#I AM SORRY but this has been pounding my head all day
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I’m on my bed, fully clothed, and I cannot remember how I got here. I don’t know if I’m sitting up or lying down, or what is wall and what is ceiling. When I try to turn to my side, the room twists like a funhouse around me, the bed tilting like it's intent to slide me right off it. Am I alone? I think so.
That's my phone, the bright square of light. It lays on the sheets beside my face, and I grab it. Her name is right there. It's intuitive, too easy to find.
It rings three, four times, and she picks up. “Jude?” She's sleepy. I woke her.
“I’m sorry Michelle,” I slur, and I mean to be sorry for disturbing her, but she seems to assume that I’m apologising for much more than that.
She sighs, “I know you are, and I’m sorry too.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. Are you drunk?”
“Uh huh.” I should likely be sorry for that too.
“Where are you? Why are you drunk dialling me?” She doesn’t seem annoyed with me, concerned, hopeful, maybe, so I tell her the truth, “I miss you.”
I assume maybe I’ve passed out or somehow hallucinated this entire exchange because she's not responding, but then she sucks in a lungful of air and her voice trembles, “I miss you too, I wish you were here right now.”
“No, I was a bad boyfriend.”
“You weren’t.”
“I was the worst.”
“Not always.”
“...It's hard being on my own.”
“Yeah, for me too. Every single day has been horrible.”
I feel the kind of crushing, exaggerated sadness that I only ever do when I’ve had too much to drink, like I’m tumbling into a pit of despair so deep that the sun will never warm my face again. I can't think of a good reason why I have done this. “Sometimes I don’t want to go to Berlin,” I tell her hoarsely.
“Yeah,” she says, then hesitating like she wants to choose her words carefully, “You know that you don’t have to go, though.”
“I dunno.”
“You could stay in Dublin if you wanted to, It’s not too late. If the thought of leaving makes you too sad.”
That sounds deeply depressing, but being on my own is depressing too, and then I’m so frustrated that I fear I will start crying or something, “I can’t think.”
“You’re just drunk, but I think you’re saying this because it’s what you really mean.”
“Maybe.”
“I love you,” she says, and I hear her sitting up in bed, struck with urgency, “I haven't stopped feeling the same way about you, I still love you, and I want you to stay, if you're even considering it at all then that means-”
“Alright,” A group of guys pass by on the road outside, boisterously chanting some tuneless song and I’m conscious that I, or whoever brought me in here, never closed the curtains. I don't want other men to see me like this, and yet I'm unable to move.
“‘Alright’, as in, you’ll stay?” She says hopefully.
“No, like, that I heard you.”
“I think we’re supposed to be together.”
I wonder if she really believes that. Do I believe that? Maybe. “Mm. Maybe I’ll stay,” Sleep pulls at my eyes, which now rest unfocussed on a shimmery patch of sand outside the window. In the distance the waves roar against the shore, a lullaby. Sleep encroaches the corners of my vision and begins to suck me under.
“Please,” she says, really crying now, “I don’t want to be on my own. I’ve been imagining you finding someone else and falling in love with them and it makes me feel sick.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
A sniffle, “No?”
“No, I don’t ever think about other people, just you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Never ever ever. You're my girl.”
She sobs gently.
“Shell, I think I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not, you just made a selfish decision. You can still fix it and make it okay.”
My eyes are too heavy and the world is too weird and dizzy looking to keep them open, “Will you forgive me?” I manage with the last of my energy, but I’m too sleepy to listen to her answer. I pass out in three seconds, the phone warm in my palm, the speakers buzzing gently with the sound of her voice.
In the blinding light of the morning, though my head pounds and every colour and pattern is an assault on my senses, before doing another thing, I grab my phone from my pillow to see new messages from Michelle. I don't read any of them.
Hey.
I type.
I was really drunk. Disregard anything I said, I don't even remember what we talked about.
Beginning // Prev // Next
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CRACK AU IDEA
Emily doesn’t die, and her and Scully live a happy little family life for a couple of years already. Mulder is not “officially” a part of the family yet, and Emily knows him only as mom’s funny friend from work who comes to play with her at the weekends. Until it’s Christmas time, and Scully asks Mulder to play the role of Santa Claus; knowing her daughter, she would sleep in the living room the whole night, waiting for Santa to come. Mulder obviously agrees to put on a costume and sneak into Scully’s house at night. They buy a costume and a fake beard and plan the event, so Mulder can come at night unnoticed, put presents under the tree, and leave (to Scully’s bedroom, actually). Mulder’s great at undercover work and he does everything perfectly, even stealing a cookie from the plate in the kitchen. And he’s ready for Emily to notice him, when she wakes up hearing his steps. What he’s not ready for is a conversation that the girl starts the next day. The whole Scully family is here and Mulder is also here as Dana’s “friend”. It’s not his first Christmas with the Scullys, although something is not right. Emily has been acting weird with him all morning, and Mulder starts suspecting that she’s recognized him. Already being slightly anxious that he might’ve ruined the Christmas miracle for the little girl, Mulder comes to her and tries to find out what’s bothering her. Emily finally admits that she knows that Mulder is actually Santa Claus, but it’s going not where Mulder thought… and…
#I AM SORRY but this has been pounding my head all day#I’m so bad at writing in English#that’s not a fanfic#it’s a thought… expanded a little more that I intended#I know Emily is always the cute kid that melts all of our hearts but let this girl be a savage she deserves it#also I’m kinda late for the Christmas posts and stuff but it’s ortodox Christmas tomorrow so that counts I guess#txf#the x-files#txf textpost#txf au#msr#fox mulder#dana scully#emily sim#david duchovny#gillian anderson
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Baby Fever?!
Synopsis: JJk men/reader have baby fever ≽^•⩊•^≼
Includes: 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦����, 𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨
Content: afab!reader, topics of pregnancy, marriage, breeding, and having children. mostly nsfw (sorry anon)
(a.n) Jesus my page has been full of baby fever nd marriage recently.
Dedicated to; this ask.
MDNI
Satoru Gojo
Ever since you first became official- Gojo had this little habit of asking to give you a baby. You always shook him off, telling him ‘no’ because it was far too soon and you were too young to start having children.
Birth control became a necessity because of the little need he had to finish inside of you.
On one occasion of him asking the incessant question- you leaned in real close to his ear, “I will impregnate you.” you whispered.
This unlocked a whole other can of worms in Satoru’s mind. The urge to breed you was strong, but that little promise lit a fire in his soul.
But one day, while out on a date- walking down an empty street, a child no older than 7 or 8 ran up to Satoru, Tears staining his cheeks and asking for his mom.
Though you hardly saw Satoru interact with children in your daily life, you could see his demeanor change from a normal playful one to a more serious and authoritative one.
Crouching down to the child’s height and asking where he last saw his mom and his name—all with calm.
You watched the little interaction unfold before you with wide eyes- the thought that Gojo was too immature to be a father completely being thrown from your mind as Satoru stood up straight and held the child’s hand in his. Guiding him back to where the child last saw his mom and reuniting the stressed mom and the crying child.
After that, more and more little instances Satoru did, made you start contemplating his little offer of giving you a child.
Whenever you’d go shopping with him, you’d always pretend to accidentally stumble across the baby aisle.
Gojo perked a brow, watching your eyes admire the little socks attached to the onside in your hands.
Corner of his lip curled up with a soft giggle, stepping over to you and whispering- “You’re actually considering having a kid?” he teased watching you furrow your eyebrows and hang the little onesie back on the rack.
You shoved him with your elbow, scoffing and making a mental note to never bring this up again.
That night, you were scrolling on your phone- watching any video that popped up of a chunky baby with a soft expression.
Satoru was beside you, focused on his phone, but the sound of a child’s laughter made him look over at you with furrowed eyebrows- peeking over to your phone and watching the tiktok you were looking at.
Some video of a mom showing their child’s massive hair bows- he was about to laugh at how silly the baby looked. Only he scanned your expression and got a hint as to why you hadn’t scrolled yet.
Satoru rolled atop you, resting his head on your sternum and urging you to put your phone down.
Holding his head in your hands- “I can give you a baby if you want one so bad~” he teased, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.
Parting your lips with a soft gasp, “Satoru Gojo!” you feigned shock, whispering, “A child out of wedlock? What would the clan think?” you teased, mushing his cheeks together as he rolled his eyes.
Pulling your hands from his cheeks and hoisting himself up- face to face as he placed a hand between your thighs, urging you to open them.
Placing a kiss on your lips with a smile- “I am the clan.” he scoffed smugly.
Toji Zenin
It all started with one little sentence he littered during intercourse, legs bent to your chest, and Toji pounding into you like his life depended on it.
Something along the lines of, “Gonna breed this perfect pussy-” in a low husky tone. It was muttered- like his internal thoughts seeped from his lips without permission.
But the words stayed in your mind- long after you had cleaned off his copious mess from your center. Even as Toji was snoring next to you- you stayed up thinking about the words he had muttered into the air.
They made you squint thinking about the possibility of it. Questions you wish Toji was awake to ask him.
Rare were the times he would sprinkle dirty talk during sex. But the way he said it, it wasn’t meant to be heard as dirty talk. The way it sounded was he spoke it as a proclamation.
The next morning, when Toji woke up to your face pressed against his chest. Feeling your eyes watch him sleep, he woke up asking you what you needed.
“You want to-” air caught in your throat, recalling what he said. “..breed me?” you whispered, looking at his hazy eyes and furrowed brow.
Corner of his lip curled, “Where’d you get that idea?” he scoffed, closing his eyes and pretending not to feel your harsh gaze on his skin.
“From you- you said it last night.”
Toji nodded ‘no’. As though the idea of him saying that was impossible.
“Yes, you did- I heard you.” watching Toji’s smug face nod ‘no’ again.
“You can’t gaslight me Toji- I heard you.” Your determination amused the man- feeling his chest rise in a half laugh against your cheek.
Even a few days after- the thought lingered in your mind. Toji still refused to believe he said it- telling you that you were mistaken.
And then Toji caught onto the feverlike smile you’d get on your cheeks whenever you’d see a baby in public. Smiling to himself as you pinched your eyebrows at the little humans.
But there was this one time- on an elevator with a new mom and a baby in her hands. Toji noticed your staring as the woman struggled to reach into her purse, which caused it to fall and spill her belongings on the ground.
The woman sighed- looking down before peering her eyes back to you- “Could you?” she asked, holding out her baby to you- which you happily took and looked at Toji with the child in your arms.
Toji swore his eye twitched as he watched you- happily bouncing the child in your arms before the woman reached her hands back to her child.
After that, Toji started expressing his urgent need to breed you full of his children during intimacy- to which he still denied he said any of those things.
“Whatever- as long as you don’t become a deadbeat again, I don’t care.” you scoffed, referring to his son he refused to talk about.
Naoya Zenin
While he was dating you- Naoya took a lot of care in ensuring not to get you pregnant. “Children out of wedlock never result in anything good.” he would defend. He told you to start taking birth control- only you laughed in his face and said no.
That if he wanted to have safe sex- he would have to wear a condom. That you wouldn’t alter your body’s hormones just because he doesn’t wanna get you pregnant. And Naoya obliged.
Midway through sex, pulling his ear down to your lips and telling him how much better it would feel without a condom- only for his eyes to shut tight- trying to keep his focus on not cumming, going as far as telling you to shut up. Multiple times, knowing if you didn’t, he might just listen to you.
Though you liked teasing him with the possibility. Asking if he didn’t want to see you barefoot and pregnant, waiting for him at home. Watching his neck pulse with a low gulp just thinking about it.
In truth, you didn’t really want to get pregnant- Naoya had a point in the whole ‘marriage first, then kids.’ thing. You only liked watching his ears turn red and warm whenever you’d try and tempt him with having sex without a condom.
You didn’t think much of it- unknowing of the temptation brewing in Naoya’s mind with every waking day he didn’t marry you.
Every time you whispered a temptation in his ear- the mental image of you waiting for him at home, swelled with his child and the future of his clan—Naoya was hanging on a very thin thread.
And once he finally had the guts to ask you- it took very little time for the wedding to be planned. The thought of children was nowhere near your mind on the day.
A small ceremony with his family, prancing you around like some trophy in front of the elders.
And that night- Naoya held a gentle hand as he undid the little buttons of your wedding dress- carefully unwrapping you from the costly lace.
You found it odd- sure. Naoya wasn’t usually the type to take things slow and gentle in this department.
But when you looked at him, his hips between your knees with your back on the bed. Looking up at Naoya as he undid the buttons of his dress shirt- “We’re not stopping till you’re pregnant.” he huffed, tossing his shirt aside and easing himself onto the bed.
Had you known your little temptations and offers of unprotected sex would cause his brain to rewire the idea of having kids- you still would’ve done it. Maybe with a little more tact though.
Naoya no longer saw it as another responsibility of being head of the clan- he saw it as an opportunity to breed you again- and again. Till you were so full there was no other choice than to get pregnant.
Suguru Geto
All it took was Suguru showing you pictures of him and the two girls he adopted when he left Jujutsu High and telling you countless stories behind the photos for you to look at him differently.
You saw a certain change in the way you looked at him. No longer a father figure to two teenage girls, you saw him as an actual father.
Mouthy and mean as those girls could be, you saw how gentle he was with them anyway. And you knew he could make a phenomenal father.
You chose a tactless form of asking him. Sitting at the table eating breakfast- looking at his soft expression.
“Would you be a dad again?”
Suguru looked at you with furrowed eyebrows- “...Again?” unsure of when the first time he became a father was.
You rolled your eyes, urging him to answer the question with a sigh.
“Depends.” Geto murmured, looking back down to his phone and earning a kick from your socked foot.
You scoffed, “On?”
“If we are stable- money wise, and if the conditions are right.” he grinned, wondering where this topic came from.
Your cheeks tingled in the slightest when he used ‘we’ to refer to becoming parents, answering another question you had.
Suguru thought back to the question again, lightly raising his eyebrows at realizing what you were asking.
“With…You?”
You laughed- “No Suguru- with your next partner.” tone full of sarcasm as he rolled his eyes.
“I would be open..?” he squinted, trying to gauge where you stood on this. Watching your face go unchanged at his response- wanting to hear the truth, not just something that he said catered to your opinion. “...To it?”
You grinned, “Suguru, this isn’t a trick question. Just answer honestly.” assuring him that this was a necessary conversation in a relationship.
He gulped lightly, trying to shake away the worries of saying the wrong thing. Placing his phone on the table and looking at you with his hands between his knees. “I would love-” he grinned, cheeks blushed and avoidant of your gaze. “To have children with you.”
You couldn’t help the shy little laugh that left your lips- “But we are a smidge too young- don’t you think?” you grinned, watching his head nod with a scoffing smile.
“I did the teen dad thing- so maybe a little too young.” he joked-
You nodded agreeingly, looking at him with love filled eyes- “We’ll wait till we are 40.” you grinned, watching his shoulders move in a small giggle.
“Till 50- if we can.”
Kento Nanami
You both had been toying with the idea of children. Small comments like, “Awe Ken-” looking at him with a soft smile. “You would be a wonderful dad.” whenever he talked about the fears of becoming a father.
The talk of kids was spoken early in your relationship. Often were the times when the conversation of how many would come up a few minutes before bed.
Playing with your hand in the dark, lying on your back with Nanami beside you.
“How many?” You asked softly- hearing Nanami hum, close to falling asleep.
A low exhale left his lips; “Two. Maybe three.” His voice husky from how close he was to falling asleep. But he was always happy to answer your questions- knowing they would keep you up if he didn’t answer.
Rolling over onto your side and placing your head on his chest, “Twins?” you asked with a smile. Picturing the future with him as he put his hand onto your back.
Nanami let out a soft exhale with a smile. “Twins are a handful,” he spoke softly, his eyes daring to drift off to sleep as you caressed his torso.
You thought about it- remembering that you would have to carry them. “Okay. No twins.”
Hearing his heartbeat against your ear as you thought of another question.
“When?”
Nanami gruffed a soft laugh, rubbing small circles on your back. “We’d have to be married first.” he mumbled.
“Then wait a year or two.” his voice dwindling its tone as he eased into the exhaustion.
You furrowed your eyebrows, “Why?” softly blinking your eyes.
“A year of blissful marital life before children come into the picture.” Nanami spoke, half asleep, as the tiny part of his brain that filtered his words refused to work.
You grinned, “You wanna marry me?” softly giggling against his chest.
Nanami sighed- pressing his hand onto your back a little firmer, holding you close. “I do. Dunno why I haven’t ask you yet.” his words breathy and bordering on sleeping.
“Should get on that-” he exhaled, hearing his breathing ease into a heavier pattern against your ear.
After that, conversations about children only came up more and more. There was talk of names and if you’d move into a house instead of an apartment.
Slowly your own baby fever stuck onto him- you sending tiktoks of the chunky babies you’d get on your fyp didn’t help either.
The words “Practicing won’t hurt” were uttered whenever you mentioned the word breeding. All too thankful to the iud you had, knowing the apartment would be crawling with children if you didn’t have it.
Hiromi Higuruma
When you started letting Hiromi cum inside- he kinda just assumed that you were on something. Never hesitating to give you what you asked him for.
But Hiromi started getting the hints that you had a particular itch in your brain that only he could scratch.
The topic came up when you joined him for lunch- sitting outside a sandwich shop and hearing Hiromi talk about a case debriefing after this.
Too focused on telling you about it before he realized you had stopped listening.
Eyes looking off to the side and your thumbs twiddling in your lap.
“Honey?” he asked, looking in the direction you were looking and seeing a mother playing with her child. Snapping your gaze back to him-
“Sorry.” Softly exhaling, “Sorry- you were saying?”
Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows, watching your eyes glimmer with a nervous light. Reaching a hand out to yours, “What’s wrong?” he asked- all too intuitive at what the look on your face meant.
“Nothing- it’s okay.” Squeezing his hand assuringly.
Hiromi raised a brow- parting his lips about to speak only for you to interrupt him.
“Do you want kids?” preferring to rip the bandaid off rather than ease into a conversation.
He inhaled again- only for you to speak again. “With me. I mean.”
The corners of his lips curled, almost in a teasing smile.
Hiromi sighed, thinking about the question and looking down to his half-finished sandwich.
“I’ve never been in a relationship serious enough for the talk of children to come up.” he grinned, leaving your question unanswered.
“You’ve never thought about it?” holding his hand tightly. Scared that you were illusioning yourself into a future Hiromi didn’t want.
Hiromi tilted his head- thinking about it.
“I think I do…?”
You pursed your lips, unsatisfied with the half answer. And Hiromi let out a blushed scoff- “If wanting kids meant wanting them with you- i do.” he clarified. Earning for you to look at him with soft eyes and a wiggling pout.
“You mean-?” you pouted, looking at him with a soft expression.
His eyes widened at the sudden severity in your gaze, not knowing how much his confirmation meant to you.
Raising his hand to your lips and pressing a light peck on his knuckles “Can we?”
“...Now?”
You scoffed, “No, not now.” with a soft smile.
Hiromi exhaled, thinking of having an actual child- “How ’bout we focus on getting married first?”
Choso Kamo
Ever since the first time you had sex- Choso always finished inside, no patience nor ability to time his orgasm and pull out in time.
Not recalling the repercussions of unprotected sex- nor really caring.
And when the conversation of children came up- You insisted on giving him an army of children. “I think it’s what you deserve.” To which he looked at you as though something awakened in his mind when you said that.
While on dates, he would see an overly large family struggling to keep the many children in check. He would look at you and remember what you had said.
‘An army of children.’
Between the two of you- he caught babyfever first.
Walking through a strip mall- looking for a new pair of shoes when you passed a baby store.
Choso tugged your hand, looking at you eagerly and leading you into the store. “Just to look,” he said.
Holding onto a tiny pair of shoes, looking at you, and presenting them in his palm. “Are these really meant to fit a child?”
You let out a small giggle, nodding your head yes and watching him prattle around the store.
Asking you questions- as though you had any more idea than he did.
Watching your face uninterested in the window shopping he was doing- “You don’t want to have kids anymore?” furrowed eyebrows and determined to cut the window shopping if you didn’t.
You grinned, “Of course I still want to have kids.” taking his hand and placing it on your tummy as though you were already pregnant.
Eyes wide and cheeks pink as he rested his hand onto your tummy. “You gotta pump a baby in me first.” Smiling at the fact he was already looking for things for a child that hadn’t been conceived yet.
His mind sparked the idea of watching you grow big with his child. Made his eye twitch knowing that if you acted on your promise. That image wouldn’t be just an idea in Choso’s mind.
Marriage didn’t make a difference to him- only a meaningless piece of paper. Like a license, or a ssn number, or money. (he’s in denial)
So the next time you had intercourse- Choso accidentally overstimulated himself. Keeping your words of ‘Pump a baby in me.’ in mind as you allowed him to pump you full of potential children.
You did say an army of them. And Choso was more than happy to assist in creating the small army.
-
𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭: play fighting with the jjk men!
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru smut#geto smut#geto suguru x reader#kento nanami#nanami smut#nanami x reader#jujutsu nanami#toji smut#fushiguro toji x reader#jjk toji#choso smut#choso jujutsu kaisen#choso x reader#jjk choso#toji fushiguro#geto x reader#naoya x reader#hiromi higuruma x reader#hiromi x reader#jjk x chubby reader#naoya zenin
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Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.
Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.
Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader
(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.
Art by @asteriscks on TikTok
This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.
Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.
It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman.
You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday.
Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake.
_
It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account.
Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?
Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.
"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.
"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains.
What?
"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."
"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"
"No..."
You already knew what that meant: double payment.
"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."
You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.
"No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."
Your eyes widened.
Now?
"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"
"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."
Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him.
"The keys?"
With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.
What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?
You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.
Thank God, I didn't hit him.
"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."
What!?
How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes.
"You’re telling me this now!?"
"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know."
That filthy bastard.
No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.
What were you going to do now?
Shit.
"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.
Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.
Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.
"But maybe we can agree on something.
Then you stopped.
"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."
Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer!
"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"
"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”
_
Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks.
Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.
But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.
_
"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."
After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.
I'm going to die today!
After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.
“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."
Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall.
Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01
Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04
Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02
Steven Rudboys F03 – 03
Mia Stone F03 – 01
Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04
Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors.
"I wish you good luck."
C’mon Reader, be like Henry…
But better.
The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.
"Good evening."
Was she real? Was she a doppelganger?
With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?
Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance:
Long hair
Small round nose
She has freckles
...
...
...
Freckles?
Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window.
You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.
No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles.
"You look different...", you murmur after a while.
"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."
Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles.
Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.?
You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye.
Shit.
She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.
Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down.
"3312," you murmur to yourself.
"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."
Cleaning protocol?
What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they?
What if they will?
What if your judgment was wrong?
What if...
Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.
"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."
It took a while until someone finally came again.
This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear.
Milkman...
You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen.
You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away.
"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."
"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."
Long nose
Thin chin
Tired eyes
Short hair
Wears a hat
It all fit. The only thing left now was a call.
Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."
"Yes, today is my first day."
"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."
Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.
"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."
Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.
"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."
You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.
What milk do you mean exactly?
My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?
"I'd be delighted, Francis."
You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone.
"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"
And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name.
You pressed the green button.
_
"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear.
It was your third day, your third time to change shift.
Well, it usually would have been.
Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.
He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.
You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.
"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"
He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him.
"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"
The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.
Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....
Oh?
He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning.
Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you.
Were you so shameful?
"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore. I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."
You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him.
His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”
If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?
Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.
_
"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day.
Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.
"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."
Well, he had a point, huh?
No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that.
You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.
"Have you killed more people?"
"Just more doppelgangers you let through."
Your eyes widened.
You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.
"How many have I let through?"
Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.
"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"
You just nod, smiling.
"Are you going to kill others...?
You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special.
"Would you kill for me?"
"Hooooonn"
When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black.
You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.
_
Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes.
But honestly?
You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.
When you look up, he waves, the milkman.
#francis mosses#francis mosses x reader#francis mosses x you#x reader#x gn reader#x you#x y/n#yandere#milkman#milkman x reader#that's not my neighbor x reader#yandere francis mosses#yandere milkman
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Mothers Night Out
Warnings: SMUT, oral, lactation, toxic! rafe, car sex, penetrative sex, and breeding.
Ring Ring Ring
The sound comes blaring as you're face down in your pillow, head pounding a mile a minute. The ringtone continues to jingle you answer and put the phone to your ear.
“Hell-” You try to answer before the voice on the other line starts, “Why the hell am I over here watching our children while you're running around as if you don’t have any responsibilities in life?” The voice quickly cut in as you rolled your eyes.
“Rafe, it was one night out, what are you on about-” You were cut off again, the man on the other line not wanting to hear that. “NO, you told me that you were going to hang out with friends; NOT those fucking pogues and you know that”.
“Those pogues are my friends.” You start to say before he cuts you off, in his frustration.
“I don’t care. Get ready” he snapped. Before you could say anything else, the dial tone reached your ears as you sat up in the bed you were lying in, which happened to be John B's.
Ever since you became a mother you were dedicated to taking care of your children trying to be the best mother you could be for your little girls. You sacrificed everything for them, including your well-being. Your friends thought it would be a good idea to hang out last night since you have yet to have the time to genuinely hang out just as a group. Last night was fun. You all piled in John B’s living room playing drinking games and catching up on everything social that you might have missed.
“How are you doing in here sleepy head?” JJ leaned up against the door with a smile. “My head is killing me” You respond, messaging your head. “Well sorry to break it to you but your baby daddy is outside, so your hell awaits you”
“Ha ha, you are so funny.”
Gathering your things you throw a pillow at his head which he dodges with a smirk. “Kiss the girls for me!” He yells behind you as you make your way towards John B's door. “Will do!”
Wanting to say goodbye to everyone else you were met with disappointment as they were all still asleep. Walking out the door you are met with the father of your children leaning against a black truck with your door already opened.
Climbing into the truck, you close the door with Rafe following behind you. Looking behind you, you expect to see your baby girls in the back but you just met with their car seats. Looking to Rafe you ask. “Where are Whisper and Clover?” Looking at you he shakes his head.
“They're with Rose since you want to act like they don't exist.” “Rafe please don’t do this for the past six months I have been held up in the house” you breathe in, tears threatening to fall. “Taking care of our girls day in and day out so please don't act like me hanging out with my friends for one night makes me a terrible mother”
Regret flickers across his face as he reaches across the armrest and he takes your face in his hands, expression softening. “I didn't know you felt this lovely, I’m sorry I treated you that way. I was just upset because I thought you didn't want to spend any time with me.”
Moving his hands under your skirt to your thighs you gasp as his fingers barely graze your skin. His touch sends shivers down your spine and Rafe notices this with a smirk on his face. “Have I been neglecting you, baby?” He teases.
Pulling your legs apart, his tongue runs along your inner thighs while your breath starts to get shallow, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Please Rafe” You gasp as he continues sticking his tongue out it quickly dips into your folds, your head hitting the car window. His tongue moves at a regular pace while you feel your skin getting inflamed with the pleasure that you are receiving from your core.
Moving his head from side to side he groans as he pulls your hips impossibly closer to his face. “C'mon baby give it all to me.” “Ohhh fuck.” you groan, your body trembling with desire, as he pulls his head closer in between your legs your stomach starts to form a knot.
“Please- please don't stop” you begged, Rafe moaning into your pussy as you started to shake with your heels digging into his back. “I’m cumming, fuck!’ Crying out your back is arched as your white spot starts to blur your vision. Waves of pleasure begin to wash over you through your climax.
“Get in my lap lovely” Rafe murmurs. Blinded by the orgasm you just had you let him guide you into his lap, with his pants unzipped and his length hard as you feel it nudge your walls as you place your hand on your shoulders.
Bending his head he latches his mouth to your nipple gripping your hips as the sweet taste of your nectar fills his mouth greedily taking it in as he moves his cock inside of you as you slowly move back and forth on his lap.
Detaching his lips he attaches his mouth to yours and as you inhale the slight sweet taste of your milk you take his tongue in your mouth. His hips match your rhythm with the car moving side to side due to the impact of Rafe's thrust, each one bringing us closer to the edge.
“You are perfectly lovely please make me cum, inside of you let me give you another baby please!” he begs, tightening his hold on your hips. “Give me another daddy cum deep inside of me!” Gasping for breath, you wrap your arms around his neck burying your head in his shoulder. your orgasm splashing between the two of you, as Rafe’s cum fills you up.
With your mind in its dizzy state, Rafe guides you back to your seat buckling your seatbelt and finally pulling out of the chateau.
*Ding* The notification sound draws you to your phone and your face turns red with the message you read as Rafe busts out with laughter after reading the message on your phone.
JJ🦾:”I hope you know WE all saw that…“
#imagines#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#drew starkey#rafe x you#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe smut#rafe imagine#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks smut#rafe cameron oneshot#rafe x reader#rafe fic#outerbanks rafe#rafe fanfiction#outer banks#rafe cameron x fem!reader#x black fem reader#rafe cameron x black fem reader#rafe cameron x y/n#drew starkey x reader#rafe concepts#yoongisblackgirlfriend#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#outerbanks fic#rafe x y/n
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Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley with a Pregnant!Wife!Reader
Headcanons and Scenarios
Am I back with baby fever? I mean yeah but this is less baby fever and more if Husband!Simon in honor of my first ever post that reached 1k likes in 4 days. Also you guys know Ghostie by now right? @connorsui mentioned that she wonders how Ghost and the reader met, guess who's writing about that?
Edit: SHIT, THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR SO LONG AND I FORGOT TO ADD CREDIT, I'M SO SORRY. The render above is by @ave661
Taglist: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @theredurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb
Also @puff0o0, my most favorite moot has helped me come up with how they met, UGH ILYYY <333
My CoD Masterlist <3
Warnings/Disclaimers: Reader is pregnant, sick!Reader, mentions of vomiting (not detailed), pain of birth and all the other pregnancy warnings out there. (Extreme fluff)
❥ Husband!Simon who had no fucking clue how to react when you first told him you got pregnant, I mean he knew at some point it would happen but not this soon?!
❥ Husband!Simon who in your early stages of pregnancy was the one holding your hair up while you empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet most mornings. He was the one who had a warm hand gently rubbing up and down your back while mumbling light encouragements, careful not to agitate you from the sickening feeling.
❥ Husband!Simon who was gradually getting the hang of things, getting clingier the further into the pregnancy. Once the baby bump comes in, bye bye personal space, Dad!Simon needs to have his hand on the bump no less than 10 times a day.
❥ Husband!Simon who is a sucker for kissing the baby bump, especially your stretch marks. He will be more gentle if you ask him to because your ticklish, but don't expect none of his stuble.
❥ Husband!Simon whose breath hitches when you took his large calloused hand onto your baby bump and felt movement, he had to blink twice up at you and look down again. Only now it was two hands holding the bump, waiting for more kicks.
❥ Husband!Simon who lets you do all the shopping with baby stuff because he has no idea what looks cute, every once in a while showing you something he thinks looks good and asks for your approval.
❥ Husband!Simon who looks back up at you in concern as he hears you whimper, as much as he wants more movement and feel the little one kick, you were in pain and uncomfortable. Some soothing words might help..?
You let out a soft whimper as you felt the baby kick again, god did she have her father's strength..
Simon still had his warm and heavy hand on the bump, feeling the little one's movement.
"Pumpkin.. give your momma a rest, she needs some sleep" Simon sleepily mutters. Just like that the movement stops.
"I swear she only ever listens to your voice, it's obvious that she's already a daddy's girl"
❥ Husband!Simon who is more than obsessed with the baby bump, albeit his ear over the bump to hear the baby, big calloused hands always have to be some place on it. You'll just find your husband clinging onto your bump, his head on your chest while his arms are wrapped around the loves of his life.
❥ Husband!Simon who was far more panicked than you were during the birth, he literally cannot even pay attention to the pain of your hand almost breaking his from the gripping because his heart is pounding in his chest while you push out the baby.
❥ Husband!Dad!Simon who was trembling the moment you forced him to open up his arms so he could hold the baby. She's so tiny, her whole body almost fits in just one of his hands. The moment he held her, she stopped wailing, trying so hard to open her little eyes.
❥ Husband!Dad!Simon couldn't help but pull you up into his arms too because you couldn't move up from exhaustion. Your hand on the little one's body that was cradled by her dad, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders while he kissed your sweaty forehead, singing praises to you about how thankful he is that you brought life to your little girl together.
A/n: Hi guys, just to start off. I haven't been in a good space for a while now, I don't think I'm in the right headspace either. Not to say I'm taking a break, fuck no, I'd lose all my relevance if I did and I also think that taking a break from this won't be good for me or you guys because I don't want history to repeat itself.
If you guys don't know yet, I've been on the break in 2020 and didn't officially start writing again till 2023, finally entering a different fandom. I feel like taking a break would result into this whole thing again and I can't go through that all over again. I love writing so much and it hurt when I lost all my relevance on Wattpad.
My personal life outside of Tumblr is weird to explain, see things haven't been good regarding my situation with a friend. Neither do I feel good in school, everything in that place just sucks except for two other closer friends. There's still the dreadful 3 weeks left till Christmas vacation. Not only that but I get anxiety over so many things that may be little to most of you.
A mutual of mine so graciously has given me ideas for the next Ghostie posts, I love them, it's accurate and it's great and all however some part of me makes me feel so insignificant. Like why didn't I think of that? Why am I even writing if I'm just relying on other people's ideas? This is no shade to that mutual, thank you so much, hell I loved everything they told me. It's just always my anxiety and insecurities getting the better of me.
Apologies for the length of this. I'm quite busy and my clumsy fingers accidentally published something again 😭Anyway, more Ghostie content is on it's way :))
#cod x reader#aethelwyne lia writes#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you#ghost x plus size reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x y/n#dad!ghost#dad!simon
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AHHHH HELLOOO sorry i usually dont request much, haha this is actually my second request in all of my tumblr story ever but...i saw you decided to write for gaming and i just couldnt resist, i love your writing a lot and i just think its so immaculate hahaa. Could you write an scenario where male reader is stressed from work (imagine he has an important job like a doctor or something whatever you want is fine :)) because he has been working days nonstop, so much that his boyfriend is all worked up and horny for him so when reader comes back he finds himself straddled by him while hes begging for fucking? With cockwarming, breeding kink and cowgirl position. Could that be with Gaming, Lyney and Gorou? SORRY IF IM ASKING MUCH I DONT WANT TO BE A BOTHER😭😭 i just dont know how to request but thanks for reading all of rant. And again, thank you and sorry for bothering😔 have a nice day/afternoon/night!
"an unnamed player has invited GA-MING, LYNEY, and GOROU to play . . .
an apple a day
✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, vaginal sex & riding, breeding kink + creampies, creaming (lyney), gratuitous praise + petnames .
A/N : aa u are never a bother !! i am SO SORRY this took so long for me to get to, omg . . . but i had sm fun with this (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)
"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."
Patient after patient after patient, each one with a more downright stupid trouble than the last. Your day had started with a young man, clearly fresh out of Millelith training, complaining of a tummy ache, of all things! He had clutched his stomach and moaned and groaned, and all you could prescribe him was bedrest. It’s not like you were going to waste medicine—medicine that some people needed—on someone who ached because he didn't eat fucking breakfast.
The next patient was an older woman, here only for her biannual check up. You'd greeted her, said a sweet, “Good morning, madame,” but all she did was turn her snobby nose up at you and demand you not waste her time.
“Madame, you have a serious—”
“I know, young man.” You had heaved a sigh, letting her boss you around for the length of her appointment before sending her off with the exact same specifications as last time: take vitamins, get ample rest, stop talking back to people just doing their jobs. (Though, that last one there was merely something you wished you had said.
Too bad the customer—in this case, patient—is always right, huh?)
But, by the end of the day, you wish, instead, that you had simply elderly after elderly; their disrespect pales to the absolute headache that the rest of your patients put behind your eyes, pounding at your skull—bam, bam, bam.
Wham bam-thank-you-ma'am, all throbbing incessantly behind your eyes and making you wanna hurl—except, god, you’re the fucking doctor, and who’s there to take care of him when he’s a little under the weather? You’ve got your boyfriend, of course—your perfect boyfriend, light of your life, apple of your eye, yet he’s home, and you’re here, and you’re bloody exhausted.
“I need to go home,” you murmur—quiet, lest your own voice make you lose the last of your thin-threaded sanity—, already stripping yourself of the itchy scrubs you wear during the long days.
“But sir—” the nurse asks, meak, but her voice is still too loud, too shrill for right now.
You huff. “I’ve worked for fourteen hours.” The tired gruff to your own voice makes you cringe. You can feel the way it tumbles from your chest, rattling you, your overly sensitive eyes and brain and head and fuckin’ everything, at this point. “Refer to the doc on duty, now.”
The nurse nods, once. “Have a good night, doctor.”
You bid farewell—a kind apology with a promise to make it up to them, to bring them coffee, maybe, or some cookies—, and you take the slow walk home. The sky is dark and the fireflies are out, the gentle glow illuminating the path. With nothing but your own thoughts and the night to accompany you, you feel your headache gradually ease. It throbs, still; but each bump in your skull is gentler, now: it’s easier to ignore.
Although the porch light is too strong—the lantern bright and attracting the nighttime bugs and moths—, the foyer of your home is dark. Your aching head is grateful for the reprieve—for the silence that envelops you in totality the second the door clicks quietly shut behind you—, but something other than tiredness pulls at your heartstrings: your sweet boyfriend, clad in only a shirt of yours, toeing into the entryway.
“Honey?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, softly smiling at you. “Hi.”
“Ga-ming, honey—” honey, because Ga-ming unabashedly stole the pet name from you, first, “—you didn’t have to stay up for me.”
As if on cue, his jaw cracks open in a yawn: this, you do not need the lights on to see. Your heart aches with your head, knowing that he had stayed up just for you. “Honey,” you repeat, sliding off your jacket and stepping up to him. You take his waist in your hands, bunching up the shirt he stole from your closet.
“Quit with that,” he murmurs, tilting up his head for a soft kiss. You grant it; but when you go to pull back, to keep the kiss gentle and chaste, Ga-ming presses forward, darting that little tongue out to lick at the seam of your lips; his hips, too, come bumping against yours, pressing into your thigh, pant to skin—
“Ga-ming?” you repeat, breath leaving you in a low huff. “You’re—” bare.
Utterly, wholly bare: an expanse of warm, slick skin against your clothed leg. “‘m ready,” he mumbles while he takes to mouthing at your throat. His lips soothe you, somehow; it’s a reprieve, a stark contrast, to the pounding at your skull.
“Ready?” you whisper, tilting your head back, letting your hands guide the steady roll of his hips onto your lap.
He nods. “Ready for you,” he enunciates as he softly whines.
Ga-ming—your Ga-ming—, your boyfriend, your love and light of your life: right here in front of you, on you, all needy for you, offering himself to you, wholly ready for the taking.
“So please,” he continues, his cock dragging heavy across the seam of your pant; “fuck me.”
“Oh, honey,” you murmur; then again, an “oh, honey,” because you’re still half-dressed up in your clothes—though they’re only soft and bland, made to fit under the rough scrubs you had abandoned at the office—, and Ga-ming is naked save for the shirt draping across him, the low hemline covering the absolutely sinful way he grinds down. It’s a dirty move, a down, down, down that gives his sensitive cock friction against your pelvis.
“Please, please, ‘m ready, I said—” his words abruptly drop off, a high cry in his throat that sends him to hide his overly-warm face in your neck. His skin burns against you, a feverish-hot that makes you chuckle, makes the throb in your head go away, just-so. “I said I-I was ready, so, please!”
You coo, quiet, bumping your hips up once. The jerking motion makes him cry out, but he manages to keep himself upright, right-side up but entirely unmoored on your cock. “Go on then, little lion. Take what you need, yeah?”
Whimpering a quiet, “Y-yeah,” he begins riding you, slow, steady—but slightly off-balanced—rolls of his hips that makes him whine, makes you groan low n’ deep in your chest. You let your hands rest on his hips, the fabric of his shirt falling over your wrists, and gently guide his motions. Once you’ve helped him establish himself, he begins riding you harder, more desperate.
Silent tears—though, are they truly silent, loud as he is moaning out for you?—dribble down his cheeks, falling to his shirt and soaking the collar of it in salty evidence of his abject pleasure. His abdomen is tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing again, all in a rapid loop, in and out and in n’ out, and then there’s a fucking bulge right below his navel when he sinks down hard n’ deep on your cock; and you’re sent over the edge at the sight, moaning through your teeth as you fill Ga-ming up with hot, sticky cum.
“Oh, oh—” he cries, grinding down harsh to get all your cum in as deep as possible, deep ‘nuff to breed him— “bred me, bred me so well, oh—” You groan at his desperate babbling as his thighs jerk around your hips, just before they give out on him entirely. He falls bodily into your chest, heaving through his own orgasm as weak mewls tumble from his prettily parted lips. Each sound is smeared into your throat while you laugh, light and breathless, jostling his overly-sensitized body and making him flinch.
“Sorry, honey.” You kiss at his temple, and, the whole while, his small cunt is left to unconsciously milk your cock, left to assure that loud, insecure part of his brain that he’s wanted, that he’s bred all nice n’ full because he is loved. You’re long done, now, but the undulations make your body warm, soft, safe—just like Ga-ming is, comfy in your lap and wholly protected. “Thank you.”
He shakes his head against you, nuzzling into your throat with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have—hafta thank me,” he mumbles, a lick at your Adam’s apple to seal the deal. “I wanted ta.”
Tucking up the blankets around him, you grin. “Then can you warm my cock, lil’ dragon? Just for me?” You run your fingers lightly up his clothed spine, delighting in the shiver you can feel, one that runs the length of your cock as he’s snug on it. “Since earlier was all about you?” You raise the end of your sentence in a lilting tone, meant to tease, and Ga-ming huffs at you.
And, n further retaliation, he clenches around you; the soft squeeze—all wet n’ warm, smearing your own cum across the base of your cock and leaving the mess of both of yours to dribble down the minute space between your bodies—forces you to calm your breathing, to take in the delicate scent of what is undeniably Ga-ming mixed with the smell of your own shirt, your own cologne.
You laugh, then. “‘m sorry,” you say again amidst giggles, ones you’re careful you confine only to your upper chest lest the movement be too uncomfortable on both of your oversensitive groins.
He doesn't reply, snuggled up comfy on your lap and stuffed full of your cock n’ cum both. Instead, he only noses into your neck further before his breathing steadies, lulling you to sleep, too.
It’s in your final moments of consciousness that you realize your head no longer hurts.
(You suppose you now have the evidence that, yes, an orgasm is sufficient enough a cure for headaches.)
Under Lyney’s palm, a small floor lamp clicks silently on. The light is admittedly dim, but, to your sensitive eyes, the bulb is blinding. You cringe and cover your eyes; but it only serves to shield you slightly, because you’re still upright in the foyer, and your body is rather weak. “Lyney,” you tiredly murmur, lifting your palm just enough to see the ground lest you trip.
You bump into him, laughing lightly, but his worried hands jump to your arm. “Hey—”
“I’m okay.” You’re quick to calm him, placing your free hand on his in a tender gesture as you make way to the living room. “Just a headache, ‘s all. Ya shouldn't have stayed up f’r me.” Earlier, it hurt to even think; but here, with him, the pain is easy to ignore, in the face of his own self destruction.
He grumbles at you, though, says something you can’t quite catch and drops his hands, pads over to the lamp to flick it off. The return of darkness is soothing.
He smiles at you, then; or, at least, you think he does. It’s difficult to see in the dark, and you can’t strain your eyes without hurting yourself. “I wanted to!” He takes three long strides before he’s standing in front of you, draping his arms across your shoulders. The position makes his (your) shirt ride up on his belly, and— ”I missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, suddenly all soft n’ deep, looking up at you and bumping his forehead against your chin. “A lot, really.”
“Lyn—”
He quickly silences you with a kiss. Against your lips, he pulls back, murmurs, “I missed your cock, especially.”
Laughing against him, you lean up ‘til he can no longer reach you. He pouts at you when you reply, faux-snark, “only my cock, huh?” Your bottom lip juts out—a mirror of Lyney’s own, a magic trick of his you took for your own; it’s a devilish trick, one you play right alongside puppy-dog eyes you know he’s soft to. “How cruel.”
He huffs at you, pulling you down by the collar of your shirt to kiss the mirth off your lips. “I was tryin’ to be seductive,” he grumbles, knocking against your chin and beginning to push you backwards into the living room. “But nevermind!”
You want to say, “Hey, now:” disagree with him and keep on pouting and go, “hey, hey, hey,” all offended, but the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the sofa, and you’re well and sufficiently distracted from that idea.
“Sit,” he gently commands you—merely the illusion of choice—, giving you no choice in the matter with the way he’s pressing you down into the cushions. You go easily; you sigh in relief when the softness begins enveloping you—a pillow’s snug right in the middle of your back, and you briefly wonder if Lyney had planned this. He murmurs, “there you go,” quiet n’ soft, and you’re taken by the way this man gives to you.
He wears his heart on his sleeve, truly; except, right now, the sleeve is yours (just like his heart belongs to you and yours to him in turn), and it's bare, and so is the expanse of his long, pale thighs, the hem of his boxers peeking out beneath the shirt. He stands in front of you, between your legs, makes sure you’re down and that you’re gonna stay down, but your eyes aren’t really tired, not anymore, staring at Luney—your Lyney—before he huffs and sits bodily onto you, straddling your lap with his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of you.
“Lyney,” you murmur, reaching out to take hold of his thighs. The position makes the shirt rise up on his belly, exposing the soft, rippling muscles there; but, in the dark, all you can go by is what you feel against your own stomach, his bare skin pressed to your thin shirt. “I was kiddin’, sweetheart.”
“I know you were,” he snaps at you, mean-like, but he brings his arms around your shoulders all sweetly and nuzzles into the side of your head. “But I wasn’t. I—I really did miss you; and your cock. If you—if you wanna, of course.”
“Of course I want to, Lyn,” you mutter, tilting your head up to kiss beneath his chin. “I’m just a little tired.”
“A little?” He huffs, again, before sighing. “Just—let me do the work, alright? I’m already...” he pauses, tilts his head to the side, breathes in and out sharply.
You hum at him to go on.
“‘m already prepped.” Oh.
“Oh?” You grin, bringing your tired arm up to cup his cheek. He leans into your palm and his eyelashes flutter, brushing against your skin. “Go ahead then, sweet thing.”
And go ahead he does, smiling into you before he abruptly leans back ‘nuff to chuck off the shirt. You whine, say, “hey!” but there isn’t any bite left on your tongue when Lyney starts tugging his boxers down, too. He’s impatient, pulling at the seam and groaning curses at the fabric—as if it’s the damn boxers’ fault that he’s in a position that prevents him from taking them off.
He relents, tilting this way and that and finally—after painstaking minutes later, ones that, under no circumstance, should be arousing, but the anticipation, the wait: it all makes your dick chub up in your own pants—Lyney’s left naked in your lap. The fabric hangs off his foot, and you reach down to tug it the rest of the way off for your sweet boyfriend as he busies himself unbuckling your own belt, loosening the tough leather enough for your pants to droop and enough for him to reach a hot hand into your briefs.
“Eager, huh?” you tease, lifting your hips—and, subsequently, him—to let him get your dick out of your pants. Neither of you bother pulling down your own pants, not after Lyney spent so long on his boxers alone. He doesn’t dally. “My sweet Lyney.”
He sighs, again—he’s rather dramatic tonight; but, then again, when isn’t he? It wouldn’t quite be your Lyney without some theatrics—, spitting into his palm and lathering up your cock with it while he makes to straddle you more fully. “Thought you were tired,” he grumbles, hovering his, indeed, wet n’ slicked up and entirely prepped cunt over your thick cockhead.
“Mhm.” You set your hands on his plush thighs once he hooks the head of you into his loosened hole, groaning low and pleased in your throat while he softly whimpers at the barely-there stretch. He prepared himself well. “But when you’re lookin’ so pretty for me, I can’t help being wide awake. Wouldn’t wanna miss this sight for the world.”
With your eyes now adjusted to the light—and, oh, you consider how the throb of your head is a bygone memory now—, you can see the way his cheeks darken just-so, puffed up in exertion as his groin meets yours. You’ve got your cock stuffed up balls-deep in him, and he leans into you once he’s fully settled.
He moans, less out of outright pleasure and more out of total contentment, comfy and warm on your lap as your arms knead at his thighs. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, and he quietly asks, “Gimme a minute.”
Nodding, you simply bask in the steady heat of him, letting him adjust and recognize that, yes, you’re home, now, and you hadn’t really left him at all. “I missed you,” you murmur rather suddenly, your voice quiet but still stark in the silence of the night. “Thought about you durin’ my shift.”
“You did?” His voice is rough but wispy, a little out-there and entirely gone. He’s slipping into that mindset he always does when he’s left to warm your cock—regardless of if it were by his volition or your own—, but he begins to subtly grind his hips against you, mewling at the hot sparks of rapture from his cock rubbing just right against you.
“‘Course I did,” you continue, moving your hands to his hips instead to help move him along. His arms tighten around you and he moans directly into your ear.
From then on, it’s quiet: quiet, that is, save from the obscene slick noises of the lube Lyney used to prep himself earlier with his own slick, your pre-cum mixing up and making a mess of thick liquid between both of your thighs. His moans are barely audible, these soft, gentle lil’ uh, uh, uh’s punched out of him with each tender grind down.
You think, even, that you’ll both cum like this: quiet, nothing but the sounds of your connection and heavy breaths, moans, groans as you fall over the edge. But then Lyney starts bumping his groin against yours even harder, grinding down deep on your cock and rubbing against your full balls, and he starts babbling for you to “breed me! Please—”
“I-I’ll breed you,” you groan, leaning your head back into the sofa cushions and chasing your release, chasing the release you both want, the one he wants so desperately stuffed up deep inside him. “Gonna fill you right up, just like you want, sweetheart.”
He babbles more—a mix of syllables and words, more pleas for you to breed him—until he’s silenced by his own high-pitched whine, cumming around you and slathering you in creamy-white. The steady clench and release of his cunt forces you to your own end, thick cum slowly leaking out from the edges of his cunt and your cock. (You can hardly tell what’s your leaking cum and what is his own.)
“Thank you,” he mumbles, already beginning to doze. “Th’nk you:” quieter, more muddled against your ear.
You grab the throw you have across the sofa’s armrest, rucking it up around the two of you; you cocoon Lyney safe in your arms and on your softened cock. He’s nodded off, now, and he misses your words: “You don’t have to thank me,” you say anyway, even if he doesn’t hear you, “I love you.”
The cum’ll be sticky, later, when you wake up; but for now, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly warm and entirely cozy, wholly snuggled up with the love of your life. Your headache, the stressors of the day—they’re all forgotten in his presence.
You’re so, so glad to love him.
“Hi, puppy,” you coo. The sound of your own voice grates you, but you ignore it to sweetly smile at your beloved. He stands there, motionless for a moment right there at the threshold before the foyer, until he shakes his head with a barely-there laugh. “Gorou?”
He tilts his head to the side—this you can see, the silhouette of him in the moonlight—before he takes a tentative step forward.
Then another. And another. Another, another, another, ‘till he’s standing in front of you and leans up to kiss your jaw. “Hi,” he repeats, voice ruff (hah!) and hoarse, a little too much so. “Missed ya.”
You tilt your head back to let him mouth at you, and your hands subconsciously come to clutch at his hips, and— “Oh, Gorou,” you mumble, pleasantly aghast, because your hands come into contact with bare, slick skin. “Pent up?”
With a quiet whimper, he tilts his hips forward, into you, pressing against the contact of your fingers on him. You slowly slide your one hand around, sneaking a large handful of his ass before you dip into his cleft, shuddering when your fingertip easily glides across his slicked, open cunt.
“I-I wanted you, so bad,” he starts to mumble, shy, tucking his head into the meat where your shoulder meets your neck. Without any prompting, you adjust your stance, pressing your knee into his cock and making him jerk forward with another whimper high in his throat. “Oh!”
Slowly, his hips begin grinding—it’s a weak movement, testing, making sure you're really okay with this, right now. He moves unsure against you until you begin bumping your knee, letting his slick make a mess of your pant leg. “Go on,” you goad him on, soft, holding him snug against you. You can feel his cunt clench even through the fabric of your pants, a rapid rat-a-tat-tat against you that is oddly reminiscent of the headache you can feel begin to dissipate. “Take your pleasure, pup.”
He nods vehemently against you, beginning to hump as his tail swishes side to side, side to side, hypnotizing you just slightly. It’s hard to parse it out in the dark, but the shadow of it is undeniable behind him. Each bounce of your leg makes Gorou whimper, and he’s quick to crane his neck up for a kiss to muffle himself. You grant his request easily, but only for a minute; after, you gently part from him to murmur, so quiet that only he could possibly hear, those big, soft ears of his twitching as he strains, “What else do you want, honey?”
“Want you,” he whines, grinding harshly once, twice. “Want you inside me, want you to breed me.”
You didn’t expect that, but you’re a doctor, after all; it’s kinda in the job description to roll with the punches, so you do. “You wanna get fucked full of pups?” you ask, teasing and light, but Gorou’s mouth parts as a loud whine crawls out of his chest.
“Yes! Please.” Thick tears begin to drop from his eyes, saltwater dribbling onto the bare skin of your throat. “Now, now—breed me now,” he begs, and you coo at him, bringing your hands to curl into his hair, rubbing soothing circles into the base of one puppydog ear.
“Patience, pup.”
And, because he’s Gorou, and Gorou is nothing but a good boy, he nods, rapid-quick movements of his head, and begins to slow on your thigh. Heat shimmers low in your belly as he steps back from you on shaky legs, a wet splotch across your leg from his cunt. You bring a hand down, meaning to scoop it up off your pant, but your finger brushes two distinctly different textures: his natural slick, and fuckin’ lube. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”
“Y-yeah,” he mutters, tail tucking itself between his legs. You almost cringe at that, knowing he’s smearing himself into his own fur, but if he doesn’t mind, then you won’t either; besides, it’s hard to truly care when your boyfriend is so bashful in front of you. “I—I missed you, ‘nd wanted to be ready for you.”
The image of Gorou, ass up on the bed with four of his fingers stuffed up inside of himself flitters across your mind, makes your cock throb in your britches. Your erection was easy to ignore, earlier; but now it’s abject torture.
However, it’s not nearly as torturous as it was for your boyfriend, and you know this. You know he didn’t cum, know his fingers are far too short to truly reach in deep and press against his g-spot, know his wrist can’t comfortably bend to jerk himself off and finger himself at the same time. So you coo, soft, “Sweet boy. Where’s your toy?”
“Charging,” he mutters.
You grin at that: it’s perfect. “Can you go get it then, puppy?”
With an audible swallow, he nods, rushing for your bedroom. You follow behind him, lethargic but so, so turned on; and while he’s grabbing the vibrator from the corner, you shuck off the rest of your clothes and plop yourself down on the edge of your bed.
He must not expect you to have followed him, however, because once he turns around, he jumps, ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. You only laugh and pat your lap. “C’mere.”
Quickly—and toy in tow—, he shuffles over to you. He stands awkwardly in front of you for a moment before you murmur, “I said c’mere,” and tug him to straddle your lap. The position immediately forces his cock—slick n’ thick, out of its hood and throbbing incessantly—against yours, and he mewls helplessly for a moment, grinds once, twice again, before he grabs the lube to the side of you.
You hadn’t even noticed it there, but now that he’s grabbed it, pointed it out, you feel other wet spots beneath you. He fuckin’ masturbated here, right on the duvet you both sleep under, thinkin’ about you and only you. You’re taking out of your musings when he slathers up your cock in lube, messy and sloppy, and then he’s rising, positioning you, and sinking right on down.
“Mm!” he cries out, swiveling his hips to take you in deeper, deeper, deeper. You groan at the lube-slick combination that smothers your cock in Gorou, Gorou, Gorou. “Breed me, breed me!” Each meak plea makes your cock pulse inside him, and he mewls at each throb inside him. “Please!”
“I got you, pup,” you murmur, your edge so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. “Just make yourself feel good, and I’ll breed you, okay? Okay, puppy?”
“Okay, okay—”
You grin. “Good boy,” you say, and then he’s tumbling over the edge and bringing you right down with him. You groan into his throat, feeling the vibrations of his whimpers n’ whining moans as he’s getting thoroughly bred. Your hands ruck up his shirt to hold his sides and soothe him down from his high. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. Bred you just like I promised I would, hm?”
He weakly nods. “Thank you,” he mumbles, nosing at your throat.
And, well. You’re bloody exhausted, and you promised to breed him, and he can’t keep on being bred if you pull out. You tell yourself you’re only upholding your promise as Gorou falls asleep on your cock, breathing deep on your lap: tell yourself that it’s the lingering tiredness that suddenly seems to hit you in full-force that keeps him warm and snug on you.
Really, clean-up can wait.
i got a lil' carried away on lyney's part ,, o(*^＠^*)o also, none of these were really cowgirl 'cos reader was sitting up for it . . . i couldn't think of how to have him lay flat in these scenarios LOLL
13 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .
#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#i used to have very frequent headaches and the only way i could abate them was:#1) midol (god's gift to earth i stg)#and 2) jrking off.#so !!#sub genshin#genshin smut#genshin x reader#sub gaming#gaming x reader#sub lyney#lyney x reader#sub gorou#gorou x reader#lord .#top reader#dom reader#amab reader#male reader
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episode two: the mall rats
Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”
“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.
It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.
Summary: dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, allusions to violence, fem!reader, use of y/n
Words: 13.2k
Before you swing in: hello !!! new chapter, i am so sorry for the wait :/ the end of the semester has been killer and ive been super busy with my lab job (i present at a conference friday ... pray for me). heres chapter 2, she somehow ended up being 13k words but lets ignore that for my own sanity !
-
There are dandelions all around you.
Their puffs of white surround you as the seeds dance in the air and settle atop of your head and tickle your cheek. They’re soft, reminiscent of the snow that encases you every winter in Hawkins and the days you used to chase Jonathan around in his backyard.
You’re barefoot in a field that you can’t quite place. The grass below you skims against your ankles as the dandelion seeds float towards the tops of the green. It’s a familiar landscape, something tells you that you’ve been here before, and the thought is almost reassuring to you.
The sun is warm against you and there’s someone in the distance. You open your mouth to call out to them, they feel as familiar as the landscape before you does, but when you try to speak, the dandelion seeds begin to swarm into your mouth. The puffs of white seem to turn into daggers in your throat as they cut your tongue and slice inside you as you struggle to breathe.
You try to scream, but nothing comes out. The dandelions now draw blood as they continue their malicious attack on you. You claw at your mouth and cower in the field, trying to flee from what’s attacking you, but the dandelions only follow as you try to call after the figure you saw in the distance.
Stumbling blindly through the grass, panic stricken and longing for the person who had once been at the top of the hill, your foot catches on a root and suddenly you’re falling. This time, you do scream, and the dandelion seeds spill from your mouth as you fall into an endless abyss.
“Y/N!” Your eyes fly open and your body shoots from your bed; you almost head butt Dustin in the process. He flinches back, startled by your violent reaction, and he puts his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Geesh, I was just trying to wake you up.”
It takes you a few moments to process that you are, in fact, awake. Your heartbeat is still pounding rapidly in your throat. You can still feel the dandelion seeds on your tongue and the millions of little cuts they left behind.
Dustin stares at you with slight concern in his eyes and you clear your throat, trying to rid the memory of your dream. That’s all it was. A dream.
Clearing your throat again, you try to calm yourself down. “Why are you in my room?”
“Like I said, I was trying to wake you up.” Your brother says as if you’re an idiot.
“But why?”
“Did you bang your head or something last night?” He gives you an odd look and you glare at him. “Cerebro caught a Russian code, remember? You promised we’d see Steve today to talk about it!”
You rub your eyes, exhausted. It’s taking longer than usual for your mind to wake up and process everything. “I know, I know… What time is it?”
“Eight, now get up and go get pretty for Steve so we can discuss how to become American heroes.” Dustin crosses his arms, silently daring you to argue.
“There was so much wrong with that sentence,” you groan, but reluctantly throw your blankets off of you and start pulling out random shorts and a t-shirt to wear. “You’re lucky it’s the weekend and I don’t work today.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Dustin mocks you, tossing you a white t-shirt and removing the red one from your hands. “Steve likes you in white, now hurry up.”
Your mouth drops in shock, but your brother simply rolls his eyes at you and leaves your room so that you can get dressed.
“How does he even know that?” You whisper to yourself, now alone in your room.
–
Dustin bikes ahead of you as you make your way to Joyce’s store in Downtown Hawkins. He had complained when you told him that you needed to make a pitstop there before going to the mall.
“I haven’t seen Steve in a month!”
“And Mrs. Byers is close to losing her job at Melvald’s, so you can wait the extra five minute detour it takes to deliver her muffins to cheer her up.”
Your brother had tried to argue some more, but you simply shoved a fresh baked muffin in his mouth and began to bike away.
Now, as the two of you head towards Downtown, the early morning air fills your lungs and slowly wakes you up. It’s quiet, Hawkins isn’t quite awake yet in the early hour. Only the bees buzzing past your ear seem to be lively.
You watch Dustin up ahead and briefly marvel at how much bigger he seems to have gotten in the month he was away at camp. He looks older, more mature, no longer the baby brother your mom brought home fourteen years ago.
As you’re lost in your reminiscence, you almost miss the figure that stumbles along the side of the road.
“Dustin!” You yell at the boy, weary of whoever is up ahead. “Stop!”
He hears the fear in your voice and screeches his bike to a halt. Turning around, he checks to make sure you’re okay. “Did something happen?”
You stop next to him and discreetly point at the figure a few yards away. It seems to be a boy, maybe a teen your age, but he’s walking as if he’s in immense pain. “You see that?”
“Yeah,” Dustin squints and also seems unnerved by the person’s appearance. “Think it’s anything dangerous?”
“I don’t know…” Something feels familiar about the person. Their hair, the way it’s styled, reminds you of someone. You squint as well, your eyes catch on the person’s leather jacket and the expensive brand, there’s a faint outline of cigarettes in the pocket, and the sight fills your nose with the smoke that once choked you last winter. “I think it’s Billy.”
“Why is he walking on the side of the road?” Dustin makes a face. “I know he has a car, the bastard almost ran me and the party over on Halloween.”
You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to understand why you feel this tug within you to get closer to the teen. Billy is cruel, he is horrible, and the bruises he left on your neck took weeks to fully fade away. Yet there’s a concern within you as you watch him stumble, as if in some daze, and it's this worry that solidifies your decision. “Stay here.”
“What–” Dustin turns and sees that you’ve gotten back on your bike and are now pedaling towards Billy. “Y/N! Are you insane?”
“Stay here!” You order, not really understanding why you’re doing this either. “Just… Wait for my signal!”
Dustin curses, not at all liking this plan, but he listens. He tightens his grip on his bike’s handlebar and makes sure you never leave his line of sight in case you need him for backup.
As you approach Billy, you make sure to circle widely around him so that he sees you coming, before finally facing in front of him. You brake a few feet away from him, incredibly nervous for how he may react. You haven’t spoken to him since last winter, he had kept his promise to Max to leave you alone.
Billy barely seems to register that you’re in front of him. He stops as if he’s in a trance and blinks slowly at you. You notice the cut on his forehead, how there’s still fresh blood dripping from it, and something within you wants to tend to the wound. Then you notice the grime that covers his face and his jacket, and you begin to worry even more.
As you’re eying his disheveled appearance, Billy opens his mouth, and the action looks as if it takes all the energy within him to do so. “S–sweetheart?”
“Are you okay?” You ignore the nickname he gave you that makes your skin crawl. You’re more worried about his appearance. He’s sweating like crazy, almost as if he’s on drugs, and he’s paler than normal. His California tan is gone, his eyes are glazed over, he looks as if he isn’t really here with you right now.
It scares you. You’ve never seen him like this.
“‘M fine,” Billy slurs. He seems… off. More drawn into himself now, less sure of himself. Scared, even. It’s a strange sight to see: Billy Hargrove, alone and frightened, in the early morning of June. “I… I’m fine.”
His slurred words aren’t reassuring, and a part of you wants to offer him a ride on your bike. You assume he’s heading to the local pool to lifeguard, you know it’s where he spends most of his days, but you have Dustin with you and you’re still nervous around Billy.
The wounds he gave you may have healed, but some nights, when the nightmares are really bad, you wake up to his hands around your throat.
It feels wrong just leaving Billy like this, though. He’s still human, Max has slowly opened up to you about her abusive stepdad and the way he punches her brother. You know that Billy’s actions come from his hurt, but you don’t think you’re ready yet to forgive him. Not now, at least.
Reluctantly, you sigh and wave your hand to indicate to Dustin that he’s fine to start biking over. Billy doesn’t seem like a threat right now in his current state. When you see your brother start to pedal closer, you look back at Billy. “Listen, I know we aren’t… friends.”
Billy stares blankly at you, and you really hope that he can understand what you’re saying right now.
“But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?” You tell him, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm as you speak. However, when your skin makes contact with his, you flinch at how cold he is.
Before you can say anything else, Dustin finally catches up and brakes softly next to you. He looks nervously between you and Billy. “So… Uh. Ready to go, Y/N?”
“Yeah…” You pull away from Billy, your fingers almost numb from his cold skin, and spare him one last glance as you start to bike away. “Remember what I said, okay?”
Billy doesn’t say anything.
You and Dustin leave him stranded on the side of the road.
Neither one of you talk about this.
–
As usual, Downtown Hawkins is deserted when you and Dustin arrive at Melvald’s. The only two cars parked in front of the rundown store belong to Joyce and Hopper.
You hop off your bike and park it in the bike rack before carefully untying the container of muffins from the back. Dustin is slumped on top of his bike, silently complaining, and you wave a stern finger at him. “Wait here, okay? This will only take five minutes, I promise.”
“I’m telling Steve that you’re cheating on him with Mrs. Byers.”
“Not cheating if we aren’t together,” you quip, before opening the door to the store.
When you step inside the store, you’re greeted with Hopper obnoxiously yelling and jumping around as Joyce laughs and claps for him. Curious, you carefully side step the grown man and make your way over to the woman.
“Y/N!” Joyce lights up even more when she sees you, and then lets out a small cheer when she sees that you’re holding one of your signature baked goods containers. “Are those for me?”
“Always, Mrs. Byers.” You grin at her and set the container down. “They’re the muffins you really liked last week, thought I’d bake a special batch just for you.”
Hopper now joins you at the store’s counter in front of Joyce. He’s practically vibrating with his excited energy, so much so that he even smiles at you and claps a hand behind your back. “Kid, it’s like you knew we’d be celebrating a monumental occasion today.”
“What, did Jonathan finally wash his bedsheets?”
Joyce shakes her head and Hopper claps again, now grasping your shoulders and shakes you around. “No, even better! I got Mike out of my house!”
Through Joyce, you had learned all about Hopper’s utter disdain of Mike’s relationship with El. He has spent every day at their cabin since getting together, and even you have had to pry the girl away from Mike a few times to hang out with her. It’s hard bonding with El when Mike is breathing down your neck.
You’re all for young love, you think they’re adorable together, but christ. You understand Hopper’s frustration.
“Actually,” you’re still being shaken by the man. “That does sound better. How’d ya do it?”
Hearing your question, Hopper thankfully stops shaking your shoulders and now happily points at Joyce. “It was all her. I’m the puppet, she’s the master. Joyce gave me a brilliant script to say to the kid.”
“So you remembered everything?” Joyce asks, now unwrapping one of your muffins with glee.
“Yeah… well,” Hopper pauses. “I mean, I had to improvise a little bit, you know?”
You wince. “Oh, that’s never good.”
He glares at you but continues to explain. “It turns out that getting to Mike was the key.”
His words only make you wince again, and you look at Joyce. She meets your eye and the two of you silently agree that something doesn’t sound right here. She questions Hopper further. “And you didn’t yell at him?”
Hopper hesitates, which you expected. “I’ll… tell you everything over dinner.”
“Okay!” You step in between the adults and wave your arms out, preventing whatever else is about to be said. “I’m still here, let’s remember that.”
The chief glares at you again and narrows his eyes. “You’re right, you are still here. Why are you still here?”
“Because Mrs. Byers loves me and I baked her delicious muffins.” You deadpan, which Joyce chuckles at. “And while I’m sure whatever she told you to say to Mike was lovely, I have my doubts that you actually listened.”
“She’s got a point, Hop.” Joyce voices.
Hopper sighs at you both. “Okay, maybe I said some things, haven’t told El the whole truth, but what else was I supposed to do?”
“Not lie to kids?” Crossing your arms, you make a face at the man.
“Easy for you to say, little miss Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Hopper scoffs at you. “Got any better advice?”
You roll your eyes at his words. You understand that the man is still grappling with being a father again, he’s never been one to handle feelings any better, so you spare him some pity and try to be honest with him, say what he needs to hear. “Look, all I’m saying is that the best thing my deadbeat father ever did was teach me kindness, and it broke my heart when he was dishonest in the end. Just, don’t be that way with El, okay?”
Hopper is quiet as your words hang in the air.
Joyce is quiet as well, looking between you and the chief with a fondness in her eyes. It’s not often she sees someone render Hopper speechless, and she knows that it’s one of the many things she loves the most about your relationship with him. Though she would never tell you this, she thinks that Hopper secretly has his own fondness for you as well.
When the silence stretches for an uncomfortably long amount of time, you clear your throat and change the subject. “Well! This was fun, happy we did this.”
Hopper snorts, relieved you’re moving on as well. “Get lost, kid.”
“Gladly.” You turn back to Joyce and press a swift kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Byers!”
Joyce says goodbye as well, and when you’ve left the store, she faces Hopper with a slight smirk. “She’s a good kid, Hop.”
“She is,” he agrees, looking down at his shoes. He will never admit this to anyone else, but to Joyce he knows his words are safe. “She’s the best of ‘em.”
–
When you finally get to the mall, Dustin basically dumps his bike in a spot next to a disgruntled older couple and runs before you can even slow down. He’s so lost in his excitement to see Steve as he runs towards Scoops and leaves you to deal with his bike and the couple alone, which you groan at.
“He acts like it’s been a year,” you grumble, finally hopping off your own bike to grab Dustin’s and secure them both to a nearby rack. After mumbling a quick apology to the couple your brother practically threw a bike at, you run after him inside.
By the time you catch up, Dustin has just entered Scoops and is talking to Robin. You approach, curious to see how this event will unfold. Robin hasn’t met your brother yet, and you have a feeling that his abrasive nature will either make her his biggest fan or absolutely hate him.
It’s the Henderson charm, really.
“I’m Dustin,” your brother introduces himself as you come to stand next to him. When he notices your arrival, he motions towards you and winks at Robin. “I’m sure Y/N has told you all about me.”
Robin raises her eyebrows at the kid, and you try to cover a giggle with a cough. “I’m Robin. I’m sure Y/N has told you a lot about me.”
“I probably have,” shrug, knowing you always talk about the people you love. When Robin and Dustin both look at you with confused faces, you quickly clarify, “I’ve talked about you both, I mean.”
“Can we cut the chit chat?” Dustin asks, now annoyed by how long this conversation is taking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Robin, but uh. Is he here?”
“Is who here?” Robin looks over at you for help, but before you can prepare her for the inevitable storm of Steve’s bizarre and endearing friendship with Dustin, the older teen’s body comes crashing through the backdoor and his sneakers squeak loudly against the tile.
“Hendersons!” Steve raises his arms in the air in greeting, an ecstatic smile on his face when he sees both you and Dustin standing in Scoops Ahoy. You and your brother start to laugh as Steve now dances around, cheering and gleeful. “You’re both here! Little Henderson is back!”
“I’m back!” Dustin cheers. “And you got the job!”
Steve is beaming and his smile is probably one of the happiest you’ve seen cross his pretty face. He had complained about missing Dustin the entire month he had been gone, moaning and groaning about how he was bored at your house now that he didn’t have Dustin to shoo away.
“I got the job!” Steve mimes playing the trumpet before he starts his intricate and dumb handshake with Dustin.
It’s a complicated process, with fist bumps and pretend lightsaber death. They had come up with it during a particularly boring snow day at your house. You watched as they thought up the handshake while you made cocoa for everyone, heart swelling as Steve was so patient with your brother and encouraged his nerdy little habits.
It had taken them almost the entire day to create what they deemed “the perfect handshake”, and as they go through it once more in Scoops Ahoy, you feel the same swelling in your chest as you did the very first time you saw them come up with the handshake.
While you gaze fondly at Dustin and Steve, Robin stands next to you and watches in horror. As Steve pretends to spew his guts everywhere, the girl leans over to you and says, “Is this what you deal with every day?”
“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile softly at the two boys. You missed seeing them together, more than you thought you had.
Robin sees the dreamy look in your eyes as you stare at Steve and she gags. Unhappy with how this day is looking, she turns to him. “How many children are you friends with?”
Steve’s smile falls and he sighs in defeat. Wordlessly he points at Robin as he looks at Dustin and raises his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. He’s had to deal with Robin’s teasing all summer, and Dustin seems to catch onto what he’s trying to tell him, so he quickly changes the subject. “Sorry we got here so late, man. Y/N insisted on gossiping with Mrs. Byers before coming here.”
“I spoke with her for five minutes.” You roll your eyes at him.
“Yeah, five minutes too long.”
“Your breath reeks.”
“You have a pimple on your chin.”
You gasp and quickly cover your face. “I do not–”
“This is fascinating,” Robin whispers as she looks between you and Dustin. “It’s like there’s two Y/Ns.”
Steve, having heard Robin, laughs. His smile had returned to his face as he watched you interact with your brother. “They’re reunited for one day and are already at each other’s throats.”
“Got a month of insults to catch up on,” you flick Steve, who winces and rubs his nose, offended.
Dustin suddenly straightens up. “Speaking of catching up…” He looks at you and tries to subtly motion over at Steve, mouthing “Russians!”, and being everything but discrete.
Steve frowns, unsure what’s happening, but you’re too busy worrying about revealing anything to Robin; she’s scarily good at reading people. Looking wearily at her, you clear your throat and tug at Dustin’s shirt. “C’mon, why don’t we get some ice cream and tell Steve about what you built at camp?”
Again Steve frowns. He had been hoping to share a sundae with you, not talk about boring science stuff with your brother. “Why do I wanna hear about some weird nerd tech–”
“Because you promised me free ice cream last night, when we called.” You interrupt, silently pleading with him to catch onto what you’re saying. “Remember?”
Something shifts within Steve’s eyes and his carefree expression now darkens. He remembers the fear in your voice last night over the phone, how you had asked him to tell you stories to fall asleep to. Clearing his throat, Steve nods and plays along. “Oh, how could I forget? Take Dustin to your booth and I’ll whip up some sundaes.”
You smile at him, thankful as always for how attuned to you he is, before you say a quick goodbye to Robin and tug your brother over to where you normally sit. Once you’re sure Robin isn’t listening, you yank at the boy. “Real subtle back there, doofus.”
“Oh, like Robin would know what Russians could mean.” Dustin grumbles as he slides into your designated booth. His hand catches on something in the seat and he tugs at it, pulling out an old Captain America comic. Holding it up, he narrows his eyes at you. “You really made a home here, huh?”
“Sure did,” you prop your feet up and dig out the Spider-Man comic you had been reading a few days ago. “The ice cream is surprisingly good here.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the ice cream is the reason you’re always here.” Dustin doesn’t even want to imagine how many hours you’ve spent in this cheesy ice cream parlor ogling over Steve. Maybe it’s a good thing he was gone most of the summer.
You flip to the last page you left off on and ignore Dustin’s insinuation. “Hey, free ice cream is free ice cream.”
“Can’t argue with you there.” Steve arrives and places down two giant sundaes onto the table. He slides next to you into the booth with a grand flourish. “Tada!”
Dustin wastes no time digging into his ice cream, making obnoxious noises as he shoves the food into his mouth. You cringe, disgusted that you’re related to him, but Steve kisses your cheek when the kid isn’t looking, and you can’t help but smile. Sneaking your own kiss to his cheek, you thank him. “You’re getting really good at whipping up sundaes, Steve.”
He preens at your praise. “It’s all in the forearms, ya know?” He makes a show out of rolling up his sleeves to show off his arms, which you giggle at with a slight flush on your face. Despite working inside all day, Steve has a nice sun kissed tan, which compliments how long his hair has gotten this summer.
Between his short Scoops Ahoy shorts and his hair streaked with sunlight, summer looks good on Steve.
In between bites of his ice cream, Dustin lifts his head up. “Quit talking about Steve’s arms and flirting in front of me, it’s gross.”
You fling a banana peel at him. “You’re the one too busy devouring his food to talk about anything else.”
“So you admit you’re flirting with me.” Steve teases, winking at you.
Dustin covers his eyes in disgust, forgetting about his ice cream entirely. “Seriously, stop it! You’re my sister, how would you feel if I flirted with Suzie in front of you?”
“I would–” You try to think of a response, but ultimately you deflate, unable to come up with anything. Frustratingly, you realize that the kid has a point; you’d be incredibly grossed out as well. “I would hate it.” You sigh, accepting defeat.
“Who’s Suzie?” Steve asks.
“Dustin’s girlfriend.” You say, popping a cherry into your mouth as you eagerly await the teen’s reaction to the girlfriend news.
As expected, Steve’s jaw drops and turns to your brother. No way the little twerp got a girlfriend before him this summer. “Girlfriend? Since when?”
“Met her at camp,” Dustin smirks at him, proud he’s surprised Steve. “She’s super hot, too. Hotter than Phoebe Cates.”
You roll your eyes at his insistence of referencing Suzie’s appearance, but Steve seems interested, although in disbelief as well. “No, no way. Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No.”
“Why is Phoebe Cates the gold standard?” You ask, unsure when she became everyone’s dream woman. All things considered, she’s incredibly attractive, but it’s weird that every boy you’ve spoken to about this universally finds her attractive. Steve finds her attractive, which you’re choosing not to think about because you don’t look anything like her.
Steve hears the slight bitterness in your tone and shuffles closer to you in the booth. Meanwhile, Dustin takes another bite out of his sundae and nods at him. “Mhm, she’s brilliant, too. She doesn’t even care that my real pearls are still coming in.”
“That’s great, Dustin!” You say, happy that your brother has found a girl who accepts him as he is. It’s sweet, really.
“I know, right?” He sits up straighter in the booth and smiles even wider. “She says kissing is better without teeth.”
You and Steve share a horrified look. Neither of you can believe what you’ve just heard, and you think a part of you died inside. Suddenly, the delicious sundae you’d been eating now turns to cement in your stomach at the thought of your little brother kissing a girl who enjoys his lack of teeth. “Oh, that’s… Yeah.”
“Wow!” Steve tries to mask his own horror and disgust, leaning even closer to you now to try and ground you as well. “Yeah, that’s… That’s great! Proud of you, man. That’s–That’s kinda romantic?”
Dustin basks in Steve’s praise and your disgust slowly melts away. Your brother genuinely seems happy to be with Suzie and even happier to tell Steve about it all. He won’t admit it, but you know he idolizes the teen. Steve’s word is like an oath to him, not even you have this much influence over the boy. If it were anyone else, you’d be offended and hurt, but seeing Steve flash Dustin a wink, you couldn’t have chosen anyone better for your brother to admire.
“So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” Dustin motions towards his half-eaten sundae before turning to you. “How much ice cream have you had this summer?”
“A lot,” you shrug, taking another bite of your own sundae.
Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”
“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.
It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.
Robin, from across the parlor, sees your sudden annoyance at Steve and calls out to him, “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?”
“Ignore her,” Steve groans, not having the energy to deal with Robin’s quips and your anger being directed at him. He turns to you and lowers his voice. “I was kidding, Y/N. You know that–”
“Robin seems cool,” Dustin interrupts, not at all wanting to witness a lover’s feud between you and Steve. He left you two alone for a month, he thought he’d come back to you guys being an old married couple. Instead, he still has to suffer through your weird in between chaos.
You jump at the chance to gush about Robin, all while avoiding Steve’s pleading eyes. “She’s amazing. Genuinely one of the coolest people I know.”
“She’s not.” Steve corrects you, shaking his head. You roll your eyes at him and flick his ear, but as your hand lowers, he catches it with his and intertwines your fingers with a practiced ease. The action makes you blush and look away, still not ready to forgive him just yet. Steve sees the blush and feels your fingers tighten around his and he feels as if he can breathe again. There’s hope, at least. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”
Dustin sighs. “They ditched me yesterday.”
“No,” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N, did they really?”
“They… Kinda did.” You wince, absentmindedly placing your other hand on top of the one Steve is holding. He smiles softly at the action, momentarily forgetting about what you've just told him.
“My first day back! Can you believe that shit?” Dustin’s hurt from last night returns, which only makes you feel worse.
Steve leans forward now, invested and equally as offended as the boy. “Seriously?”
“I swear to god,” Dustin pauses to take another bite of ice cream. “They’re gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory.”
You drop your head onto the table and groan. “Is this really how you’re going to segue into the Russian thing?”
“You’re my sister. Why would you expect anything less of me?”
“Touche.” You lift your head back up and continue eating your ice cream. It’s the only thing keeping you going right now. Steve has learned how to make your sundaes perfect, adding the peach ice cream you adore with just the right amount of whipped cream.
Meanwhile, Steve has a confused look on his face as he looks between you and Dustin. “Glory? Russians? Did I miss something?”
Dustin smiles mischievously and lowers his voice as he slides closer to the teen. You roll your eyes at his antics, knowing that the conversation that’s about to unfold will only give you another headache. You missed Steve and Dustin being together, but you didn’t miss the way they seemed to double in stupidity when together.
Looking around to make sure he won’t be heard, Dustin begins to explain. “So, last night, as Y/N and I were trying to get in contact with Suzie…” He pauses, sees that Scoops Ahoy is now filling with more customers, and lowers his voice even more to an almost inaudible whisper and covers his mouth.
You and Steve both lean forward, unable to hear him. The teen asks Dustin to repeat himself while you sit there with slight amazement. You know what Dustin is trying to say, you’re more just surprised the kid can be so quiet. It’s a goddamn miracle, honestly.
Dustin inhales deeply and again tries to discreetly inform Steve of the Russian code, but his whispers are still too low to hear. Taking a final bite of your ice cream, you click your tongue at your brother. “You’re really killing it there, buddy.”
“Dude, just speak louder.” Steve’s curious interest is now more of an annoyance.
“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” Dustin all but shouts, which causes you to practically throw yourself over the table to cover his mouth.
“Jesus fuck!” You look around and see everyone’s eyes on you, and with your hand still clamped firmly over your brother’s mouth, you clear your throat and laugh nervously. “I mean, haha. Pardon me.” The customers give you a weird look but turn away, though Robin continues to stare at you.
Steve gently removes your hand from Dustin’s mouth and once again intertwines his fingers with yours. “Jeez, okay. Yeah. That’s what I thought you said.”
“Did you have to yell?” You sneer at Dustin, still looking around nervously to make sure no one is paying too much attention to the three of you. While Hawkin’s Lab was overrun by Demodogs and every scientist within it died, you’re still terrified that they still have allies watching your every move.
Not that you think the Lab is responsible for Russians, but… Better safe than sorry.
Dustin rolls his eyes at you. “Your boyfriend is the one who couldn’t hear me.”
You’re about to correct him when Steve waves the boy off and goes back to the main topic. “What does any of that mean, though? The Russian code and whatever.”
“It means that we can never catch a break–”
“It means, Steve,” Dustin sends you a dirty look. “That we could be heroes. True American heroes.”
Steve seems into the idea and you want to scream. You hate the way Dustin is explaining all of this. “This could mean danger, guys.”
Dustin rolls his eyes at you and Steve smiles wearily. “I don’t know, Y/N. It doesn’t seem so bad, ya know? We’ve fought Demodogs, how bad could some Russians be?”
You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “The Demodogs were created by shifty government facilities. Why are we assuming Russia doesn’t have their own?”
“But… American heroes.” Steve looks heartbreakingly pathetic as he says this, and you realize now that his fixation on being seen as some hero stems from the hurt he still feels over his father. He hadn’t turned into who had expected to become, something that you know his father reminds him of every time he comes back from some business trip. You wish you could convince Steve that he’s more than what his father could ever expect him to be, but you know he wouldn’t listen.
With Steve’s pleading eyes looking at you, lost and hopeless, you can’t argue with him. Sighing, you accept that this is something he has to take part in, if only to rebuild his crumbling confidence. “Tell him what you’re thinking, Dustin.”
“Gladly.” Your brother wastes no time diving in, once more eager and excited to have the attention on him, and it’s only now that you realize he’s doing this for the same reason Steve is: they both feel abandoned and hurt. “We need your help.”
“With what?”
Dustin digs through his backpack and takes out the Russian dictionary he made you steal from work. He holds it up and shows it to Steve. “Translation.”
Steve’s eyes widen and he grabs the book to inspect it. There’s a new spark in his eyes, one that died the day his father told him he wouldn’t attend his graduation. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” you exhale and slump in your seat. There’s no going back now. “I just want you both to know that I hate this plan and your excitement over it, but if I don’t help then you guys will somehow end up in a Russian gulag, and that would just be on me.”
Steve shares a look with Dustin, whose sigh reflects your own. “Glad you have faith in us, Y/N.”
–
It’s Steve's idea to work on the translation in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, and neither you or Dustin argue. Technically, he’s the only one who has any real responsibilities today with work and all, so it makes sense to stay at Scoops and hide out there.
Dustin sits at the table next to you as he replays the tape recording over and over again. Steve paces the room and eats a banana, claiming he needed “brain food” to focus on the complex Russian language. You sit with your head in your hands, trying desperately to hold onto the bizarre language that floats around the room.
After his tenth time replaying the code, Dustin pauses the recording and looks at you and Steve. “So, what do you guys think?”
“It sounded familiar.” Steve shoves a piece of banana into his mouth. You cringe at the obscene amount of food he tries to chew at once. Seeing your disgust, Steve waves the banana in your face and asks with a mouthful of food, “Wan sum?”
“It’s like you want me to hate you today,” you slap the banana away, which he chuckles at.
Dustin gets both of your attention again with slight annoyance. He didn’t miss the weird flirting between the two of you at all. “Guys, focus. What do you mean the recording sounds familiar?”
“The music,” Steve still speaks with his mouth full. “The music right there at the end.”
“Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” Dustin exclaims, exasperated.
As your brother berates Steve for his lack of Russian translating, you sit up in your seat processing what he’s just previously said. While you hadn’t thought much of it before, now that Steve has pointed it out, the music does sound familiar. You swear you’ve heard it somewhere before, but you can’t remember where or when. It’s a hazy memory, distant in your mind, yet right in front of you. It’s incredibly frustrating.
“I think Steve is onto something,” you say, but the two boys are too busy fighting to hear you.
“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but there’s music–”
Suddenly the back door swings open and Robin appears. She looks agitated after having to man the cash register all by herself while Steve hides out in the breakroom. “Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.” When she sees that you’ve erased her whiteboard and replaced her “you suck” columns with the Russian alphabet, her agitation only increases. “Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds.”
You get up from the table and walk up to the girl, feeling bad. While you aren’t sure what exactly her “you suck” column and tallies were for, it had been her creation that you had erased without thinking to ask. Plus, you really don’t want her seeing the Russian dictionary on the table. “I’m sorry, Robin–”
“Not you, Y/N. You’re not a shitbird,” she points over to Steve and Dustin. “Those two are shitbirds.”
“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin interjects, a smug look on his face that makes you want to scream. He isn’t at all helping the situation.
Robin begins to walk over to the boys and you reluctantly follow. “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”
Dustin’s jaw drops and Steve almost chokes on his banana. Seeing their stunned reactions of Robin having figured out what you’ve been doing, you sigh in disappointment. They’re such idiots sometimes. They wrote Russian on the whiteboard, out in the open, and have been playing the recording out loud, full volume, on repeat.
Of course Robin caught onto what you were doing.
Which only makes your nervous body tense up even more. You hate that you have to lie to her, you’ve become really close with her during your visits to Scoops, but you don’t want to drag her into anything dangerous. You’re not sure what exactly any of this Russian code means, but Robin has been nothing but kind to you this summer, you truly care about her, and it would kill you if something were to happen because of you.
So, despite knowing how smart Robin is, you try to think of a cover story. “We were just interested in the language. Ya know, a summer hobby.”
“I can hear everything, Y/N.” Robin sees right through your lies. “Your idiotic brother and boyfriend are both extremely loud.”
“Steve isn’t my boyfriend–”
“You three think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do.”
You, Steve, and Dustin all look at one another in varying degrees of awe and despair.
Robin, seeing your stunned faces, smiles. “Sound about right?”
“How could you not know about the Russian alphabet, Y/N?” Dustin angrily whispers at you as if somehow it’s your responsibility to know the ins-and-outs of the language.
“Why would I–you know what, no.” You ignore your brother and turn to Robin, trying to alleviate the situation and prevent her from finding out anything else. She’s too fucking smart, it’s both admirable and aggravating. “Look, whatever you think you heard–”
Suddenly Robin lunges for the Russian dictionary on the table, but Steve’s quick reflexes enable him to grab the book before she can. “Woah! What do you think you’re doing?”
“I wanna hear it.” She juts her chin out in defiance, though you see the slightly hurt expression she tries to mask. She hates that you’re purposely excluding her and taking Steve’s side in this.
You wish you could tell her the truth.
“Why?” You ask in unison alongside Steve and Dustin.
“Because maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, ya know.”
Dustin perks up, now more open to the idea of Robin’s involvement. “Russian?”
“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”
Steve and Dustin gasp, believing that they’ve just heard Robin say something in Russian, but you know better. One summer, when the party had been especially nosy and insisted on following you and Jonathan around, the two of you had learned pig latin in order to communicate without the twerps eavesdropping.
Learning against the table, you smirk at Robin. “Osay ouyay owknay igpay atinlay.”
“Holy shit!” Dustin gasps and Steve almost falls over with how quickly he looks at you in shock. Both boys stare at you in awe and you almost feel bad for their tiny little brains.
Robin can’t help but smile at you, you somehow always manage to surprise her. “Impressive, Y/N. Didn’t think you knew pig latin either.”
“That was pig latin?” Steve scrunches his face and hits your brother with his banana peel. “Idiot.”
“Steve, please don’t hit my brother with banana peels,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s only noon and you’re already exhausted from today’s events. “But yes, that was pig latin.”
Dustin shoves Steve away from him and focuses on you again. “When did you learn pig latin?”
“The summer you and the party decided to stalk me and Jonathan.” You shrug, though you smile fondly at the memory. It had been a good summer, just the two of you holed up in your room as you quizzed each other on the bizarre language.
Steve, seeing your fondness at the memory, frowns. He doesn’t like the uncomfortable heat that he feels ignite within his stomach at the thought of you still being so fond over Jonathan. He trusts you, he trusts what you have, but he will never feel equal to him.
Robin notices Steve’s brewing insecurity and quickly changes the subject. She doesn’t have time for the usual hormonal drama between the two of you. All she wants right now is to decipher the Russian so that she can catch a break from Erica and her demanding need to try every free sample ever. “Back to the main point: I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”
You bite your lip. Truthfully, Robin has the highest chance of unraveling whatever the hell is in the recording. You’re horrible with languages, high school Spanish had nearly killed you, and Steve and Dustin stand no better chance. “Robin…”
“Come on,” she begs. “It’s Steve's turn to sling ice cream and my turn to translate.”
Steve and Dustin turn to you, unanimously agreeing that you’re the leader in this situation; whatever call you make, they’ll listen. Robin sees the conflict on your face and tries one last time. “I don’t even want credit. I’m just bored and wanna hang out with you.”
Your head spins. Robin’s pleading eyes are hard to fight against and you realize that she already knows more than you’d want her to; she’s already a part of it all, whether you like it or not. Sighing, you give in. “Fine, but only if you promise not to ask any questions about whatever we may find.”
“What would I even question?” She asks, unsure why your tone is more foreboding than accepting.
You share a look with Steve and Dustin. The three of you know just how quickly something simple can spiral into chaos in Hawkins. “Just… promise me, okay?”
Robin extends her hand, just happy to finally have something better to do. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
After you shake her hand, she tosses her ice cream scoop to Steve and he hands her the Russian dictionary. Seeing the exchange sends a slight shiver down your spine. You don’t like how much it feels like you’ve just signed Robin’s life away.
–
True to her word, Robin’s ears are little geniuses.
With her helping, you and Dustin are able to speed through the translating as Steve works the register. You’re tasked with writing down the letters that Dustin calls from the whiteboard as Robin listens to the tape over and over again.
“Weird ‘r’ with a hook!” Your brother declares for the last letter.
You write it down and can’t help but frown at the message you’ve seemingly deciphered. Showing the writing to Robin, you ask what she thinks. “Are you sure it was that weird ‘r’ sound?”
“I’m positive,” she says. “C’mon, let’s go tell Steve.”
“Are we sure–” You try to ask her again, but Robin has already made her way to the sliding window and gets Steve’s attention.
“We’ve got our first sentence!”
You make your way over and lean against the window as well. Steve, holding two ice cream cones, seems excited by the news. “Oh, seriously?”
“It’s a hesitant first sentence.” You butt in, still unsure if it’s even correct.
Robin rolls her eyes at you. “Ignore her, I’m right.” Then, clearing her throat, she does an impressive Russian accent. “‘The week is long’.”
Steve’s shoulders slump, clearly having expected something better. “Well that’s thrilling.”
“Told you it was a hesitant first sentence.” Then you turn to Robin. “Nice accent, by the way.”
“Why thank you,” she tips her hat at you before focusing back on Steve. “And I know it isn’t thrilling, but it’s progress!”
And with that, Robin spins around and goes back to the table in the breakroom, eager to decipher more of the code. You’re about to kiss Steve’s cheek and say goodbye, but then your eyes land on a familiar red-haired girl and her friend standing in front of the register. You look down at the ice cream in Steve’s hands and note the familiar order you’ve come to memorize since the mall opened.
“Max? El?” You lean further out the window, pleasantly surprised to see them. “What are you guys doing here? Where’s the rest of the party?”
The girls wave at you and giggle, and you realize now that you’ve never actually seen them alone together before. Normally they’re with Lucas or MIke, so it’s a bit jarring to see them getting along so well without the boys. Jarring, but also very lovely.
“We don’t need those idiots.” Max responds, which makes El giggle even more.
Steve whistles, impressed by Max’s bluntness, and hands them their ice cream. They begin to eat the treat before a thought occurs to him. “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”
You walk through the breakroom and come out the main doors to join Steve at the register. While you’re happy to see Max and El getting along, Steve has a point. Why is El here in such a public space? When you had asked Hopper last month if you could take El to Steve’s graduation, it had taken a whole debate and a fresh batch of cookies in order to convince the old man to let her come.
El is still technically forbidden from being seen in public, and yet here she is: running around Starcourt with Max.
You put your hands on the counter and lean towards the girls. They take a few steps back, now knowing that you’re onto them. “Max, El, what are you up to?”
Their eyes widen while you narrow yours, daring them to lie. Then, quickly glancing at one another, they turn around and run out of Scoops Ahoy, leaving you alone with Steve. You both stand there, dumbfounded.
“I thought I only ever had to worry about the boys.” You whisper, horrified. “The girls were supposed to be the ones I could trust.”
Steve rubs your shoulders and kisses your cheek. “You’re gonna go after them, aren’t you?”
You drop your head and sigh. “Yeah, I am.”
“I’ll tell Robin you had a babysitting emergency.” He presses a kiss to your neck now, which you shiver at, before gently shoving you out from behind the counter. “Good luck, angel.”
Steve’s kisses give you the energy you need to run after Max and El. They’re surprisingly fast as they giggle and trade ice cream cones to share. You call after them as you dodge random people in the mall, but your calls are in vain. They ignore you and continue to skip happily away from you.
“Guys!” When you finally catch up to them, they’re outside standing in front of the bike rack. “Why are you in front of the bikes–oh.”
You see Mike, Lucas, and Will unlocking their bikes from the rack as they bicker over something. Faintly you hear Mike and Lucas arguing about splitting money while Will is silent.
There’s a tension between the girls and boys that you now take note of. Normally El would have already been wrapped around Mike’s arms, but she remains by your side as Max approaches the boys. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?”
When Mike sees El, he drops his bike in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“Shopping.” El says as she glares at the boy.
You’ve never seen her so cold towards someone. It’s kind of frightening, honestly. “Oh, Wheeler, what did you do?”
“What did I do? No, what did you do? You’re the one who is letting her walk around Starcourt where everyone can see her!” Mike shrieks, always finding ways to blame you for his own problems.
You scoff. “Hey, I’ve only known about this for like, a second longer than you have.”
“Sure, likely story.”
“Have you ever considered not pissing off your girlfriend?”
“Have you ever considered getting a better boyfriend than Harrington?”
“Okay–”
Max steps in between you and Mike, annoyed. “Both of you shut up!” She waves her hand over El’s outfit and tries to turn the conversation around. “This is El’s new style. What do you think?”
“I think she looks nice–”
Mike cuts you off. “What’s wrong with you? You know she’s not allowed to be here.”
“What is she, your little pet?”
El clenches her jaw. “Yeah. Am I your pet?”
“What? No!” Mike denies, equally as confused as you are.
You’re not quite sure how you ended up in this situation.
“Then why do you treat me like garbage?” El questions the boy.
You frown at this and subtly step towards Lucas, desperately hoping for some clarification. “Did I miss something?”
“It’s a long story.” He sighs, and you now realize that Max must be angry with him, too.
El continues to interrogate Mike, and you almost feel bad for the boy. “You said Nana was sick.”
“She is! She is sick.” Mike lies through his teeth. You think about what Hopper told you earlier, how he had said some things to get Mike away from El, and you suppose now that it had involved some type of lie about the kid’s grandma.
Then Mike shoves at Lucas to get him to play along as well. Reluctantly he echoes his friend, though you know he’s aware that he’s only making this worse for himself. “She’s super sick, that’s why we’re here, actually.”
Mike is quick to follow along. “Yeah, we’re shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana.”
You catch Will’s eyes, who has remained silent this entire time, and he shakes his head at you in disappointment. You look back at Mike and Lucas now, unamused. “Nana isn’t sick, is she?”
“She is! But…” Mike fumbles over his words now. “We’re also here to get a gift for El. We just–we couldn’t find anything that suited her and I only have like, $3.50, so it’s hard.”
“It’s expensive… Had we known you were at the mall we would’ve asked you for money.” Lucas mumbles, which you flick his forehead at. “Ow, Y/N!”
El looks between Lucas and Mike, her eyes showing her hurt. “You lie.” When neither boy says anything, her hurt only grows and her voice wavers with tears. “Why do you lie?”
Again, El’s words are met with silence. Mike looks down, too ashamed to meet her eyes, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling even worse for the kid. You hadn’t expected to witness an awkward relationship feud today, and it wasn’t all entirely his fault. You know that Hopper played a role in this.
Later, when you have the time, you’re definitely going to yell at the police chief about this.
As the silence drags on, the local bus that drives everyone in Hawkins to Starcourt now arrives in the parking lot. Hearing its brakes hiss, El looks behind her and seems to make up her mind about something. Her face is stony as she approaches Mike and her words are laced with venom. “I dump your ass.”
You and Max gasp, though yours is more from shock and Max is more from being impressed.
Mike’s face falls and El whips around and begins walking towards the bus. Max follows, waving goodbye to you, and you’re left to deal with the unfortunate outcome of this bizarre situation.
Laughing nervously, you awkwardly pat Mike’s back. “You’ll… Uh, fix this, right?”
Mike slaps your hand away and marches back towards his bike. His shoulders droop and he looks tired from all he’s had to deal with today. Lucas doesn’t look any better and silently follows after his friend. Will is the only one who remains, and he drops his head to your chest and groans. “I just wanted to play DnD today.”
“I know, little bee.” You scratch his head and try to console him. “But sometimes life gets in the way. Right now Mike and Lucas need you, do you think you could help them?”
Will looks up at you. “I don’t know… Maybe, I guess.”
“Do what you can,” you kiss his forehead, wishing you could do more for him. All he’s wanted to do all summer is be a kid again, but his peers are growing older and leaving him behind. It isn’t anyone’s fault. “I gotta go, buddy. But I promise you and I will do something this week, just the two of us, okay?”
He nods, content with this, and you ruffle his hair before heading back inside to Scoops.
–
Hours later, you, Steve, Dustin, and Robin all uncover the rest of the Russian code.
You stand with your back against Steve’s chest as he has his arms draped loosely over you. Robin and Dustin stand to your left as you all face the whiteboard that has the message written on it, reading it out loud.
“‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west’.”
There’s a pause as you all take in the bizarre message. You’re extremely doubtful that it’s right. The order of the words is too abstract to possibly be purposeful. It just doesn’t make any sense.
“Are we sure this is right?” You ask the group, knowing no one else will utter the doubt that settles over the room. Steve tightens his arms around you and shrugs.
“It has to be.” Dustin mumbles, though even he looks unsure.
Robin sighs. “Well, whether or not we’re right, dingus and I have to close up shop.”
Steve groans but reluctantly lets go of you so that he can help Robin with closing. While the two teens wash the ice cream scoopers and put away the remaining ice cream, you sit with Dustin at one of the booths.
“Maybe it’s a code?”
“Dustin, we just translated a foreign language. Thinking it’s a code seems like a cop-out, honestly.” You rest your head in your hands and watch Steve count the money in the register. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and winks at you. Blushing, you look back at your brother. “We probably just translated it wrong.”
“My ears are right! We didn’t translate anything wrong!” Robin shouts from across the store.
Dustin perks up. “See? We have to assume we’re onto something.”
You bite your lip, still unsure, but leave the topic alone for now. There’s no point arguing with Dustin and Robin because it’s not like any of you can just ask a native Russian speaker who is correct. If it somehow ends up being a hidden code, then you’ll apologize to Robin’s ears later.
It’s quiet in the parlor after that, but when Steve and Robin have finished closing and he pulls the gate down to lock up the store before you all go home, Steve can’t help but bring the subject up again. “I mean–it’s just, it can’t be right.”
“It’s right.” Robin affirms once more, and Dustin nods at her appreciatively.
“Honesty, I think it’s great news.”
Steve walks next to you as the four of you slowly head towards the mall’s exit. It’s late, you’re tired from your long day of translating the Russian language, and you’re ready to go to bed. Then, as if somehow knowing the exhaustion that weighs upon you, you feel Steve slip his hand into yours. His fingers are warm and the touch soothes you as he gently guides the two of you.
“How is this great news?” Steve asks your brother. “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”
“The goal isn’t to be American heroes, dummy.” You chide, tugging at your hands to make sure he looks at you and listens. “We aren’t still going to follow this, are we?”
Dustin rolls his eyes at you both. “It’s not nonsense, it’s too specific and obviously a code. And yes we’re going to keep following this. We’re onto something, I can feel it!”
“All I feel right now is a crippling migraine forming,” you groan, rubbing at your temples.
Steve kisses your head in concern, feeling bad that he’s kept you out so late. However, he also really, really would love to become someone important. Someone worthy of his dad’s favor, so he follows after Dustin, curious despite it all. “What do you mean a code?”
“Like a super secret spy code.”
“That’s a total stretch.”
You snort. “That’s what I said, but no. Why should we ever listen to Y/N? It’s not like she’s always right in the end.”
Robin winces, afraid to annoy you further, but she can’t help but agree with Dustin. “I don’t know, is it really a stretch?”
“No, please don’t tell me you believe my brother.” You’re betrayed, hurt even, that Robin would succumb to Dustin’s fantasies.
Normally you’re all for believing your brother, but Russians in Hawkins leaving a hidden code in a radio frequency that can be accessed by the public? You may have fought alternate dimension monsters and you may know a girl with mind control powers, but even this feels far fetched.
“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘fire the warhead at noon’?” Robin raises her eyebrows at you.
“Well… no.” You slump your shoulders, knowing that she has a point. “But–”
“Just admit we’re right, Y/N.” Dustin says, annoyed.
Robin turns to you and almost groans when she sees your hand intertwined with Steve’s. Her voice falters for a moment at the sight, but she clears her throat and carries on with the conversation. “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so�� ‘the silver cat feeds’. Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the meaning of their message?”
Dustin is next to her now, hanging onto her every word as you and Steve lag behind. “Exactly!”
“It is a weird phrase,” you mumble under your breath, and Steve can’t help but chuckle at how endearing you are when you try to play the reasonable role. It’s never any use, you’re everything that hope and optimism embodies; it’s adorable.
Robin sees that you’re close to giving in and begins to ramble now. “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” Again Dustin agrees with everything she says and Steve shrugs his shoulders while all you do is sigh in defeat. Looking at your brother, Robin concludes, “Guess that confirms your suspicions.”
“Evil Russians.”
“Okay, no.” You step between them now. “What if they’re just, like, really shy Russians who want some privacy? Why do we always jump to the evil conclusion?”
Dustin shoulders you to get you to shut up, and you shove him back, starting a small spat between the two of you. He hits your shoulder, you hit his stomach, and Steve watches with amusement while Robin stares in horror.
“Do we stop them?” She asks the teen.
Steve shakes his head. “I’ve learned that it’s best to just let them fight it out. It’s been a month, they’re behind on their fist fighting schedule.”
“I heard that!” You quickly say to him before yanking Dustin’s shirt to get him off of your back.
Seeing your struggle, Robin forces your brother off of you and holds him by his arms so that he doesn’t jump on you again. Dustin complains, but quickly shuts up at what Robin says. “Focus! I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you, this is totally evil Russians.”
Dustin stops struggling against her, now elated at the idea of defeating evil foreigners. “So how do we crack it?”
You were scared that Robin and Dustin wouldn’t get along, but as you watch them bounce schemes off of one another and plan an evil Russian take down, you’re now terrified of the friendship brewing between them. It’s worse than Steve with Dustin; Robin is just as cunning as your brother is.
She thinks for a moment. “I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”
“Have we ever considered a game plan for after poking our noses where they don’t belong?” Dustin and Robin both glare at you and you hold your hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying.”
“Ignore her, Robin. She likes to pretend she’s the rational one in these types of situations.” Dustin whispers to her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve kisses your cheek as a way to console you as your brother continues to speak. “Anyways, maybe the ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place?”
“Or a person.” Robin theorizes.
“Or a weapon.”
As the two of them come up with insane theories about what the code could mean, you notice that Steve is no longer by your side. Turning around, you find him stopped at one of the carousel horses meant for little kids. He’s bent over it, examining it. You frown, unsure what he’s doing, and walk over to him.
Resting a hand against his back, you lean down next to him. “Can I ask what we’re looking at here, honey?” He’s mumbling under his breath and digging through his pockets for something. Now you’re starting to get concerned. “Steve?”
“I need–do you have a quarter?”
“No?” You’re even more concerned now. Placing the back of your hand against his forehead, you check his temperature. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin quips as she and Dustin now join.
“Quarter!” Steve demands, nearly falling over as he tries to catch the one that she tosses him. When he catches it he quickly pushes the coin into the machine’s slot, bringing it to life. Music begins to play as the horse moves back and forth. It’s ominous, almost, in the mall’s dim lighting with no one else around.
Steve listens intently to the music, his face concentrated as if trying to understand something. As the music continues to play, you can’t help but feel that it sounds familiar. It reminds you of something, maybe a distant memory that you can’t quite recall. Wanting to understand more, you lean in close to the machine as well and mirror Steve’s actions. “The music…”
“They’ve both lost it,” Dustin mumbles when he sees that you’re also now analyzing a stupid carousel horse.
“Y/N, you helping little Stevie up onto the ride?” Robin laughs at her own joke, but you swat at her to shush her.
As the song plays once more, it finally clicks. Your mind flashes back to your conversation with him earlier in the break room as you kept replaying the Russian recording over and over again. It’s the same song. With a gasp, you throw your arms around Steve’s neck and begin kissing his face over and over again. “You’re a genius!”
Steve leans into your kisses and smiles at the praise, relieved that you don’t think he’s some idiot. Though his heart is beating wildly, he clears his throat and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “I have my moments.”
“Care to share with the class, dinguses?”
Robin’s voice startles you, having momentarily forgotten where you were. Blushing, you pull away from Steve and clear your throat as well and act as if you weren’t just drowning the boy in kisses. “Listen to the song, guys.”
The seriousness of your tone causes Dustin to finally listen to the music as well. It only takes him a few seconds to piece together what you and Steve already have. “Holy shit. The music.”
“The music.” You confirm with pride, still incredibly amazed that Steve managed to remember such a small yet crucial detail. Since coming to befriend him, you’ve come to admire just how perceptive he is. Sure, he may not be a math whiz, but his emotional and creative intelligence leaves you in awe every time you see it. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for.
You wish his father saw this intelligence within him. Honestly, you wish more people did.
Dustin yanks his backpack off of his shoulder and starts rustling through it as he searches for something. When he finds his tape recorder, he starts to play the Russian transmission again. Hearing the audio and carousel play simultaneously side by side, it only confirms what Steve has long since figured out: it’s the same song.
Not being able to help yourself, you again kiss Steve’s cheek, giddy and proud of him. “You’re brilliant.”
He preens while Robin scrunches her nose, unsure why you’re all over the guy because of some song. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s the exact same song on the recording.” Dustin explains to her.
“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”
You nod at her. “Maybe? We should look into who produces these machines, it could be our new lead.”
Steve shakes his head. “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t… I don’t think so.”
Something seems to shift within his voice and his face now twists with slight fear. He looks as if he’s realized something awful, and you feel your own joy from earlier vanish. A chill runs through you, the same awful feeling of dread that once overwhelmed you when Will originally disappeared now courses through you again.
“What is it?” You softly ask Steve, already bracing yourself for the worst.
He frowns at the apprehension in your voice and the worried crease between his brows makes you want to smooth away the concern. You know he doesn’t want to scare you, that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, so you tilt your head at him and nod slightly; you want him to tell you. Seeing your unspoken permission, he sighs. “This code, it… didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”
You, Robin, and Dustin all look at one another. Fear settles over the group, you can feel its heavy weight like an old, familiar friend.
“Why does everything happen in Hawkins?” You say to no one in particular, still trying to process what this all means.
Dustin sighs and Steve drops his head.
Somehow, you always end up here.
–
Steve offers to drive you and Dustin home after seeing how shaken up you are by the latest Russian revelation. Tired and exhausted and terrified as usual, you accept.
It takes some trial and error, but eventually he and your brother manage to fit your bikes in the back of the BMW.
The drive to your house is filled with awkward banter between Steve and Dustin. You sit quietly in the passenger seat as the two boys try to make light of the situation, but not even their jokes can lessen the fear that creeps into the car; none of you are sure what to make of all of this.
When Steve pulls up to your house, all that you’ve managed to do the entire car ride is make a mental note to call Jonathan about everything later. It’s not your best plan, you wish that there was more you could do, but at the very least you know that he and Nancy can help.
Dustin scrambles out of the car, desperate to escape the tension within it. “See you tomorrow, Steve!” He calls behind him before slamming the car door shut.
You snort softly at your brother, finally moving to unbuckle your own seatbelt, before Steve places his hand on yours and stops you. He’s noticed how quiet you’ve been the entire car ride and the way your eyes have clouded over with fear. He hates it. “Do me a favor?”
“Yes?” You blink at him, unsure what he could want at this hour. It’s late and your mom expects you home soon.
“Leave your window unlocked for me.” He winks at you, trying to play coy, but you see the genuine concern for you hidden beneath his actions.
You can’t help but smile; it feels as if you can breathe again. “Steve Harrington, why should I leave my window unlocked for you?”
Your smile sends a warmth through Steve’s chest as relief washes over him. He’s doing something right. He’s gotten you to smile. “Because I’m planning on sneaking in after I park my car a few blocks down so your mom won’t see me.”
Though you know what he had been implying, hearing him say the words out loud causes a wild blush to burn across your cheeks and your stomach to swoop. Steve has never done this before, sneaking into your room like some lovestruck teenager late at night, it’s been the one boundary neither of you have crossed before.
“I suppose I can do that.” You say with an air of indifference, which Steve rolls his eyes at. “Strictly friendly, of course.”
“Oh, of course.”
You giggle, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, and you exit the car after kissing the boy’s cheek. His face is warm against your lips and you’re coming to memorize the way your nose presses against the indent of his cheek bones.
When you get inside, your mom is knitting on the couch while Tews sits in her lap. She greets you with a smile and you compliment the scarf she’s making. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for this winter, mom.”
She thanks you and wishes you a good night, noticing the bags underneath your eyes with slight concern. Inside your room, you quickly clear away the scattered pieces of paper on your desk and arrange your bedding so that it isn't strewn across the room. Steve has been in your room a million times now, and yet you can’t help but feel like tonight is different for some reason.
True to his word, within ten minutes Steve is knocking on your window. Hearing the quiet way his knuckles rap against the glass makes your heart jump in your stomach. Your body practically buzzes as you go to open the window, eager to have him close to you.
“Took you long enough,” you tease, opening the window wide enough for him to crawl through.
Steve pulls himself up with ease, his biceps strain against his Scoops Ahoy uniform, and you’ve never been more thankful for corporate policy. “Sorry, angel. Came here as fast as I could.”
You tug at his shirt and the two of you are falling into your bed. He lands on you with a soft thud and your body has long since become accustomed to his weight. As his body settles upon yours, it feels like coming home. You exhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his body, and Steve nuzzles his face into your neck and presses a gentle kiss there.
Everything swirling violently within your head now stills. The constant onslaught of worries and doubts finally quiets, and you know that despite it all, at least you have Steve.
“We’ll figure it out, ya know.” Steve’s lips move against the skin of your neck as he speaks, making you shiver slightly at the sensation.
“I know,” you start to play with his hair, needing something to do with your hands as you speak. “But… How many times are we going to keep doing this? Be the only people in Hawkins aware of what’s going on?”
Steve is silent for a few moments, allowing your words to sink in. He rolls them around in his head, he knows that the question isn’t one that comes from doubt of what he and the others are capable of. You don’t lack faith, you lack the willingness to constantly place the ones you love at risk. It just isn’t in your nature.
“As many times as needed.” He pauses again, unsure how to express to you his certainty that you’re capable of so much with all the love within you. If there’s anyone in this shitty town who is a real American hero, it’s you. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through these last two years, measly Russians are no big deal. We’ve fought worse monsters than Communism.”
You laugh, he always somehow gets you to laugh, and the sound is as angelic to Steve as your eyes are to him. He tightens his arms around you and relishes in the way your body presses against his, how he can feel your body move with every inhale of your laugh.
Then, slowly, your laughter dies down. Reality settles upon you once more and you want to believe Steve, you do, and you try to reassure yourself that he’s right… but something feels off about this. You can’t exactly articulate what it is, but there's this haze of uncertainty that you’ve never quite felt before; a vulnerability that leaves you feeling cold in his arms.
Sensing your fear rising up again, Steve tries to distract you by changing the subject. “Speaking of monsters, I recruited the little heathens to help with your birthday gift.”
The change of subject works. You raise your head and look at the teen. “You mean the party? You got them to help with a gift for me?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Y/N.” Steve butts his head against your chin playfull. “I can make them listen to me… sometimes.”
You stare at him, knowing he’s full of shit. “Go on, tell me all about how you got them to listen to you.”
He tries to hold your gaze, refusing to back down, but he cracks after only a few seconds. “Okay, fine. It took a lot of pleading and I now owe a bunch of pre-teens money.”
A loud, full body laugh escapes your lips, and Steve laughs with you. The two of you hold one another and feel each other laugh, chests rising with glee. For a moment you feel okay again, forgetting everything else for now. You’re carefree in this moment, feeling like a little kid again, something only Steve can do to you.
When your laughs die down, you and Steve quietly lay together. No other words manage to find their way in the dark of your room, all that needs to be said has been laid to rest. His warm breaths hit the base of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. While you feel safe in his arms, there’s still so much that needs to be said.
Staring at the ceiling of your room, you see faint threads and strings and lines that you thought you put to rest that night in Jonathan’s room this winter. Now, they’re back again, only this time it’s a different boy within your arms. Something akin to doubt creeps in.
Steve already has all of you, you told him you’d wait, but what if you’ve missed your chance again with him like you did with Jonathan? When June began, Steve promised that you had all summer together. He calls you angel and tells you stories to fall asleep to on the phone, and yet the threads that glow above you taunt you.
You love him, you do, but you’re terrified that whatever the two of you uncover with the Russians will somehow pry you apart.
Just like Will’s disappearance had pried Jonathan away from you two years ago.
July looms over you and summer is going by faster than you thought it would. The promise of summer, one that usually leaves the nostalgic taste of honey on your tongue, now threatens to choke you.
As if having a mind of their own, your arms tighten even more around Steve, almost as if somehow you can shield what the two of you have from the dangers within Hawkins.
You hope it’s enough.
-
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#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things rewrite#slowburn#angst#nya#m's writing#this one foreshadows loooooads#like so much#i feel so sneaky
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Hello there, ‘tis I again! Soo happy you enjoyed the boxer!jason request!! I know, i love him too :)))
Today i bring forth another boxer!Jason ask, maybe you introduce him to your friends and they can’t see past the fact he kinda looks like a brute (even tho he’s such a big softie, i truly believe this man reads romeo and Juliet while waiting to get on the ring), and so at the end of the night he’s feeling insecure cause he could see how your friends looked at him and he starts wondering if they are right and you deserve someone who’s softer and more approachable. And obviously reader shows him just how amazing he is!!
Today i yearn for some good hurt/comfort, if you couldn’t tell lol
Hope you have fun writing this one!! Marvellous works 🩷🩷
Everything goes right before the two of you get there. Thats how Jason knows something is gonna go wrong at this hang out. You told him all week that if he felt like not going, you could cancel. But he didn't want it to seem like he was blowing your friends off. So he trudged through.
He trudged through and is sitting side by side with you in a booth. And three of your friends are crowded into the other side of it. They've had a couple of drinks before you came. You weren't really in the mood to play catch up so you stick to your one while Jason goes dry because he's driving.
They have conversations about the recent news, the latest gossip, and then they ask about your life. Particularly your life with Jason. You start gushing about him, as if he isn't there, and tell them about how you met and how he treats you.
"This guy? This six foot tall, three hundred pounded brick wall?" one of them asks.
You scoff, "How he looks has nothing to do with how he treats me."
"Yeah, but doesn't he-don't you box?" another one of them asks him.
Jason clears his throat and sits up straight. But you notice it. You notice how he is trying to make himself smaller. He did it at the very beginning of your relationship, to make you less scared. You talked to him about it when the two of you got closer, and you haven't seen him do it since. Until now.
"I'm a boxer, yes. But I don't bring any of that home with me." Jason answers.
"Isn't it hard though? When you're angry? I mean who's to say you won't-" the third friend starts.
Hell. This has to stop.
"Enough." you speak.
They all look at you, at a loss for words. While it's true the four of you grew up looking like people who were afraid to tell others no, and looked like doormats, you were far from that person. Those days are over.
"I'm not gonna let you speak to him like that. He has been nothing but kind and open with me, and not that it's any of your business, but he has never laid his hands on me, or raised his voice." you say.
Then you're getting up from the booth, holding your hand out for Jason. He looks between you and your friends and then he's getting up from his seat. He takes your hand in his.
"He's my boyfriend. I want him in my life and I wanna be a part of his. So either you get that or you get lost." You put finally.
You turn around and walk right out the door with Jason. Jason who hasn't said a word yet. Jason who is holding onto your hand in a way that tells you he's not completely paying attention.
When the two of you cross the threshold of the doors, you squeeze his hand.
"Baby?" you ask him.
Jason looks at you then. Like everything is coming back into focus for him. He has a sad smile on his face.
"I'm sorry." He says.
"Don't ever be sorry for being you. If my so called 'friends' couldn't see past what you look like and what you do for a living then they don't need to be my friends." you explain to him.
Jason shakes his head, "You've known them longer than me. It's not fair that-"
"Jason Todd, I am not willing to give you up. For anyone. Ever. You got that?"
Jason lets out a small sigh. "Okay."
You let go of his hand to hold out your arms. He pouts a bit before stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you completely. You nuzzle into him more.
"I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you. I hope you know that." you add on.
"Yeah?" he asks.
"I swear it." you answer.
a/n: thank you so so much for sending this in! <333 I love some good hurt/comfort too!! I hope you like it!!
#dc x reader#Jason todd x reader#Jason todd imagine#Jason todd blurb#dc blurbs#dc#Jason todd#boxer!jason
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Hi!!! I love your Get Off My Screen series so much! I was wondering if I could do a request for that?
Basically the idea is that Vox and the reader are just texting at night maybe and he lets something slip about something he misses from his old life on earth and because of that the reader remembers that the person they’ve been talking to for like over a year by now probably used to be alive and just spends the whole night learning everything they can about vox when he was alive (I imagine this would happen whilst vox was asleep and we’re just googling him) and then maybe I feel like we’d also google Alastor as a joke to see what all the fuss is about and then we find out that the person vox is ~~crushing~~ hating on is a serial killer and then just telling everything we learned when he wakes up.
Sorry if that’s really long I just fell like this is 100% what I would do in this situation
Old Times Gone By
Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader
A/N: I'm so glad you guys are requesting scenarios within the series, heck- I'm glad y'all enjoy it this much already hahaha! This is somewhat of an aftermath to the "You Could Do Better(With Me)" which is why it's not as cheery as the other chapters- but it's definitely not straight up angst. Just vulnerability and late night chatting between friends. Haha "friends"- And as always, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and happy reading!
A/N: Again, I kind of deviated from the prompt a little to better fit the narrative but Reader does know about Alastor and who he is because of Vox's ranting. They're aware that her demonic crush has a weird obsession with a cannibalistic radio serial killer deer dude and it's still not the weirdest thing he's done so far HAHAHAHA
If there was one thing Vox had to say he hated about drinking-
It had to be dealing with the hellish hangovers come morning.
Especially when he'd been wasted the night before.
A sharp jab in his side caused him to wake up this time.
He grunted, nearly falling off his chair when he shifted ever so slightly.
Huh-
Wait, why was he in here???
He could feel the migraine start to pound in his head.
Vox wasn't looking forward to today already.
When he tried to stand up, a clink of a bottle made him look down by his feet.
Picking it up to give the darn thing a once over, he scoffed.
He must have been absolutely hammered to have finished this yesterday.
It was a brand he despised the taste of too.
"Vox-? Oh, you're up."
His head whipped around so quickly once he heard your voice.
When had he even connected to your TV?
Not that he complained, he managed to see you sat up on the couch and stretching.
Your hair stuck up in odd positions and you even looked to be half-awake.
Why was that fucking cute???
"I- mhm. I guess I am. Was I... drinking yesterday?"
"I don't really know, I just knew you were drunk out of your mind last night. I can only see your face remember?"
"Ah... right."
Vox couldn't really bring himself to say much this time, not while he was still trying to grab the bits and pieces of his memory on yesterday's events.
Did he really wander into the monitor room just because he missed you?
That was low, even for him.
"Good morning anyhow, not that I think it would be if you're dealing with a hangover."
Vox just chuckled, watching you get up and disappear from the TV's view.
He wasn't in any mood to work at all, especially when he had a shitty headache to deal with too.
Eh, his empire could last a day without him.
He notified his secretary to just cancel all his duties and appointments for today, just ignoring their panic as you returned back into view.
"What are you holding?"
"Coffee."
"I thought you said you hated coffee?"
"Not hate, I just don't prefer it. But I need the caffeine to function today and I'd rather drink this bean juice than those energy drinks."
Vox wouldn't admit it, but talking to you again was already starting to make him feel a little better.
Especially after your noticeable absence.
He'd rather die again that outright say he missed you, his pride wouldn't allow it.
Cracking his joints, he just watched you sleepily stare up at him from where you sat on the couch.
Granted, it was probably because your TV was probably perched higher or on a shelf.
But Vox still thought you were kind of short.
Not that he had the right to say anything-
He was a 7ft tall giant compared to you.
"Again with the bean juice thing, and what's wrong with energy drinks?"
"They taste like straight up chemicals."
Vox just gave you a weird look when you rolled your eyes at him.
Still you just kept talking to him inbetween taking sips of your hot beverage.
"I'm not surprised you enjoy them, but your palate is probably shit."
"Oh you do not wanna go there-"
"What if I do huh? Watcha gonna do about it?"
Vox just grinned, you getting up to move closer to the screen as you challenged him.
The wide mischievous grin on your face mirrored his own and you both quickly devolved into just either bragging about exotic foods you've eaten-
Or straight up going for the jugular about each other.
"You eat McDonald's daily? I can't believe you'd feed yourself garbage Vox-"
"It's not garbage, and don't act like you've never eaten fast food."
"You are what you eat, I guess!"
"Ohoho! You bitch!"
Vox didn't seem to mind the numbing headache he felt when you were back to being your animated rambunctious self.
He wondered if it was because of the caffeine that made you all hyped up but he couldn't really bring himself to give a shit.
Not when he was still pretty tired.
It seems you noticed his retorts weren't making their usual mark though, and you crossed your arms over your chest while leaning towards the TV screen.
Vox just narrowed his eyes at you in confusion, what were you doing?
"You my good sir, need a hot cup of coffee more than I do. And freshen up while you're at it, I need to go take a shower too anyways."
You-
You did not just do what he think you did.
Were you actually mothering him??
Vox just rolled his eyes at your words, not really intending to go until he realized you weren't budging an inch either.
"Didn't you just say you needed to go clean up?"
"Not leaving till you are."
"Stubborn much?"
"Not that different from you, no."
The tech overlord laughed at your insistence, eventually relenting and disconnecting himself from your devices.
He stretched again when he got up from his chair, picking up the empty alcohol bottle near his feet not intending to clutter up or dirty his workspace.
Vox perked up when his phone buzzed though.
The darn thing catching his attention before he forgot it was there.
He checked on it with his free hand, chuckling when he realized it was just a message from you.
"Go and freshen yourself up, get a cup of coffee too while you're at it. I'll be back soon, kisses!"
You almost caused him to break his phone from the grip he had on it.
Kisses???
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?!
Vox seriously stood there staring at his phone for a good ten minutes just buffering and rebooting-
Dude is actually broken the second you do literally anything with vaguely romantic undertones.
Still he stomps all over his own hopes and feelings in fear of misinterpreting your friendliness.
Yeah, both of you were fucking clueless.
You stayed true to your word and did eventually come back after you'd cleaned yourself up.
Vox had just been waiting on your TV again and the screen brightened slightly upon noticing you.
It was a subconscious reaction, don't bring it up or he'll definitely throw a hissy fit.
So that's what you both did the whole day, talking and just catching up.
While Vox did mention you skipped classes for the day, you just shot back that he threw his work to the backburner as well.
Not that he bothered to refute it, instead just moving on with the conversation like normal.
Hours passed and time flew.
Before you knew it, the both of you were talking well into the evening.
"And that's kind of the reason why I think spaghetti is superior to penne."
"Doll, they're straight up just different kinds of pasta."
"The fact there's different kinds of pasta mean that people clearly can't decide on a superior noodle shape."
Yeaaah... your conversations kind of stopped making sense an hour ago.
Not that either of you minded, even laughing about some stupid thing way into the AM.
"So like- he thought he was really some hot shit taking on the leader of the exorcists but he got his ass absolutely handed to him!"
"Bro almost got turned into demonic venison HAHAHAHA!"
Though of course, late night conversations always went deeper than those normally held within the day.
"Say... Vox?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you miss being alive? With, ya know- talking to me and all."
Vox paused slightly, it's been a long time since he reminisced of his living days.
When was the last time he even did?
"Not necessarily, I miss some things but not a whole lot."
"Like what? When did you die???"
"Hm... I don't remember the exact date, but sometime in the fifties?"
Vox recoiled when you just gawked at his screen, why did you react like that?
"Holy shit! You're fucking ancient!"
"Haha... very funny doll, I'm not that old! I died in my thirties."
"Ehhhh? You're not much older than I am then. How??"
"Don't remember, it was a long long time ago."
You made a weird face at him, to which Vox just smiled and chuckled.
It was the same expression you wore when trying to figure things out.
As... weird and cute as it may be.
Then you suddenly yawned, causing the tech overlord to consequently do the same.
Something you poked fun at him for since when did TVs yawn apparently.
Rolling his eyes, Vox took a glance at his internal clock.
It was four in the morning?!
How long had you both been talking????
"Vox? You good?"
Apparently his bewilderment was evident on the screen, so he just switched his attention back to you.
Vox's screen glitched slightly when he was caught off guard by how close you got to the TV.
Almost all up in his face even.
"Y-Yeah, just zZst- fine. Say... Doll, do you know what time it is?"
"Uhhhh- no, not really- why?"
"It's four in the morning."
"And?"
"You need to sleep?"
You rolled your eyes and turned your back to the TV, plopping down on the couch with a pout.
"Hey."
You ignored him.
"Heeeeeey-"
Vox couldn't help but chortle from your antics, you really seemed like a grumpy child right now.
"Look dollface, I don't want the fun to end either but we've still got tomorrow."
"I don't wanna say goodnight. You're just going to disconnect when I do."
"What, you can't expect me to fall asleep hooked up to all your stuff again can you? My chair isn't the most comfortable place to fall asleep."
"Still!"
Vox rubbed his face with a sigh, he felt the inexplicable urge to just pinch your cheeks.
He would if he could but he didn't exactly have hands as a TV.
Why did you have to be so cute?
"How about this? I'll stick around until you pass out. You won't even notice I'm gone come morning."
"Fineeeeeee."
It didn't take too long for you to fall asleep on the couch.
Similarly to yesterday, you were just haphazardly sprawled across the furniture with a thin blanket to cover you.
Despite his words, Vox still stuck around for a while to make sure you were asleep.
You looked so serene while you rested, like you didn't have any worries.
The overlord let out a tired sigh, he'll just stick around for another five minutes.
Just a little longer in this peaceful moment with you.
Vox totally fell asleep in his chair again, he woke up that morning in an awkward position feeling more sore than ever too.
"Oh for fuck's sake-"
"MORNING VOXYYY!!!"
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#vox#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin vox x reader#vox x you#Get Off My Screen Series
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The Quiet One 6
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader
Note: have a good day.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
“So, what do you think?” Lloyd asks as he turns to you, outstretching his arms as he gestures to the endless hangers. “All yours. You got your pick.”
You stand just inside the door of the walk-in closet. The space would take up at least half your apartment alone. You cross your arms as you glance along the rows of coloured fabric hung from the walls, organized in a perfect ombre effect of shades. On the far wall, there are shelves full of shoes and accessories, along with a vanity in the centre.
“I know you’re a simple gal,” he grins, “but you don’t have to be anymore. Whatever you want, ain’t no mountain high enough and all that.”
You nod and blow out between your lips. It all still feel surreal like a nightmare. You swallow and tamp down your discomfort. You didn’t hate the life you had. Your small apartment, manageable and tame. You prefer predictability, even if some might say it’s boring.
“Erm, I dunno,” you slowly trail over to the other side of the closet.
“Well, you could pick some shoes first. That might inspire you,” he suggests as he approaches you, “you don’t need to be too fancy, you know, you always look nice.”
“Mm,” you nod,” thanks that’s...”
You let the sentence hang. This is really freaking you out. Your chest feels tight and your head is buzzing. You shudder out a breath.
“What... what am I choosing for?” You croak.
“I told you, jellybean,” he puts his arm around you and pulls you against his side, “it’s a surprise.”
He reaches to grab a hanger and holds it out at arm’s length. A blush-coloured satin dress with a bit of frill at the bottom of the skirt. It’s nothing you would choose yourself.
“Sure, that’s nice,” you say, just to appease him. What else can you do?
“Hm,” he hums, “you don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say...”
“You don’t sound very excited,” he pouts as he turns to you, his hand lingering on your hip, “none of it? I got it all for you.”
“I’ll wear it,” you sniff, “I’m sorry, I’m just... I’m... adjusting.”
You don’t know how else to explain it.
He pushes his lower lip out and narrows his eyes, “sure, sure, makes sense.” He drags his hand off your hip and steps back, keeping the dress up as he angles it before you, as if he’s imagining you in it. “This is gonna look so hot, baby.”
You do your best to stay placid. It’s harder as you heart pounds furiously. You can’t even begin to guess what he has planned but with everything he’s done and said, you know exactly what his intent is.
“You should get washed up, huh? Then get dolled up. Like I said, won’t need much of that,” he winks, “you could walk in ass-naked and I’m sure you’d stun.”
You can’t help how your mouth slants at his remark.
“Alright, jellybean, let’s get you in the tub,” he lays the dress over the velvet bench and spins back, startling you as he grabs both hips and jerks you towards him with a growl, “can I watch? I promise, I’ll try not to touch. Yet.”
You clasp onto his wrists with a yelp. He curls his lips eagerly and you repress your horror. You don’t want to antagonise. You don’t want him to get any worse than he is.
“Um, did you want... to?” You murmur.
“Fucking of course,” he urges you against him, “the things I want to do...” he smirks, “I’m quaking in my boots.”
He bows to smother you with a kiss. His mustache pokes at your uper lip and up your nose as he hums and slides his tongue across your lips. You squeeze your mouth tightly shut but he pokes through, nearly choking you as he invades. You press your hands to his chest as he locks you into his embrace.
Finally, he part and you gasp for breath. He snickers as you puff against him. Your skin is crawling as you wriggle in his hold.
“Yum,” he purrs.
He lets his arms fall away and quickly snags your hand. You let him drag you around to the door, your feet hollow as they move without a thought. Resistance is plainly not a choice.
He takes you back into the adjoining bedroom, the one you awoke in, and through another door way against the perpendicular wall. He steps to the side as he tugs you forward and releases you. Your take in the sleek black walls and black tub, the silver shower head in a monochrome booth, and the ebon marble veined with sparkling white.
“I get it, it’s going to take a lot of getting used to,” he boasts, “this is our home, sweet cheeks. Remember that. You treat it like your very own... it is. Just like me, all yours.”
You pad slowly inside, if only to keep a distance from your captor. You won’t forget what he is. He can give you all the luxurious things but you remember the days of starvation, of terror. He can’t see himself for what he is but you do.
“Face masks, body scrub, bath bomb, shower gel, bonnet, robe,” he points at the fluffy purple robe still around you, “slippers,” he flicks his finger towards the mat beside the door, “lotions, creams, everything you can dream of. Oh damn, I can call a nail tech if you want a fresh mani--”
“Uh, no thanks,” ball up your fists, hiding your short-trimmed nails, “that’s not... that’s okay.”
“Only the best for you, kitty cat,” he says.
He strides forward and you flinch out of his way. He goes to the tub and cranks it on, water splashing out from the high faucet. He flips the silver lever to put the stopper in place and backs up.
“Voila, all for you,” he declares, “I’ll just...” he looks around and backs up to sit on the fluffy cushioned stools near the wall, “sit and watch. If you need help getting your back, I got you.”
He wiggles his fingers and gives a lecherous grin. You withhold a shudder and face the basin, the water battering the bottom. You step forward and peer down into the shallows. You clutch the front of the robe and peek over in his direction but not at him.
He waits, silently. You sway, squeezing the fluffy fabric as you peer back at the water. You don’t know if you can do it. Not with him right there.
“Whatsa matter, baby, you need help?” He shifts and you jolt.
“N-no, I just...” you look down at yourself and frown.
“Ah, you’re shy. I totally get it,” he coos, “you don’t gotta be though. Your beautiful, so you should be proud. Show it off, honey.” He clucks and shakes his head, “you know that’s the thing these days, all you girls, you’re so insecure, but you trust me, sweet lips, you got nothing to be insecure about.”
Your stomach flips. You feel hazy. You try to shrug it off and drop your hands to the belt of the rob. You untie it. You’re really going to do this. Why?
Because you’re afraid? Weak? Yep.
You shed the rob and look around. You hang it on the hook behind the door and return to the tub. It’s getting deeper and deeper. You touch the bottom of your shirt and scrunch it up in your fists. Just do it quickly and get in. He can only see so much from over there.
You pull your shirt off, nothing underneath. You push your pants down quickly, your underwear rolling down inside. The skin feels cooler then and tingles across your naked skin as you latch onto the tub and swing yourself over the edge. You barely get a foot under you before you submerge your body in the water.
You sit up, legs bent, stiff on the porcelain as the water continues to rise. It’s not quite at your chest yet. If you let it fill all the way, it might touch your chin. As you watch the depth climb, you don’t notice him until he closes. You slide to the back of the tub as Lloyd cranks off the faucet.
You notice how his eyes stray to you. Your legs stay bent in front of you, blocking most of everything. You shrink down, hunching your shoulders as he searches through the ripples. He tilts his head and cracks his neck as he exhales and backs away.
“Take your time, baby,” he purrs as he rubs his chest.
He sits again and you lower your head. You’ve never been this bare in front of anyone, rarely even yourself. You’re just not comfortable without some short of shield around you. Your eyes tinge with the threat of tears. You feel like you’ve been hit across the face. This is real. Really real.
Your eyes flick up and you reach for the purple scrubby on the little black shelf. You just have to get through it. That’s what you’ve always done.
👄
You stare into the open case. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept of make-up. When you were a teen, you had a phase, and you’ve been to enough job interviews to wield a mascara wand. Still, the amount seems excess.
There’s almost every sort of product in every shade. Some sort of tap you don’t know what to do with, highlighter, and finishing spray. It’s too much. Your look is either a bare face or nothing at all. More often the former.
You fidget with a tube of lipstick, clicking the lid up and down. This is all so strange. What are you getting ready for? And why? This isn’t your home, this isn’t your life, and yet it’s all so perfectly planned.
“Honey bunnnnnn,” Lloyd’s timbre has you dropping the stick. He strides in, flustered, holding up two ties. He’s half dressed. A pair of red velvet pants and amber satin button up. It’s not a look you would go for. “What do ya think? Which tie? Paisley or the stripes?”
You shrug and shake your head.
He clicks his tongue, “genius, baby, genius. No tie. You’re right. Just the jacket.”
Your mouth falls open and you nod, “sure, yeah.”
You look back at the vanity and huff. Your face is untouched. You sit in your robe in the walk-in closet, mulling over your misery. Self-pity is as inescapable as these walls.
“What’s up, cheeks?” He asks, “you need some help? I’m thinking you could give a bit more colour to lips but keep the rest very subtle.”
He crosses the floor and hovers behind you. You stir around in the case and take out two bottles of foundation. You’ve never really used that either but the shades are pretty close. He lays the ties down on the vanity, brushing your back as he does, and pulls back to grip your shoulders.
“I tried to guess as best I could. Don’t know much about all that but the lady in the store was a blessing,” he massages your shoulders as he talks. You’re tense as steel. “But you know, you got perfect skin so...”
“Mm,” you put the foundation back and peruse the little shelf alongside the mirror. You reach for the moisturizer. Your skin feels raw.
“I like it, au natural. Touch of cream, little lash...”
“I’ll figure it out,” you grumble. He’s kind of annoying. No, he’s really annoying. All of this is annoying.
“Right, yep, I will get out of your way,” he bends and kisses the crown of your head, “lots of time.”
He strolls out and you scowl at the mirror. Something about him is getting to you. You’re not an angry person. You’re a nice person. You don’t go out of your way to be around others but when you are, you strive to be pleasant. Or at least, out of the way.
You spread the cream over your face, watching your reflection as if it’s someone else. Where did he come from? Why? This is some cruel trick because you only ever wanted to mind your business.
You cap the bottle and put the moisturizer back. You fish out a mascara stick and brush it on your lashes then find a neutral lip colour to put on. Nothing special, just like you. Hopefully he sees that soon enough.
You pack away the case and push it to the back of the vanity. You get up and go to the velvet bench where the dress lays. He’s plucked out a few things to go with it. A gold necklace with small diamonds speckled along it and a pair of beige heels.
You peek at the door before you untie the robe. You shiver as your fingers brush your stomach. You close your eyes as you recall how he wrapped you up in a towel after your bath. His touches were more than deliberate but his intrusive gaze made you squirm more.
You pull on the lingerie tucked under the dress. A thong. You’ve never worn one of those, and a satin and lace bra with no padding. Even as you pull the dress up your figure, you feel like you’re on display. You reach back, bending your arm until your elbow throbs as you push the zipper up.
“Need some help?” Lloyd’s voice makes you wince.
You sniff, “sure.”
You hold up the bodice as he approaches. You refuse to look back at him as he nears. He tickles along your spine with a single finger before he tugs on the zipper. He pulls it up little by little, until the fabric is snug around you. His fingertips drift down your back and he spreads his hands across your ass. You gasp.
Before you can step away, his hands glide around and he grabs you by the hips. He pulls you against him and rocks with you. He inhales your scent from above and sighs.
“Jellybean...” he almost sings, “are you...untouched?”
You lock up and grab at his hands, trying to free yourself.
“Is that why you’re so shy?” He snickers and spins you around, hands going to your waits, “I’m honoured to be your first.”
You gape at him, horrified. His intent hasn’t been hard to guess but said aloud, it is all too imminent.
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#the gray man#the quiet ones
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Carrying your Love
genre: fluff, fwb to lovers, drunken confession
pairing: Wonwoo x reader
summary: What's harder, carrying a drunk Wonwoo home, or carrying your love for him that you know he'll never reciprocate (or will he?).
warnings: mentions of drinking and alcohol, a little bit of swearing, mentions of sex, suggestive
note: Not me staying up until 2 am to finish this fic- 😭. This fic is part of an ask for drunken confession fics. Enjoy reading <33
Wonwoo has carried you more times than you can count.
From carrying you because you complained about your feet being tired, to carrying you to the bedroom after seeing you in a tight fitting dress that made his mind go into shambles.
But you never would've expected the roles to be switched.
"Wonwoo," You mutter, only to let out a groan in disappointment when you realize he's completely knocked out. "C'mon, wake up please. I don't want to have to drag you all the way to your house."
Wonwoo had asked you to go with him to Mingyu's birthday party. But you, knowing how most of his parties ended in everyone completely wasted, opted out because of your doctors appointment the next day.
Plus, you knew how getting drunk with Wonwoo at a party would often end in fucking in the bedroom, and to say your feelings about that have been complicated as of late would be an understatement. Yes, at first getting to release all your sexual desires while also having a friend seemed like a win-win situation. But you couldn't tell why you wanted to be more than that now, more than friends who fuck.
Ironically, you ended up going to Mingyu's party anyway. Not to party, but to bring Wonwoo's drunk ass home.
"Wonwoo," you repeat while shaking his shoulders, trying to wake him up so that he could walk on his own. "Wonwoo, wake up."
Sighing, you admit defeat and begin to hoist Wonwoo's legs around your waist so that you could piggyback him.
And no amount of weightlifting and going to the gym could have prepared you for the moment you started walking with a 139-pound man on your back. With each step you took, it felt like it would be your last.
But somehow, you miraculously made it to Wonwoo's house. Panting and breathless, but alive nonetheless.
"You better repay me for that," you mutter in between gasps of air as you drop Wonwoo onto his couch.
As you're grabbing a drink of water in the kitchen, you can hear Wonwoo as he slowly stirs awake. "ugh...," you hear him groan from the kitchen.
"Do you want me to take you to your room?" You ask, concerned when you see Wonwoo try to stand up, only to fall back on his butt.
Replying in a quiet nod, you go over to Wonwoo's side to help him. As you wrap his arms around your neck and piggyback Wonwoo once again, you can't help but notice how intimate the whole thing feels.
Wonwoo's chest pressed right against your back, his head resting on your shoulder, the small breaths he lets out as you enter his room. Suddenly, you feel Wonwoo lift his head from your shoulder to whisper in your ear. "I...I think I love you."
Shocked, you freeze in place. But something about stopping seems to cause your limbs to lose their strength, and before you know it Wonwoo is on the floor and groaning in pain.
"Ohmygosh, I'm so sorry Wonwoo. I was just so shocked-," You ramble, panicked as you try to make sure Wonwoo isn't hurt at all. "I really didn't mean-" You start to ramble again, before being interrupted by Wonwoo's soft lips on yours.
"It's okay, let's just go to bed. My head hurts so much," Wonwoo says as he tries to stand up, only to fall again on his butt.
"Here let me help you," you offer as you help Wonwoo stand up before leading him to his bed. Tucking him in, you let out a fond smile and give him a peck on the forehead. "Let's talk about your confession tomorrow when you're sober, okay?"
As you turn to leave you feel an arm shoot out to tug you back to the bed.
"Stay. Stay with me tonight."
#seventeen fluff#seventeen fanfic#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#wonwoo fanfic#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo x y/n#wonwoo x you#jeon wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo imagines#jeon wonwoo fluff#jeon wonwoo x you#jeon wonwoo x y/n
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Therapy
Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader
TW: hurt/comfort & cursing
Logan's been so focused on working out that he hasn't noticed that his phone has been ringing the past minute and a half, not at least until there's a banging on his home gyms door.
Logan's head snaps towards the door at the sudden noise, taking long but cautious strides to see who's there, opening it only to reveal a less than pleased Y/N standing there.
"Hey," Logan says breathless as he wipes sweat from his forehead "You could've called first"
a scoff leaves Y/N's mouth "I just did, you've blowing me off this past week. I need you to talk to me"
Logan's first season in Formula 1 wasn't the best, he was a bit underweight, not following the diet his trainer gave him and he wasn't managing his energy well in the car which would burn him out and either made him DNF or finish last, which was really getting to him.
"I'm working out, Y/N, I'm busy." he pants, going right back into the exercise he briefly put on hold.
"You're gonna make their weight requirement in the next 10 minutes?" Y/N spat, a little harsher then she intended it to come out but she still stood her ground, making Logan stop and stare at her.
"Thanks you for being so supportive of my work" Logan said with sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Because you've been such a champion of mine?" Y/N scoffed. It's true, Y/N just recently signed a contract with WWE's developmental program NXT and not even a single congratulation from her boyfriend.
Logan turned around, fire burning in his eyes "What's that supposed to mean?"
Y/N looks back with an icy stare "What do you think it means?"
Logan just stares at her dumbfounded which causes Y/N to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration before she continues, "I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to talk about my needs? What needs?"
"Did I say that?" His eyebrows knit in confusion as he stares at her urging her to explain.
"You didn't have to say it, it's implied." She rubs her forehead in anger
Logan whips around in utter confusion "How is it implied?"
"You're the athlete and I'm the girlfriend. That's how you feel right?" That causes Logan's hands to cover his eyes and roughly rub his temples as he senses an argument brewing.
Logan absolutely hated arguing with his girlfriend, but ever since his first season started that's all they ever seemed to do. Logan left the TV on all night? Argument. Logan ate something he shouldn't have? Argument. Y/N left her shower towel on top of Logans beach towel? Argument. Y/N forgot to lock the ferret in the cage and now Logan's keys are missing and he's late to a very important William's meeting (he wasn't making it anyway, he took too long acting like Taylor Swift during the ERAS tour in the shower)? Argument.
"Can we talk about this later, please" Logan tries to change the subject so he can finish his workout
"When Logan? When is later?" Y/N raises her voice an octave higher than she intended.
"Not tonight," Logan said, tears of frustration forming on the brims of his eyes threatening to spill.
His response made Y/N's face contort with anger in a way he's never seen before that he made a mental note of never to make her that mad again because he was scared.
"I have been working out all day. I have up since 4 this morning. I have tried to make their weight requirement for a week, and I am nowhere!" Logan yells, those tears of frustration once threatening to spill have now poured out his eyes with more following in pursuit.
"I've been telling you how unhappy I am for months!" tears have now also started flowing out Y/N's eyes as they argue.
"Everyone's unhappy in Miami! That's what Miami is!" Logan screamed has he throws a 5 pound dumbbell on the floor by the bench
"I don't know how to get through to you anymore. You keep shutting me out! You keep putting up these fences!" Y/N's hands tremble in anger as she throws them up, running her fingers through her hair
"I'm not, I'm not shutting you out" Logan states as he wipes the tears from his face but to no avail as more tears spill from his green eyes
"You're a million miles away all the time" Y/N's voice trembles as she lets the tears free flow.
"Actually, I'm right here." Logan says with the straightest face you can have as a crying arguing mess of a man
"Are you Logan? Actually? Cause I know you" Y/N says as the tears slowly stop falling.
"You're right. I've been distracted, but I promise you, after I make this requirement-" before Logan could finish his statement, he gets cut off
"After the requirement?" Y/N whispers in disbelief
"After the requirement!" Logan confirms in a harsh tone
"Everything is after the requirement!" Y/N screams
"Yeah"
"What if you make the requirement and nothing happens? No William's contract extension? You don't go straight to point positions? You're still a bad driver, You still DNF, You don't get signed with anyone else? What then, Logan? What about me?!" The tears that briefly stopped streaming down her face started back up and flowed faster than this time.
"I can't move with you to Orlando. I can't leave my career behind" Logan ripped off the band-aid, he couldn't put off the real reason he's been avoiding this topic, why he's been avoiding Y/N.
"You think I don't know that?" she trembled.
"What," Logan stops, unsure of what she means and what he wants to say next, a million thought in his mind at what his girlfriend just said to him, but not one of those questions are coming out of his mouth right now "What are you...? What is this? What do you want?" he finally manages to choke out
"I guess I just, I wanted you to tell me not to go" Y/N finally lets out and that's when all the emotion she's been bottling up for months comes out, unable to stop the sobs she chokes out. She's a shaking sobbing mess on the floor and all Logan could do was just stare. He knew she'd been hurting at his cold shoulder treatment but he didn't think it hurt her this bad. He couldn't believe that he was watching her hurt this bad because of him and there was only one question floating in the back of his mind...
why don't I feel bad?
#formula 1#formula one#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 smau#smau#logan sargeant#logan sargent x reader#logan sargent fluff#hurt/comfort#tw cursing#max verstappen#alex albon#charles leclerc#lando norris#f1 smut#f1 social media au#lewis hamilton#Logan sargeant imagines#Logan sergeant imagines
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Hello. If you dont mind i have a request for azriel where maybe reader has just given birth and has lately been feeling very insecure about her body and azriel comforts her...with lots of fluff
A New Warmth
Sorry about how long this took anon, but I hope the wait was worth it!
-
You watch the baby nestled in the crook of your arms, mirroring her deep breaths to keep yourself calm. She was so soft, so sweet, and whenever she reached for you, it made your heart melt. She was everything you and Azriel had hoped for - healthy, chubby, and sweet as can be. She even had the cutest little wings that twitched in her sleep.
The problem with having an Illyrian baby is you develop an Illyrian’s appetite while pregnant with them, along with the other stretching and tearing your body has gone through to accommodate her.
She was two weeks old at this point, and you knew you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Your body created this - a perfect mirror of you and your mate. But you couldn’t help the negative thoughts fluttering through your mind as your hand rested on your stomach, knowing the fresh stretch marks that lay underneath. You gained a good deal of weight during the pregnancy, your labor only removing about a dozen of those pounds.
As if sensing your spiraling thoughts, your mate walks in the door of your shared bedroom, his eyes alight with love and adoration at seeing his two girls.
“My loves,” he greets the both of you, setting the mugs of tea he had brought down, lifting the blanket to lat next to you. His presence under the blanket providing a new layer of warmth- not just physical, but the warmth of the three of you being together.
You lean your head against his shoulder as he wraps an arm behind you, slowly to not disturb the baby in your arms. “Will I ever get my body back?” You mumble into his shoulder. His fingers start caressing your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into it.
“Mmm, no, I don’t think you will.” You want to snap your head up, tell him that’s no way to console someone who had just pushed out his baby out of a tiny opening in their body when he uses his hand to hold your head in place.
“We will never be the same. We cannot go back.” He looks down at the baby in your arms, “maybe one day you’ll have more autonomy again - you won’t have a baby latched to your breast every other hour.”
His hand snakes down to rest on top of the hand you’re using to cradle the baby. “But she’ll always be a part of you.” The baby starts stirring, moving her tiny hands, and he reaches out a finger, which she quickly wraps her delicate fingers around. You both watch the scarred flesh in the pristine grasp of your innocent babe, no idea of an outside world that could cause harm. All she knows is the sanctuary of your home.
You look at Azriel with tears in your eyes, feeling incredibly silly over being upset at stretch marks. But as if he can read your mind, he tells you, “you have constantly given me what I thought I’d never have. You loved me, you gave me a true home, you gave me a mate, and now?” He laughs, flexing his finger in her grasp. “You’ve expanded our family. You gorgeous thing, you.”
He kisses the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “Your love knows no bounds, and I am eternally grateful for you.”
You start crying, post partem hormones taking control of you. “It’s so shallow,” you laugh as a tear falls, “I just was so upset over how weird my body feels. The pregnancy glow is gone so now I just feel heavy and weird in my own skin.”
He uses the hand not gripped by your baby to grab your chin and tilt it towards him. “I couldn’t look at my hands for a long time, after they had done it.”
Azriel always has a way of leaving you speechless, telling you another facet of himself he never had before.
“I could barely look at them before I met you. But you called them beautiful, this part of me I hated so much.” He looks into your eyes, the bond between you two humming in joy and adoration. “It’s okay if you don’t like how you look right now, I will find you beautiful enough for the both of us.”
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that funny feeling
(carmen berzatto x reader)
summary: you thought carmen berzatto was just a hookup. a fuck-buddy. key word, you thought.
warnings: cursing, allusions to sex but not really? its only mentioned a couple times. no smut, intended lowercase, if theres anything i missed plz let me know !!
wc: 1.1k
a/n: arlow thought about carmen spoon feeding them and made it angsty lol. this is rlly short but fret not !! i think this is gonna be a 2 parter, possibly 3 parter? idk, but i think its gonna be a series lol. anyway, enjoy my lovelies !! 🫶🤍
it started as a one time thing. a one-night-stand. a meaningless hookup. something that would and could only happen once.
until it happened again. and again, and again.
because carmen berzatto was a drug, and you were addicted to him. you craved him like lungs crave oxygen, but you weren’t sure that the feeling was reciprocated.
because if carmen berzatto was a book, he’d be written in code. scrawled in a language you didn’t understand, in writing to confusing to decipher. because carmen berzatto was nothing if not confusing.
a sudden vibration on your nightstand pulls you from your thoughts as you swipe open the screen. a text from carmen. shit.
carmy 🧑🍳
you up?
fuck. shit, shit, shit.
you quickly sit up and type back a response.
yeah.
you hold down the backspace button. too simple.
i wasn’t until you woke me up
pop. too accusatory.
i am now. whats up?
good enough.
you click send and set your phone back down on your bed, waiting for a response.
bzz.
the reply was almost instant. maybe that scared you a little bit.
your finger hovers over the screen, debating whether to open the text now, or just forget about it until the morning.
the former won.
carmy 🧑🍳
can you come over?
oh. oh.
you don’t know why you expected anything different. it’s not like you were dating him. even though you wish you were. in his eyes, you were just a casual hookup who he occasionally called for something not relating to sex.
you heave a sigh and shift your eyes back over to the phone in your hands.
yeah, ok.
sent.
you don’t really care if it sounds passive aggressive, or angry, or disappointed or whatever else it could sound like to him. to be quite honest, you just want to get this over with.
you quickly change out of your pajamas into something more presentable. a white sweater, blue jeans, throw in some lacy undergarments and you’re heading out the door and into your car.
you turn on the ignition and start the short drive to carmy’s apartment. you have his address memorized, (which you will deny is creepy until your dying day) so you don’t need to use a gps.
you turn on some music and try to distract your racing thoughts. its not like this is the first time you’re meeting him. no, far from it. but you don’t think your brain has processed that yet, because your heart is pounding and fluttering like a bird caged within your chest.
you finally make it to his apartment after what feels like an hour, and you’re standing—quite awkwardly—at carmen’s door, your fist hovering over the wood hesitantly.
after a full minute of standing at the door with your arm raised, you decide to bite the bullet and knock on the damn door.
so you do.
and he answers instantly. like a fucking gentleman.
his hair is tousled, and he runs a hand through it nervously. his eyes somehow look even more blue in the shitty light the hallway of his building provides, and it’s driving you crazy.
he is gorgeous. he is perfect. he’s all the synonyms for beautiful you can cram into one human being.
“hi,”
carmen’s voice is deep and gravelly, still thick with sleep even though he’s probably been awake for some time now.
“hey,”
a beat passes.
“can i-?”
he jolts up from the doorway he was leaning on.
“oh, yeah. shit—yeah, come in. sorry.”
an apron is tied around his waist, a gray sweater fitting loosely around his frame. it makes his eyes appear bright, like gleaming pools of sapphire that you want to spend every pretty penny on.
nonetheless, you smile politely and step into his apartment.
no matter how many times you’ve been here, the first thing you notice is always his bookshelves. more so, the books. cookbooks, magazines, culinary textbooks and newspaper articles litter his floor and decorate his walls.
the second thing you always notice is his ever-growing collection of denim. jeans and jackets make up most of his wardrobe, and are crammed into whatever space he could find.
after looking around his small apartment, a smell hits your nose.
its…pasta?
no, that can’t be it. you were just here to fuck, right? the food was probably for someone else. for work, or somebody he wanted a real relationship with. not you.
the thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.
you sigh, disappointment crashing into your heart like waves against rocks for the second time tonight.
despite that, you’re the first to break the silence.
“aren’t we going to your room?” you cringe at the tone of your voice. it sounded exactly how you felt. disappointed, hurt, maybe a little bitter.
“what? sorry, couldn’t hear you.” carmen leans down to you to hear better, his breath a faint whisper against your skin. your breath hitches.
“aren’t we going to your room?” you repeat, a tad louder than before.
“oh. no, no, no. no, that not—that isn’t—” carmen seems to be at a loss for words, and he feels like a total dick.
“we aren’t?” you’re confused, but hide it well. you raise a brow pointedly. “then why’d you ask me to come over?” for the first time in a couple of minutes, you notice where you followed him.
“i—just,” he searches around for something.
a spoon, full of some kind of red sauce. he cups his hand under the utensil to catch anything that drips, and urges you to come closer.
you’re in his kitchen. his safe space. his fucking sacred space.
and suddenly a wave of confusion and frustration and hope is erupting within you. so many emotions and so much fucking hope. hope that this could be something more. hope that maybe you were wrong. silly, foolish, childish hope that enthralls you completely in its deceitfully warm embrace.
he’s still holding the spoon to your mouth when he speaks.
“can you try it? it’s something for the bear. for the new menu. wanted your opinion on it.” he looks nervous, like he wasn’t the one who invited you over. like he isn’t currently the one lighting your cheeks ablaze and causing your to heart implode under the sheer force of your adoration for him.
“oh, um, yeah. of course.”
he smiles. a close-lipped thing that makes you want to kiss it off of him.
you move to take the spoon from him, but he gently shoves your arm down against your side, says “open up,” and puts the spoon in your mouth.
the food is great. more than great. but you’d be lying if you said you were paying attention to that.
because carmen fucking berzatto just spoon fed you. like a couple.
and now the domesticity is crushing you, mind, body and soul.
because you’re in love with carmen berzatto.
and by some miracle, he might be in love with you too.
#💌 arlow writes#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto#the bear fx#the bear x reader
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dad!matt but reader is struggling w an ed while going thru pregnancy..?
Eating disorder - Matt Sturniolo x Y/n oneshot
warnings - eating disorder (don’t read if you’re not comfortable,) throwing up, sad, fluff, self consciousness, insecurity, mentions of a handjob, slight arguing
disclaimer: first person POV
—————————
1:24pm
It was hard for me, to be pregnant and barely see her husband.
It was harder to see women he was friends with that was the definition of beauty.
All of it was hard.
As I stood at the kitchen island, staring at the to go box of food Matt had left for her before he’d gone to work.
I got this from Buffalo Wild Wings, I know you’ve been craving spicy stuff. Love you so much, baby(s) -Matt
The note read, I wanted to crack a smile, dive in to the food. But I couldn’t, my mind didn’t let me.
You’re not supposed to eat. You’re already gaining enough weight with the baby. Matt’s not gonna know, throw it out, pig.
My thoughts ran wild and mean. I didn’t particularly think i was a big person, I definitely wasn’t skinny but I also definitely wasn’t fat, maybe a couple pounds “overweight.” But the expectation nowadays want you to be perfect or else you’re not good enough.
I let out a sigh, picking the to go box up and bringing it to the trash, shoving the box in the bottom of the trash, knowing that if Matt saw the box in the trash he would freak.
—————————
8:48pm
The rest of the day consisted of me sleeping on the couch, or watching TV. Getting up to wipe counters and vacuum occasionally, but otherwise just not doing anything else. Not like being 7 months pregnant was easy.
I scrolled through the channels with a bored look on my face, my hand holding my head up as my elbow was propped on the arm of the couch.
The door opened and Matt came in, holding another bag of food, with a big smile plastered on his face.
I internally sighed, guilt already eating away at me.
“How are both my babies?” Matt laughed, taking his shoes off and placing the bag of food on the coffee table before kneeling on the couch over me and kissing me softly.
He pushed into the kiss a little more before pulling away with a big smile, “Hi, pretty girl.” He whispered.
There it was again, pretty. That word, was he saying that because I’m his baby mama? Is he saying that because he doesn’t want me to be insecure? Or is he saying that be-
“Hey..” Matt grabbed my chin, making me look at him as he sat down regularly on the couch. “You okay?”
I picked at my ear and nodded, “I’m fine.” I said, pulling my hand away from my ear.
Matt let out a laugh and shakes his head, “You pick at your ear when you’re nervous or lying, so what is it? Am i making you nervous or am i being lied to?” He taunted.
I scoffed, my hand going to pick at my ear again but i caught my self, placing my hand in my lap. “Sorry, i’m fine. This baby just keeps pushing on my bladder, speaking of I have to use the bathroom.” I let out a short laugh, struggling to get up.
Matt stood up and helped me, “Okay, well I got in n out because I know you’ve been craving burgers lately.” He said, kissing the side of my forehead.
I shook my head, picking my ear once again but this time he didn’t notice as he started taking the burgers out of the bag. “Uh- i actually made a sandwich like twenty minutes ago so i’m not really hungry.” I said nervously, picking at my fingers.
Matt nodded, “That’s fine, baby. Now go use the bathroom before we have another accident like last week.” Matt teased.
I let out a scoff, “Screw you! I told you I had to go but you insisted on me giving you a ha-”
“Okay! Okay, go.” Matt cut me off as he let out another laugh.
—————————
9:57pm
I lathered lotion on my hands as i stood in front of the mirror in Matt and I’s room, smearing some on my neck and chest.
Matt came in with his hair wet, shirt off with sweatpants, coming up behind me and kissing the back of my neck, then kissing my cheek. His hand going to my belly, squeezing softly.
I smiled before he pulled away starting to get into bed as I started to put some overnight cleanser on my face.
“You sure you’re not hungry, n/n? I know you get hungry later at night now.” Matt urged on as he got comfy under the sheets.
I shook my head, “No that salad I had really filled me up.” I laughed, starting to get into bed.
Matt gives me a weird look, “I thought you had a sandwich.” He points out.
Shit.

“I had a sandwich and a salad so i’m extra full, can we drop it?” I snapped, not meaning to but it just came out.
“Alright, alright.” Matt said as i climbed into bed.
I turned off the lamp, the room going silent.
“Can we cuddle?” Matt whispered.
I let out a sigh, putting my arms out for Matt.
He immediately crawled into my touch, his head going onto my chest as his hand rubbed my belly, a gesture i used to hate, because i was fat.
—————————
8:34am
I wake up slowly, letting out a soft groan as i open my eyes. I let out a hum as i turn my head, looking over to see Matt’s head on his pillow, his face towards me as he slept.
His pink lips were slightly parted as he continued to take slow, unconscious breaths.
He was laying on his stomach as his arm was draped right under my pregnant belly.
I smiled before slowly removing his arm. He let out a small hum before he started to wake up.
“Mm.. good morning.” Matt said with his sleepy, morning voice.
“Sorry.. i didn’t mean to wake you up.” I apologized as I stood up.
Matt shook his head, indicating it doesn’t matter. He then gives me a confused look, “Where are you going?” He said as he rubbed his eyes.
“Bathroom, I told you this baby of yours likes to push on my bladder.” I complained as i started to walk towards the bathroom.
Matt lets out a laugh.
“Shut up!” I yell as I close the bathroom door.
I do my business before standing up, standing at the sink to wash my hands.
My eyes glance down at the water as it runs through my fingers.
The water starts spinning.
I look up to look at myself in the mirror, but I was also spinning, i couldn’t keep focus.
Everything was turning around me as I stumbled and almost lost my buisness. My back hit the door harshly.
“Babe, you okay?” Matt calls out.
I swallow harshly as I try to gain my balance, I try to speak. “M-matt, i think i-”
Thump.
Everything went black.
—————————
10:32am
I slowly blink my eyes open, my body hurting as i regain my conscious.
I let out a groan as I look around, noticing that I was in a hospital room.
“Baby? Hold on, n/n. Wait.” I hear Matt’s voice tell me, putting a hand on my leg.
“What happened?” I croak out.
“Just uh- drink this, sweetheart.” He said, a harsher tone to his voice, putting a cup of water in front of my face with a bendy straw poking out of it.
I bring my lips to the straw, sucking slowly as i swallow, my dry throat getting moist from the water.
I watch as a doctor comes in the room, holding a tablet.
“Y/n! So good to see you awake. Now, let’s talk. I’m gonna ask you a couple questions and i need you to answer truthfully and with full honesty.” She says.
I rub my eyes and nod, moving to sit up, rubbing my head but immediately groaning in pain as i feel a wrap around it, assuming i hit my head when i passed out.
I grabbed Matt’s hand.
“Okay, do you know where you are?”
“Los Angeles Hospital.”
She nodded and smiled, “Good, good. Next, do you know what happened?”
I look away for a second, thinking. “I passed out. Everything got spinny and then went black.” I explained.
She nodded, “Y/n, have you ever suffered from an eating disorder?” She asks.
I look at Matt who’s face turned pale, i shook my head. “Never.”
Matt squeezed my hand.
“Okay, well, Y/n, do you know the reason you passed out?” The doctor asks me, her tucking her hair behind her ear.
I shook my head as I picked my ear. I hear Matt let out a scoff.
The doctor looks at Matt, “Is something wrong, Mr.Sturniolo?”
He shook his head and cleared his throat, standing up. “I’m just gonna go grab something from the vending machine, i’ll be back.”
I held onto Matt’s hand tighter, shaking my head. “Matt, please.” I whispered, my voice cracking slightly. I could tell something was wrong.
Matt clenched his jaw, looking at me before he nodded.
“Alright, Y/n, well the reason you passed out is because your labs show you haven’t eaten in a while, which is bad for a normal person, but even worse for a woman carrying a child. You see, your body is giving energy too two living beings, your food is shared, your sleep is shared, everything is shared. So when you don’t eat, it’s not just taking energy from you it’s taking energy from the both of you.” She explains.
“Oh, i just- i don’t- uhm-” I shake my head, not knowing what to say.
“Okay, i can give you two a minute or two to maybe talk and process, and then we can talk about things we have to make sure happens for the future and for your baby girl to be healthy.” The doctor says, walking out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Mat stands up and starts pacing the room as he bites his thumb nail.
“Matt-”
“Don’t!” He raises his voice. “You were struggling and you didn’t tell me? How could you do that to me? What are we even married for if you won’t tell me things like this?” He yells at me.
“Don’t yell at me! It’s not an everyday thing t-that you struggle with y-your body, a-and that you feel guilty everytime you take a bite of something! So d-do not come at me for not telling you that!” I yell back as my voice cracks.
A guilty look appears on Matt’s face, “I’m sorry. I just wish you would’ve told me. I want us to be able to tell each other things like this, we’re married, y/n. Married.”
I nod and sniffle, “I’m sorry.” I whisper out.
He shakes his head, putting his hand on my cheek as he kisses me softly. “It’s okay, just next time, please tell me.”
I nod and he kisses me again.
—————————
So this is the end hope you liked it idk why it took me so long i’m in another writers block like help anyway hope yall liked
taglist: @sturniolosmind @novasturniolo03 @hearts4chriss @vinniehackerslefttoe @christhopersturniolo @mattybswife @streamermattsgf @sturnolio-luvs
#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#spotify
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