#boysoftommen

note ⸝⸝⸝ theyre so awkward i LOVE IT

summary ⸝⸝⸝ johnny stumbles upon a very awkward girl .. (he’s had his eye on her for awhile.)

warning ⸝⸝⸝ none!

you’re so relieved it’s the weekend. saturday and sunday were always your favorite days because you could just be alone. in your own space, not at school, where you’d have to interact with people here and there (forcefully).

as you have your sketchbook in one hand and a pen in the other, you feel at peace. you’re sketching your dog.

a ball is thrown toward you. a dog ball specifically. you quickly dodge it as it lands on the bench. a black labrador, tongue out, runs toward it.

it bites the ball, but then drops it and instead licks your leg.

“sookie! stop!” a boyish voice yells out, running toward sookie. he grabs her collar to pull her back from you.

“i’m so sorry. didn’t think she’d lick ya—” he says, looking at you.

he also threw that dog ball toward you on purpose. he’ll never tell you that tho.

you softly smile at the sight of his dog. then you realize johnny kavanagh is speaking to you, and now your brain starts scrambling. “um— it’s okay! he’s cute— or she. sorry.” you mutter the last words.

you mentally facepalm after realizing he literally just called his dog “she.”

he chuckles. “she. it’s fine. ya got a dog?”

he knows you have a dog. you always come here on saturdays and sundays, and he knows that because he always comes here just to see you. not in a weird way, obviously.

you look up at him, nodding. “uhm. yeah — he’s over there.”

your dog is a miniature poodle. the difference between yours and his is wildly strong.

he glances at your dog, then shifts his focus back to you. “cute,” he says, looking at you.

you feel nervous under his gaze. you try not to make strong eye contact with him — if you do, you’ll end up exploding right here. you don’t really know what else to say. you’d offer him to sit beside you, but… what if he doesn’t want to and just says yes because he feels like it’s forced?

your overthinking pauses as he lets go of sookie. she runs over to your dog. he wipes his hands on his pants. “ya don’t mind if i sit next to you?” he asks.

“oh. yeah! i mean no? it’s fine. you can sit. if you want to.” god, you just mumbled out the most unnecessary words. what is wrong with you?

in johnny’s mind, he’s admiring you. so much. how can a girl be this cute? you could literally cough and he’d praise you.

“yeah. i want to,” johnny says, sitting next to you. you both sit in silence for a little. it’s not awkward. it’s kind of peaceful. closing your journal, you put your pen and it into your bag.

johnny notices. shit. are you leaving? he didn’t even get to ask you any questions yet. out of worry, he speaks. “what’s your dog’s name?”

mentally, he facepalms. out of all the questions, he chooses to ask this one.

you turn your head to him. “his, uh, name is bat.”

he grins. “that’s sweet.” he nods.

your cheeks redden at his eyes not leaving your face, so you pull your attention back to the dogs.

“i’m johnny, by the way. uh, i’m in the same class as you.”

yeah. you knew that. he’s literally the golden boy of tommen high. how could you not?

you say your name back to him, and he repeats it softly.

you don’t want to leave. it feels so relieving to be with him, like his presence gives you comfort. but it’s getting late.

“i, um, have to go,” you mumble softly, holding your bag on your shoulder and getting up.

johnny quickly stands up. “we’ll see each other tomorrow?” he asks.

you nod softly. tomorrow’s sunday, and maybe you’ll dress up better — knowing you’ll see him again.

he holds his hand out. “grand. bye,” he says your name softly.

you stare at his hand. oh god. you don’t do handshakes. you can literally feel sweat drops on your face. you stick out your hand quickly, shake his, and then walk away.

johnny watches you grab your dog and walk away. god, at this point, he’s this close to getting on his knees and declaring his love for you. like. or love. does it really matter?

his attention is disturbed by someone gripping his shoulder. “that’s cute,” gibsie says mockingly.

hughie, from behind, laughs. johnny turns his head and pushes gibsie off. “shut up, lad.”

he doesn’t even care about the ongoing chatter of them making fun of him. his mind is only filled with you.

summary: 1k. a soft, love-soaked moment between johnny kavanagh and you, while adjusting to life with your newborn baby <3

cw: fluff, new parents, johnny kavanagh is a softie, gentle intimacy, english is not my first language xx.

author’s note: i tried to replicate the tone from the original series even when english is not my mother tongue, don’t come for me!

currently playing: oh my angel

The first thing you become aware of is warmth.

Not the hospital blankets or the dull heat pulsing behind your tired eyes, but a deeper, living warmth — the kind that wraps around your heart before your mind fully wakes.

You blink slowly, the world taking a second to come into focus. The room is dim, quiet, the curtain drawn. A soft rustling sound pulls your attention to the side… and there he is.

Johnny Kavanagh, sitting in the armchair pulled right up to the bed, massive hands curled around the tiniest bundle you’ve ever seen.

Your baby.

Your breath catches, and even in the low light you see Johnny’s head snap up, his whole face breaking open into that bright, boyish grin he saves for very few people in the world.

“Hi, love,” he whispers, voice raspy from hours of not sleeping. “Look who’s awake.”

He shifts carefully, the little bundle rising with him, and moves toward the bed. He’s still in the clothes he wore during the birth — track pants and a soft hoodie — crumpled, stained, and clinging to him in a way that tells you he hasn’t left that chair for more than a minute.

You try to sit up, wincing slightly, but Johnny is already at your side, lowering himself onto the mattress and slipping an arm behind your shoulders to help.

“Easy,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head. “You’ve done enough superhero work for one lifetime.”

You exhale a laugh, small but genuine. “Let me see him.”

Johnny’s grin grows impossibly wider. He shifts so that the baby rests between you both, tiny and impossibly peaceful in his father’s arms. Johnny looks down at him like he’s the most miraculous thing to ever happen — and to him, he probably is.

“He’s been sleeping like this the whole time,” he says quietly, brushing the softest thumb over the baby’s cheek. “Snoring too. Just like his mam.”

“Johnny!”

He laughs under his breath, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’m only joking. Kinda.”

The baby stirs, a small, wrinkled movement, and Johnny’s lips part in awe, like he can’t believe this is real. You watch him — the way his whole body softens, the gentle tightening of his arms, the tenderness in his eyes — and your chest swells so much it almost aches.

“You’re a natural,” you whisper.

His cheeks go a little pink. “I dunno about that. I’m afraid to breathe too hard.”

“You’re doing perfectly.”

He leans his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily. “I can’t stop looking at him.”

“I know.”

“I keep thinkin’… we made him,” he says, wonder thick in his voice. “Like… that’s actually our son. Our little lad.”

Your eyes burn, but in the warm, happy way. “He’s perfect.”

Johnny shifts, letting you take the baby in your arms. The moment the weight settles against your chest, everything else disappears — the soreness, the exhaustion, the hours of labour. His tiny fist uncurls against your skin, and you melt.

Johnny lies beside you, stretching out on the narrow hospital bed even though it’s too small for him, but he makes it work, sliding one arm under your shoulders so you’re leaning against him. He rests his chin on your hair.

“We’re a family now,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it too loudly will break the spell.

You turn your head slightly, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Yeah. We are.”

A soft knock on the door pulls you both from the quiet bubble you’ve been floating in.

Johnny straightens, sitting up a little. “That’ll be Mam and Da.”

A nervous excitement flashes across his face — the same look he gets before big matches, except softer, more personal.

“You ready?” he asks you gently.

You nod, adjusting the baby in your arms.

He opens the door, and Mrs. Kavanagh bursts in with watery eyes and a hand already pressed to her chest.

“Oh, Johnny,” she breathes, brushing past him with zero hesitation. “Oh, sweetheart, look at him!”

She comes to your side, eyes shining. “Love, may I hold him?”

“Of course,” you say, handing her the baby carefully.

She cradles him with practiced ease, rocking gently, tears spilling over. “He’s gorgeous. A perfect wee angel.”

Johnny’s father steps in more quietly, but there’s no hiding the pride in his face. He claps a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, squeezing firmly.

“Well done, son.”

Johnny swallows, emotion tightening his throat. “Thanks, Da.”

His mother looks up suddenly. “What’s his name? You settled on it?”

You and Johnny share a look — the soft, secret kind that says yeah, this feels right — and he answers:

“Rory. Rory Kavanagh.”

Mrs. Kavanagh gasps. “Oh, Johnny, that’s beautiful.”

Johnny slips his hand into yours under the blanket, giving it a little squeeze. You squeeze back.

His parents take turns cooing, admiring, murmuring sweet nothings, and Johnny watches all of it with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him — proud, emotional, and absolutely in love.

When his parents leave, promising to return with food and a ridiculous amount of photos printed out already, Johnny climbs back into the bed beside you.

He pulls you close, his arm warm and steady around you, and rests his hand gently on your son’s back.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead.

“You too.”

He laughs softly. “Not a chance I’m sleepin’ tonight. Gotta keep an eye on my two favourite people.”

Your heart swells again.

“Johnny…”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

His smile goes soft and slow. “I love you too, love. More than anything.”

He kisses you again, lingering, then shifts just enough to tuck the baby safely between you both.

And for the first time as parents, the three of you fall asleep together — warm, safe, and completely wrapped in love.

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"And truth be told, I miss you⌝

⌞And truth be told, I'm lyin'"

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⤷「 🪩 」: 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 / 𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬) :Talulla„ Lulu

➜「 .ᐟ.ᐟ 」: 𝐀𝐠𝐞 :Eighteen

➜「 ꩜ 」: 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 :She/Her

➜「 ꩜ 」: 𝐃𝐌 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 :Always open for everyone<3

➜「 ✦ 」: 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 :Reading„ Romance„ Shannon Lynch„ Cherry Cola„ Miss Me Jeans„ Music„ Lana Del Rey & Madison Beer

➜「 ♫ 」: 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 / 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠(𝐬) :Currently obsessed with the song Pump It by Black Eyed Peas & Gives You Hell (mentioned above)

➜「 ✦ 」: 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 :I'm literally a blonde Shannon Lynch„ I LOOOVE guitar whines if that's what it's called (soo random)

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