And I know people love to throw around “that’s my wife” blah blah blah but I promise you Smoke says it to you, ditzy!reader and means it.
Almost like an affirmation of love.
Probably started calling you his wife after a month of dating because he was sure there wouldn’t be anyone else. He kept it to himself for the most part, up until he had to curse your partner out on the group project you had because they kept disrespecting you.
Smoke doesn’t really do back and forth and he’s just telling the guy like it is, his hand squeezing yours, towering over the guy, “If you even fuckin think ‘about belitting my wife one more fuckin, I swear to god I’m gonna send you to hell you won’t even get a chance to ask God for forgiveness.”
You don’t even get the chance to really think it over till he’s dragging you out the library and to the car, yout bag slung over his shoulder.
The drive home is silent, to his place of course and not your dorm. It’s when you get inside you finally have the courage to say something, you try giggling it off, “Smoke, we ain’t married.”
He sets the keys down in the bowl, shuffling off his shoes while he walks further into the house, “You ‘nd me gon’ be married one of these days.” And his words are just, no hesitation as he goes into the kitchen. You can hear the faucet running.
“Oh.” You blink a few times. Heat blooms beneath your skin, heart pounding as you stand in the entryway as the seconds go bye. It makes you let out a little squeal of delight as you meet him in the kitchen to help out with dinner, “Right, of course, right.”
a/n: Smoke and ditzy!reader went tot he same college, 3 years apart, met her Sophomore year just to find out they circled the same groups. I really love them together.
First time writing for Smoke so I hope I did well!
Summary: Originally brought into the Lin Kuei as the reader was arranged to marry Bi-Han, they learn that he is not the man they thought him to be and when he goes off the deep end, the reader seeks help from someone in the Lin Kuei that they have true feelings for…
Warnings: Arranged marriage situation, MK1 Spoilers obvi, reader has a break down
Word Count: 0.7k
Being arranged to marry Bi-Han of the Lin Kuei, I thought this new chapter of my life would be the beginning of many good ones.
That turned out to be far from what I expected. Bi-Han wasn’t exactly the lover that I was looking for.
Although he became grandmaster and I was soon to be his spouse, he had business to handle with Lord Lui Kang and I had no knowledge of what exactly was going on.
Not till Bi-Han returned, claiming his brothers Kuai Liang and Tomas were no longer a part of the Lin Kuei, and that he’d no longer be working with Lord Lui Kang.
Any question I had, he didn’t answer, told me that it was none of my concern.
Bi-Han wasn’t exactly the man I dreamed of being with my entire life. I already doubts in the past and this was my breaking point.
He must’ve forgotten that I was a highly skilled martial artist like himself. One night when he finally rested, I snuck out, needing to find Tomas.
I learned that he and Kuai were making their own clan, the Shirai Ryu, and looking to take down Bi-Han and restore the Lin Kuei.
There was so much I needed to get off my chest and I knew I could do so with Tomas. Out of their entire clan, I bonded with him the most and I knew that he’d help me.
It didn’t take me long to reach the Shirai Ryu’s minka, stumbling upon a beautiful garden full of red trees, lit in the night by lanterns.
“Y/N?” Tomas’s voice alone had me ready to burst into tears, running to him, “What are you doing here? How did you find this place?”
“I’ve been following you, but it’s not what you think,” I said quickly, fighting tears and running out of breath, “I can’t stand Bi-Han anymore. I can’t take it. I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to be in his Lin Kuei anymore.”
“Y/N, breathe. Try to calm down,” Holding my shoulders, trying his best to comfort me, “Are you-“
I already knew what he was going to ask and cut him off with tears flowing down my face:
“I’m positive and mean every word I say, Tomas. You don’t know him like I do and just how terrible he is. I don’t want to go back. Please-“
“Shh, it’s okay,” He whispered, pulling me into a warm hug, “I believe you.”
His hug was everything I needed and more, my tears slowed and after some deep breaths, I didn’t feel so weak and brittle anymore, answering his question from before:
“I have been doing work of my own while Bi-Han has been gone. That’s how I found this place. So I could come talk to you.”
“Showing off your skill I see,” He smiled while rubbing my back, trying to raise my spirit, holding up my head some to connect a gaze, growing serious again as he asked, “I know you’re upset and dealing with a lot right now, but everything you said, you’re sure that you mean it?”
“Tomas,” I breathed in deeply, failing at fighting my tears as I confessed, “He’s never loved me. The only thing that kept me there was you, b-because, I love you.”
I didn’t realize at first how big his pupils expanded, my heart pouring and continuing to confess:
“You’re the one who always made sure that I was okay, spent time with me, made me feel special, instead of treating me like some object. I’m sorry I waited till now to tell you. I was just so scared of Bi-Han and now he’s completely lost it and I didn’t know who else to go to.”
“It’s okay,” He breathed, thinking and pulling back into his hug, his whisper making me cry silently, “Im so glad that you came to me.”
The tears wouldn’t stop coming, shaking as a chilled wind blew past us in the garden, but those shakes coming to halt as his embrace grew a bit tighter and warmer, his voice helping me ease down:
“You don’t have to worry about Bi-Han anymore. You never have to go back. Never.”
“I don’t know what I’d do with you,” I whispered, looking up from his shoulder as he whispered back:
“Don’t trouble yourself thinking about it. I love you too much to let you go back to that monster of a man.”
prompt: [ QUIET ]: on a cozy night in with the receiver, as they curl up together on the sofa/in bed, the sender says “i love you” to them. - smoke x reader
notes: hi all! here's day three, and it's a cute little fluff piece! i really enjoyed writing this once, because i love writing fluff / slice of life. it's always a good time. get ready for a smutty piece tomorrow!
it wasn’t often tomas got a break from his duties as a member of the shirai ryu, but when he did, he always took the time to spoil you. you were his whole world, and he wanted to make sure you knew that, especially on his busiest days.
you came down from your shared bedroom when the smell of a home cooked meal drifted upstairs. you peeked into the kitchen, and tomas was setting a few dishes onto the table, and he looked up to catch your eye.
“i was just about to call you down, good timing,” he said, walking over to kiss your forehead.
“i try. it just smelled so good. you really didn’t have to do all of this,” you reminded him, but he simply smiled.
“i wanted to. now, come and sit. don’t want you missing out on a warm meal. you’ve been working hard all day, and i haven’t gotten a chance to see you,” he murmured, guiding you to your normal seat. you chuckled and allowed him to settle you down in your chair, and he was quick to join you at the table. he’d made your favorite comfort meal, and it smelled divine. you knew he could cook, but it had been so long since he had, you’d forgotten how impressive it was. he fixed your plate for you, and he’d even poured you a glass of wine. it was a nice scene, the two of you sharing a calm dinner together. you honestly couldn’t remember the last time you’d really just sat down and enjoyed each other’s company, you just knew that you missed it dearly.
“so, did you do anything exciting today?” you asked, sipping your wine slowly.
“me personally? not really. but you’ll be happy to hear hanzo is making excellent progress. maybe you could come down and see him tomorrow? he’s been asking to show you his skills,” tomas said, and you nodded with a smile.
“i’d love to. i’ve missed the little rascal, and i think it’s sweet he’s asking for me,” you replied.
“of course. you know how much he values your praise. if i didn’t know any better, i’d say he saw you as some kind of older sibling or parental figure,” he said, reaching to give your hand a squeeze. you smiled and ate a bit more of your food, enjoying the warmth of the atmosphere. it was nice to just sit down and talk with your lover. you cherished the moments of the mundane, and you silently found yourself hoping that more of them would come your way.
after dinner, tomas had taken dish duty despite your protests. he argued that it was still his night to spoil you. so, you remained in the kitchen, sitting on the counter with your wine glass in hand, continuing to talk to him about your days. it was a sight that he enjoyed, seeing you relaxed and enjoying yourself. once he was finished, you slid off of the counter, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek.
“okay, we’re swapping. go and sit, and put on a movie for us,” you said, poking his chest.
“no, you go and sit,” he tried to argue, but you stood firm.
“not a chance. you go and sit, i’m gonna make some popcorn. besides, you have better movie taste than me. do it for me, please?” you asked, giving him your best puppy dog pout. not even he was immune to the pout, and with an exaggerated sigh, he again kissed your forehead (his favorite spot), and disappeared into the living room. you heard your tv turn on, and you set to making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you to share. out of the corner of your eye, you saw the living room lights dim, and you could hear him moving around. whatever he was doing was drowned out by the sound of popping, but when you made it back out to him with the bowl full, you found that he had created the perfect cuddling spot. there were pillows and blankets tucked carefully around to create a sort of burrow for you two, and he opened his arms for you to join him. you laughed softly and walked over, handing him the bowl before settling in beside him, snuggling up in his arms. the bowl of popcorn was resting comfortably between you, and you let your head rest on his chest. he played the movie, and just before it started, he felt you shuffle around in his arms.
“i love you,” you murmured, and you felt his lips on the top of your head.
“i love you, too. even if i can’t be with you as often as i’d like to,” he whispered back, and you could hear the sadness in his voice.
“i know,” you replied. “but the time apart makes these moments all the more special. at least, that’s what i think.”
“and i think you might be right. but i promise these won’t be as scarce anymore. on my honor.”
“i believe you. and that’s why i love you as much as i do.”
It takes 7 minutes for Smoke to exit his apartment and make it to his car in the lot just outside. Smoke times everything, such a stickler for it, east breakfast at the same time, gets dressed at the same time, leaves for work at the same time. Nothing changes, it’s routine.
He’s working hard because he has a dream.
A dream that will get him out of this apartment and on 25 acres, his brother hopefully to join him, easy mornings seeing the sun rise, the smell off fresh coffee beans in his nose, tending to the large flower garden he’s created with his own hands, maybe a self made pond, a R107 Benz in the drive through, rocking on the porch of his large house with a cigarette just like his grandmama used to, just enjoying the view. No worries.
He wants all this overtime to be worth it. So he works and works, maybe pushing himself a little too much, barely sees anyone anymore, lips almost sewed shut from the last time he had a real conversation outside of his job.
But he see’s you, you leave at the same time. Much less poised as he is.
You’re the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, maybe your clocks in the apartment just two apartments over, are broken. Sometimes your hair is out, every coil perfectly styled, other times you’ve got in cornrows, blunt behind your ear, (he figures your some type of freelancer) but you’re stuffing food in your mouth in an attempt to have breakfast, a string of curses going through you, zipping your large bag closed, trying to dash to the bus while Smoke easily walks to his car. A month ago to the day, you started giving him a smile and a wave as you dashed by.
And his eyebrows only furrowed. It’s strange.
He doesn’t hate it, he’s not sure if he likes it either.
And it’s the same when he gets home. Another 7 minutes from the car park, up 5 flights of steps since the elevator is broken.
You’re clearly exhausted, long sighs leaving your mouth as you trudge to your place. You manage to catch him, every evening around 8pm. It’s quiet between the two of you, both not knowing what to say.
But you ask him how his day is every night.
“Fine.” curt, softer than he usually is though. You hum in response. And Smoke started asking you, “And you?”
You think for a moment, one end of your lips turning upward, shivers down your spine, your voice warm, beautiful— “not as bad as the day before.”
You wave as you wish him good night, and he watches as you make it to your door, entering your respective apartments at the same time.
And it’s sudden, maybe even a vision, but he dreams of you, you wander yourself onto his 25 acres, all smiles in a nice sundress. Motioning for him to come into the house with you.
And he starts hoping, maybe you’d be with him when he makes his dreams come true. Your troubles yesterday’s problem. As you spend the rest of your days with him.
a/n: overworked!smoke x reader. inspo. I wanna do more drabbles about him.
Smoke can’t sing. Or is it that it won’t come out.
Something along those lines, it just don’t fit him right. or is it that shaky feeling his gets, the uneasiness, the uncertainty about what will come out. He hates it. The man can dance just fine though (only when he’s in a good mood for it), could listen to blues or jazz or 70s r&b all damn day, nod his head, tap his fingers or feet to the beat, silently grumble the lyrics like an old man.
But singing, even humming— it just don’t feel right.
But it’s different with you.
You, your entire being is a sweet melody, a finely tuned guitar Elijah wants hear again and again, and again. You hum so beautifully while doing mundane tasks around his house or your apartment, filing down your nails, scrolling on your phone, looking for your pair of glasses in an attempt not to freak out again, or full on singing around the apartment when the right song comes on it. Trying to outsing the artist on their own song.
And the older man is simply mystified by that.
Not just your love of music, but how you let it overtake you, swaying your hips to the beat, two stepping if it feels right, closing your eyes and bouncing around, shaking ass— grooving. He loves it. Shoot, he loves you.
And ever time he witnesses you in all you glory, he falls in love with you all over again. Deeper, stronger, the non legato, a decent down the keys of a piano— ever falling in love with you.
His dark mocha eyes watch from across the sitting room, As Long As I Got You by The Charmels playing from the speakers, your at on the couch across from him, fingers tapping your exposed curled legs, humming along to the chorus, skimming through some magazine you’d use for a vision board later on.
“Know a lil somethin ‘bout music, don’t you pretty?”
Your eyes flicker towards him who sat in a wife beater and sweats, smoking of course, a small smile grown on your lips, you shrug, “A lil bit, I guess. Not a lot.”
He gives you a curt not, but speaks again, “Fell in love with you again, thought I’d letcha know this time.”
You’re taken aback for a moment, the older man is always so straight forward, before the heat reaches under your skin, hiding your smile in your magazine. “Thanks pa, I love you too.”
He gives you a grunt in response, his eyes already closed, his body twitching every now and then, but relaxed nonetheless, enjoying the quiet evening, wrapped in the comfort of music with you.
a/n: not the draft I wanted out first but oh well. Something, something, I love dadbf!smoke, something, something.
