications. Think of the EU's requirement for USB-C charger tips on all devices. There's a lot of reasons that manufacturers prefer different charger tips for different gadgets. Some of those reasons are bad (gouging you on replacement chargers), but some are good (unique form-factor, specific smart-charging needs). USB-C is a very flexible standard (indeed, it's so flexible that some people complain that it's not a standard at all!) but there are some applications where the optimal solution is outside its parameters.
And still, I think that the standardization on USB-C is a force for good. I have drawers full of gadgets that need proprietary charger tips, and other drawers full of chargers with proprietary tips, and damned if I can make half of them match up. We've continued our pandemic lockdown tradition of my wife cutting my hair in the back yard, and just tracking the three different charger tips for the three clippers she uses is an ongoing source of frustration. I'd happily trade slightly sub-optimal charging for just being able to plug any of those clippers into the same cable I charge my headphones, phone, tablet and laptop on.
The standardization of American education has produced all the downsides of standardization – a rigid, often suboptimal, one-size-fits-all system – without the benefits. With teachers across America teaching in lockstep, often from the same set texts (especially in the AP courses), there's a massive opportunity for a commons to go with the common core.
For example, the AP English and History classes my kid takes use standard texts that are often centuries old and hard to puzzle out. I watched my kid struggle with texts for learning about "persuasive rhetoric" like 17th century pamphlets that inspired anti-indigenous pogroms with fictional accounts of "Indian atrocities."
It's good for American schoolkids to learn about the use of these blood libels to excuse genocide, but these pamphlets are a slog. Even with glossaries in the textbooks, it's a slow, word-by-word matter to parse these out. I can't imagine anyone learning a single thing about how speech persuades people just by reading that text.
But there's nothing in the standardized curriculum that prevents teachers from adding more texts to the unit. We live in an unfortunate golden age for persuasive texts that inspire terrible deeds – for example, kids could also read core Pizzagate texts and connect the guy who shot up the pizza parlor to the racists who formed a 17th century lynchmob.
But teachers are incredibly time-constrained. For one thing, at least a third of the AP classroom time seems to be taken up with detailed instructions for writing stilted, stylized "essays" for the AP tests (these are terrible writing, but they're easy to grade in a standardized way).
That's where standardization could actually deliver some benefits. If just one teacher could produce some supplemental materials and accompanying curriculum, the existence of standards means that every other teacher could use it. What's more, any adaptations that teachers make to that unit to make them suited to their kids would also work for the other teachers in the USA. And because the instruction is so rigidly standardized, all of these materials could be keyed to metadata that precisely identified the units they belonged to.
The closest thing we have to this are "marketplaces" where teachers can sell each other their supplementary materials. As far as I can tell, the only people making real money from these marketplaces are the grifters who built them and convinced teachers to paywall the instructional materials that could otherwise form a commons.
Like I said, I've got a completely overfull plate, but if I found myself at loose ends, trying to find a project to devote the rest of my life to, I'd be pitching funders on building a national, open access portal to build an educational commons.
It may be a lot to expect teachers to master the intricacies of peer-based co-production tools like Git, but there's already a system like this that K-8 teachers across the country have mastered: Scratch. Scratch is a graphic programming environment for kids, and starting with 2019's Scratch 3.0, the primary way to access it is via an in-browser version that's hosted at scratch.mit.edu.
Scratch's online version is basically a kid- (and teacher-)friendly version of Github. Find a project you like, make a copy in your own workspace, and then mod it to suit your own needs. The system keeps track of the lineage of different projects and makes it easy for Scratch users to find, adapt, and share their own projects. The wild popularity of this system tells us that this model for a managed digital commons for an educational audience is eminently achievable.
So when students are being asked to study the rhythm of text by counting the numbers of words in the sentences of important speeches, they could supplement that very boring exercise by listening to and analyzing contemporary election speeches, or rap lyrics, or viral influencer videos. Different teachers could fork these units to swap in locally appropriate comparitors – and so could students!
Students could be given extra credit for identifying additional materials that slot into existing curricular projects – Tiktok videos, new chart-topping songs, passages from hot YA novels. These, too, could go into the commons.
This would enlist students in developing and thinking critically about their curriculum, whereas today, these activities are often off-limits to students. For example, my kid's math teachers don't hand back their quizzes after they're graded. The teachers only have one set of quizzes per unit, and letting the kids hold onto them would leak an answer-key for the next batch of test-takers.
I can't imagine learning math this way. "You got three questions wrong but I won't let you see them" is no way to help a student focus on the right areas to improve their understanding.
But there's no reason that math teachers in a commons built around the (unfortunately) rigid procession of concepts and testing couldn't generate procedural quizzes, specified with a simple programming language. These tests could even be automatically graded, and produce classroom stats on which concepts the whole class is struggling with. Each quiz would be different, but cover the same ground.
When I help my kid with her homework, we often find disorganized and scattered elements of this system – a teacher might post extensive notes on teaching a specific unit. A publisher might produce a classroom guide that connects a book to specific parts of the common core. But these are scattered across the web, and they aren't keyed to the specific, standard components of common core and AP.
This is a standardized system that is all costs, no benefits. It has no "architecture of participation" that lets teachers, students, parents, practitioners and even commercial publishers collaborate to produce a commons that all may share and improve upon.
In an ideal world, we'd get rid of standardization in education, pay teachers well, give them the additional time they needed to prepare exciting and relevant curriculum, and fund all our schools based on need, not parents' income.
But in the meanwhile, we could be making lemonade of out lemons. If we're going to have standardization, we should at least have the collaboration standards enable.
I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/16/flexibility-in-the-margins/#a-commons
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Trailer park Steve AU part 9
part 1 | part 8 | ao3
cw: medical emergency
He ditches his car at the top of the street, runs the rest of the way because there are too many people standing around — a small crowd of onlookers clustered at the bottom of the lane, gawking in their sleep shirts and flannels like the world isn’t trying to end for a fourth time. Fifth? He can’t keep track. He can’t even think, numb to everything but the pounding of his shoes against the pavement, the sirens wailing in his ears, the steady prayer in his pulse not her not now not both—
“Mom?” he shouts, voice cracking and raw. “Mom!!”
“It’s not for her.”
There’s a hand against his chest then, heel of a palm pressed to his sternum, and he slams into it like a brick wall. The air burns in his lungs; he can’t focus his eyes. “Wh-what?” he gets out, voice shaking, throat thick. Cold terror drools down his sweaty neck like the breath of a hungry monster. He’s a little kid again, swept up in the mayhem of a crowded mall. Where’s his mom; where’s his mom?
“Your mom’s in my house.” The voice is deep and slow, the hand flexing against his shirt. Fingers splayed. Heavy rings.
“…E-Eddie?” Steve’s vision swims, going yellow and purple then tunneling down to black, deep water filling his ears. Nothing makes any sense. “Munson, what—?”
“Your mom’s in my house,” he repeats like a mantra. Like a lighthouse in the fog, voice rumbling and sure. “She’s safe. She’s fine. You’re hyperventilating; take a breath.”
His breath is still catching quick and high in his throat, little puffs of cold mist. Can you drown in cold air? Can it condense inside your chest?
Eddie grips his shoulder, snaps his fingers in Steve’s face. “Hey. Hey, Steve? Come on, man, look at me. Steve. Look at me.”
Steve meets his gaze like the tide drawn to the moon.
“Deep breath,” he demonstrates, sucking air through an invisible straw, letting his chest and belly swell. Steve copies him until his vision starts to clear, until his heartbeat starts to calm. "That's it," Eddie tells him. "Good. Yeah, there we go."
Some hysterical part in the back of his brain wants to laugh. To start and never stop, just laugh and laugh and laugh until his fucking head explodes.
When he can breathe again, he pants weakly, “What is going on?”
Eddie guides him to a picnic table on the outskirts of the crowd, and they perch on top of it with their feet planted on the bench. The air feels calmer here.
Steve takes another breath.
Eddie points to the single-wide right next to Steve’s. “The wagon’s for your neighbor,” he grimaces in sympathy, one eye squinting shut as he cocks his head at Steve. “Ernie. You know him?”
“Mm.” Ernie Gerwitz. Late 60s, a widower with liver spots and arthritis in both hands. Bad heart, worse drinking habit. Fucking hates Steve’s mom because she backed over his begonias. “Not well.”
They didn’t interact much beyond an occasional neighborly nod, although Steve did once earn the guy’s good graces by yelling at Misty while shooing her off with a rake. (‘Little bitch left me a whole damn weasel last year,’ he’d grumbled as he stooped to pick up the newspaper. ‘Can't shoot her, though, 'cause she scares away the possums.’) And now…
Steve can’t make out much from here, just the shape of a four-man stretcher being carried out the door, strobe light streaks in his vision as the EMTs load up the van.
“Is he…” Steve gulps, clasping his hands between his knees. He doesn’t want to ask this question. The words taste moldy in his mouth. “Is he dead?”
Eddie’s hand shakes a little when he drags it down his cheek. His answer comes on a wobbly sigh, an almost melodic quality to the tension in his voice. “No-o idea, man. Your, uh, your mom, ya know, she— She found him. In, um. In the yard."
"Jesus."
"Said he was just, like... lying there. In the grass.” Eddie stares off into the distance like he’s seeing it right now; makes a wet clucking sound as his bottom lip quivers. “Thinks it was, a- a heart thing, or something? Shit, I don’t know. She was pretty freaked out when she knocked on my door.”
Steve can't picture it. He hasn’t seen her express a single true emotion since July.
A hesitant hitch of breath, and Eddie chews on his next words, tapping a hand against his thigh. “She’s, uh... she’s… calmer now. Or. At least-”
Steve rolls his eyes, knows exactly where this is going. Eddie tries again: “I mean, she seemed like-”
“Like a fucking zombie?” Steve supplies.
“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, a nervous laugh of relief. You said it, man, not me. There’s something serious in his gaze, something curious and searching.
Something almost kind.
Steve shrinks away from it like a vampire in the sun. Go on, he wants to say, ask about the fucking pills. Wants to goad him into a fight, some mean, sharp thing inside him itching to see someone else bleed.
Steve bites his tongue until he tastes metallic tang. Copper covering mildew; fresh bloom coating decay. He swallows hard, lets them both slide down his throat — blood and ghosts, life and death. The River Styx must taste like pennies.
The siren starts again, and Eddie groans and hangs his head. “Christ," he murmurs to the dirt, “Wayne’s gonna be so bummed.”
They both watch in silence as the ambulance goes by.
—
part 10
okay same deal tagging whoever commented yesterday (if your settings will let me) you’re all delightful tysm 😘 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @thefreakandthehair @slutforcoffein @manda-panda-monium @munsonfamilybandalso @aliea82 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @lololol-1234 @hotluncheddie @pennyplainknits @disrespectedgoatman @carolinachickadee @insideiscold @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @violetsteve my actual wife blessings upon your house @lighthousebeams @steves-strapcollection @sirsnacksalot @stevesbipanic @slowandsteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @so-get-this-sammy @annabanannabeth @runninriot @cuips-not-cute @a-little-unsteddie @envyadams-vs-me @ppunkpuppyy if i forgot anyone i’m sorry i am very sleep deprived
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#23 with male reader and soap. After a mission m!reader helps him clean himself in the shower maybe because soap got injured on the field or just really sore. And he washes off the blood/dust/dirt and helps dry him off and it turns into something kinda fluffy. I just wanna play with this man's stupid mohawk so bad.
Honestly me too, I just see that strip of hair and get the urge to tug on it, completely forgetting the man's fictional 😅 Ended up writing washing his hair and showering together because hyperfixation lol Play the game HERE.
Prompt: Washing their hair
CW: NSFW but no sex, non sexual nudity, M reader, showering together, hair washing, just fluffy fluffy fluff.
As much as you care about Soap, you've got to admit he's a bit of a dumbass, a reckless dumbass to boot. You tell him to be careful and what does he do? End up falling out of a second story window and rolling down a good 60 feet down a muddy hill while chasing after a target. You hear him swear the entire way down from where you're tucked away safely behind the sight of your sniper rifle.
By the time you get back to base Johnny feels as miserable as he looks, covered in so much mud you can't see his skin and his entire back wreathed in dull throbbing pain, not to mention the numerous cuts and scraps. And that's on top of Price chewing him out about safety and Ghost and Gaz teasing him the entire flight back to base.
"Not a word lad," He growls, giving you the stink eye. "Price already yapped me ear off." Soap turns to his heel in an attempt to head to the communal showers, biting his lip to stop himself from swearing out god, king, and country when his muscles scream at him.
"Wasn't going to." You stop him, one firm hand tugging on his bulletproof vest so you don't jostle him too much, though even that has drops of mud splashing on your clothes. "Come on, you can shower in my room."
He looks at you skeptically, but it doesn't take much to sway his mind when you offer him simple comforts; privacy, warm hands to wash away the days pains, a warmer body to remind him he's alive. He follows you without a word, neither one of you caring about the mud you track— tomorrow's problems.
"Foooock." The groan comes deep from his bones, perfectly encapsulating all he feels as you methodically unclip his gear, taking the world's weight off his shoulders and dropping it haphazardly on the bathroom's tiled floor. "Feel like a fockin' hog," He frowns.
"Look like you rolled in a pig sty." You helpfully supplement, receiving a few words in Gaelic which you don't even attempt to understand, though the humor in his tone is crystal clear even when you take hold of the bottom of his shirt; the mud and grime had gone through every layer of clothing, leaving not a single inch of skin clean.
He attempts to raise his arms to help you, only to suddenly yell out a "Oh ye fockin' cunt!" when pain flares from his shoulder down the entire length of his spine. You swear you hear his spine crack at least a dozen times by the time you pull his shirt off his mud wet skin.
"You sound like an old geezer." You chuckle to lighten the mood, dropping to your knees to untie his shoelaces and take off his boots, then the rest of his clothes.
"Says the bloke who's left knee tells the weather." He bites back, a bit of teeth on display as he grimaces, another few curses leaving his lips when he has to lower his arm. "Or tries to, yer got as much accuracy as the bloody reporters on the telly."
"Starting to complain like one too," You add, not at all surprised when Soap proceeds to brush his muddy hand across your face. "Of you fucker," Your words gain a childish little giggle from him, and he lets you guide him into the shower.
Your bathroom's one of the few that has a tub in it —a relic of past tenants before the army remodeled the base into an actual military installation— you had to bribe Price with a lot of high quality cigars to get it, but every penny was worth it. There's a tap as well as a detachable showerhead up top that Johnny eagerly uses, turning the water hot and just standing under the stream while you disrobe.
The clean water turns muddy the second it hits his skin, brown muck swirling around your feet as you step into the tub behind him. "How's that sweetheart?" You ask, taking the soap bottle and squirting a heavy amount onto your hands, not bothering with a sponge and instead using your fingers to wash away the dirt on his skin.
"Heaven." Johnny sighs, his muscles fluttering beneath your hands, mud and blood washing away to reveal deep blooming bruises across his back. "Shite, that hits the spot." He leans against you, the slow but firm pressure of your fingers massaging the sore muscles around the blotchy bruises making him groan. You lean in to place gentle kisses on the darkest bruises, "So good fer me bonnie," he hums, using his arms the best he can to at least wash the mud off his face.
You two float in a sort of mindless space where nothing outside the shower matters, the sound of water running and Soap's occasional groan filling your ears, all your focus on the way your hands rub him down; from shoulders to his back, down to his feet and then back up to his face when he turns around.
Once the water runs clear again you turn off the shower and start the tap so the tub fills with enough water to keep him warm, maneuvering him to sit in the tub while you step out to dry yourself off and put on boxers.
"Don't need ta be pampered like a show mutt," He grumbles, the hot water easing the soreness in his frame and making his exhaustion prominent, Johnny's eyelids starting to droop despite his best efforts to stay awake.
"I know, but you hair's a damn crow's nest." You snort, running your fingers through the mess on his head and showing the gunk stuck on your fingers, hell, you even pull a damn twig out.
His eyes widen, "Well fock me," Soap grimaces, gives a bone deep sigh as you settle behind him, sitting partially on the tub. Cupping water in your palms you rub your fingers down the length of his mohawk, loosening the dirt sticking to the strands until rivulets of watery mud run down his neck.
"Maybe later." You both chuckle, squirting the shampoo Soap always loves to smell on you in your hand and lathering your palms up before bringing them back to his hair. Soap mumbles something, leaning his head into your hands whenever you scratch a particularly itchy spot on his scalp.
His head tips back as much as his aching shoulders let him, his eyes settling on your face. I got it made, he thinks to himself, desperately trying to keep his eyelids open so he can see how you focus on even a simple task like washing his hair. Every brush of your fingers across his dirty strands fills his chest with lingering warmth, every scratch of your nails across his scalp making his eyes droop just a bit more.
Johnny doesn't even notice the slight sting when you occasionally tug on a knot, your touch making his mind buzz pleasantly like the low background static of a TV on late nights, and Soap doesn't realize he's dosing off.
You notice how he leans against your leg, leaning over to see his eyes closed and chest steadily rising and falling. You let him sleep for a bit while you finish up cleaning his hair and then use the detachable shower head to wash the bubbly shampoo off.
"What is'it?" He mumbles when you gently shake him awake, eyelids fluttering open and shut.
"Need you to get up Johnny." You hum and it's laughable how easily he follows your instructions, needing a bit of help to stand up when his back still aches like hell, a shiver racing down his spine as the cold air of your bathroom nips at his skin. "Fock, do'ah look like a snowman?" He grumbles at the cold.
You chuckle instead of saying anything, silencing any other complaints with sweet kisses on his lips as you towel him dry.
Soon after you two are huddled under the covers, his body draped over yours and using your chest as a pillow. Your fingers card through his slightly damp hair, the soft brown strands like feathers against your skin and your touch making him sigh and melt against you.
"Hey lad?" He suddenly says, voice a gentle whisper; like he's about to reveal a secret kept from the world — something only meant for you.
"Yeah Johnny?" You ask, a few stars reflecting in his blue eyes from your window.
Your heart melts at the soft and goody smile he gives you, "Love you." he says, leaning his head into your hand that's in his hair.
You smile and lean your head to kiss him, "Love you too," You mutter against his lips, and when you pull away he's already drifted off to sleep like a babe, soft breath tickling your skin and arms possessively wrapped around your waist like you'll disappear.
But you catch the way he smiles in his sleep.
#Gnome's prompt game#gnome correspondence#cod mw2#x reader#trinkets from the hoard#top male reader#male reader#john soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x male reader#john soap mactavish x reader#sub character#sub john soap mactavish#fluff#so much fluff
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dreamscape - l. castellan
content: angst, i think swearing, pjo show references
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of hypnos!reader
the familiar feeling of sleep finally comes over you, and you're brought into that peaceful bliss you and your siblings know all too well
for children of hypnos, sleeping isn't sleeping. it's your transfer to a more peaceful part of your day. when a child of hypnos goes to sleep, they are brought into a dreamscape that reflects their mood. they live there for those many hours until they wake up.
you open your eyes to the realm you know as your own. it's a beach. before everything had happened, it was a peaceful shore with placid waves, but now, it is a storm crackling in the sky and high tides attacking the water.
you take a shaky breath, stepping onto the sand, the way you do every night. picking your eyes up from where your feet touch the sand, you stop in your tracks when you spot a figure in the distance, standing a few yards away from where the waves pound onto the rocks. a figure you know better than the back of your hand.
a man. a man clothed in business attire—his hair neatly combed. these were the two qualities that made him slightly different from how you remember him.
you remembered him as the angry yet still gentle boy in that same orange camp shirt. eventually, you remembered him as the boy who betrayed you. your friends. the entire camp. the man who joined kronos-the man who sabotaged the gods and left you with nothing but the remnants of his love-memories. good and bad.
he left last year quickly after an attack on percy jackson, a young boy you'd helped luke show around camp when he'd first arrived.
you remember the way you'd laughed when percy first told you what had happened; you didn't believe it. thought it was some sick joke. but here you were, over three hundred and sixty-five days after he left you, seeing him in your dreamscape.
this shouldn't be possible. he's obviously dreaming. you can comprehend that from the way his body is slightly transparent. but how is he dreaming of this place? the only way he could dream of it—
is if he's thinking of you.
you curse yourself. you curse hypnos for letting luke castellan in this dreamscape. you know your father has to approve of entrance of an entity that is not of descent of hypnos. you know he allowed him to enter. you don't know why, but it's the only way possible.
you take a shaky deep breath before picking your feet up, carrying yourself along the sand and closer to luke. he's standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking out at the waters. the crashing, angry, messy waters that reflect your state of mind-angry, messy... at least, ever since he left.
you finally stop next to him, putting enough distance in between the two of you. you stare out at those waters. crazy. like you-for walking up to luke castellan and standing next to him with such serenity.
with force, you open your mouth and push out the simple name, "luke."
turning your head to him, you realize luke is squeezing his eyes. he doesn't seem surprised that you're here. he shakes his head. "y/n."
you click your tongue, shaking the monotonous reaction off of your mind. "what are you doing here?"
he shrugs, staring out at the pounding waves. the wind stirs his dark curls, the chill of it carrying the salty water landing against his face, turning it pink. he moistens his lips. "waiting."
"for?"
your eyes bore into his that are still turned toward the ocean. his lip twists into a small, sad smile, and he just shrugs again. "you."
"oh." you nervously take your camp necklace up into your hands, twirling the string and sliding the beads in between your fingers.
he inhales sharply, finally turning to you. his breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, and then he reaches out toward you.
instinctively, you back away, afraid to let him in, afraid to trust. he purses his lips after freezing, and then he lowers his hand. "right."
you sigh, dropping your necklace back to hang loosely where it belongs. "m sorry, i just... i... i can't.
"i know."
luke turns his head slowly back to the shore, eyes trailing along the skyline as a bird flies by. rain trickles down his proud cheekbones. he parts his lips, licking them and letting the rain in. he closes his mouth, tasting the salt on his tongue and then opens it again. "tastes familiar."
in a dreamscape, the rain is your tears-the same tears luke used to kiss away and playfully lick at when you cried in his arms. you clench your jaw and turn back to the water, frowning when he steps closer to you again.
"you shouldn't be here," you say finally, closing the gap of exchanged words that rested along with the sound of the beating rain.
"yeah, i know," he bites his cheek, the same way he used to when he was trying to stay serious— trying not to smile and give into your antics when you teased him. "didn't think you'd be here."
"this place is my mind. i'm always here."
"usually your mind is on camp. the dreamscape would represent camp. your friends. it would represent your friends. but it's on yourself. how you feel about yourself. how... i made you feel. so you're here. and i didn't expect that."
"i didn't expect you to be here either."
he laughs. it's a hollow laugh, one that you can tell he forces out, but you know he's doing it to lighten the mood. to make you comfortable.
"I'm always here. just...thinking about you."
"you said you were waiting for me," you state.
"what did you mean?"
"exactly what i said," he replies quickly. "i knew you'd have to come eventually. i knew id see you again."
you stay quiet. you know he's right. you also knew eventually he'd get to you, maim your confidence and self love. the same self love he declared you should have, because he didn't
"understand how someone could hate you."
"i should go," you whisper finally: the words you've been trying to get out of your mouth, the ones that sat at the tip of your tongue like feet stuck to the ground of asphodel. "i should-"
"you should stay," he declares firmly. moments pass until you turn to him and stare at the dark brown orbs in his eyes, now seen through tears. he's looking at you like you're his lost dog that he's been looking everywhere for, because to him, you were. in a small voice, he says, "i miss you."
you scoff, forcing a sarcastic smile to grace your lips, even though there's nothing in you that wants to smile, even if it is sarcastic. "you left."
you hear the sand next to you get kicked, and he's grumbling. "i know. but you know why. i had to."
"you had to betray your friends and family? you had to betray me? your girlfriend? that's not how it works, luke. you know damn well."
luke huffs, looking up at the sky, the rain kissing his forehead as he does so. "maybe not for you. but for me, it's eat or be eaten. power and glory and nothing else matters. i can't ignore that."
"power and glory? really? that's all that matters?" you try to say it with solid anger and firmness in your voice, but it comes out shaky and hurt. "was it always that way? did i ever matter to you?"
"of course you mattered!" he turns to you as if he can't believe what you're saying. "you matter. more than... more than anything. you are glory. that's why it matters to me. you are glory. and i don't care if i'm the first foolish halfblood to say it, but i don't care for glory if it means that you're not the definition."
you bite your lip, trying to remind yourself that this is the enemy. this is luke. but this is your luke.
"why'd you leave, then?"
he rolls his eyes; you already brought this up. "i want to protect you. give you the life you deserve. you don't deserve one where you're controlled by the gods. where you have to constantly obey them on hand and foot. you're not their dog. i want to be sure of that."
"you left me. why couldn't you have at least taken me with you?"
"why would i purposefully put you in danger like that? with me, everyone on the other side has no instructions whether to kill you or not. but if you're there at camp, you're off limits. i already told my army they are not to lay a finger on you. you're safer without me."
"no i'm not! i can't take this. if someone doesn't kill me first, i'm going to kill myself"
"y/n, please stop yelling."
you inhale sharply, and exhale sharply. in and out. like the way luke taught you to when you had those panic attacks during the night and somehow even your powers couldn't get you past nightmares. "i really need to go."
"i need you," he whispers. he holds out his arms, as if for a hug, and he begs, "i need to hold you."
"no!" you say quickly. "that's not... that's not fair. because you can wake up and know this was only a dream, and possibly forget it. but i have to live with this. this is real for me. i'm not asleep right now. i feel everything."
"i do, too," he groans. "you taught me how to become lucid, remember?"
twisting your spit between your teeth, your tongue, you weave a sigh through them and groan. "you don't get to hug me. not when i hoped every night that you'd come back and do it in person. in real life. prayed to every god alive, even your father, that you'd tell me it was all some sick joke and you'd be good again."
"i'm so lonely," he cries, and for the first time you realize that the water pouring down your cheeks aren't only the drops of rain. also his tears. "i need to hold you. let me hold you, y/n."
"you don't deserve that. you don't get to."
"one last time. you won't see me here ever again. just let me hold you. i need to... i need to remember what it feels like."
your lips twist and curl into all shapes of a different frown, and you wipe the now forming tears on your face that mirror the ones on luke's.
"i'm so sorry," he whispers. he's staring into your eyes, and the eye contact feels lethal. this is the man your camp trains you to fight, trains you to kill when you have the chance. but here you are, staring deep into his eyes as you inch closer and closer to him—
how did you get here?
you realize you're wrapped in his arms. his arms are tied taut around your waist and he's gripping on your pajama shirt like it's the only thing holding him from falling into tartarus. he's whispering, i'm sorry's, and i love you's, and you find yourself sobbing into his neck, too. he sighs, pulling away and trailing kisses down your jaw.
trembling fingers are raking through his hair, and you get the same feeling you used to when you'd twirl his curls and lather conditioner into his it in the shower. the rain is pouring down onto the two of you like that same shower water, and you're holding each other and in love, and suddenly you're one year younger and you're luke's girl, and luke is your boy.
"i love you, i'm so, so sorry. wanna go back and fix it. 's too late. i can't take this. 'm so lonely. i miss you so much." luke is rambling and rambling into your hair. he's pulling it a little bit as his hands squeeze and trail up and down your back and he captures a bit of it with his hands.
"i know," you whisper. you can't forgive him right now. but you can hold him.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#charlie bushnell#luke pjo#percy jackson#luke castellan x reader fluff#luke castellan x reader smut#percy jackson and the olympians#charlie bushnell x reader#charlie bushnell x reader fluff
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'Ex' husband Gojo - The Aftermath- 01
Tags- self harm, miscarriage, mention of cheating
Synopsis- A look at reader's mental state after the entire ordeal with Gojo.
Part 3 // series masterlist
The maid was just about to enter the private chambers of Lady Y/n to pick up the dishes before she stopped in her tracks and started eavesdropping the conversation...
"Taking pills...precautions...pregnancy...we should divorce.....i...carry children......Satoru..."
These were the words she heard. It was as if the ground shifted from beneath her feet. What she heard was the news of the century.
It didn't take her long to run back to her servants quarters and spread the word...
The Gojo household staff comprises of only five women, one is an attendant of yours and two male out of which one is head staff of the household.
All the servants started gossiping about the matter. It didn't take them long to call their friend servants in other big and small households.
In no time the news of The Gojo Satoru and Y/n, the window (as everybody loved to call you in jujutsu society), Divorcing and supposed pregnancy spread like a deadly wild fire...
Satoru was busy in his mission in Seoul, he had no idea of anything and was scheduled to be back in time for the New Year's Eve Party.
An evening event held at the Gojo Clan's Estate which is attended by illustrious people from both sorcerers to non sorcerers backgrounds.
From Japanese Royal family and aristocrats families, The Zenins, The Kamo, The Council of the Higher ups and every other Clans to J-pop stars, actors, models, polticians, wtiters and whoever not!
The Event is a private Party where red carpets and paparazzis are not allowed but the event's pictures sure find their way to Page 6 each year. Displaying the lavish lives of the noble families of Japan.
For the last 4 years, as the Lady of the Gojo Clan, you hosted this lavish party at the main Gojo Estate. Before you, it was your mother in law.
For someone who comes from an average lower middle class family, you have quite the taste in decor, food, fashion, art and knowledge on hosting parties, qualities that are a must for a Wife of high and Noble stature.
Satoru's mother and the entire Clan was very reluctant to have you in the family. She was against this marriage but Satoru being Satoru, her only son and a total mama's boy, she couldn't get herself to say no.
After your marriage, you both, newlyweds, were living in the main estate but after 5 to 6 months Satoru decided to shift to a new house where both of you will start your newly wedded life.
Your mother in law had accepted you in the family after she got to know you and as a gesture wanted you to stay as she wanted to be the"first to get the news of her grandchildren" verbatim.
Every Clan head's wife has a special personal attendant who lives with them in the household. They are supposed to look after the wife as their lady companion, the woman they could rely on.
You too had one, Mrs Kori.
Mrs Kori was your assigned attendant. But she did not lived with you in the same house. You had allowed her to live with her own family, unlike other wives. She only attended official family Events with you as a part of her duty. You have a semi-formal relationship with her.
30th December, 2016
It was about time for the New Year's Event.
Previously, you would enthusiastically start preparations a month prior, considering it is not a small tea party rather a big event where everyone has their eyes on you as you are The Host.
You would rush at the Gojo Estate and get started with placing orders for flowers, preparing the huge garden for guests, writing invitations and a million other decorations. Your mother in law would watch and suggest or support you every now and then since she's been doing this for over 30 years.
But this time, which would have been your fifth year, it was all gloomy.
Satoru's mother was very concerned regarding the both of you. She noticed how this year you didn't celebrate her only lovely son's birthday neither did you began any planning for the Party.
She wanted to come to see what's gotten onto you but couldn't as she took back the reins of organizing the evening party. Although she did let you know through one her servants that she's taken over.
You on the other hand, wanted to recover from everything that has been going on.
Its LIFE afterall. And life is like a river, you cannot stop moving just like that. Moving forward through all the obstacles, IS life.
Your head was convincing you with all motivation it could but your heart just wanted to hold onto the little snow globe containing an Eiffel Tower, one of Satoru's souvenirs that you found by your bed, just sitting in a corner few days ago.
You were aware about the New Year's Event but you just couldn't get yourself out of bed let alone be out of the house and organize a large scale star studded event. All because of everything going on and that day... 25th of December.
You did something which you shouldn't have... a very horrendous action, a very lowly act indeed.
You wanted to go out and free your mind and to prepare yourself to look normal for the new year crowd. The first interaction with people besides your staff since the whole fiasco with your husband went down.
Your friends from the office you worked with before quitting and marrying Gojo, had called you in for Christmas drinks evening. You went and had drinks but later it took turn for the worse when you went to the house of one of your male co-workers who had a crush on you, and spent the night...
In the days following after spilling the entire ordeal to Shoko, you started developing a weird and concerning 'obsession'...
It started accidentally though but eventually you liked it or simply found it better as a 'punishment' for your actions.
It was just an innocent scratch when the glass fell on the ground and shattered and hurt your knee. But slowly, it took a darker turn and you would start to 'scratch' with a razor on your inner thighs.
It didn't take long when you would just think about that night of 25th December while in a bathtub filled with water and you trying to drown yourself in it only to rush out and slit your wrists with the razor in anger and frustration.
It felt weirdly... nice?
@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen @sweet-almond @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0peful @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha @dummyf @Noblog @Littledemoness15 @shaiah @iluv-ace @mmeerraa @angellyah @0bakuzan @waxhers @chanelmalandro @shoutobrainrot @narutosolosurfav @Kei-b-gurlll @🫶🏼 @angrydaughter @Screw-aebi@asdfghjkl7things @kodzukenwhore @gabile18 @bollockswhy @pelicanpizza@electro-supremacy @Zatannaswifeblog@spam-and-eggs @guenievresworld @b0scuit@aliventboo @marit332 @bbylime @ieathairs @hells-escapees @no-name222
Apologies if i forgot to add your blog
AN- There's a 2nd part to this chapter, which will be released after few corrections. Thank you for your support and patience.
#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jjk#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo x reader fluff#gojo satoru angst#gojo x reader angst#jjk x reader angst#jjk angst#gojo satoru fluff#jjk x reader fluff#jjk fluff#gojou x reader smut#gojou x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo#gojou#gojou x reader fluff#gojo angst#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you
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HOT GAMEDEVS DON'T GATEKEEP
Inspired by this post by @midwinterhunt, here's a compilation of all the game dev resources I have come across, most of which I use fairly frequently. Most of these are free, some are paid but fairly cheap. Feel free to add your own resources. ✌️
Important reminder: When using basically any works or programs someone else created in your games, make sure you thoroughly understand the licenses and terms it has been shared with. If you don't know what the terms are, reach out to the resource and ask. Don't be lazy about this; it's not only dishonest but it can come back to bite you.
Engines
Unity - Best suited for mobile and multi-platform.
Unreal - Tailored for shooters and high-fidelity experiences.
PICO-8 - Virtual console for simple games
Godot - Open source and free!
GameMaker - Good for 2D games
Bitsy - Great little engine for making simple games and experiences
Construct - Never used but have heard nice things
Scratch - If you've never coded before, this is the best place to start. Great for young devs and those who want to get their feet wet.
Adventure Game Studio - Best suited for adventure games
RPG Maker - Best suited for top-down classic JRPG style games
Twine - Text-centric games like Interactive Fiction
Assets
OpenGameArt - Many assets, various licenses, and plenty of CC0 content.
Unity Store - For Unity only. Some free.
Unreal Store - For Unreal only. Some free.
Godot Asset Library
Jean Moreno's Toon Effects - Some of the best effects available on the Unity store. Unity only but I've used them in basically every project.
Steamworks.net C# Wrapper For Unity - Unity only C# wrapper for integrating Steam compatibility to your game
Itch.io - Plenty of free art assets and game dev resources
Kenney - Kenney makes tons of open-source assets for devs to use.
Art
Mixamo - Generates rigs for your humanoid models and lets you apply a library of free humanoid animations to them. Super helpful for prototyping. Adobe.
Blender - Free, open source and fully featured 3D program.
XNormal - Free offline normal map generator
Normal Map Online - Free online normal map generator
Crocotile - Cheap tool for building 3D models from sprite sheets
MagicaVoxel - Free voxel modelling tool
Piskel - Free online sprite drawing tool
Aesprite - Paid sprite drawing tool
TurboSquid - Not always great quality, but can be good source of free placeholders.
Textures.com - Limited texture downloads per day but free for personal use.
Pexels - Free stock photo resource. Most are free for commercial use. Check licenses.
Clipstudio - Good for illustration or graphic design. One time payment.
GIMP - Image editing program a-la Photoshop. Free.
Audio
Audacity - Free and fully-featured DAW/audio editor.
sfx.me - Free 8-bit synth-style sound effect generator for games.
CastingCallClub - Easy forum to find amateur voice talent for your project (p.s.: you should pay them).
FreeSound.org - Free sounds, searchable by license. A go-to for my audio needs.
Incompetech - Royalty-free music by Kevin McLeod.
Scott Buckley Music - Royalty free with conditions. Generally more on the cinematic side of things but very good stuff!
SoundCloud - 'Search -> By Track -> Filter: Use Commercially' leads to songs posted with allowance of commercial use. Always reach out to the artist to understand their terms and confirm that it's okay to use with your project.
Project Planning
Keymailer - Handy for mailing keys to influencers (don't expect a lot of traction unless you're paying for some of the features though).
Trello - Kanban board. Great for organizing tasks, managing bugs, etc. Free.
Notion - Private text and wiki page editor. Good for project organization, note taking, and fleshing out ideas. Free.
Obsidian - Alternative to Notion, with similar features.
Miro - Free whiteboard for organizing thoughts, images, brainstorming, etc.
Wave - Free Bookkeeping site. Great for keeping finances organized.
#gamedev#game development#game dev#indie games#indie game#gamedevelopment#indiegames#indiedev#indie dev#game developer#resources#blog
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