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delicatebarness · 3 days

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i think he knows | chapter nine

Summary: As the sneaking continues, some secrets are revealed.

Warnings: Two perspectives are used. A few uses of Y/N. A lot of dialogue between multiple characters. Mentions/Implied Underage Sex. Our girlie is sad again.

Word Count: 1498

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A/N: I wrote this chapter while sitting in a van watching big sweaty men run around with guns (all I pictured all day was winter soldier) 🤤 I edited once I got home and had calmed myself down. 🙈

Bucky's words hung in the air, it prompted a sense of anticipation. You nodded as meeting his gaze, both curiosity and concern rushed through you.

"What is it?" you asked softly, as the gravity of his tone set in.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out to take your hand in his. "I know this isn't ideal," he started, looking down at your hand rather than into your eyes he began to rub circles against your skin.

"Us, um, sneaking around, keeping this hidden." You listened intently, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach.

"But," he continued, his gaze found its way back to yours. "I also know that being with you is worth it." His vulnerability took you by surprise, warming your heart. "I want to make this work."

With a small smile, you squeezed his hand, silently giving him the reassurance he needed to tell you what was on his mind.

"What are we doing here?" Peter asked while looking up at the 'Stark's Motor's' sign above the rundown car and bike garage. "You know this is Tony Stark's family's business right? Tony Stark as in Bucky Barnes' friend?" Wanda had been curious about the tension between the two groups of friends, she sensed that it was deeper than simply, different personalities.

"Can I help you with something?" Tony asked as he looked Peter and Wanda up and down. They seemed familiar to him but he couldn't quite place them. Wanda looked around Tony, noticing the rest of the group gathered on sofas behind him.

Just as she expected, Bucky Barnes, for being the so-called 'leader' of the group, wasn't to be seen.

"We know about the bets," Wanda stated, gaining the attention of the whole group. The smirks that found their way to their faces proved to Wanda and Peter that the rumors were true. Concern for their friend became evident between them.

"What bets?" Natasha Romanoff questioned them, her tone guarded.

"When you bet each other on how far you can get with someone," Peter interjected before Wanda could, his voice rushed.

"What about them? You want in or something?" Loki, Peter recognized as the younger brother of Thor, questioned with a mischievous smile. He noticed that he was the only one of the gang who would ever show their face to the game.

"No," Wanda began to make her way around the service counter, moving closer to the group of friends. "We want you to tell us what our friend did to deserve being a part of your games," she demanded, standing her ground.

Natasha rolled her eyes before standing up, closing the distance between herself and Wanda in an attempt to intimidate her. "Who's your friend?" she asked curiously while crossing her arms over her chest.

"Y/N Rogers," Peter answered for Wanda, she was intensely looking up at Natasha with furrowed brows. "Steve Rogers' little sister." A silence surrounded the garage at the mention of Rogers.

"She's been on the off-limits list for, what, two years now?" Peter Quill spoke up while looking around the group of his friends. The worst 'bad boy' in the group had, barely got into any trouble, and wasn't mischievous; he just liked to tell jokes and wear a red leather jacket.

"What's the off-limits list?" They asked Quill simultaneously, snapping their heads in his direction. Catching the moment Stark punched him in the arm, he had said too much.

Sighing, Natasha seemingly began to relax more around the other students, going back to where she had previously been sitting. “The list of people we, under no circumstances, are allowed to bet on,” she explained, her voice still hinting at the annoyance the pair was causing. “She’s been on that list since her first day of freshman year?” she continued, looking around at her friends to confirm the amount of time. They all nodded in agreement.

“Too bad the same couldn’t have been said for her brother,” a sense of amusement in Stark’s voice as he spoke under his breath.

“Oh yeah, Natasha lost Buck some real cash on that one.” Quill laughed before taking a drink from the bottle he’d been nursing since Wanda and Peter arrived.

Wanda and Peter shot each other a glance, a silent conversation of understanding happening between them. As they exchanged the silent vow to uncover more, they turned about to the group, knowing they were diving into dangerous waters. Bucky and his friends were the most feared pack in the school, only Steve and his friends weren’t worried about getting on their bad side. Even then, a few of them still watched their backs.

“We need to know everything,” Wanda exclaimed, causing the group to bring their attention back to the younger peers.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, but there was a slight hint of respect for the girl. “You two don’t know when to quit, do you?” she muttered under her breath. Ignoring Natasha’s remark, the two friends stood their ground. Not moving until someone talked.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words. Taking a deep breath, his heart pounded. “Back in freshman year, I… I made a bet with Natasha,” he admitted.

Your brow furrowed with confusion, “What kind of bet?” You asked, voice trembling slightly, you felt like you already knew the answer. Hearing it aloud, you feared it would make it real.

His gaze dropped from yours as he swallowed hard, “I bet that she couldn’t sleep with Steve,” he confessed, your hand dropped from him as your body went into a state of shock. Your mind went back to the night before, how he reassured you that you weren’t a part of it. You remember now that he never denied the fact that they do make bets. “I didn’t think she would do it, Y/N,” he looked up, his eyes filled with remorse as he called you by your name rather than his nickname for you.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over your heart pounding. “If you didn’t think she would, why did you?”

“We were freshmen, we were just having fun,” he sighed, trying to defend himself and the friends he saw as family. “He was an easy target back, a try-hard, it was supposed to be a joke,” he ran a hand through his hair, as he rushed his words.

The weight of his confession sank into your bones. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Disbelief surged through you, you couldn’t process everything at once. His reasoning only added to the turmoil swirling inside.

There was a silence settling between you, your breathing and the background noise for the diner was the only sound. The image of Steve, oblivious to the wager placed on him, added another layer of hurt.

You finally found your voice, it trembled as you held back tears. Not only were you hurting for your brother but, you couldn’t help shake the feeling that Bucky was lying about you. “How could you?” you questioned.

“I know I messed up,” Bucky’s voice softened, his hand reaching out as if to bridge the growing distance. “I mean, it’s most likely the main reason he wants me nowhere near you,” his words trailed off, and you turned away.

You looked everywhere but in Bucky’s direction, afraid of the tears threatening to spill. “I’m guessing she then discarded him like he never mattered?” you asked, recounting the warning Steve had given you about Bucky and his friends.

Another sigh from Bucky. “After everything, Steve caught feelings for her but it was just a game to her so she ignored him and has since,” he explained as he played with the straw in his milkshake glass. “It wasn’t until a couple of months later that he found out it was a bet, a bet that I started,” he began mumbling to himself about wishing he had a smoke or a drink before continuing. “We’ve never been okay since, which I understand on some level, but, he came out stronger I guess,” the confused look behind your teary eyes made his heart clench. “That was when he suddenly gained muscle and became the star athlete he is today.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, you struggled to hear it yourself as you tried to find the words.

Bucky nodded, he understood that telling you would have been painful. He saw the amount of compassion and empathy you carried in your heart, he knew it was risky for him to tell you the truth. He wished he could tell you, we fought once over nothing but stupid boy stuff, but, he couldn’t.

“I understand,” he replied softly, his head dropped landing his gaze on the table between you. “I’m sorry I hurt you, and Steve. I just, I don’t want there to be secrets between us as well.” Even though your heart ached for your brother and Bucky’s confession, you offered him a small nod.

- - -

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buckttommy · 3 days

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When buck screams tommys name in distress, how would you like it to happen?

well. so. obviously tommy gets hurt on the job and obviously buck witnesses it. i don't know how it happens, necessarily. i know 911 said they didn't necessarily want to do big wildfires out of respect for the fact that they have big wildfires in california, but that's the only thing i can think of, like. i don't know if you've seen the og/ls crossover episode (i'm going to assume you have) but having all these firefighters together.. it's the most time buck and tommy have ever spent together while on the job. they do little check-ins with each other throughout the days as the week stretches on, just to make sure they're safe, just to make sure they're coping well. they never do anything more than kiss and hold each other for a couple minutes in a dark/quite corner of one of the sleep tents, both because they're exhausted and because it's definitely not the time or place, but. it's enough. you know?

and so. about eight days into the wildfire, a group of firefighters goes missing. they're completely unresponsive, and that's a bad sign, so tommy's unit has to fly in to go get them. when buck learns tommy's flying out for this specific rescue, he's anxious as hell. that area he's flying out to went bad days ago, visibility is shit, and the group of firefighters that stopped responding was the last group that was ever going to be sent out before the whole area was going to be considered too far gone to save. so he's nervous. scared shitless, actually. but tommy just pulls him aside and he smiles that warm, loving, reassuring smile of his. kisses him and says, "don't worry i'll be okay, everything is okay" and he's scared too, buck can see it in his eyes, but he kisses him back hard and long and just tells him, like, "come home safe to me, ok?" and it's a request but it's also a demand. tommy has to come home. there's no other option. not one that buck can survive, at least.

so tommy goes away and buck/the rest of the 118/some others are is deployed to an area that's pretty close to where tommy is supposed to be flying overhead. after a while, buck gets into a rhythm, so he doesn't think (much) about tommy and just focuses on the task at hand and what he has to do. and then at some point, he hears a chopper overhead and he's so relieved... up until the moment that he notices something is very fucking wrong. he doesn't know what, exactly, but the helicopter is going down and he can't fucking breathe and it is has nothing to do with the smoke. and buck, like.... it'd be one thing if he was hearing about it after the fact, you know? if he heard about it after, he'd be spared the sheer, lifechanging panic of what it looks like to see his world collapse in real time. but he's actually standing there, and he's witnessing the love of his fucking life go down in a wildfire and. so. yeah. he screams tommy's name at the top of his lungs. he's not even aware that he's doing it, tbh. it's completely involuntary, a byproduct of watching this person he loves so much literally die (so he thinks). and there are arms around his waist (he doesn't know whose, but they feel like eddie's) holding him back to keep from running, and someone's talking into a radio (bobby maybe?) but everything is just. it's chaos. his head his chaos, his heart stopped beating ages ago and now he's just. dead. just dead and waiting for, praying for a miracle he's not sure will ever come—

(and. so. obviously tommy is fine. buck doesn't actually, like, learn this fact until several hours later when he is already so firmly entrenched in the deepest depression/state of grief he has ever been in in his life (and considering he watched eddie get shot in front of him, saw a bridge collapse on top of bobby, and his sister was kidnapped presumed dead, that's saying a LOT). but then tommy staggers into the tent and buck absolutely falls the fuck apart. like. tommy barely gets a step inside before buck is on him—before they're on each other, actually—and. like. he's not okay at all. like. he's injured and should definitely 100% be on his way to the hospital. but he knew, okay? tommy kinard knows his boy and he knew what kind of state he would be in. so yeah, stopping by to see him was a no brainer. their reunion only lasts a couple minutes before tommy's body starts to give out on him and, like, yeah, hospital now. but. buck goes with him, and he doesn't leave his side once except when tommy goes through surgery and... everything is not okay but neither of them had the worst day of their lives and that's all buck could ever ask for.)

(and if they finally tell each other they love each other when tommy gets out of surgery and comes out from under the haze of anesthesia. well. that's just between them)

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #*wounded jack noises*#this hurt my feelings AND put them back together [< girl who literally wrote the thing]#anyways #this headcanon is. like. a sequel to the one linked btw. just in case you need to know how crazy this whole thing makes me #jack answers mail #tv: 911 #bucktommy

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madangel19 · 2 days

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Brownies

Thought of Phantom eating one too many of Swiss's weed brownies during 4/20 and had to write it down :D

Content: Recreational drug use, ghoul cuddles, poor Phantom doesn't know about the forever weed brownie

Word Count: 1078

A sweet earthy scent from the ghoul kitchen caught Phantom’s attention. He was laying in bed when it reached him and his stomach began to grumble. Were the ghoulettes cooking something? Cumulus’s cookies were always mouth watering but this didn’t smell like cookies. He had to investigate.

Phantom got out of bed and left his room, chittering softly. The smell was stronger now. It reminded him of Swiss and he smiled at the thought of him cooking something yummy. He didn’t cook often, but when he did, it was delicious.

Phantom poked his head around a corner and saw the empty kitchen. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, but he quickly spotted a tray of brownies on the counter. The smell was coming from there.

“Ooo brownies,” he crowed as he went over and looked the brownies over. The smell was strong, warm and earthy, reminding him of the few times he walked by Mountain’s greenhouse. They must have been taken out recently which meant they were still warm. Warm brownies were always the best.

Phantom looked around and saw that he was alone. He looked back at the brownies and saw there was more than enough for everyone. He could eat one or two or three or four. He carefully picked one up and smelled it again, sighing in content at the amazing scent.

He took a bite and he gasped at the slightly bitter taste. It didn’t last long before he bit down on gooey chocolate chips and he was in love. Fuck, it tasted amazing despite the brief bitterness. He shoved the rest of the brownie into his mouth and moaned as he chewed.

“Fuck, that’s good. One more,” he murmured, wiping his mouth before grabbing another brownie that was a lot bigger than the others.

Why didn’t anyone tell him that Swiss was making brownies? Was this supposed to be some kind of surprise? No, someone would have told him beforehand. This was probably Swiss being generous and making sweets for the pack.

Once he was finished eating the second brownie, he took a third and stepped away from the tray. Three was enough for now. He needed some milk after three brownies.

“Phantom?”

He froze, the third brownie halfway in his mouth. He slowly looked around and saw Swiss standing behind him. The multi ghoul looked at him and then at the tray of brownies and his eyes went wide with shock before he suddenly burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Phantom asked, unsure of what was going on.

“Oh, Bug. How many brownies did you eat?” Swiss asked, wiping away tears from his eyes.

“Uhhh….three? There’s plenty for everyone so three felt like enough,” Phantom replied.

Swiss gasped despite the huge smile on his face. He shook his head and walked over to Phantom, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

“Oh, Bug. Sweet Bug. You’re in for it now,” Swiss crowed.

“Why? What’s wrong? Was I not supposed to eat the brownies?” Phantom asked, already feeling bad if they were meant for Papa or even the Clergy.

“Those are my strongest weed brownies, Bug. Mountain’s been growing a special strain and wanted me to bake them into brownies for the pack and anyone else who’s interested. Just one is enough to turn you into mush,” Swiss said, leading Phantom to the couch.

“Oh…Oh no…,” Phantom murmured.

“Hmm, I guess I should have left a warning note,” Swiss said, helping Phantom sit down.

“Yeah, you should have. Swiss…am I gonna be okay?” Phantom asked, looking up to the bigger ghoul for reassurance. He had been high with Swiss and the rest of the pack plenty of times, but he had never had an edible before.

Swiss chuckled and sat down next to him, tousling his dark hair. He could feel the faint tug of his quintessence putting him at ease and he let out a soft sigh while resting his head on his shoulder.

“You’ll be okay, Bug. You can just lay here and the rest of the pack will come along and we’ll all have brownies and watch stupid movies together and eat snacks,” Swiss said.

“That sounds nice,” Phantom replied, glad that he was safe. He wasn’t sure what he was going to feel soon, but as long as he was with his pack, then he was going to be fine.

One hour later

Dewdrop yawned as he made his way to the ghoul den. Swiss had been texting him all morning about his plans for the day and the mention of his famous brownies really got his attention. He had a long day and looked forward to relaxing with a brownie and a blunt.

He stopped when he saw the scene before him. Phantom was laid out on the couch, eyes droopy and a goofy smirk on his lips. His head was positioned in Swiss’s lap. Swiss lazily played with his hair while taking a drag from a blunt. The ghoulettes were piled on the floor in a giggly cuddle pile while cooing over Phantom. Rain and Mountain were seated in different arm chairs, looking absolutely blissed out.

“You guys got started before me?” Dewdrop asked.

“Phantom started first. Poor thing ate three brownies and now he’s in space,” Swiss purred, cupping the younger ghoul’s cheek and slowly rubbing his thumb along his skin. Phantom purred, grabbing his hand and nuzzling it.

“He’s so cute like this,” Aurora chimed.

“Mm...not cute,” Phantom murmured.

“You’re right. You’re adorable, Bug. You’re taking three brownies so well. Once you’re able to move in a few hours, you can take a hit of this,” Swiss said, showing him the blunt. Phantom reached for it and Swiss held it away, shaking his head with a playful smirk. The younger ghoul whined, but made no effort to move.

“Just wait a bit longer, darling,” Cumulus cooed while holding a chirping Aurora close to her chest.

“Are there any brownies left?” Dewdrop asked, his stomach rumbling. There were plenty of snack strewn about the den that made his mouth water.

“Of course. They’re in the fridge,” Mountain said.

Dewdrop nodded and went to get himself a brownie or two. After eating two brownies, he sighed and went to take his place in the cuddle pile with the ghoulettes.

“How many did you eat?” Cirrus asked after pulling him close.

“Two.”

“Perfect,” Swiss crowed.

“Yay,” Phantom cheered weakly before cuddling closer to Swiss.

#the band ghost #ghost band #nameless ghouls #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #nameless ghoulettes #cumulus ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #fanfiction #ghost fanfiction

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nejiverse · 3 days

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I’LL THINK ABOUT IT

Sae Itoshi [pt. 3 to ‘his amnesiac’]

In which Sae realises just how deeply he missed his fiancée. Fem! Reader

part 2

cw: nothing much, sae’s a closeted softie

1150 words

"This might be a bit selfish of me Sae but, can you stay with me? Until I fall asleep".

Sae approached her and offered a hand, giving her an affirmative nod in response.

She flashed a weak yet appreciative smile and took his hand.

As Y/n laid in bed, her head resting on the pillow, Sae pulled up a chair beside her.

With the weight of her amnesia heavy on her mind, she turned to Sae, seeking answers and comfort. Sae placed his elbow against the nightstand as the side of his head rested against the palm of his hand, his presence a reassuring anchor in the uncertainty of her lost memories.

Y/n pursed her lips as her eyebrows furrowed. "Be honest, do you think i'll ever regain my memories?".

Y/n's question hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty. Sae met her gaze, his expression soft yet contemplative.

"I hope so", he longed for, prayed for her memories to come back. ‘I really do’, he thought to himself.

Y/n hummed in agreement, her eyes gazing elsewhere.

"Y/n", Sae spoke quietly, his voice a comforting melody in the dimly lit room. "I'll take care of you whether you get your memories back or not so don't worry", he hoped his words were enough to encourage her and expel her fears and doubts since he was limited to only words as opposed to actions.

Y/n's heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. He's been so kind to her despite how she treated him at first, which she really regretted. Sae had no legal obligation to stay by her side after being left with nothing but an amnesiac, but he did. Y/n smiled.

"Thank you, Sae. You've been so patient with me."

Y/n reached out and gently placed her hand over Sae's, her thumb running smoothly along his knuckles. It was a gesture of gratitude.

But for Sae, a rush of emotions flooded through him, catching him off guard. He felt a mixture of relief, longing and a profound sense of connection that he's missed dearly since Y/n's amnesia. Dormant feelings he thought he would have to tuck away forever were arising.

His gaze flickered to Y/n's face, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, but instead, he found a softness in her eyes, a glimmer of trust and gratitude that filled him with tenderness.

For the first time since her amnesia, Sae felt as though the woman in front of him was the exact same one he met five years ago.

In the midst of his feelings, he failed to notice when Y/n's eyes closed, evident that she had drifted off to sleep.

Sae's eyes lingered on her parted lips for maybe a bit longer than he would've liked. He found his breath caught up in his throat as her features appeared more softer in her state of sleep.

He watched the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the rhythmic pattern of her breathing lulling him into a trance-like state. He let his hand engulf her own fully and interwove his fingers with hers.

Sae found himself inching closer, his heart pounding in anticipation. His mind raced with thoughts of what it would feel like to press his lips against hers once again, to taste the sweetness of her mouth, to lose himself in the intoxicating warmth of her embrace.

But as much as he longed to give in to his aching desires, Sae knew that now was not the time.

With a heavy sigh, Sae tore his gaze away from Y/n, his head in his hands, willing himself to resist the temptation that threatened to consume him. He knew that their time would come, but for now, he would content himself with the simple pleasure of watching her sleep, knowing that she is safe and loved in his presence.

The morning came and Sae was up bright and early.

Putting his ear against Y/n's door, he was able to hear her soft snores, indicating she was still asleep.

Sae made his way downstairs where he opted to make breakfast. He decided to make omelettes.

It wasn’t too long after he got started that he heard footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"Morning", Y/n yawned, trying her best to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

Sae eyed her crazy bed hair, the strap of her nightdress slipping down her shoulder. This cracked a small grin on Sae's face.

"Someone slept well".

"Yes, but still no memories have come back to me".

"It's all in due time, you need to be patient", it was easy for him to say. He wasn't the one that lost his identity. On top of that, he had not a single patient bone in his body.

Y/n hummed, moving closer to Sae to see what he was up to.

Her eyebrows knitted in utmost astonishment. "Are you making breakfast or performing a surgery?", she inquired, eyeing the criminal way in which he was cutting up onions.

Sae rolled his eyes as he huffed a laugh, recalling all the times Y/n used to call him out for his..unique was of chopping vegetables. Some things never change.

"Doesn't matter what way they look, it doesn't change the nutritional value", he retorted, Y/n giggling at his articulate response.

"Oh so you're a dietitian now?!".

As they continued to tease and joke with each other, Sae couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for Y/n, grateful that they could still share moments of levity despite her amnesia.

Deep down he hoped that maybe, just maybe, their playful banter would help spark a flicker of recognition in her mind, bridging the gap between her past and present self.

Y/n's gaze shifted to the window, her fingers lightly tracing the smooth surface of the kitchen counter.

"Say Sae..can we go somewhere?", she asked, arms now crossed against the counter, supporting her weight.

"Like where?".

She didn't have any place in particular really. She just thought the fresh air would do her good. "I don't mind, maybe somewhere that'll help me remember?", additionally, a yearning stirred within her—a yearning to step beyond the confines of the familiar.

"After your unnecessary commentary about my culinary skills, I don't think so".

Y/n could sense the undertone and sass mixed with sarcasm as the words escaped his lips.

Her lips curled into a playful smile as she met Sae's gaze. "Oh, come on!", she retorted, her tone light with amusement. "Alright fine, I promise I won't critique your cooking again", Sae didn't believe the latter of her sentence for one bit. Still, the answer he concocted in his head remained unchanged:

"I'll think about it".

masterlist :)

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aurasplanet · 3 days

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CARE FOR YOU carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, reader gets a little hurt, fingering, oral (f!receiving), a bit cheesy

carl hated when you went outside of the walls, especially without him. when it came to himself he was so fearless, but when it came to people he cared about, when it came to you? the worry just wouldn’t leave his body. it couldn’t.

all you wanted to do was go grab a few comics from the pile he stashed out in the woods. “quick and simple,” the sweet smile you sent him with your words had him melting and agreeing. you wouldn’t go far, and he would stay by the walls to help you and keep lookout.

but the longer he stood, the slower time seemed to move, the more he wondered if getting caught going out at night is worth risking your life. maybe he’s thinking too negatively, but he can’t be too careful about you.

he’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears clanks against the walls. “love?” he whisper-calls out. carl’s never been one for pet names, settling for ‘love’ since it was short, sweet, and you’re his love. he still gets a little awkward when he uses it.

he hears your quiet mumble of ‘uh-huh’ and a few moments later you’re on top of the wall. you’re chest is rising and falling frantically trying to breathe. “c’mon…” he trails off, watching you get low enough for him to grab you.

he sets you down on the grass and your body stumbles forward. “what happened?” his hands go to inspect your body, hearing you wince when he touched certain areas. he saw some blood and his teeth clenched, scooping you up bridal style to carry you back to his house.

you laugh, but it’s cut off by a wince in pain. “you don’t have to carry me, i can still walk, you know?”

when carl gets to his front door he puts you down, but still guides you by your side. “it was quicker.” you could tell he was trying to match your playful attitude, but carl doesn’t play about you getting hurt.

he sets you down on his bed, going to his bathroom to fetch the medical supplies usually used for his bandage.

you sigh and place your hand over his frantic ones beside you. “carl, you need that stuff.”

he shakes his head and lifts your shirt, inspecting the injury you were bleeding from. “right now, you do. now answer me, what happened?”

you explain to him about how you were making your way to your spot when a handful of walkers decided to crash in. you fought them off alright, but managed to take a tumble with one, and get cut up by a few tree branches.

he shakes his head, leaning it down to rest on your thighs. you take his hat off to run your hands through his hair, tugging it a little so he looks up at you. “i’m okay,” you reassure him with a smile.

carl sighs and reaches for his supplies, “and you’re gonna stay that way, alright? even if i have to lock you up here.” he smiles, you love when he smiles.

carl looks focused as he places gauze over the wound, wrapping it just like he does with his eye. he looks at you with a sheepish smile, “that’s all i know how to do…” you giggle and brush his hair from his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek as a thank you. he hums and shuts his eye, leaning forward to peck your lips. “did you even get the comics?”

wincing as you reach back, you pull two bent up comics from the back pockets of your oversized jeans. he shakes his head and chuckles airily, taking them out of your hands and tossing them to the side. he leans forward and kisses you again, causing your back to hit the mattress.

you whimper in pain and his hands come to your sides, rubbing soothingly at your skin. “don’t move,” he whispers against your lips, kisses trailing down your neck. “let me take care of you.” he could tell you were shaken up, as best as you tried to hide it. he could feel how tense you are, he wanted to relieve you. he’ll do his best to make you feel better and forget all about everything.

instead of having you lift your sore arms up to take your shirt off, he opts for sliding your shirt up over your breasts. every time he sees you he’s in awe again. he keeps his face close to yours, studying you for any pained expressions. his hand slowly creeps under you to the clasp of your bra, fiddling with it with a short laugh before getting it undone.

his hands come up to cup your tits through your bra, sliding the material down. his eye flicks from your chest to your face and he presses another kiss to your lips before lowering himself to wrap his lips around your nipple.

you let out a hum of pleasure and carl feels your body beginning to relax beneath him. your hands thread through his hair again and he sighs, “your sounds are so pretty, love.” his voice is muffled, the lewdness contrasting his sweet words made your face heat up.

he also wasn’t the kind to dirty talk, or talk much at all during intimate times. he never learned any of that, you both were learning together. and he’d do anything for you.

his mouth separates from your skin, a small trail of spit connecting them. his lips trail wet kisses down your torso, his hands shakily messing with the zipper of your jeans. you laugh and sit up to help him, a pained groan escaping you.

“no.” carl eases your body back down onto the mattress, “i told you, i’ll take care of you.” his face is close to yours again, hand still making work of undoing your jeans.

you giggle at him, “looked like you needed help.”

he hums, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck. his hand reaches down into your panties, teasing you. “my pretty girl still intimates me a little, is that such a crime?” you whimper at his words, at how close he is to where you need him most.

“you said you’d take care of me,” his teeth nip at your skin in response, the stimulation causing your hips to rut upwards. “you’re teasing.” with that two of his fingers press against your clit and rub in circles, eliciting a moan from you.

your hips follow the movements of his hand until you’re stopped by his other one, “what did i say? is it not enough, love?” you don’t answer him, you can’t. “already that gone? i’ve barely touched you…”

he lowers himself back down, face level with your pantie-covered pussy. his fingers hook under the elastic, pulling them down carefully. he smirks as your breathing picks up and your grip on his hair tightens.

he presses a small kiss to your clit, looking into your eyes. his hands made their way to your thighs, holding them in place. his lips wrap around your clit and give a small suck, watching your face the entire time.

“i can’t get enough of how you sound,” the raspiness of his voice has you reeling, bringing you closer and closer to the edge so easily. “how you taste.” he eases two fingers into you, groaning at how wet you were, how easy it was for him to get you this way.

you whimper out his name, tugging his head up by his hair and forcing his lips on yours. his fingers pump in and out of you quicker, kissing you messily. you moan into his mouth and clench around his fingers, head falling back with your eyes screwed shut.

his eye stayed on you, movements slowing down but helping you ride out your orgasm. your hand goes down to his, enclosing on his wrist and stopping his movements with a whimper. you’re breathless and spent again, this time in the safety of your boyfriend’s arms.

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #twd angst #twd oneshot #twd fluff #twd imagine #twd smut #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes angst #carl grimes x fem!reader

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strawberrystepmom · 1 day

Text

pairing: Toshinori Yagi x F!Reader -> Mirio Togata x F!Reader

word count: 7.8k

contents: Canon divergence for final war arc and beyond, friends to lovers with history, reader has a defined quirk (magnetism) and is a support equipment safety consultant, reader is 29 and Mirio is 30, appearances from other heroes (Deku & Bakugou and they are married, in their 20's)

cw: major character death and discussions of aspects of caretaking for someone at the end of their life, discussions of loss and grief

notes: This idea could not have come to fruition without my most beloved @izvmimi and @bakvrue so thank you to them for always being the very best. I have really been having a Mirioaissance lately and as you all know I love Mr. Might so here goes. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3

“I’m dying.”

Mirio Togata nearly chokes mid-swallow, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to prevent droplets of tea from seeping out of his lips. It’s a rare Wednesday day off for Lemillion and sunlight pours into the expansive room used as an office at. He’s a guest in the home of one of the most prolific heroes of all time, as he often is, though today he was invited by the man himself instead of showing up to pop in and say hello.

All Might, Toshinori Yagi, is dying.

Technically he has been for years though hearing it from the man’s own mouth feels different than the vague conversations about ‘terminal’ and ‘incompatible organs’.

“No,” the younger man starts but Toshinori raises a hand to stop him, shaking his head with a chuckle.

It’s no secret he has been rapidly looking more and more frail as autumn faded into winter which is now melting into the bright green of spring.

“It’s true. No matter how many times you tell me ‘you can get better’ or ‘medical technology is improving’ it will not change the fact that my time has a finite number on it.”

There has been a finite amount of his life remaining for a very long time, he’s simply managed to dodge it for as long as possible. Running away from the truth is no longer an option, the years he has been given since the War and its finish already leaving the man feeling like a perpetual cheat. He was supposed to die then, and then after that, and then again and again and again…

There are no more ducks and dodges left in him.

“Midoriya knows and has accepted it. It’s time for you to do the same.”

The words would be harsh coming from anyone other than a beloved mentor turned friend though Yagi has always had the natural ability to soften blows when necessary. Mirio nods, blue eyes trained toward the ground and refusing to meet those of the man in the comfortable chair next to him. He dares to take a peek at the man who will forever be known as All Might, the thinness of his hands and arms and wrists alone a surprising sight. Time has run out. No medical science or quirk or act of God can reverse the inevitable. A transplant cannot save him, medicine will not save him, and he’s made the decision to be as comfortable as possible over the remaining weeks to months he has left.

Togata’s mind unconsciously drifts to you in all of this. You are the young woman who has devoted the latter half of her twenties to taking care of this iconic man, tending to his illnesses and the complications from them with a smile and a joke, a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his forehead. The younger of the pair has witnessed this kindness himself on more than one occasion and he remembers when you were simply a Support course student at UA high school a year younger than Mirio himself. You assisted with equipment in the war and it has followed you through your adulthood, your support item safety consulting business thriving and helping build a safer world.

The way you care about everyone is so admirable, it’s difficult not to view you as a hero in all of this. Mirio raises a brow and balls his hands together into a fist, letting it rest in his lap.

“How does she feel about, well, everything?”

It’s a daring question to ask given the older man is well aware of the younger man’s affection toward you no matter how discreet he thinks he is about it. It’s the perpetual elephant in the room. Toshinori sighs, shifting in his chair and positioning his hands in his lap. Mirio’s eyes dart from them and toward the older man’s sallow face, noting the hint of a smile at the mention of you.

“She was the first person to know. It’s the least I could give her for wasting her youth on a sorry old man like me.”

Togata offers a tight smile and tilts his head to the side. The self deprecation isn’t anything new, it has been like this the last several years, though it never sits well when the man he has attempted to pattern his own morals over says something so blasphemous about himself.

“That’s a pretty downer way to look at things, All Might.”

This gets a chuckle from the older man, the sound of his head shaking against the back of his chair causing the younger one to look up at him curiously.

“It’s a pretty downer thing to die but telling you it’s coming isn’t the only reason I asked you here today.”

The older man clears his throat, wiping his thumb against his bottom lip and looking away, joining his hand in his lap. How can he properly phrase what he’s asking his young friend to do without it seeming sordid and disrespectful? He’s leaving you his legacy when he goes. His home, his royalties that will keep you well taken care of for the rest of your life and, well, he’s planning on leaving Mirio Togata the one gift he deserves the most - you.

He simply lays the plot down, hands still folded in his lap.

“How long have you loved her, kid?”

Mirio feigns shock that his mentor, the one who came after the one he lost years ago, is onto him. He has always played off his affection for you as friendliness and lingering glances as simply curiosity and assumed he has been doing it well enough that nobody notices.

“It’s not like that.”

Toshinori laughs, a weak cough wracking his body and he raises his fist to his grinning mouth to cover it. Mirio leans forward in his seat, reaching for the man who waves him off and instead leans to grab the bottle of hand sanitizer on the desk next to him.

“You are a grown man, Togata. Own up to it. It’s not going to offend me.”

There was no expectation of a trip down memory lane set for the younger man prior to arriving for this visit yet his mind launches into years of fuzzy and undefined memories. Evenings he’d come to visit you in the Support course workshop when he was younger with fewer scars covering his arms and torso, the few times in your early twenties you sat thigh to thigh with him in dimly lit izakaya hanging out with your mutual group of friends and their respective partners who are also heroes. He remembers too much and too little at the same time, skin crawling.

Shifting in his seat, he unclasps his hands and claps them against his thighs.

“A long, long time.” He finally responds and Toshinori chuckles in response, leaning back in his own chair and sliding one of his hands out toward Mirio. “Since I was in high school.”

The truth doesn’t hide forever. It makes him feel childish that he was so easily caught by the older man, replaying years of interactions in his head. Did he smile a little too wide at you? Glance a little too long? Pine a little too openly?

There is no way for him to change anything that has happened before now and the usually easy going man tensely lifts his head, meeting Toshinori’s soft gaze. There is no anger even if these events crossed boundaries, something the man is infinitely grateful for, and he reaches across the desk to take his mentor’s offered hand.

“I know.” He weakly squeezes the younger man’s hand, his lack of strength more evident than ever. Mirio feels emotion welling up inside of him and blinks it back, taking a deep breath. “That’s why I am asking you to give her the life I never could, Togata. Take her traveling when you can. Remind her that she’s brilliant and will probably keep this country safer than any hero ever could. Just…be there for her. For me.”

The request carries more weight than the older man could ever possibly understand. It’s not merely a responsibility but a strange kind of bequeathing. No formal paperwork, no meetings with officials, just two men discussing a woman they both care about deeply and how to best assuage her in the sorrows to come.

It also brings another question to Mirio’s mind he has contemplated for many years - do you have lingering feelings for him too? A far younger version of you, magnetism quirk engaged and using it to make him laugh, certainly did. He assumed those feelings just vaporized over time and with responsibility, your heart belonged to another man before he could ever ask that it be his.

A noble man. A good man who you did not want to see live lonely, by himself in his ailing years. A man Togata spent his entire life trying to emulate.

There’s a flutter of hope through the sorrow of knowing the end is coming for his friend and the younger man is the one to squeeze the older mans’ this time, gentle firm pressure to ensure it doesn’t hurt.

“I know it’s a big request. I don’t blame you if it makes you uncomfortable or if you’d like to say no,” Toshinori adds quickly. “I simply know that she cares about you a lot and always has.” His voice cracks and he swallows his sadness, only grateful that his life has been so glorious the last few years thanks to your gentle touch and your silly stories and your tendency to ad-lib songs to make him smile. “She deserves to be happy.”

The younger man couldn’t agree more. He nods, emotion continuing to rise, breaking eye contact to gaze down at his lap to allow him a moment to compose himself. For his entire twenties, he regretted losing his chance with you despite his gratefulness for the care and love you gave Toshinori. Now, entering his thirties, he gets the opportunity to try again. To speak up when he should and to put the feelings he has harbored for more than a decade to good use.

“I will do everything I can to make sure she is, you have my word.”

Even if it means you want nothing to do with him and keep yourself away from everyone forever. Whatever makes you happy, Mirio Togata will make sure you have it.

“I only have weeks. Months if I’m lucky but I don’t think I’m all that lucky anymore.”

The words make Mirio look up from his lap, brows furrowed. He didn’t think there was so little time left but he is a man of action and nods.

“Then let’s make these next few weeks memorable. What do you need me to do?”

A chuckle from the older man as he finally drops the younger one’s hand gently, tucking it back into his lap to join the other.

“For now, just be around if you can make it work.”

That he can do and he does for three more weeks.

On a warm spring day, a little past the end of cherry blossom season, the world loses All Might.

‘The days I spent with you were the happiest of my life. Let me take care of you for the rest of yours. - Toshinori’

The note he left you, the one you were handed by some man in a suit you’d never met before in the days following his death, rests on your desk. It feels too soon to tuck away the increasingly wrinkled piece of paper and you’re far too grateful for the life he has put between your two palms to stop glancing at the note every few hours each day.

It doesn’t answer any of the questions you have about what becomes of your life now though.

Emotion wells up in you again, a lump in your throat you have to swallow down to continue working, the results from your audit of the Dynamite agency’s safety audit on the screen of the tablet in front of you. They’re generally highly rated, Bakugou’s fastidious tendencies seeping through even the smallest detail of safety and care of his employees, but you have to look away. You close the screen cover and slide the device aside, standing up from your spot at the kitchen table to walk into the living room.

The house feels like a mausoleum even if it’s now yours and yours only. Being alone for the first time in weeks leaves a strange taste in your mouth and you fold your arms over your chest, padding across the wooden floors to plop down on the overstuffed couch you picked out three years ago. Deku’s wife spent a week by your side, the first seven days after the tremendous loss ensuring you ate and slept, sleeping in your bed with you and letting you cry on her shoulder. The day she went home hurt almost as badly as the day you lost the man himself, the encroaching loneliness feeling claustrophobic.

Thankfully, the second week was dotted with various visitors, your former classmates and long time friends of Toshinori paying their respects posthumously by being good to you in his departure. Dynamite’s wife tended to you and forced you out of your house, inviting you over with the promise of visiting with her eager to see you children.

The third week was much of the same, even chatting with his old friend David and accepting condolences from other heroes former and current. Your refrigerator stayed full, your mailbox overstuffed with more cards than you could open wishing you well and thanking you for taking care of him.

The fourth fewer people came but you still stayed busy. The fifth, same. The sixth, seventh, and eighth all followed suit although the amount of visitors thinned. Ninth, tenth, eleventh your house became empty outside of your close friends and Mirio. Now you are twelve weeks past his death and facing down a lifetime of uncertainty in a house that feels too large for you but too small for your pain.

Your heart swells recalling the love you’ve been given but it shrivels when you look around, wondering when it will start to feel full of life again; when you will.

Standing, you lumber over to the wall adjacent to where you sit, admiring the artwork and memories on the wall. There are photos of a freckle-faced teenager who became a freckle-faced man with his wife and children alongside Toshinori. Photos of Mirio grinning and giving a thumbs up in a vintage American All Might t-shirt that was almost too small for him. Photos of you and Toshinori smiling side by side when he was still well enough to attend the occasional event, you in glittering floor length sequins and him in a custom suit built to accommodate his ever weakening body.

Sighing, you reach out and brush your thumb along the frame. The photo doesn’t move, anchored into the wall, and you know that all of the care you gave him wasn’t wasted for a moment. He truly made your life better and you believe you did the same for him, though your eyes flit back to the photo of Mirio for a moment.

You took the picture a few years back while cleaning out the spare bedroom used solely for merchandise and collectables Toshinori had been given over the years. You accosted the younger blonde for pulling a shirt that was clearly too small for him over his head but snapped the photo anyway, grinning behind your phone at his silly posing.

Mirio.

He has been here for you almost as much as your closest friends, popping by daily if able with food or stories or just…sunshine, which is exactly what he is and always has been for the time you’ve known him. Even when the two of you were back in high school he knew your favorite candy and delivered it to your desk daily while spending his evenings sticking paper clips to your arm or the side of your face while your quirk was engaged.

Reaching into your pocket, you grab out your phone and dial his number. He answers before the first ring can even finish its trill.

“Hey-o, what are you doing?”

You giggle at his greeting though he hears the strain in your voice that indicates you are feeling down. He tucks his phone between his shoulder and ear, pulling his sweatpants on in the changing room of the agency, ready to head home.

“Nothing. I tried to work a little bit today and couldn’t focus. I’m sure Bakugou will bitch at me but his audit will simply have to wait another week.”

The man on the other end of the phone chuckles, rising to his full impressive stature and heading toward the exit.

“Do you need a distraction? I could come over.”

The offer is appreciated but you wrestle with how to respond to it. What you assumed were long forgotten feelings for Mirio surface every time you are around him and in your grief and confusion, you struggle to separate them from reality and what’s a balm to make you feel temporarily better. Would seeing him now, only three months removed from losing Toshinori, be appropriate? Is it what’s best?

“You don’t have to, I’m sure it was a long day.”

Togata scoffs, using his coded keycard to exit the building. The sun is still somewhat up, a hot summer evening encroaching and he does not want to go home when he could be spending time with you. The day exhausted him a bit, lots of petty crime picks up during the summertime, but he’s never too tired for you.

“Actually, this was the easiest shift I’ve had in a long time.” He’s lying and you can tell by the lilt in his voice, a particular tone he takes when he’s pretending everything is fine you’ve heard before but you are in no condition to press the issue. “I can pick you up in about thirty minutes and we can just drive if you want?”

You shake your head although he can’t see it. Part of you wants to say no, to rebuff your own feelings once and for all, but you’re weak and hurting and needy.

“We don’t have to go anywhere, we can just stay here if you want to come.”

And come he does, in that promised thirty minutes. He doesn’t bother to knock on the door anymore, punching in the code and announcing himself with a boisterous smile, then plopping down on the couch next to you.

It feels a lot more like coming home than it reasonably should but every time he feels guilty for envisioning his place in his life, next to you, he remembers the promise he made. He will make you happy no matter what that looks like.

Time passes so quickly when he’s around and it’s welcome to have something besides your own loneliness to listen to while he explains one of his heroic saves of the day, enthusiastically explaining phasing through a tree to capture a runaway attempted bank robber.

“So I caught the guy and somehow managed to save all the money too, which is crazy when you think about it. I thought the wind would carry half of it off but not today.”

You smile at him fondly, eyes crinkling at the corners, but he can tell something else is on your mind. Repositioning himself on the couch, he turns toward you and props his head up with his fist.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He has always been able to tell when something is bothering you and your brain screams that you should say no. You should turn down all of Mirio’s kindness and lock yourself inside of this home with your grief forever, a timeless pseudo-widow trapped in a prison of her own making.

But the warmth of his gaze encourages you so much, words bubble out of you before you can stop them, your hands instantly flying to your face to be pressed against your cheeks.

“Despite what people have said, I loved him.”

Mirio’s face falls into a concerned frown when he notices your eyes welling up, your glance firmly trained on his face. The papers were pretty harsh to you when the news of his death and your subsequent appointing the heir to his agency, legacy, and image were announced. Opportunistic seemed to be the media’s favorite term, honing in on the age and vitality difference between the two of you rather than the fact a fairly selfless young woman took care of him not knowing any of this was in her future.

You never took care of him in hopes of getting anything, only out of compassion for a man who has made the lives of others so much brighter. Who heals the healer? You took it upon yourself to be the one and you do not regret a moment of it, sitting cross legged at twenty-nine with a sense of pride despite it all.

“Maybe not in a conventional way. I never had,” your face falls a little, as though you’re fearful of reaction toward what you’re about to say. “You know…sex or anything with him. We kissed a few times, we held hands on occasion but my days and nights revolved around him for five years.”

Your voice breaks and immediately you push your thumbs against your eyes to keep yourself from crying where someone else can see it although the sniffling gives you away, sharp little inhalations through your nose.

“What do I do now?”

The question appears to be rhetorical though he feels compelled to answer, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulders and gently pulling you against his side. The lack of personal space between the two of you is honestly nothing new, certainly more so since Toshinori’s departure, and you settle into the warmth of him. It’s a comfort you need desperately, his fingers drumming a little beat of four into your shoulder.

“Whatever you want.”

You remove your thumbs from over your eyes, sensitive and red rimmed as they are, glancing at the man next to you carefully. The brightness of your living room causes you to squint and he reaches his free hand to wipe tears from your bottom lashes, his crooked index finger pressing delicately against your skin.

“I know that sounds callous and it probably is the wrong thing to say but your life isn’t over just because he isn’t here to watch you live it.” Now it’s Mirio’s voice that cracks and he clears his throat, hand flexing against where it rests on your upper arm. “He left you the tools to live however you want. You have a successful business, you are young and beautiful and…”

He trails off and you blink at him silently. The true feelings he has tried so desperately to hide for the years he has known you are seeping out of him. How much longer can he possibly hold it in before the pressure starts to cause cracks? Before it spills out of him wildly, an ode to you from a boy who has loved you since seventeen?

You stop him from spiraling, opening your mouth to speak while tears escape over his finger and roll down your face.

“I think I’m scared, Mirio.”

This is the first time you’ve admitted it, even to yourself. An undefined future is a terrifying prospect and while Toshinori was here, you were guaranteed to always have him. Scheduled pills and injections, showers and quality of life activities. Even your work is unstructured outside of your scheduled annual audits, only being called upon when you are needed.

He holds you against him, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead. This could be just what you need and although he worries about pushing boundaries, you prove his worries wrong by snuggling further into his side. Your tears drip onto the cotton of his t-shirt and he uses his second hand to begin wiping them away, shushing you gently and affectionately.

“It’s okay to be afraid, he wouldn’t judge you for that, but don’t let it make you waste the opportunity to live exactly how you want.” His words are comforting and you nod against his chest, sniffling. “There is no right or wrong way to handle this.”

This is the first time anyone has told you that it’s okay to not know what to do right now. Not that you’ve ever asked, too fearful of making missteps to try and prevent them at all. You need reassurance and although you’ve been given it, it’s hard not to seek it from a man you’ve found so much comfort in over the past few months. He has been vulnerable with you, it seems only right to do the same for him in return.

Sighing, you unbury your face from his chest. “Do you think I’m doing okay?”

There is a version of you, more than a decade younger than you are now, that lives in Mirio’s mind and he sees her in the way you look up at him with uncertain eyes. It strikes him how long the two of you have known each other; how long he has been dancing around his feelings for you. He nods, removing his arm from your shoulder to cup your cheeks in his palms.

The urge to kiss away those tears is strong but he talks himself down, tilting your head until your gazes fully meet. All of the love he has kept to himself for a decade further threatens to spill out. He stops himself, self restraint a requirement of being a hero after all, and his thumbs gently stroke the rose petal soft skin beneath them.

“You’re doing better with all of this than anyone else ever could.”

There are no words he has ever meant more than these besides the ones he decides to keep to himself, saving the oft considered ‘I love you’ for another day.

“Thank you. For everything. I kind of worry I’m asking too much from you,” you rush to apologize and he keeps his grip on your face gentle but firm.

“You can ask me for anything you need.”

He means it more than he meant his promise to the last man that loved you.

“Alright, I think we’ve had as much fun as we are going to have. Babysitters get paid hourly, you know.”

Katsuki wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her close to him beneath the same lights the six of you used to drink under a long time ago while saying his goodbye. He has never been much of a drinker and hasn’t indulged even a bit tonight but his wife’s relaxed expression gives away how many beers she’s had and you giggle at her, squeezing her hand as she walks by on their way out.

“Be careful you two,” you call after them, Mirio turning to look at you while you glance over your shoulder. Only Midoriya and his wife remain seated across from you two, snuggled in the corner of their side of the booth. Deku’s ever lovely better half raises a brow and nudges her husband in the ribs gently, subtly motioning toward where the pair of you sit.

This is the first night you’ve really enjoyed yourself in the six months since you’ve lost Toshinori. It has been a great walk down a memory lane you haven’t bothered to explore in a long time.

“Gosh, he’s so grumpy,” you laugh to yourself and Mirio giggles beside you, looking as smitten as he always does. Izuku notices it and looks down at his wife, the two of them communicating wordlessly by the time you glance at them. “I’m guessing you two are next to head home?” You tease, your own brain slightly hazy from the few beers you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in.

A little voice in the back of your head made you fear showing your face in public, especially after the scrutiny that came so few months ago, but nobody has taken a second glance at your group of friends despite all of the men in the group landing in the top five of the Hero standings. It appears whatever backlash was sparked has faded quickly. You make a note to thank the classmates you had that now work in the media who were likely behind it, hoping you remember it later.

You haven’t just had a good time tonight, you’ve had a great one. Smiling gratefully, you look over at your two remaining friends.

“Like Kacchan said, babysitters are paid hourly,” Deku raises his brows and shrugs. His wife kisses his cheek, beginning to slide out of the booth while he holds onto her hand and follows.

Mirio nods at Izuku and smiles at his wife, having known the two of them since high school as well, the same story with the now gone Bakugou’s.

“Get that beautiful wife of yours home safe, Deku.” He jokes with a chuckle and his friend laughs in response, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder and then yours.

It’s hard for him to believe how much has changed over these years but how much has remained the same simultaneously. His close friends married their high school sweethearts and settled into their family life, kids and recitals and dinner parties. A piece of him has wondered for years if that could have been the two of you as well if he’d left less up to chance as a young man.

Does it do any good to wonder? Mirio doesn’t know yet he does often, tonight especially.

“You ready to go?”

A little lost in your own world, you look up at him with your eyebrows raised and nod slowly. He looks so handsome, even in this poorly lit room, and heat rises in your face straight to the tips of your ears. It has been a long time since you’ve felt that particular heat, the kind that makes your stomach flip flop.

Would it be wrong of you to ask him if he wants to hang out with you for a little while longer? You don’t have ill intentions in wanting to spend time with him, at least that’s what you tell yourself, and the few beers have made you feel brave.

“Do you wanna hang out with me for a little while? We can just go back to the house or find somewhere else or…” you trail off slightly, a little self conscious. Do you seem desperate? Lonely? Annoying? “If you don’t want to though, I understand.”

Finishing your question hurriedly, you glance up at Mirio who looks at you with that same earnest stare he has given you for years. There are depths in those pretty blue eyes, humor and pain that he has experienced and joy and so much. There is simply so much more to this man than most people know and unexpectedly, it isn’t just your face that feels too hot, it’s the entire room.

“Of course I do. Let me just take you home and we can hang out there, that way I’m not keeping a lady out too late.”

He knows he’s taking a risk by being outright flirtatious with you after months of trying to keep it subtle. He is but a man and knows that look, though. That ‘through the lashes, lips slightly parted, beautiful woman who wants to spend time with you’ look. He’d be a fool to say no, even if you two do nothing but talk for hours. There’s nothing else he’d rather do with the remnants of his night anyway.

“After you,” he offers with a bright grin. The few beers he has had make his cheeks pink and you want to reach out and touch them but refrain, uncertain of how to do all of this correctly. You’ve never really dated, outside of a few hookups in your early twenties, so this is truly foreign territory. It’s a lot to wrestle with the guilt of moving on, something you have reluctantly admitted to yourself it seems you’re doing, and the weight of grief on your shoulders at all times.

When does it ever get better or at the very least, when does it become less of a struggle?

Saving those questions for another, less fun evening you slide out of the booth and he follows after, placing his hand against your back to walk you out of the bar. It feels natural, his fingers splayed across your spine and heat once again blooms. It’s embarrassing to feel so excited by sheer touch.

Your relationship with Toshinori was never sexual. Always a companion more so than a lover despite the deep love that bloomed between the two of you, you spent a lot of nights in a different bed exploring your own body while he slept in his own room down the hall. This was always the arrangement, comfortable for both of you. He was physically incapable of having sex and you never wanted to make him feel like less because of it, still complimenting his appearance and doing your best to make him feel attractive. Which he was, even until the end that smile and those jovial blue eyes had the ability to light up a room.

It’s just different with Mirio. This isn’t the first time that heat has bloomed beneath your belly button, begging you to follow it all the way down a rabbit hole you aren’t quite sure you are ready for and the alcohol is making it worse tonight. If he can tell, he’s being a gentleman about it, something to be grateful about.

The two of you stand in the now cool autumn night air, the city still noisy outside. The breeze chills your warm cheeks and you look up at him to find him glancing down at you, wearing an expression that tells him some of the same things on your mind are on his.

“What are you thinking about?”

The question is laced with humor, as most of what the man says tends to be, and you feel caught with your pants down. Playing it off with a giggle, you decide to push back; to make him feel like he’s the one being surveyed instead.

“Why didn’t you kiss me when we were in high school?”

The topic of first kisses came up tonight, your friends reminiscing about how they’ve shared their first everything together throughout the years, and you recall yours being lackluster. Some guy you went to college with named Dai who slobbered all over your face your first year.

Certainly not who you would’ve preferred sharing a kiss with.

Your question has caught Mirio off guard and he rubs his neck, scrunching his nose and refusing to make eye contact with you. The truth is that he was simply too afraid to make a move and by the time he was able to, it felt improper given the conflict and all that happened.

It was hardly a time for making a move on the girl you had a crush on and the two of you just went your separate ways after that. He became a Pro Hero, working his way up into the top 15 within his first year and then the top 10 the next and only climbing from there, you went to college to pursue your public safety certification. By the time you were able to reconnect in your early twenties, your lives had diverged so wildly it no longer felt appropriate to, well, go after you.

“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I think I was afraid you didn’t like me back.” Snorting, you attempt to stifle your laughter. He glances down at you, tilting his head, feigning offense.

“Really? I’m being honest with you and you’re going to laugh at me?”

Wrapping your arm around his bicep, you attempt damage control by resting your head against him. A breathy sigh leaves you and you glance upward to catch him staring down at you once again.

“I had such a crush on you that even Hatsume gave me shit about it.” You speak through your nose, attempting the now most sought after equipment outfitter in all of Japan's higher voice and inflection. “Where’s your little boyfriend, magnet girl?”

The two of you devolve into a fit of childish giggles, not unlike the ones you shared back then, and without warning he leans in close to you. You still cling to his bicep but he’s bent at the waist, lips inches from yours, one of his hands reaching to rest against the side of your neck.

“Can I make up for it now?”

Ocean eyes search yours, pleading for an answer. All of that heat courses through your body at once and without putting too much thought into any real consequence, you nod. Just a kiss won’t hurt either of you, for old time’s sake regardless of what may or may not be blooming here. Mirio closes the distance between the two of you and gently brushes his lips against yours, gentlemanly and chivalrous even in the throes his tremendous need to touch and feel and be close to you, and you whimper when he pulls away sooner than you liked.

“Was that okay?”

Giggling, you lean in and kiss him again to give him his reply. It was more than okay, it was everything you’ve ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, a sharp comparison to the well kept and bulky rest of him that you have had to stop yourself from eyeing hungrily on more than one occasion. His mouth tastes like salt and beer and love.

Pure love lives on his tongue that is working its way into your mouth while he hurriedly backs you two into a narrow alleyway between the bar you just left and the building next to it. His knee rests between your barely parted legs and your hands reach for anything they can grab, forearms and biceps and his shoulders and chest. You touch recklessly, one hand sliding up the side of his neck to cup his jaw and the other rubbing circles just beneath the hem of his shirt, above his belt buckle.

“Hey,” he stops you unexpectedly to catch his breath, chest heaving while he glances down at you. “I want to keep this going but I have to tell you first that I love you.”

There it is. The thing he has been keeping to himself for twelve long, torturous years. Mirio loves you so fiercely he wonders how he’s managed to even breathe the last 12 years without you by his side, your laughter and light filling his days and nights no matter how they go.

How could he ever live without you again? He isn’t sure that he could.

Blinking up at him, you slide your hand further up his face and tousle his blonde hair between your fingers.

“I don’t care if it’s too soon for you to say it back or if you ever will but I love you. I have for such a long time it hurts to keep it to myself any longer.”

The smile on your face turns into a full blown grin, fingers still snaked in his hair. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe lust is winning the battle between your wits and your heart or maybe this is a chance to say something you’ve felt for longer than you realized.

“I love you too, Mirio.”

It doesn’t make your love for Toshinori any less real to admit you love the man who has been by your side for virtually 24 hours a day for the last six months and long before that too.

He leans back in and kisses you again, silencing any thoughts other than the two of you and it leaves you breathless, gently grinding against his jean clad thigh and sucking on his tongue. Another pause and he pulls away, cupping your face.

“Take me home with you.”

It isn’t a plea of desperation but one of pure unadulterated need. He needs you, any way you’ll let him have you, tonight.

Nodding, you close the distance and press your lips against his.

“Let’s go.”

In all the time that has passed since you lost Toshinori, your home feels a little brighter when you arise in it each day.

It feels like somewhere you can build your own life now instead of living trapped inside the memory of his. You were concerned that changing anything about this place would rob you of the comfort of having once loved the man who left it to your care but you know he wouldn’t want you to stand in one place for long. All those months ago, Mirio was right when he told you that Toshinori would want you to make the best of what you’ve been given.

Move forward, he’d assure you if he were still here. Be yourself and find happiness.

Despite all the ways you’re still healing, you have.

You think about him every day. You will forever, regardless of the nature of your relationship and how other people view it. Some days the memory of him cuts through you like a knife, especially the last year of your life with him spent doing a lot more caretaking than you’d done the prior four, and other days it’s a gentle breeze. A whisper and reminder that he’s watching you, he loves you, he’s proud of you.

You’ve done the All Might legacy well, donating a large chunk of his fortune back to the communities he so committedly served. Scholarships for students who want to go to hero academies but may not have the pedigree or wealth to let them in, rebuilding the last remnants of an over decade old war that still scar areas of Musutafu tourists don’t visit.

The dreams you have yet to fulfill with what you’ve been provided make your future seem more full than ever. Hospitals bearing his name, education about the balance of hero life and personal life, safety equipment becoming better than ever. Your ambitions are big and you will make them all come true, a vow you made to him on the day he died even if he wasn’t cognizant enough to understand what you were saying.

This is all for him, dearly departed, a man you cared so deeply about you would’ve taken care of him for ten more years if you had to. You’re grateful it didn’t come to that if only for his sake, the suffering his ailing body was facing more than you like to think about even today, but all things considered it was a good life.

Even the papers have commended the woman they once referred to as an amoral opportunist.

Maybe you aren’t so bad after all.

And today when your feet hit the ground, the sun rises and fills the room with light through the gauzy curtains you put up a few months back. The cat you recently adopted twines himself around your legs and looks up at you expectantly, breakfast already a few minutes late. You couldn’t go long without having something new to take care of, the cat was once a beat up little thing brought to you by Lemillion himself one evening after a shift that has grown into a demanding beast.

“Saving little lost cats is a bit cliche, isn’t it?” You joked when he unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and produced the fuzzy, green eyed lump that mewed at you the moment he saw you. Mirio grinned and half shrugged. “Yeah but I’m good at it, right?”

Good he is, you think looking over at his still sleeping form in your bed.

For some, it may be too soon to cautiously lend your heart to another man. You love Toshinori and always will, the impact he left on your life is profound in ways you’ll discover for years to come, but a part of you has always loved Mirio even if circumstances prevented the pair of you from being together. He was once a silly teenager who was too afraid to ask you to be his girlfriend when he graduated high school, satisfied to leave things up to fate, and now he is a grown man who has been by your side through the most painful loss of your life so far, holding you together on the days when you were worried you would crumble.

Both of you are grateful that fate decided well although she took her time and brought a lot of pain on her way.

Instead of getting out of bed, you lean down and pick up your now purring cat and slide back into bed beside him, his hands instinctively reaching behind him for your thighs to pull you closer.

“I didn’t think you were awake,” you whisper and he chuckles, scarred hand running up the expanse of your thigh while your cat climbs onto his shoulder and licks his face. There’s no use in trying to carefully swat the creature away so he lets him settle onto the pillow above his head.

“I always notice when you get up and I have to fight the urge to follow you.”

Giggling, you wrap yourself around his back and rest your cheek between his bare shoulder blades.

“Why’s that?”

He finally turns to face you, blue eyes glancing down at the thing he has wanted for years. Your unmade, half awake face. The domesticity of your cat purring above both of your heads. The promise of packing to take a week off from heroics to go and enjoy a far off destination neither of you have been together.

“In case I ever lose you again,” he admits vulnerably and you smile up at him, hand reaching to cup his cheek.

The half awake mumblings have more truth to them then you could possibly imagine, fear that something else will hurt you or pull you away from him. Fear that he’s going to waste his time again, precious days he has always wanted to spend with you meaning nothing because he’s too cowardly to fight for what he wants. Maybe a younger version of Mirio Togata would have let this happen but not this one, older and wiser that he is.

The ring he plans on proposing to you with this week is nestled in his suitcase, buried beneath too many pairs of socks and probably too few pairs of boxers. He won’t even mind a long engagement, if you need one, as long as he knows forever with you is what waits on the other side.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I think we’re stuck together for life after all we’ve been through.”

As he promised his mentor a few months over a year ago, he will ensure that you are.

#all might x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #mirio togata x reader #lemillion x reader #kendall writes #cw death

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iovebarca · 2 days

Text

A Shoulder to Lean On - Pau Cubarsi

Authors note: I needed to write something (tbh for myself) after this clasico cause wth.

WC: 700+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, angsty but not really angst, fluff.

summary: Pau seeks solace from their partner after feeling responsible for a el clasico loss. Their partner reassures them, emphasizing their unwavering support.

As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match, a heavy silence descended upon the stadium. Pau's shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the ground, as a wave of guilt washed over him. The opposing team had secured victory through a penalty awarded after his challenge in the box. The weight of responsibility bore down on him, each step heavier than the last as he trudged off the field.

You watched from the stands, your heart aching for Pau. The look of anguish etched on his face was unmistakable, and you knew he blamed himself for the loss. Determined to offer him solace, you waited patiently for him to emerge from the locker room.

When he finally emerged, his expression was one of defeat. Without a word, you approached him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He tensed at first, his guilt still palpable, but gradually, he leaned into your embrace, seeking comfort in your arms.

The journey home was filled with heavy silence, each passing mile echoing the weight of Pau's burdened conscience. As you pulled into the driveway, you turned to him, your voice gentle yet firm. "Pau, listen to me," you began, your eyes locking with his. "You did your best out there, and that's all anyone can ask for."

His gaze softened, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. "But I caused the penalty," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

You reached out, gently wiping away his tears. "And you've owned up to it," you replied, your voice steady. "That takes courage, Pau. But remember, mistakes happen. It's how we respond to them that defines us."

After arriving home, you guided Pau to the comfort of your shared bed, the weight of the day's events still heavy on his shoulders. With a soft sigh, he sank into the familiar embrace of the mattress, his expression weary but grateful for the sanctuary of home.

Without a word, you slipped in beside him, the warmth of your presence a reassuring constant in the darkness. His body tensed at first, still consumed by the echoes of defeat, but gradually, he melted into your embrace, seeking solace in the comfort of your touch.

"Hey," you whispered softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. "I know today was tough, but you don't have to carry this burden alone. We're in this together, remember?"

Pau's breath hitched, and he turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "I just... I can't shake the feeling that I let everyone down," he admitted, his voice laced with self-doubt.

You squeezed his hand gently, offering a reassuring smile. "Mi amor, listen to me," you began, your voice filled with conviction. "You're an incredible athlete, and one penalty doesn't define your worth. You've brought so much to the team, and they know that. We all do."

Feeling the tension begin to melt away from his body, Pau nodded, his features softening with relief. "Gracias, mi alma," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a tender smile, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, savoring the moment of closeness between you. "De nada, mi amor," you replied, your voice a gentle melody in the stillness of the room. "Now, let's focus on getting some rest. Tomorrow is a new day, filled with possibilities."

As the night draped its cozy blanket over your shared space, you and Pau found yourselves nestled in the sanctuary of your bed, a haven from the world outside. The day's trials seemed to melt away as you snuggled closer, finding solace in the warmth of each other's embrace.

With a contented sigh, Pau buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin with each gentle exhale. You couldn't help but giggle at the sensation, the sound filling the room with an infectious joy that banished any lingering shadows.

In the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, you traced lazy circles on Pau's back, the touch light and soothing against his skin. He let out a contented hum in response, his body relaxing against yours as if melting into a puddle of pure bliss.

As the night stretched on, conversations gave way to whispered confessions of love and affection. You peppered Pau's face with gentle kisses, each one a testament to the depth of your adoration.

In the quiet intimacy of your shared bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets cocooning you in warmth, you felt as if the rest of the world had faded into insignificance. All that mattered was the love you shared, a bond as tender and unbreakable as the night itself.

#pau cubarsi #pau cubarsi fluff #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsi oneshot #fc barcelona #barca

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tgmsunmontue · 1 day

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More than movie magic... 17/?

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN

Chapter 16 is pretty much the only explicit chapter (so far), so you can skip it if you like, but it's not explicit by my standards, and it's very soft/tender.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

There’s an annoying buzz and he knows it’s not his alarm, because he very carefully ensured that all four of them were turned off last night before going to the barn and meeting Bradley. It’s not stopping and he wonders if maybe Bradley has an alarm set, but Bradley’s glaring at the ground, specifically the pair of pants holding the phone that’s vibrating and he groans. They’re his pants, so it’s likely his phone ringing.

“I just want to ignore it,” Jake mutters, letting his head thump back onto the pillow.

“At least get it and turn it off. It’s not even seven,” Bradley says, pushing him slightly, but still kissing his shoulder and it’s clearly a promise for something if he hurries back to bed and he rolls out, reaches for his hastily discarded jeans and pulls out his phone. The front screen is lit up with the image of Karina and if she’s calling this early it’s potentially not a good thing.

Fuck.

“Sorry, it’s my PR manager. I better take this.”

“You want me to go?”

“No. No, not at all,” Jake says, giving him a quick kiss before sitting on the edge of the bed and Bradley rests his hand on his thigh, fingers running through the fine sprinkling of hair, and it wavers between ticklish and turning him on and he has to ignore it either way, thumbs over to answer the call.

“Hello? Karina?”

“Yeah. Hi. Morning Jake, sorry for the early call, but I left it as late as I could. Would have called earlier, but well, was trying to figure out how far the photos had spread.”

“Photos?” Jake asks, because there aren’t any photos he can think of that would make Karina need to call him so early, and she’s in California, it’s even earlier there.

“Yes Jake. Photos. You know, you’re meant to be one of my easy clients.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Photos got leaked of you dancing and kissing a guy. Now –”

“Not just a guy. My boyfriend,” Jake says, turning to Bradley to ask the silent question with his eyebrows. The smile he gets back is all the answer he needs. “It’s fine.”

“Oh. You couldn’t have given me a heads up?”

“It’s like… two days old? Three I guess?” Jake asks, rubbing his eyes before dropping his hand to cover Bradley’s one, although he turns it and links their fingers together. The reassuring touch makes the tension melt out of him before it even has time to build, Bradley shifts and wraps his arms around him, legs also stretching to be either side of him and he lets himself lean back into his solid warmth.

“Oh great. Then I’ll go for the whole invasion of privacy thing –”

“No. No… you don’t need to do that either. My entire family were there. It was probably one of them that took photos and posted it to their Insta account or something. Just. Confirm I’m in a new relationship with someone and I’d like people to respect our privacy going forward.”

“Okay. I can do that. Do I get a name?”

“I don’t want his name coming out until he says it’s okay.”

“Of course.”

“It’s Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Oh.”

He’s not sure how to interpret that single word, but then she’s telling him she’ll handle it and hanging up on him and okay, so today is going to be a shitshow for her, but he’s far away from it and can probably ignore everything for a few days. He twists his head to try and meet Bradley’s eye.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t want you to get caught up in all this.”

“Were you planning on me being a secret?”

Jake frowns.

“You think I dance with people like I danced with you in the hope that it’ll stay a secret?”

“You think I let famous people dance with me like that with the expectation that it will be a secret?”

“Yeah. Okay. Point taken. But there’s a difference between wanting to protect you from media scrutiny and keeping it a secret. You’ve met my parents. Everyone here probably thinks we’re sleeping together…”

“We are sleeping together,” Bradley states.

“They might think it’s only sex.”

“Well, then they’d be wrong. Jake… they’re going to dig shit up on me. I was a child actor, my parents both died when I was young. However I was raised by two people who guarded my privacy like hawks…”

“Two people?” Jakes asks, doing a double take.

“Yeah. Pete and his partner…”

“Pete Mitchell has a partner?”

“Yep.”

“That private huh?”

“Yep. You’ll meet them soon enough…” Jake isn’t an idiot, knows Bradley is being deliberately vague with the pronouns, although they could just prefer those pronouns of course.

“Jake. I knew what I was signing up for. Media circus and all. If it bothered me that much I would have said something, or simply stayed away from you. But I’m right here. And I’ve got no plans on going anywhere.”

Something uncurls inside him, because knowing that upfront is a relief, although he knows Bradley could change his mind, or simply get over it, being the center of said media circus.

“Also, while we’re having this conversation, they’ll dig up my net worth and all the people saying I’m a gold digger will have to shut up.”

Jake twists further around to stare at him, because that’s surprising. Bradley just grins, presses a kiss to his shoulder and Jake keeps twisting, pushing back until Bradley is lying on the bed and he straddles him, places his hands on his shoulders and Bradley just looks up at him, smug and arrogant like he knows what he just said is going to annoy Jake and he’s done it on purpose.

“You’re kind of an asshole.”

“I grew up in Hollywood, when you think about that, then it’s a miracle I’m as normal as I am.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. What is your net worth?”

“I don’t know. Probably more than yours.”

“Really now? You don’t know?”

“Meh. I don’t care. But I’ve been around a lot longer than you, and I’ve had people managing my money very carefully for longer than you’ve been in the business.”

“But you work…” Jake says.

“So do you. I work because I love my job. Not because I have to. It’s why I can afford to be picky about the jobs we take.”

“You took this one.”

“Well. Yeah.”

They just stare at each other for a few beats and Bradley shrugs and Jake lets out a pleased laugh and sprawls over him, kissing him and feeling like everything will be okay.

“I’m not going to be reading the press okay? Let alone believing any of it or letting it bother me. If I have any issues with anything I’ll raise them directly with you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

… … …

He has to leave Jake, there are no spare clothes and his shirt is definitely not fit for wearing, so he’s going to have to walk back to the bunkhouse shirtless, which is definitely not ideal but he refuses to be embarrassed. Of course, when Rueben lets out an ear-splitting wolf whistle, drawing attention he has no choice but to flip him the finger, but Jake has people. Well. His mom. She’s bringing him a change of clothes, and Bradley might like Aunty Kaye but he is not hanging around naked in bed. He’s also not accepting the offer for her to bring him clothes either, no matter how kindly the offer was made. Especially with how Jake’s apparently sensitive all over and it looks like Bradley left no stone unturned last night. Or this morning.

It’s still early, and while he’d have very much liked to spend the day in bed with Jake, it’s still a workday, the filming schedule tight and he’s meant to be on set in thirty minutes to oversee Rueben, Natasha and Jake carry out some corralling. He showers quickly, scrubbing himself clean and steps out to his phone ringing, toweling himself dry with one hand as he accepts the call.

“Hey Mav.”

“Bradley. Hi. You okay?”

“Yeah. Of course,” he says, pulling his underwear on with one hand, swapping over hands holding the phone so he can wiggle a little.

“Uh. Really?”

“Yeah. Really. Why?”

“Oh. Just. There are some photos circulating. Have you seen them?”

“Oh. You’re ringing about those. It’s fine. I don’t need to see the photos. I was there. It’s fine. Nothing we’re hiding.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh indeed,” Bradley says, and he knows Mav can probably hear his smile.

“He… he doesn’t drive you absolutely mad?”

Bradley laughs, because Jake doesn’t drive him mad at all, drives him to distraction maybe, but not mad. He puts the phone on speaker and sets it down, continuing to get dressed.

“Nope. Well, not in the way you’re thinking. He’s… God Pete. He’s sweet and caring and such a momma’s boy. His mom is his best friend she gives him absolute hell and he lets her.”

“Oh. Bradley. You are gone gone…”

“Yeah. I am gone gone,” Bradley agrees, because there is no point in denying it, and he’s pretty sure Jake already knows, and if he takes away Pete’s ammunition now he has less material to wind Bradley up with.

“Huh. Okay then. I’ll tell Ice to cancel the job.”

Bradley rolls his eyes.

“Don’t say shit like that. He’s not in the mob. Tell him to reign in whatever crazy plan you’re concocting. I’m fine.”

“Uh… well…”

“Mav? What crazy plan are you concocting?” Bradley asks, letting out a sigh.

“Nothing. Really. Just. We thought we’d come out for a visit.”

“No! I’m working. You don’t need to come and visit. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Well. How do you know it’s not a one-night stand?”

“Because we communicate Mav. Like adults. I know it’s a foreign concept for you.”

“Hey!”

“Also, pretty sure Jake doesn’t make his one-night stands have dinner with his parents the day before. And I met so many of his family last night I lost track…”

“But I haven’t met him!”

“Maverick! Pete. You worked with him for months!”

“I mean I haven’t met him as your… boyfriend.”

“You’re on a plane aren’t you,” Bradley states, realizing the truth of it as he says it and okay, at least Jake might feel like Bradley’s getting the better side of the bargain once he realizes how unhinged Mav can be when it comes to him. “Tell me you’re alone.”

“Well, there’s the pilot,” Mav says, totally deflecting and Bradley knows.

“Mav.”

“Well, you know how protective he gets!”

Fuckity fuck fuck Bradley thinks internally, because it’s one thing to have Pete Mitchell as a father figure, it’s totally another to have Tom Kazansky. And he’s already alluded to Jake that Pete has a partner, although he has no idea what phase of their relationship they might currently be in, with it waxing and waning as sure as the moon, but always there even when they weren’t together. And they’re both enroute here. Because of fucking course they are, although he knows Tom is only really coming to keep Maverick inline.

#Hangster #Sereshaw #more than movie magic #Top Gun Maverick

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guilty-pleasures21 · 3 days

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Maybe this will just be my trash one.

2. Um, getting closer?

Part 1 - the divorce

Warnings: Brief mentions of cheating and rape.

----------------------------------------------------------

She was sat at the kitchen island, typing away on the new laptop Miguel had gotten her when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

“Querida,” he began softly, bending over to rest his head on her shoulder. “¿Qué tal, cariño? (What's up, sweetheart?)”

She startled at his sudden appearance, then curled into herself as the woodsy, spicy scent of him took over all her thoughts. “Oh! Uh … I’m just … I’m researching protocols.”

Mierda, she was cute when she was flustered. He raised his head to nip at her earlobe, chuckling when she flinched in response, then he began trailing his lips down the side of her neck. “Mmm, querida.”

A shiver ran down her spine at the feeling of his low voice rumbling against her neck. The only complaint she could think to have was the way he kept touching her: tender, appreciative, driving her mad with every brush and stroke. “Did you … want something, Miguel?”

“Just you.” He grinned and cuddled her against him, delighting in the way she squirmed in his arms as she tried to control her body’s natural response to him.

“Miguel …” she whined, hunching over to try to minimise contact with him. Miguel sighed and moved his hands to her waist as he straightened. He gave her a final squeeze, then sank into the seat beside her.

“Have you had lunch yet?” he asked. X nodded as she swivelled around to face him.

“Yup! Have you?” He hadn’t been in the house when she’d woken up and the only answer she’d received from Penni had been ‘business’. She hadn’t wanted to know more about what ‘business’ entailed, so she’d left the matter alone and decided to try out the swimming pool instead.

He reached out to twirl a strand of her damp hair around his finger, then he leaned forward to tuck it behind her ear. “Yeah. What did you have, preciosa?”

He leaned back in his seat and rested his elbow on the table, spreading his legs wide as he propped his head up on his fist. She did her best not to let her eyes trail down his broad chest or linger on his muscled thighs. But holy shit, he was hot! “Uh, Paula made some carbonara for me. What did you have for lunch?”

“Lasagne.” He’d told his housekeeper to make his cute little scientist anything she asked for. He was only sorry that he hadn’t been able to join her. But he’d had to take care of his associates now that that scumbag Francesco wasn’t going to be interfering with their activities any longer. “Have you started packing?”

“It’s not like I have much to pack, Miguel,” she pointed out, her tone more familiar now that they’d spent a little more time together. He’d told her last night that they’d be leaving for America soon - his home base where he’d be able to give her all the resources she needed for her research. She’d been nervous at first - unsure about how his feelings towards her might change once he was back in the big city. But then he’d brushed his fingers along her waist and asked her if there was anyone she wanted to see before they left. She hadn’t made many friends, what with the way her entire reputation had been destroyed and her husband had kept her sequestered in the countryside. But her sister had moved to the UK last year for university …

Miguel grinned at the slight exasperation on her features, then leaned forward to place a hand on her thigh.

“No te preocupes, querida (Don't worry, darling),” he reassured her cheekily. “I’ll get you all the Burberry trench coats and Bvlgari necklaces your closet can fit once we get to New York.”

She pulled her gaze away from his, turning her head to the side and trying hard to not think about the way his large fingers wrapped around her thigh. Miguel felt his chest warm at the sight of the smile she was attempting to hide from him. But there was one other matter he still needed to settle. “Querida. We should probably settle your divorce before you leave.”

Oh right. That. X tapped her fingers on the countertop, trying to figure out where to start. “How … Do I need to go to court or …”

“I’ll get Matt to handle it,” Miguel interjected quickly, brushing her thigh with his thumb. “You just need to sign the papers once they’re done.” He leaned back in his seat, finally releasing his hold on her, and X felt some of the tension leave her body.

“Yup!” she chirped enthusiastically. “You got it!” Miguel smiled at her and she felt her stomach flip at the sight. She squashed the feeling down quickly and returned her attention to her laptop, still afraid to believe that her life could have changed for the better, for once.

Gwen glanced at her partner standing on the other side of the metal door. They’d followed the address of the man who’d rented the cars on Miguel’s behalf - he’d used a fake name, of course, but an address was much more difficult to fake. So that was how they’d ended up here: outside of a seemingly abandoned warehouse in a sketchy, isolated part of town they likely had no business being in. Miles nodded, one hand on his holster, then burst into the warehouse.

“Freeze! Police!” He held his gun out in front of him as he looked around, expecting some sort of drug packaging setup. But there was nothing. Well, nothing except for the single plastic chair in the middle of the cavernous hall. Miles twisted his head around to glance back at his partner in question. Gwen signalled for him to continue and Miles turned back to the chair to walk cautiously over to it.

She kept her eyes trained on their surroundings, guarding her partner’s back as he picked up whatever was on the chair. Her curiosity grew as he took a moment to study it. Then he swore and stomped his foot on the ground in frustration. “Shit!”

Gwen lowered her gun and went over to him, wanting to find out the reason behind Miles’s irritation. “What? What did you find?”

He sighed and turned around, holding out the objects he’d found: a gleaming golden ring and a lazily scrawled out note. Gwen raised an eyebrow as she took the piece of paper from him. ‘Tell Mr Lombardi his wife sends her regards.’

“Shit!” Gwen exclaimed, crumpling the note in her hand. “Argh! What are we gonna do now?!”

Miles rubbed his hand over his face, at a loss himself as to what their move should be. Then his phone rang with a call from Pav.

“Please tell me you have good news,” Miles begged him after picking up the call.

“I have good news!” Pav confirmed. “I’ve been going through the list of private airstrips around the area and I think I found his plane.”

Miles put the phone on speaker so Gwen could hear as well. “Great! Where is it?”

“Uh, on the way to London.”

“What?!” Miles exchanged a wide-eyed look with Gwen.

“Yes. Our guess is that they’re going to visit X’s sister,” Pav explained, the sound of his keyboard echoing over the phone. “We’ve booked you and Gwen a flight there and it leaves in … two hours. You need to get to X’s sister before they do.”

“Two hours?!” Gwen repeated incredulously.

“Yup. Better get going if you want to catch that plane,” Pav warned them. Then he hung up. Gwen looked up at Miles, horrified, then the two of them rushed back to their car to make their way over to the airport.

He threw the stack of papers down on Francesco’s desk before taking a seat across from him, his posture lazy and unbothered. “Your signature, if you will, Mr Lombardi.”

Francesco begrudgingly picked up the papers and flipped through them, seething at what he found inside. “What are these?”

“Divorce papers,” Miguel replied as if it should have been obvious. “From your wife.”

Francesco stood up, pushing his seat back in anger. “What have you done with her?! Where is she?! Bring her back!”

Miguel slung an arm over the back of his chair, unbothered by Francesco’s threatening tone. He’d already sent X off to London to meet with her sister before they left for America. Aside from throwing those pesky DEA agents off his tail, it also gave him some time to settle her divorce for her. But mierda, it felt strange, going back to his empty house after having come home to her everyday for the past two weeks.

“She’s safe,” Miguel assured Francesco, giving him an unimpressed scoff. “Safer with me than she ever was with you.”

Francesco leaned forward over the table, making sure to enunciate his words so the other man would understand him. “She is my wife! Bring her back to me!”

Ben stepped forward, ready to intervene as he sensed the rage threatening to overflow from Francesco. But Miguel raised a hand to stop him. He rested his elbows on the table instead, pressing his fingertips together as he considered Francesco. “You didn’t seem to care about that when you were getting your cock sucked by your assistant two nights ago.”

Francesco’s face turned red with anger at the declaration, but he controlled himself at the revelation that Miguel had him under surveillance.

He leaned back in his seat, his lips curling with the hint of a smirk at Francesco’s submission. Then he gestured to the papers on the desk, waiting.

“Listen here, you cocky bast*rd.” Francesco wagged a finger at him in warning. “I’m not the one who kidnapped her and then f*cking r*ped her in her own house! Who the f*ck are you to tell me to divorce my f*cking wife?!” Miguel felt his insides heat up at Francesco’s vile accusation and he found himself having to take a deep breath before he responded.

“‘R*pe’ is non-consensual, Mr Lombardi,” he explained, maintaining a cool tone. “And I don’t remember you wife having any objections when I was f*cking her on your kitchen island.” His lips twitched in anticipation of the outburst he knew was going to follow. He wasn’t disappointed.

“You motherf*cker!” Francesco screamed at him, searching for something he could throw at the larger man. “Son of a b*tch!” Miguel’s shoulders shook with an amused snicker.

“I don’t remember her having any children either,” Miguel joked. He tilted his head to the side then, as if he was thinking about it. “But … I could fix that. If that’s what she wants, of course.”

Francesco hurled a slew of curses and swears at Miguel, adding his fist onto the end of his words. But Miguel caught his hand before it could make contact. He twisted Francesco’s arm as he stood up, causing him to screech with pain. Then he let him go, allowing him to caress his wounded arm - he’d break it after he got him to sign the divorce papers.

“I’m not the one who told your wife to get a divorce, Mr Lombardi,” Miguel spat out through gritted teeth. “She decided that all on her own. Maybe if you took two f*cking seconds to talk to her, you’d realise how intelligent she is!”

Francesco ground his teeth together and lowered his gaze, humiliated. But not humiliated enough, apparently. “I’ll only sign them if you’ll let me see her - if you can prove to me that she’s safe.”

Miguel sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket to dial her number.

“Querida,” he greeted her once her sweet little face popped up on his screen. Dios, he missed her. But he’d only known her for two weeks, how could he miss her when he’d only known her for two weeks? He swallowed down the pain that throbbed in his chest at the sight of her. “Your husband wants me to prove that you’re safe.”

He slid his gaze over to Francesco, his expression disgusted. Then he angled his phone towards him.

“Mia cara?” Francesco asked, his features softening as his gaze landed on her. “Where are you? What has he done with you?”

“I’m fine,” X replied, her voice flat. She sighed, suddenly exhausted as all the hurt and grief finally washed over her all at once. “What do you want, Francesco?”

“I want you, mia cara. Please. Come back to me?” He pursed his lips, his expression vulnerable as he pleaded with her. Miguel looked away so he wouldn’t scoff at the pitiful expression on his face.

She lowered her head, wanting to hide the tears starting to form on the edges of his eyes. It wasn’t that she missed him, definitely not. It was just that she’d suddenly been reminded of all the time she’d spent on him - all the months she’d given up to him - just for it to have meant absolutely nothing to either of them. “Just … leave me alone, Francesco. Just sign the damn papers and leave me alone.”

Miguel’s heart squeezed at the way her voice cracked. He’d break much more than just Francesco’s arm once he’d gotten what he came for. He turned the phone back to himself, wanting to shield his sweet arañita from the man who’d caused her so much pain. “You’ve seen her. Now sign them.”

The muscles in Francesco’s jaw feathered as he tried to figure a way out of his situation. But why was he so fussed about his wife wanting to divorce him? What did he care if she’d decided she wanted to leave him forever? He grabbed a pen from his stand, ready to sign the papers. But he hesitated when he saw the empty line on the page. He lifted his gaze to Miguel’s. “I want my papers back.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, amused: how the hell did this pathetic excuse of a man think he was in any position to negotiate? Lawyers. He held a hand out and Matt stepped forward to hand him the bank accounts Francesco was requesting for. The man practically leaped across his desk to grab them from Miguel, eagerly flipping through the stack to make sure everything was there. He picked up his pen again and scrawled his signature at the bottom of the divorce papers before pushing them back to Miguel. Miguel huffed at his desperation and stood up, giving Matt a nod before he walked out the door. Matt pulled out another stack of papers from his bag and set them on the desk in front of Francesco. “Here is our other set of copies. We’ll be seeing you around, Mr Lombardi.”

He flashed Francesco a knowing smile, then left him alone in his office, wife-less and credit-less.

Tags: @heubstr @zayai @amberbalcom14

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