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eternally-racing · 4 months

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racer girl | lando norris

pairing: dad! Lando x wife! reader (+ their adorable little kiddo)

wc: 1.3k

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: Lando's more than apprehensive when his daughter wants to try karting for the first time, but luckily you're there to hold his hand through it all.

note: this fic is part of the racer girl collection but can also be read as a stand alone !

----- The request came on the list your daughter, Piper, wrote for Santa, and as soon as you saw it you ran to go show your husband, Lando. “Go karting” was written in scraggly letters.

You had anticipated it to be a joyous event in the Norris household. None of you ever put any pressure on your daughter to follow in either of your footsteps, but the image of your little girl in a racing suit just like her daddy made you smile. You surprised Lando with the when you both were cleaning up after dinner, but the reaction you got is nothing like what you expected.

“She’s not going karting. End of story”

“It’s what she wants, Lan, and I think it makes perfect sense.”

“It’s TOO dangerous. That’s my little girl out there.”

You’ve never seen Lando look this serious in his life. He’s not being overdramatic or overzealous, but there’s a fire behind his eyes that tells you that he’s dead set on this.

“Do you think your mother was ecstatic when she found out her son was in love with one of the most dangerous sports in the world? Probably not, but she let you do it anyway. Because you loved it, and who knows, maybe Piper’s gonna love it like her daddy.”

This is why Lando loves you. You're always realistic and you keep him grounded while he floats away into overthinking on situations like this.

“I guess I’m just scared for her,” Lando says more quietly, taking a seat on the couch and curling in on himself. You’re quick to join him and cuddle into his side.

“You’ve seen what I’ve been through Y/N - the training, the crashes, the missed birthdays and weddings, the mental toll, how can you still say you want her to do this knowing all of that?”

You sigh as you take Lando’s hands in yours. You rub your thumb over the back of his hands while you ask him your next question.

“Looking back, do you regret anything, Lan? Would you give up racing entirely if you had the chance to start all over again?”

He shakes his head in denial instantly, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as you lay with one another.

“We’re not committing to her becoming a Formula 1 driver, babe. She just grew up seeing her daddy do this really cool thing and wants to give it a try, and I don’t think it’s the worst thing if we let her.”

Lando buries himself further into your neck and he mumbles his next words. “Our little girl is growing up, isn’t she?”

You don’t reply back with your words, but Lando understands you perfectly as you cuddle further into his side.

- - - - - -

It’s a rare instance when Lando tosses you the keys to drive to the track. He protects his McLaren like it’s his second child, but from the way his knee is bouncing in the passenger seat you know that he’s in no state to drive. It’s a perfectly mild cloudy day, yet Lando is wearing these ridiculous wide rimmed sunglasses that you can only assume he found in a hurry while foraging through your shared bathroom. While you may not tease him much for it since you know they’re covering his teary eyes, your daughter is still just as merciless and cheeky as her father usually is. Lando teaches her the word “allergies” on the drive down as he’s coming up with excuses for his sniffly state.

When Piper first gets a helmet, she runs right past you to get her daddy to put it on her. She’s serious when she tells him not to make it “tew tight”, but Lando’s hands are shaking so much that he can hardly get the buckles done up anyways. She barely spares you both a second glance and Lando has to pull her back to give her a quick kiss on the helmet before she goes off. You both wrap her in your embrace and give her a squeeze until she’s telling you it’s time to let go, and Lando only gets halfway through his dad talk of “we can leave at any time if you get scared and I’m gonna be standing right here supporting you” before she’s already dashing away again. Piper is barely going past a crawling speed in the kart but something about the sight tugs at your heart. You’re used to this feeling, watching half your heart racing away while you’re on the sidelines, but you realize this is the first time Lando’s been in this position instead of being the one in the car. You reach for his hand and hold it tight as you lay your head on his shoulder. You two had so many “firsts” with your daughter: first steps, first time you left her at home, first words, and so much more, but none of them compared to this feeling of watching her karting for the first time.

The first time Piper bumps into a wall Lando says that he thinks he’s gonna throw up and you have to almost physically hold him back from running out there to her. Once you see a big thumbs up from your daughter to confirm she’s okay, the whole situation earns a little giggle from you and you reply back with Lando with “imagine instead of going into the wall at 3km/h it’s actually 313km/h and you’re watching the father of your children crash.”

Lando’s never seen your point of view before like this. You spent years on the paddock as the worried girlfriend, then as the worried fiance, then as the worried wife, and then finally as the worried pregnant wife (probably the worst situation of all since you were already nauseous anyways). You never once pushed him into retiring for the sake of your family - you could see the joy the sport brought him and he always appreciated your respect for that. He thinks having to watch on the sidelines might be even harder than actually being on the track, and he looks at you with a newfound appreciation for your strength as you cheer on your daughter.

“Thank you.” Lando whispers to you with a little crack in his voice.

It’s more than a thank you for convincing him to let Piper do this - it’s a thank you for supporting him all these years, through all the ups and downs of his racing career. You only hold onto him tighter as a response, pulling out your phone too to capture the moment. Whether Piper continues in motorsport or not, you know this is a moment that you’ll both treasure forever.

That night Piper begs for you both to put on the home video of Lando’s first karting win while she eats her supper. You’ve never seen your daughter this happy before, and you know from the look on Lando’s face that he thinks the same. It’s only after she retells her experience in karting from start to finish for the 4th time over that you’re able to finally bargain with her to go to sleep. Her one concession is that she sleep with her helmet in her bed, an action that brings the tears right back to the forefront of Lando’s eyes since that was something he did as a kid too.

“Our baby girl is going to be the first ever female driver in formula 1” he cooes as you both stand at the foot of her bed. “Typical Lando” you call out, not surprised one bit that he’s gone from banning his daughter from stepping foot into a kart to imagining her future in motorsport history all within the span of a couple of days. You have to slow him down before he starts going off on a tangent about the best places to train and the moments he can’t wait for her to experience in the sport. But at the end of the day you’re so happy that Lando came around on this (an “i told you so” or two sometimes slip out when the topic comes up), and you know that it’s going to be a fun journey being karting parents for as long as Piper wants to do so.

----

author's note: this was such a fun one to write <3 you'll probably see a lot more dad! Lando on my page in the future! If you have any dad! Lando scenarios (or any scenarios really) that you want me to write, feel free to drop them in my ask box! Until next time <3 - Em

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thehighladywrites · 14 days

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ACOTAR MEN X READER, GETTING CAUGHT BY YOUR CHILD

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ summary: you’re caught in by your kids, how do you guys handle the situation?

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ warnings: nsfw, crack, fluff, kids feeling traumatized

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ amara’s note: thank you the req anon!!

Azriel

Your bent on all fours, gripping your sheets as Azriel slutted you out, hands on your waist as he thrusted in and out.

As much as you loved hanging around everyone, you were in some desperate need of him.

Azriel had been away on many affairs, often leaving you alone. And though you were surrounded by everyone, you still felt a crushing loneliness that only he could fill

When he finally came home after a two weeks long business trip, you stuck to him like glue. Seriously, whatever he was doing, you were doing too

Azriel saw it snd decided to treat you good after a long time alone

“Right there,” you breathlessly tell him, urging him to speed up just a bit, his throaty groans and moans making you crazy wet

“D’ya know how—how much i missed you and this pretty little pussy? Hm?” his charming, teasing voice made your walls tighten around him, your whines getting more messy as you got closer to cumming

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he praises with a smile, proud of your strength.

It’s really not easy keeping up with Azriel, esp not in bed

“I like makin’ you feel good,” you whimper out, short gasp falling from you at the end of the statement, finding the spot inside you that makes you go insane

“Yeah, what else so you like?” he asks with a little smirk

You’re so far out of it, you barely notice the doorhandle being pulled.

You gasp when Azriel pulls out and with his cold shadows whisk you away to the cabin. You went from being fucked on all fours to standing up, so fast that your knees almost buckled had it not been fpr azriel holding uou up

”Az, what—what is going on? is this some sort of punishment?” you whined, grinding your ass against him.

”Not a punishment, just saving us from the most awful moment in our lives,” he says lowly as his shadows report your twin boys looking for you.

It takes a minute for your brain to register where you actually are. Rhysand’s cabin.

You also realize your both completely naked

“Az, what are we doing here?” you furrow your brows in true confusion

“The boys were about to walk in, i had to move us.”

“So you moved us to rhys’s cabin in the illyrian mountains? a closet or another room wasn’t an option?” you remarked, genuinely curious.

“I obviously wanted to be on safe side,” he said as if you were the crazy one, not him for bringing you thousands of miles from home

Rhys

After a day of teasing him relentlessly he finally caught you alone, planning on having his version of fun with you

“You think you can play with me all day and i won’t play back?” he tilts his head a little at you, surprised you actually think he’s gonna let it slide

your teasing had ranged from projecting nasty flashbacks of him pounding you in his mind to fun little kisses to his neck while he was talking to someone

“Um, no. But i was just horny, you can’t punish me for that, right?” you say slowly backing away from him as you did ur best to save your ass

Rhysand would definitely not let you cum, he would drag it out for hours and you for sure would be left crying

He pulls you closer, guiding you to bend over his lap. “You need to learn patience, my dear. And I'll be the one to teach you.”

Approximately 20 minutes into him fingering you then pulling away just as you’re about to cum, a knock is heard.

Rhysand looks at the door and calmly uses magic to clean you both up, not a hint of your activities left

“Papa, can you come to my room, i had a nightmare,” your son cries, fat tears rolling down his cheek as he clutches his favorite teddy.

Your heart breaks for him as you watch Rhys pick him up, carefully rocking him in his arms.

“Of course, buddy. Let’s go to your room, I’m here to protect from everything.”

Just before he leaves with your son, Rhys snaps his fingers, removing your clothes and binding you to the bed.

“Don’t think you’re in the clear,” he chuckles into your mind.

Cassian

He had been crazy horny all day

Anything you did was just an insane turn on. Cassian justified his horny urges by saying it was your fault

But was it really normal to be turned on by you leaning over the sink to wash your face?

Cassian sure thought it was, anything you do is sexy in his head

Reading, sexy. Walking, sexy. Eating, sexy. Yelling at him, super fucking sexy

So he was on you, having fun makeout sessions in the most random places like rhysand’s wine cellar or Mor’s closet when you borrwed a dress

“Let me hit,” he begs, arms wrapping around your waist

“Is that how you ask for me?”

“Please, let me have sex with you. I’m dying for it, i’m dying for you.” he says the last part with a smug smile, thinking he is rizzing you up like crazy

You still let him hit tho

So you crawl into his lap, his body leaning against the headboard as you settle in, his hands roaming your body

He rips your shirt clean off, leaving you in nothing as he starts playing with your tits

“Dad, i’m feeling sick. Do you think Madja is still—” your daughters voice makes cassian panic, resulting in him throwing you off his lap, scrambling to look normal

“Hey, babygirl. What’s up!!” he says, smiling up at her as he tries to ignore your glare.

“Ew, oh my gods. Please tell me you guys weren’t having sex, i think i might actually throw up.”

She looks at you but you just look away, keeping the blanket around you.

“Excu— sex??? wha—what are you talking about? Babe, please, are you hearing this nonsense?” he chuckles nervously as he points to your daughter with a scandalously shocked look, like he couldn’t believe her words

“Yeah, i’m going over to auntie Feyre’s. Bye,” your daughter leaves before you have the chance to say anything else

“I mean, sex is super overrated. I don’t even partake in such activities, okay? I don’t even like sex, yuck!” he yells , hoping your daughter hears as she vanishes

You stand up from where he threw you, narrowing your eyes at him as you clear your throat

He looks back at you with wide eyes, holding his hands up in defense as he remembers what he has done

“Babe, thats was a lie. Sex is fucking amazing, especially with you. And i’m sorry for throwing you, i panicked.”

“Make it up to me and i might forgive you.”

Bro makes up for it good, like really REALLY good

Eris

Eris is just like Azriel, he will not let anyone catch you. He has sealed your bedroom over and over again with tricky, protective spells.

The only way in is by blood, only his and yours.

And sometimes when he’s balls deep into you, making the bed creak, he forgets the fact that your children are a mix of those two blood types

So when you start moaning and letting out noises of pleasure, it shocks your 6-year old daughter who thinks her dad is hurting her mom

“Please, make—make me cum again, please, Eris.”

Eris is so mean sometimes. He had edged you all day, only allowing you to come once.

”You think you deserve it?” he asks

You whine, ”Fuck, please— be nice to me— please, pleaseeee.”

“An impatient slut like yourself don’t deserve to cum. You knew this would happen and you gave me fucking attitude anyway,” he scoffed.

A loud cry and fading footsteps are heard as you both freeze

You get dressed instantly and run out, worried about why your daughter was awake and wailing.

“Hey baby what’s wrong?” Eris squats down next to her crying self before he recieves a punch to the gut.

“I heard what you said to mommy, you hurt her and i hate you!” she yelled as she sobbed in your arms

You both look at each other in embarrassment, obviously understanding what she was referring to

“Oh! Um, no daddy wasn’t hurting me or was being mean. It was a game, i promise. See? I’m fine, sweetheart.”

Eris felt nauseous. He didn’t want your daughter thinking he was hurting you, just like his father had hurt his mother.

“Kit, i could never hurt your mother. I love her more than anything. It was just a game and i promise, you’ll never hear it again.”

She nodded before kissing your cheek and then running into his arms, dead asleep in just a few seconds

You kissed Eris, reassuring him that he wasn’t being to rough or mean and that you actually liked it.

Still, he never degraded you again, despite your wishes.

Lucien

It is your 100th anniversary as mates

Of course there’s a massive celebration for you

Grand balls, beautiful gowns, exclusive parties for a week straight, expensive drinks, luxurious vibes

You had the time of your life with the love of your life (see what i did there)

Azriel and Feyre had been tasked with keeping your children safe

But they get distracted for one second, allowing your girl to slip away

You and Lucien are in the bathroom, making out with your hands down his pants

You were supposed to leave for a trip after, a vacation to celebrate your love for a century but you couldn’t wait

Since you two didn’t have to worry about your kids and keeping an eye on them, you had free reign to give him a handjob whilst he played with your nipples

“You just couldn’t wait, huh?” you said smugly, sliding your thumb over the slit of his cock, making him groan

“Like you can talk, you’re here with your tits out like some common whore,” he retaliated, tugging on your sensitive nipples, enjoying the way you melted

“Daddy what are you doing?”

Your heads snap to the door in horror when you hear your toddlers voice

Feyre runs in exhausted from chasing your daugher before her eyes widen in shock as she covers your girls eyes before dragging her out.

“I’m so sorry, she managed to run away!” she exclaimed as she hurried out, shutting the door thoroughly

You and Lucien look at each other, laughing before getting dressed again.

“Is this a sign to just wait for the trip?”

“Yeah, i believe it is.”

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navybrat817 · 20 days

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The Dad Diaries: Grief

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky explains grief to Jamie as best as he can when you need a minute to yourself. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, touch of fluff, grief, loss of a friend, reflecting, talk of death, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Another part to the The Dad Diaries . Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky could hear your cries before he reached the bedroom, the sound causing a lump to form in his throat. He could picture you hastily wiping at your face when he knocked. You were in pain and it hurt him to know you were hurting. The worst part was that it wasn’t the kind of pain he could fix by patching it up. It was the kind of hurt that lingered beneath the surface before it clawed its way out.

Grief.

“Do you need anything, doll?” He asked.

“Just give me a minute, please!” You called out, your voice close to sounding like your normal self. You were trying your best to be strong when what you needed was a moment to break. People didn’t realize the weight of the things they carried until they buckled under them.

And you didn’t need to be strong all the time.

“Mama?” Jamie asked, reaching a hand out toward the door.

Bucky kissed the top of his head. “Mama needs a minute,” he whispered before he held him against his chest. He hoped his smell and steady heart beat soothed him. “She’ll snuggle up with you soon, okay?”

If anything could make you feel better apart from being in his arms, it was having your son nuzzle against you.

Jamie made a small sound, his lower lip trembling. “Mama,” he said again.

Bucky didn’t take it to heart that his son wanted you. He understood that there were days when he’d want his dad and other days he’d want his mom and times when he’d want both of you. If anything, he felt proud that his son wanted to go to you. Maybe he sensed that you needed support and love.

“I know you want your mama,” he said, carrying him back to the living room. “But you are stuck with me for another minute.”

Jamie moved his head, his eyes set in a stubborn stare. He looked so much like you at that moment, demanding with a look to know what was the matter and how to fix it. What could he say?

“Jamie, you know how you have your Uncle Steve and Uncle Sam and Aunt Nat and everyone else?” He asked, a sad smile touching his lips at the happy look in his little boy’s eyes at the mention of his friends. He wanted his child to hold onto that innocence for as long as he could. “Well, your mama had a friend who was going to be like an aunt to you, too.”

Was. Past tense. Because your friend recently passed away. You wondered if she knew how important she was to you. If she knew how she impacted your life. She was too young in your eyes to go. Still had so many things she wanted to do. While death is fair in that it comes for everyone, it doesn’t always feel fair when someone you care for is taken away too soon.

The one thing you were thankful for was that she was no longer in pain.

“Mama’s friend, your aunt, isn’t here anymore. She misses her and she’s sad that she’s gone.”

“Mama sad?” Jamie repeated, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, Nugget. She’s very sad. Grieving. And grief is… so many things,” Bucky explained, swallowing a bit as he felt a crack in his heart. “It’s loss and mourning. It’s love that you carry inside and it no longer has a place to go.”

Jamie gazed at him, soaking up every word. His son was too young to hear something like this. Too precious. But if life taught him anything, it’s that it was too short and there was no guarantee of tomorrow.

“Some days the grief comes out of nowhere. You never really know when it’ll happen or why. You may hear a song you’ve heard dozens of times before or catch a scent of something familiar and it triggers a memory or feeling,” he told him, kissing his forehead again because he needed to ground himself. “You think you’re fine and then you fall apart.”

That was exactly what had happened a few minutes prior. You were smiling one moment as the three of you sat in the living room and the next you burst into tears before you rushed out. Bucky wished like hell he could’ve manifested your sadness into something tangible so he could snuff it out. It wasn’t his battle to fight, but he could be by your side to wipe the tears away if you let him. Or whisper words of care. Or to say nothing at all. Some didn’t always want to hear words of comfort or hope when they just needed to feel.

He would be there to give you whatever you needed or asked for.

“It’s okay to feel those feelings, Jamie. I get sad, too. There’s no timeline for healing or grieving. It takes as long as it takes. And we’re lucky in a way to feel things so strongly,” he told him. You were always understanding and patient on his off days. He more than lucked out by having you as his wife. “You know what your Uncle Vis says grief is? That it’s love persevering,” he added, bouncing him a bit to make him smile. It put a smile on his face, too. “And your mama has so much love to give.”

“So do you.”

Bucky looked toward the doorway where you stood. Bloodshot and puffy eyes, but with a small smile on your beautiful face. He wanted to hold you and remind you that you weren’t alone. “Hey,” he said as Jamie reached for you. “I think he wants to cheer you up.”

“Is that right? Well, I think a snuggle with my boys is just the thing I need,” you said as you took a seat beside Bucky and took Jamie into your arms. “Sorry I rushed off like that.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered. He had plenty of moments where he needed to step away and compose himself when his thoughts got too loud. “We just want you to be okay,” he added, kissing your temple before Jamie grabbed your face.

“Mama no sad,” he said, forcing your cheeks up in a smile. The sight almost brought tears to Bucky’s eyes because it was so simple and heartfelt. “No sad.”

You giggled, a soft sound, before it erupted into full blown laughter. It soothed the crack he felt earlier in his heart. The room felt brighter, especially when Jamie joined in with the laughter. “Not sad, Nugget,” you assured him before you looked at your husband, love shining through like always. “Not anymore.”

The grief from your loss would come again in waves. Just like the days Bucky mourned the parts of his life he lost and couldn’t get back. Some days were harder than others, especially when regret and “what if’s” came to mind, but the important thing was that neither of you allowed yourselves to live alone or lose yourselves in grief. Not when there was so much to be thankful for.

You felt what you needed to feel. You asked for help and leaned on each other. And you carried on together.

Because what is grief, if not love persevering?

I lost more than one loved one recently and writing this helped me process some of the loss. We all need someone like Bucky. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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am-i-interrupting · 1 month

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hazbin hotel hcs with reader, preferred fem but gn is ok, with really long hair. like it's legit like Rapunzel (and it's also their power like capturing ppl, healing ppl, and just the stuff Rapunzel is able to do lol) and so reader always wears their hair like in a bun (bc we know that'd get extremely hot) and just the different characters reaction to seeing readers hair completely down for the first time

Alastor

Alastor had always been fascinated by your hair.

If you’d let him cut it, or even if you didn’t, he’d try to get a piece. Just pluck a single strand from your head. It’s not like you’d miss it.

So, he had an idea for how long it was.

Seeing it all down was a different story, however.

“I can certainly see why you keep it tied up, my dear.”

He’s honestly impressed that you don’t buckle underneath the weight of your hair given how much of it there is.

Seeing it all down though only furthers his desire to know more about it.

Husk

Husk didn’t really pay much attention to your hair.

He’s never had long hair so while he recognizes that you’re hair has to be long to be put up, he doesn’t process how long it probably is until he sees it down.

“Holy shit.”

He actually brings out his wings so he doesn’t step on your hair as he helps you gather it back up.

He didn’t know hair could be so heavy.

“If you need any help with it. I don’t know much but I get that caring for things you can’t reach can be a fucking pain.”

He gestured to his wings. If you want to help him, he’ll help you

Lucifer

He just stares.

You look absolutely beautiful.

He flushed, absolutely gobsmacked.

Later, he’ll go up to you and offer his services for hair styling if you would like to use them.

He actually finds the process rather calming.

It reminds him of when Charlie was a child and he’d braid her hair for her.

The sessions become a bit of a bonding experience, sharing stories and gossip as he braids and styles your hair.

Vox

He just raises an eyebrow.

That’s. . . That’s a lot of hair.

He might instinctually run his fingers through it.

He just wants to see how long it is, he swears.

He’ll follow it down to the ends.

He wonders how you don’t constantly have it tangled, even with it put up.

He asks a lot of questions about how you care for it.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin husk x reader #husk x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 6 months

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Best Friends

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Castiel x child!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you don’t want to go to school, and the boys are having trouble making you

“NO!”

Dean was out of his bed in a second and bolting towards the library when he heard your scream.

“No, no, no!” You continued, and Dean heart pounded in his ears as he yanked out his gun.

He froze in surprise when he reached the library. Sam was making a desperate attempt to wrestle a sweater on you, and you were fighting him like it was made of acid.

“What…” Dean wasn’t even sure what to ask.

“Dean!” At the sight of the oldest Winchester you finally managed to slip out of Sam’s grasp and ran right to Dean.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked as you latched yourself to his leg, hugging him like your life depended on it.

“She doesn’t want to go to school,” Sam grunted as he followed you over to Dean, reaching down and trying to pry you away.

No!” You screeched, and Sam grimaced as he continued to pull at your hands, trying to unclamp you from Dean’s leg.

“Kid, cut it out,” Dean grunted, leaning down to help Sam. “Just go to school.”

“No!”

“Why not?” Sam sighed.

“I wanna stay with you!” You whined.

“I’m flattered,” Dean muttered sarcastically. “But you’ve gotta go, so just—“

“Got her,” Sam sighed in relief when he finally managed to pry your fingers off Dean’s leg. “Alright brat, let’s get you to school.”

“Brat” was Sam’s occasional nickname for you, and it was normally used ironically, like when he called Dean “jerk”. However, Dean could tell that Sam meant it a little more this morning.

“I don’t want to!” You whined as Sam carried you to the Impala, Dean trailing behind in case you tried anything. It turned out to be a good instinct, because before Sam could buckle you in, he turned for one second to look at Dean, and you took the opportunity to jump out of the car and make a run for the bunker.

“Hey!” Dean lunged for you, but missed.

“Cas!” You yelled suddenly, trying to summon the angel. “Cas I need you!”

“What’s the—“ Cas froze for a moment when he saw the scene; Sam, scooping you into his arms while you yelled and struggled, and Dean doing his best to keep you from kicking and/or biting Sam. “Matter,” he finished lamely, still unsure if he should interfere.

“We’re trying to get her to school,” Sam grunted when you kicked him in the ribs.

“She’s having a bit of a tantrum about it,” Dean added.

“Cas, help!” You cried.

“Can I talk to her?” Cas asked, and all three Winchesters seemed to freeze for a moment.

“Have at it,” Sam shrugged, setting you on the ground but keeping a hand on your shoulder to stop you from running.

“I won’t let her escape,” Cas assured Sam as he knelt in front of you, and Sam stepped back to give you two some space.

“N/N, I thought you liked school. Why don’t you want to go?”

Castiel’s gentle tone calmed you, and your response came out much quieter than your previous ones.

“I wanted to stay here with Sam and Dean,” you sniffled, shuffling on your feet.

“What about your friends at school? Don’t you want to be with them?”

“No.”

Cas was surprised when you started to cry at his question.

“Why not?”

Sam and Dean were both getting impatient, but Cas’s attention was fully on you.

“Be-because Lily’s been sick all week, and she’s my best friend! If she’s not there, then I don’t want to go!”

“And why didn’t you tell Sam and Dean this?” Cas asked.

You just shrugged, still sniffling. “They-they’d make me go anyway.”

“It’s true,” Dean called out.

Cas ignored him, still focusing on you.

“Don’t you have any other friends to play with?”

“No,” you whined, the tears once again streaming down your face. “Everyone else is a butthead.”

Castiel had to bite back a smile at that.

“Do you know who you remind me of?” He asked.

“Who?”

“Me.”

“You?” You sniffled. “How?”

“Well, every time I have to go to heaven, I don’t want to. Just like you don’t want to go to school.”

“Why?”

“Well, because all of my best friends are right here,” Cas smiled. “Sam, and Dean, and of course my favorite little Winchester.” You giggled as Cas poked at your stomach, your tears slowly stopping.

“But you don’t say anything,” you argued.

“Well that’s because I know that I have to go anyway. Even though all the other angels are buttheads.”

You giggled again at Cas’s words.

“I have to go,” Cas continued, still smiling. “Because I have a job to do. And you have a job to do right now; you’ve gotta learn, so you can grow up smart like your big brother Sam.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam elbowed him.

“Oh.” You seemed to ponder Cas’s words for a long moment. “But…will you be here when I come back?”

“Of course, little one,” Cas promised. “I’ll be ready and waiting to see my best friend.”

Your face lit up at this, and the boys relaxed. You wouldn’t fight school anymore, at least not today.

“Cas, can you take me to school today?”

“I don’t think Dean would like me to drive the Impala…” Cas began, but when your lip began to quiver Dean stepped in.

“Just this once, ok?”

“Yay!” You giggled as Cas lifted you into his arms and deposited you into your seat. “Hey Cas?”

“Yes little one?” Cas asked as he buckled you in.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

“Oh yes?” Cas smiled at you.

“Yeah, and Sam, and Dean! You’re all my best friends.”

Cas did something that he rarely did—he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your head.

“Then we’re all very lucky, little one.”

#dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #castiel x winchester!reader #castiel x reader #castiel #cas x reader #cas x you #Castiel x child!reader

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hischeapcigar · 8 months

Text

the rock in our throats

Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x fem reader

Summary: Joel and Y/N face the society reacting to their age-gap.

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: MISUNDERSTANDING-TROPE, ANGSSSTTTTT, SMUT SMUT (these are definitely not in order or you’ll be spoiled) MDNI

a/n: im back with another Joel fic!!!! This is a whole rollercoaster so buckle up!!! Also know that Snow, Lace girls) and Lock (boy) are three of my OCs, I named them after inanimate objects just so they don’t offend anyone with the same name. <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Feet with their mind of their own carried you downstairs with a speed of light. You had heard Joel’s truck pulled in the driveaway, causing you to abandon the book you were reading to keep your mind from racing about his arrival.

Just as your feet planted on the floor, your eyes fixed on the door as it slightly pushed open revealing the man you had hopelessly fell for two years ago. He hadn’t acknowledged you as he quietly shut the door. Turning around, the pair of warm brown eyes set on you, when he sees you standing there in your pajamas, adoringly staring at him, his face softens.

He dropped his bag, a sigh of relief escaping his lips and within a heartbeat you launched yourself at him. Arms flying around his neck as his hands gripped your waist, steadying you.

“Missed you so much” you mumbled in his neck. He tightened his grip on you at the admission.

Joel had been to San Antonio for a week to negotiate a contract with a customer.

“Me too, baby,” he whispered, bringing his right hand to stroke your hair

You pulled away as you realized he must be tired, but before you could ask anything, he pulled you into him,

“Shouldn’t have stayed up, ‘s late” he placed a kiss on your lips that you were quick to deepen. You sighed as he lightly bit your bottom lip.

“Mmm, couldn’t sleep without knowing you made home safe,” you smiled up at him, “you hungry?”

He shook his head no, loving the way you treated him like a child and cared for him.

“Not hungry, back pain ‘s all, wanna sleep”

You smiled drop as he gently tugged you towards the stairs. Your small hands in his much larger ones. He led you to the bedroom you shared for the past month,

Moving in with Joel after almost two years of hidden relationship was a way to make it official to everyone that you both were together. Though whatever you had anticipated could happen, did happen; continual discussion of your age difference, about him being divorced, about you being naive, about him being a father.

Given that you both placed a high priority on your relationship, you hadn’t truly heard the gossip by your own ears. However, you had observed the glances that were directed towards you on two separate occasions when you and Joel were present at the mart.

His steps halted in front of Sarah's door, “she was good?” he asked over his shoulders.

You nodded your head, “Joel she’s not a kid, of course she was alright,”

He pulled you in the bedroom, as you continued, “Plus i think since i moved in, we’ve bonded even more”

Joel was quick to introduce you and Sarah once you both had confessed the love to each other. And Sarah was quick to welcome you in her life. It was perfect among you three. It was your perfect world. Except that you had to face the world outside your bubble, which was a little too far from perfect.

Joel turned around to peck your cheek, “so proud ‘f my girls”

My girls. You smiled

You were his. You belonged with him. With them. The fact still released butterflies in your stomach.

Joel took off his shirt and winced. Your facial expression displayed a distortion of worry which Joel was quick to observe, “back’s hurtin’ is all, don't worry,'' he smiled as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling your forehead close to his lips to place a chaste kiss.

“We need to get some gel, Joel” you reminded him

This is how you found yourself standing in the mart, in front of the shelf with gels. You had dropped Sarah school before heading here. Joel was asleep when you both left. Sarah wanted to meet her dad but you suggested that she lets him get enough sleep and meet him when she returns from school, to which she happily agreed.

Skimming your eyes through the rack, you found the one you were looking for, Voltarol. You grabbed one and walked toward the counter. You picked a few snacks on the way there.

“y/n?” you heard a lady call your name

Turning around, you met none other than the most gossipy woman of the town, Nancy.

“Hi!” you put on your best fake smile to greet her

“Whatcha got there?” she asked, eyes already prying your arms. You could have taken a basket but snacks weren’t planned.

“Oh, just snacks” you shrugged, you kept your answer short, avoiding the long conversation

“And, what’s that? A gel?” she asked earning a groan from you,

“Yeah, Joel’s got a back pain so i figured-”

“Of course!” she exclaimed startling you

Looking at your furrowed brows, your confused stance she continued, “I mean,” she sang, “Joel’s old. Don’t you think you’re too young to settle for that old man and tend to his back pain?”

Your heart sank at her words, and more at the amount of venom that dripped from that single sentence alone.

“Don’t you think you’re a little too nosy in others’ decisions?” you spat as you moved to the side,

“Jeez, relax! You’re turning into an old grumpy woman. Maybe something about the company-”

You left before she could say more. The longer you stood, she would’ve fed you with her sick mindset.

Of course Joel was old. But that never lessened the love you had for him. You had been with guys around your age and all you ended up with was a broken heart and then came Joel, treating you like a real gentleman would.

You both took sufficient time to make a decision about living together. Your relationship being a secret never attracted comments but once the news spread through the town about you and Joel living together, every other mouth was murmuring about you both.

Staying in most of the time had its perks; you never found out about all the gossip. But it could only last so long.

You paid the cashier before hurrying to your car. Settling in, you took a few deep breaths.

She’s just being mean. I won't let her ruin my day. Her words don’t mean anything. Joel and I love each other, that's what matters the most.

As soon as you closed the door, entering the house, you were met with silence. Joel‘s still asleep.

Placing the snacks on the counter you climbed the stairs, a gel in your hand, and a planned massage for him in your head. You opened the door to see Joel lying on his stomach. With his moments you could tell he had woken up and then his voice sounded,

“Where’d ya go?” eyes closed, he muttered, his voice hoarse. You crossed bed to stand on his side,

“Dropped Sarah, and picked this” you grinned, showing him the gel

He squinted his eyes to read the label, “darlin’ you didn’t have to” he turned around to lay on his back.

“Of course, I had to!” you tapped his legs, urging him to sit up. He obliged without any protest and god did you love it when he was submissive to you, knowing the outside world would never see this soft Joel.

“Still hurtin’? You asked as you noticed a slightest distress in his face as he sat up

“A little” he grunted

You tugged at his shirt, “off” you demanded

“You don’t have to-” he looked up at you as he rubbed his eyes

“I know, Joel. I want to” you softly cut his sentence

He layed back on his stomach again as you straddled his legs. Just having him naked except for sleeping boxers, totally submitting to you, sent a tingle down your core. But you ignored it. Your only focus was to make Joel feel better.

You squirted some gel on your palm, setting the tube on the side,

“I’ve never done this before,” you warned him,

“Neither have I, honey,” his muffled voice giving rise to a small giggle leaving your lips

You carefully splayed your hands on his lower back as you spread the gel. the delicious combination of the hotness of his skin mixed with the coolness of the gel stirred something in your stomach,

Focus. Focus. Focus

You pressed your fingers in his muscles, feeling the knots. He moaned at the relief.

“Felt so good,” he muttered,

You continued massaging his back, digging your fingers wherever you felt the stress. Taking notes of and following what brought him pleasure, you moved your small hands through his back and shoulders. Occasionally scratching his back with your nails and pulling the sounds of pleasure from his throat.

All the sounds he made did not help, but only worsened the condition between your legs. You felt giddy, knowing you made him feel this good.

You only prayed that the wetness between your legs didn’t seep through your thin pajamas and on his skin. Because this was about him and him only. Completely oblivious of Joel's situation underneath you, that after a few digs and dips of your fingers he started getting hard and by this time he was rock hard.

“Baby” he breathed, “st-stop” he started to move, his cock taking control of his brain,

You were startled, immediately getting off of his legs, “did- did i do something wrong?” you asked innocently,

He laid on his back as he stared at the ceiling, his breaths heavy “no darlin’, you did a good job, ‘s jus’-” he huffed as he took your hand and placed it on his member

Your mouth hung open as you felt his cock through his boxers, your mouth salivating just at the imagination,

He looked at you, waiting for you to say something,

“Good thing I know how to take care of that too,” you smirked as you moved to hook your fingers on the waistband of his boxers as you slowly, teasingly, slid them down, closely watching his reaction change.

“That’s my gir- mmph”

As soon as his cock sprang free from its confines your gaze immediately left Joel’s.

His angry reddened tip, decorated with beads of his precum stood hard. You wasted no second in stradling his laps. Your petite fingers wrapped around his member, thumbing on his tip; spreading his leak through the length. You pushed your hair to one shoulder as you bent forward, maintaining eye contact with Joel’s hooded eyes, you kissed the tip, earning a strangled moan.

You smirked, loving the effect you had on him. His eyes begged for more. You hollowed your mouth, taking his length in your mouth. Your fingers toying with his base. The taste of him was the first taste of your day. His hand made its way to your hair, guiding your mouth; in and out.

“Jus’ like that, baby” he praised

He grunted when you twirl your tongue around him, his cock twitching letting you know he’s close.

“Such a good girl, f’ me,” you watched his eyes closed as he bucked his hips in your mouth, losing himself in the pleasure.

You quickly removed your mouth, saliva spilling from the sides of your lips,

“Eyes on me,” you demanded and god did that turn him on

“Y-yes mami, please continue” he struggled to keep his eyes open, with your plush lips wrapped around his thick cock.

He guided his cock to your throat causing you to gag. He smirked, repeating the action until tears spilled from your eyes. He used his free hand, gently wiping the tears.

Perfect combination of rough and soft

You were soaking wet at this point, his dick in your mouth, hand fisted in your hair, and his sinful moans and grunts in your ears.

He guided your head away, as he manhandled you and in a split second your positions were switched. You gasped as your head hit the soft pillow while Joel towered over you, on his knees.

“That…was impressive” you breathed as Joel connected your lips in a feverish kiss.

“I’ve still got some strength y’know,” he mumbled as he pulled away slightly before he captured your lips again. It was nothing soft and slow but all teeth and tongue fighting for dominance.

You would've just giggled at his response but instead you felt a pang of hurt in your chest,

Joel’s old. Her voice rang in your ears as you blinked your eyes to focus in the moment

Joel grumbled tasting himself on you. Too lost in the kiss you missed when his hands slipped to your sides, pulling down your pajamas and panties in one swift motion.

You broke the kiss, “Joel” you took a deep breath, his eyes finding yours, waiting for your command, “fuck me wreckless”

His smirk grew at the command, “yes, m’lady”

His fingers found your cunt in an instant. You moaned at the contact of his calloused fingers with your aching center.

He circled your clit a few times before plunging his middle finger knuckles deep without a warning,

You screamed, “of fuck, Joel-”

“M gonna wreck you, darlin” he grunted as he drove his finger in and out while his thumb pressed on your pussy, making you squirm,

“Nngh feels so good” you moaned,

“So needy, huh?” his eyes glued to throbbing pussy and the juices it squirted,

He added another finger, building the pressure and maintaining the pace. You felt the knot in your stomach tightened.

“Close, mmh Joel, i'm close” you struggled to speak, your knuckles turning white as your gripped the sheets beneath you

You arched into his touch, your legs started to tremble as you felt the climax reach. He used his strong free arm across your stomach to keep you in place as he assaulted your cunt.

“Cum for me, darlin”

And you did, right then and there. You closed your eyes as you screamed his name like a prayer,

“Look at me” he ordered and you blinked away the tears that had formed in your eyes to obey him,

He held your gaze as he lowered his mouth and lapped the juices you had released. He devoured it as the first meal of the day,

“Taste so good,” he mumbled more to himself

He drank every drop until you finished. Your chest heaved as he climbed on top of you and connected your lips,

You both moaned in unison as you tasted yourself on his lips,

“Ready?” he asked as he guided his cock to your entrance

You nodded your head,

“Words” he spat

“Yes, yes Joel, I'm ready!” you whined,

And he slipped in, inch by inch until he was balls deep.

He had fucked you countless times but his size always surprised you and your pussy always hugged him like the first time.

“So fuckin- tight, this pussy,” he grunted as you adjusted to the size

“Move” you croaked and he obliged, setting a slow and steady pace,

“My pussy,” thrust “mine to ruin” thrust, harder, “mine to love,” thrust, harder and faster,

Your walls clenched around him at the words, at the possession,

He had picked up the pace, fucking into you relentlessly. It wasn’t usual he fucked you this hard but you asked for it, and you were glad.

“So thick” you breathed

He sat on his knees as he wrapped your legs around his waist, holding you there, pounding into you through a different angle, brushing your g-spot everytime.

“Right there, yes” you bit your bottom lip,

“Don’t hold back, darlin’ let me hear you” his pace was unbelievable, you felt nothing but him. The coil tightened in your stomach, it was embarrassing how quickly he was pulling another orgasm out of you, splitting you in half,

“Joel, can i cum–”

“Not yet darlin” he stuttered

The feeling was a lot, you tried your best to hold back. The feeling of his cockstretching your walls, his balls tingling your inner thigh in every thrust. Your thighs twitched, as he held them tightly around him,

“Joel, please-” you begged,

His thrusts started to become sloppier, his cock twitched inside you and he nodded,

“C’mon baby, milk my cock,” he urged

That made you trip from the edge and you came, harder. Your mouth forming incoherent words between his name

He never stopped his movement throughout your high, only when you were done did he spill his seeds, covering your insides with his release.

He let go of your legs as he collapsed over you, making sure to shift his weight to his elbows

He looked ethereal, post sex suited him so well. His skin glowing with sweat and morning light. His brown curls were a mess. He placed a lazy kiss on your forehead, then lips, “you ‘kay?” he whispered

You nodded, too blissed out to reply verbally. Too much in awe of his soft, sweet side.

He pulled his cock out and you both winced. He pecked your overstimulated cunt once causing you to shiver before he left for a cloth.

He cleaned both of you, murmuring praises on your skin as he wiped your legs.

“Wrecked ya, huh?” he said as he observed your fucked out state,

You hummed in response, “forgot you even had a back pain”

“What back pain?” he feigned confusion as he tossed away the cloth, causing you to giggle

You knew you couldn’t share your encounter with Nancy at the mart, you knew he was already silently insecure about the age gap.

Joel was quick to return to work after his trip to San Antonio. He headed to a bar with Tommy before returning home. The brothers conversed about a deal that Joel had made.

“Hey, there’s Frank, wanna come?” Tommy said, looking over Joel’s shoulder.

Joel turned his face to see Frank talking to a woman before bringing his attention back to his neat whiskey,

“No, ‘m a’right here” He grumbled, watching Tommy leave from his peripheral vision

He downed his half empty cup before he ordered another. He zoned out looking at his whiskey, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass.

A low grunt beside him caught his attention, turning his face and he was met with Arthur ordering his liquor.

Joel returned his gaze to his whiskey and taking a sip,

“Howdy, Joel? How was San Antonio?” Arthur asked

“Was fine, made a deal” Joel replied, already wanting an out from his company. His head is already cloudy from drinking.

“And how’s ya little thing doing?” Arthur leaned, instantly causing Joel to lean away. He wasn’t sure he heard it right

“What?” Joel barked,

“Ya know,” Arthur swung his wrist gripping the glass of whatever he ordered, he shrugged, “that sweet little y/n-”

“Watch your mouth” Joel growled

“All i’m saying is she’s too young, deserves someone who can actually take care ‘f her” if Arthur was any sober he would’ve shut up after Joel’s first warning, but he just mindlessly continued,

Joel’s bore a hole on the side of his head with his intense gaze, his grip tightening on the glass as he watched Arthur speak, “jus’ feel bad for her, stuck with you–”

Joel gathered Arthur’s collar in his hand,

POW!

Joel’s fist collided with Arthur’s jaw in a swift motion.

“- and when i told Chris about it, he was equally appalled and said, no offense” Lace lightly held your arm before quoting her boyfriend, “it’s a phase for you and that you’d get over Joel, either way its- ” you gaze shifted to Snow who stood beside Lace, offering you an apologetic smile,

Snow and Lace were your best friends since school. Snow never judged you for your relationship with Joel. Lace, on the other hand, did not always agree with your choices even if she did love you.

“Lace,” you began, cutting her rambles, “i’m happy, isn’t that enough?” you sighed, tears brimming at the corner of your eyes.

The three of you were at Millie’s, one of your mutual friends, birthday party. It was your first public appearance after moving in with Joel. you were too scared to join but Lace and Snow were adamant about you joining them.

Few of the girls asked you weird questions but thanks to your two friends who cornered you to avoid more conversations.

Lace was quick to notice your eyes, as she took your hand, “of course! but-”

“No ‘but’s, we’re done. I think I should head home, it’s pretty late,” Snow announced, your gaze darted to the clock, 11:45 stared back at you.

“Yeah, i’m leaving too-”

“y/n?” it was, Auburn, one of Millie’s friend who you met twice at parties, you knew she cheated on multiple boys just because she thought she was too good for them, “wh- are you guys leaving already?” Auburn looked around the three of you,

“Yeah, can’t stay out late, y’know” Snow carelessly answered as she fished something from her bag, leaving the kitchen

“And let me guess, y/n, you have to go home to your old man?” Auburn directed at you

“Well, at least I have someone to go home to,” you knew it was a cruel jab, but you didn’t care at the moment.

She gasped, clearly taken aback, “Wow, the old man-”

“It’s Joel” you interrupted, to which she only rolled her eyes before continuing,

“Yeah, poor Joel, i mean, having to deal with you every single day, God, i’d be damned”

Before you could reply, Lock showed up at the kitchen door, “hey, I was leaving, ya need a ride? Snow’s in the car” He was one of your close friends.

Lock got a nod from you before you pointed at Auburn, “Maybe you need to grow up,” you muttered, already heading out of the kitchen before you heard her voice, “don’t go falling in love, it’s all about good fuck-” you shut the door behind you,

You quickly got into Lock's car, not bothering to bid anyone goodbye. Your vision was glossy, you held back your tears through the small distance to your house,

It was around 12 when you stepped in the house, the television was on in the living room. You peeked to see sarah on the couch,

“Sarah, what are you doing up?” your voice was harsher than intended,

She jumped and you almost felt guilty for the way you scared her,

“You’ve got school tomorrow, go to bed. Now.” you scolded watching her turn off the tv as she muttered a small ‘sorry’ heading upstairs.

Joel still wasn’t home. And as an unspoken rule, you didn’t want to go to bed without him, like he doesn’t without you.

You removed your earrings, placing them on the table before you slumped on the couch,

The voices in your head growing,

Is this wrong?

Why can’t they keep their noses out of my relationship decisions?

Does Joel feel that I'm way too young for him?

Is he embarrassed too?

The longer Joel took to come home, the louder the voices became,

Does Sarah get questioned about me and Joel?

Does Sarah still like me?

Does Joel still-

You heard the door unlock and you brought yourself up. Joel stumbled in, you knew he had a few drinks. Quickly you got up to hug him and to have him silence the noises in your head,

Too disappointed about your night, you didn’t notice the bandage on his knuckles, or the sour expressions he wore, as you moved your body to hug him,

His figure stiffened against you. His hands coming up to your arm as you shuddered under his touch,

“What’s wrong?” he muttered as he stroked your hair, putting aside his pain to try and heal yours.

You shook your head, not wanting to feed his insecurity, “party was a bit exhausting” you lied

“C’mon baby,” as he moved you both toward the couch, “ya wanna talk about it?”

You straddled his lap burying your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent of whiskey and cigarettes

His hands traced your back softly and you whimpered, you loved Joel so much.

You picked your head up to face Joel. He looked tired. Nevertheless, one of his hands cupped your face and instinctively, you placed a kiss on the inside of his wrist before intertwining your fingers with his, and that's when you felt the skin of bandage under your fingertips,

“What happened?” it was your turn to be concerned

He stayed quiet for a beat, both of you looking in between you, your intertwined hands but feeling miles away emotionally,

“Just a random cut, nothing serious” and it was his turn to lie,

That was the turning point of your relationship.

“C’mon let's go to bed,” Joel suggested,

The next few weeks went by the same. Everywhere you went, they talked shit. Sometimes you defended but other times you were tired of talking back knowing they won’t stop either way.

You noticed how Lace kept pushing Lock to you. Always calling him over when you had plans with her and then leaving quickly so you and Lock can spend some time alone. He was a nice guy, but you only saw him as a friend, nothing more, nothing less. And Joel knew it too.

But oh when he kept getting “with Lock” as your response to his “where ya at”, did he start to feel otherwise. Almost everyday at work he was defending his relationship with you, and after knowing you’re with Lock most of the time, he started believing the criticisms.

“Things alright between you two?” Tommy carefully asked Joel one day,

“Yeah, why?” Joel didn’t remove his gaze from the contract paper in his hand,

Tommy shrugged, “i don’t know, been seeing her with that Lock guy a lot these days so–”

“Look good together, don’t they?” another man chirped in, but as soon as he received a deathly glare from Joel he backed off immediately. But the words stuck with joel, look good together

That night when you clung to him, like you always do, he didn't reciprocate. The voices in his head were getting loud and you weren’t there to silence them.

“Where?” he snarled

It was just another rough night for the two of you. Joel had canceled plans with you because work buddies are insisting on game night , delaying it to the next week. Both of the times Lace and Snow had swung by. With Lace reciting her “you deserve better” mantra.

Earlier this week, Snow had asked you to go shopping for her vacation. And you couldn’t say no, given she had dropped her things just because you were depressed when Joel canceled the plans for the second time.

If he could, why couldn’t you?

“Shopping” you put another popcorn in your mouth as your eyes fixed on the movie.

You were upset. You were mad at him. And the whole week had passed without Joel noticing it. Maybe it was about time.

You felt his eyes on the back of your head. You wanted nothing more than to turn around and make up for the lost time. Clear all the distance that had somehow forged its way between two of you.

But you didn’t. You resisted. You wanted to check your and his limits

“Of course, and Lock is gonna be there” Joel scoffed, placing his hands on his hips where he stood at the back of the sofa you sat on.

That hit the button instead. You exhaled a shallow breath, not believing your ears,

“What is that supposed to mean?” you turned to face him, his typical annoyed stance in display for you; fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know very well,” his eyes met yours for a brief second, before he moved to exit

To say you were furious was an understatement. You abandoned your popcorns and movie as you scurried away to chase him,

He faced the cabinets before he heard your angry stomping in the kitchen.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you barked

He just stood there, leaning against the counter. His arms folded against his chest as he glared back at you,

Frustration bubbled inside of you. Taking a step closer, you let the anger get the best of you,

“You fucking canceled on me for sake of your buddies,” you were fuming, “you didn’t even notice me being upset” you voice rose with every sentence, “and now you’re accusing me?!”

“Lower your fucking voice!” he roared causing you to shudder,

“You’re unbelievable, Miller” you back stepped to the door of the kitchen before you left

As soon as you stepped out of kitchen you spotted Sarah sitting on the sofa hugging her legs,

“You guys are fighting again?” she mumbled

Your heart shattered at her state. You were quick to sit by her side, engulfing her in your arms,

“Oh no, honey,” you kissed her hair, “it’s just- you know- we don’t always agree on the things” you caressed her hair

She sniffled, facing you, “so- so you’re not leaving, right?” her wet eyes shining with hope and that was not helping to your breaking heart,

Your throat tightened so you stuck with shaking your head ‘no’ and a tight smile

Few minutes had passed and Sarah was already asleep on your shoulder. You calmly woke her so she doesn’t hurt her neck in that position. Tucking her in the bed, you closed her door and were met with Joel.

He stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He jerked his head in the direction of your shared bedroom, asking you to join him, and so you did.

Once the door closed, he turned to you, grasping your small hands in his,

“I’m sorry” he croaked, “for everything,”

You looked up at him and gave him a sincere smile as you nodded, “let’s go to sleep,”

None of you talked about your feelings. None of you shared about the insecurities that you both had regarding each other. None of you reached out for the other to cuddle.

“I’ll wait outside, you can grab whatever you need, yeah?” Joel said as he digged his wallet for his card

You only nodded as taking the card and hopping out of his truck, rushing into the mart.

Joel lit a cigarette as he watched you from the driving seat. He knew this was all wrong. It was a lose-lose situation. He couldn’t be with you openly, scared of more rude comments towards you (he could manage the ones thrown at him) but still everyone was aware of your relationship and hence, bringing up the topic out of nowhere.

You, on the other hand, were embarrassed, feeling Joel didn’t want to be seen with you. You both had moved past the point of discussing your feelings and knee-deep in the mess

Once you returned, Joel tried to reach for your hand but you were quick to pull away. It was like a reflex and you almost regretted it. Almost.

He cleared his throat in an awkward way, “uh- you’re still up for Bill and Frank’s party tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I’ll go there with,” you swallowed, too hard to push the words out of your mouth, “with Lace,”

Joel took a double look at you, “uh, any specific reason?” he asked trying his best to stay calm,

“Yeah, she wanted me there to help her with outfits and make up so i might as well leave with her,” you shrugged, nervously tugging on your nails.

“Okay,” he said lowly, almost as a whisper,

“Don’t make dinner tonight” Joel said a few hours after you both had got home,

“Why? Are you with your boys tonight?” No matter how much you tried to keep the anger at bay, somehow it slipped,

Joel sighed, as he walked to you, his eyes trained on you. But your gaze couldn't meet his. As if you were hiding something, like you were not honest, except that you were. You were just fed up with your fights with Joel. Fed up with not sharing thoughts like you used to.

“No, I'll get take-out on my way back,” he said. Your brows furrowed, “We’ll just relax and maybe watch a movie, your choice. How does that sound?” he explained his plans for the night,

You nodded, “okay, sounds good, but can we maybe dine out? There’s this pretty place-”

“Baby, I really want just the two of us, we can go next time, ‘kay?” he pressed his lips on your forehead,

You gave him a tight smile, “sure”

All you wanted was for him to love you openly. All he wanted was to keep you from any and every hurt even if it meant he had to avoid being seen together. If only you both spoke your feelings.

“Honestly, I think he’s not opening up to you because you won’t get it since you’re young, y’know?” Lace said as she fixed her dress, “Do you really think you’re the best match for him? Woman his age are dying to marry him,”

You tried to stop another flood of tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Your eyes were already swollen from the crying you had today at Lace’s because you were watching your relationship with Joel fall apart. It was all perfect when the world didn’t know. The bubble had bursted.

“You’re right,” you sighed,

Joel didn’t really prepare for his appearance as much as he did for the looks thrown his way when he moved with you. You and him didn’t know how to handle the criticisms and that had your relationship at stake.

He arrived at bill and frank’s and eagerly started to look for you. But you were nowhere to be found. He had texted you but there was no response from you. Were you even coming?

He met with his friends and like a habit, everyone asked about you.

He stepped on the front porch, desperately escaping from endless questions and trying to muster up excuses of your absence. Two shots in, he felt his brother hand on his shoulder, “heartbreak?” Tommy asked as he sipped his whiskey,

Joel only grunted in response, not really paying attention to his question, “so when did it happen?”

That had his attention, “what?”

“The breakup and that” Joel followed Tommy’s gaze.

You had just gotten out of the car and stumbled your way inside. Lock’ hand pressed to your lower back as he guided you inside the house. Lace quickly trailing behind you both, struggling with her own dress.

Joel’s lips parted in shock. How could you do this? What was happening? The liquor had started to dizzy his mind.

The look on Joel’s face was enough to let Tommy know that he was oblivious to the situation just like him.

“There’s someone I'd like you to meet,” Tommy said carefully, and convincingly.

Joel eyes took a few seconds before moving from the door from where you had just entered the house,

He just nodded in response, before he chugged the entire bottle in one go.

He was mad. He was disappointed. He was angry. But most importantly, he was hurt. But one thing about him, he was a hard person to go and confront. Why would he do that when he can do things he won’t remember the next morning?

The last sober thought was you. Then the rest was alcohol in his veins controlling his mind.

—-----

You left Lace’s apartment as you hurried to Lock' car.

“Hi, Lace is coming, told me to go,” you said as you greeted him,

Lace took solid 10 minutes before she appeared on the entrance door of the building. Those 10 minutes you listened to Lock talking about some girl he’s madly in love with and will ask her out tomorrow. She was a friend of your friend, she was nice. You were genuinely happy for him.

You were on your way when you checked your phone. You didn’t realize you had missed a text from Joel. You swiped to reply to him, telling him you were on your way. But Lace snatched the phone from you,

“Enough using phone for tonight,” she grinned

You instinctively chased her hand and turned to the backseat. Unknown to you, your dress had stuck in the door.

Rip.

You heard and felt your fabric tearing from your back. With your shocked expression, Lace was concerned,

“I think I ripped my dress from the back,” you said slowly, reaching your hand on your back and you felt your skin. “Oh my god, I just ripped my dress!” you cried,

“Is it something a needle and thread can fix?” Lock asked as he tried to calm the chaos you both had created,

Lace inspected the ripped part, “i think so, i can do it but where do we get the needle and thread?”

“Frank has it,” Lock informed,

Your face was contorted in worry, your phone long forgotten,

“Okay, Lock you cover her way up to the restroom, I’ll go get the things I need from Frank,” Lace ordered as you all got off the vehicle.

And so you all rushed in. Your mind was directed to; will Lace be able to fix my dress?

You didn’t greet anyone as you bolted toward the restroom. Lock stayed outside as you rushed inside. Lace quickly returned and fixed your dress.

“And all done!” she said excitedly

You turned your neck to the mirror to see that indeed she had done a good job.

Leaving the bathroom, you parted ways with Lace and Lock as you went out looking for Joel.

“Hey! Have you seen Joel?” you asked Bill,

“Why yes, he’s finally got some sense back,” he tilted his glass in Joel’s direction,

There stood Joel, no, there swayed Joel in the arms of a stranger. Joel’s arms linked loosely around her as her’s around his neck, pulling him closer,

“perfect match,” Bill added,

Your lips parted to say something but no words came out, “wh-” you began but were immediately cut by Bill as he clicked his tongue and shook his head,

“Don’t go ruining a good thing now, kid,”

You couldn't avert your gaze from the scene in front of you until it was blurred by your tears.

“Excuse me” your voice shook, as you turned away, tears spilling as you ran to the restroom again.

How bad you wished you didn’t leave the restroom, or that you left a little later until he detached himself from her.

Did he really fall out of love? Did he really let them dictate him? You wanted to go and confront but-

You broke down. Bad.

You didn’t mind your makeup, that you put on with precision, smudging. Your knees hit the bathroom floor as you cried your eyes out.

The ringing of the phone caused you to take a break. Taking out the phone more tears fell from your eyes as Joel’s name displayed on your screen.

The ringing ceased and a text followed a few minutes later,

Joel: Where are you?

You scoffed at his text. You wanted to go to him and scream at him. But you didn't want to give in to all the people who told you this was never gonna work. Sure your relationship had gone down the hill since last month. But was ending the relationship really better than running in a circle every other day? Loving Joel only in the boundaries of your house?

You wanted to go home, Joel’s house, and move out. This wasn’t going to work. You had decided. The thought of officially ending the relationship pulled new strings of tears from your eyes as you texted Lace about going home before you stuffed the phone in your purse.

Just like you had entered, keeping your gaze lowered, you left the exact same way. You heard the unmistaken sound of a voice calling your name but you couldn’t stop and turn. No, you kept moving.

You exited the main gate and walked on the side of the street. You were walking quickly, wanting to go away from him as fast as possible. You heard the familiar voice called you again,

“What is it, Joel?” you seethed as you turned around.

You looked horrible, you knew it but you couldn’t care less right now.

Joel eyes widened at your appearance,

“Jus’ wanted to ask, how long have you been with Lock?” he whispered as if even he was ashamed of asking the question. He looked down, prepared for any answer that you had to offer

Your heart dropped at his question, “what?” oh how bad you hoped you heard it wrong,

“Ya heard it,” he muttered, “i saw you both, ‘s okay, i understa-”

Before he could complete his sentence, you had walked up to him, staring deep in his eyes, “are you fucking kidding me right now?” your voice was low but hid a menace beneath it,

Joel stayed quiet, he looked at you but his eyes were empty.

“Are you serious, Joel?” your voice shook, all of your power was used up at keeping your tears from falling,

“How about you tell me about you dancing in someone else’s arms?” your voice rose and you pushed him back, “was that what you've been doing in my absence?!” you hit his chest, “tell me!” your voice wavered and once again the dam broke, “tell me Joel!”

The sides of your fist kept colliding with Joel’s hard chest as you let everything out, “tell me why were you so embarrassed of me? Of us?” joel stayed silent as he received your weak punches and watched the tears stain your face

“Tell me where did we go wrong?” you energy had drained before you slowly uttered the last question

“When did you stop loving me?” that was his last straw, as he held your wrist just as you were pulling away,

“Don’t” he said firmly, “anything but that”

“We’ve fallen apart,” you croaked, “Gonna take a miracle to save us this time-”

“I still love you,” he promised

You shook your head as your released your hands from his grip,

“Then tell me why didn’t I feel loved?” you whispered

Joel once again fell silent, “I-” he shook his head, wanting to wake up from the worst nightmare,

His throat tightened, he wanted to tell you that he wanted to protect you. But your outburst told him the only way you would’ve felt protected was if he held your hand in front of everyone.

He began, not knowing what to say but his mind screamed one thing,

Don't say goodbye, don't say goodbye

You wiped the tears from your face as you took a deep breath,

“Goodbye, Joel”

You turned and walked away as Joel stood still. The wind blew cold against his skin.

Did he throw away the best part of his life?

It’s alright, Just two hearts breakin’ even tonight

You’d go and get on with your life, he’ll get on with his’, broken hearts can’t call the cops, it’s a perfect crime.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

Text

NOBODY'S SON, NOBODY'S DAUGHTER (VI)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.0k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, creepy men, talks of death, weapons, toxic modeling standards, food issues, dead animals, talks about gore, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scars and mentions of intense medical procedures, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you.

Nikto stands in the bathroom connected to the library—at the very end of that train car-like set-up of your loft rooms. His fingers move to the straps of his Kevlar, peeling them off as the loud tearing sounds echo in his ears.

He can hear you stumbling about in your room, too. Getting ready for bed. Blinking, Nikto grunts as he thinks over your comment from when you first showed him around. He hadn’t been able to get it out of his head since you’d said it.

Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you.

The man’s vest is taken off, hitting the floor in a heap. Next follows the clips of his thigh holster, and the belt buckle in the loops of his pants. Each joins the pile with a slap of material.

“Brain damage,” Nikto grunts.

It wasn’t something he should be worrying about—in fact, it was at the very bottom of the long list of things that even mattered. First was your safety, then the identity of this pathetic individual who was infatuated with you. But it stuck with him nonetheless.

He’d never had to look after someone with this affliction before. The stumbling; the shakiness. But he’d gone through worse. Yet, at the same time, it was far larger than just his assignment. In his own way, Nikto was…appreciative that you seemed to at least listen to him most of the time. And you were easy to talk to.

There was a sort of kinship there, as well. In broken things. Maybe that was why he felt himself growing to you.

Striped down to nothing but his mask, the Russian glimpses himself in the mirror and stills. He was always struck by it.

How something could be so brutally ugly.

Scars ran so tightly over his skin that it was indented like a fissure in the earth. Pieces boldly sliced away and chunks missing. The muscled bulge of his stomach was cut up—thighs with such horrors as cigarette burns and the remnants of tattoos that were carved away like hog’s flesh. That’s what he was, Nikto knew. A hog tied to the ceiling and ready to be butchered.

He looked at himself now like he was through the lens of a movie, like the ones he would watch as a child—it was far away from him, the edges blurred as his reflection shifted; another being entirely.

A hand comes up—his hand—and it presses into the material of his mask, large fingers shifting over black coloring as the pale blue of his eyes stares back. None of it felt real. Nikto’s head tilts, but he does not feel the bones in his neck move, only the acknowledgment that they had to have.

The dark ink of the tattoo over his back peaks itself into existence, the starting of obsidian over his shoulders. Nikto shifts his top half as if seeing it for the first time, unblinking eyes taking in the visage of a snarling bear locking gazes with him. At the side of his left shoulder, the sigil of his old unit burnt his skin.

“New,” he utters, voice tiny and hoarse. “Gotten after.”

He already knew that…why was he repeating it like he had forgotten sitting in that tattoo shop’s chair? Nikto’s eyes clenched shut, hand coming back up to his masked head and pressing over it.

He was not beautiful, and no one would ever call him such. He didn’t want them to because it would always be a lie.

With a low growl, his fingers grip his mask and rip it off of his head.

The thing slaps against the marble of the counter, hitting with a hard clack of the coated synthetic fiber, sliding over the top until it hits the toothbrush cup and causes it to fall on its side.

Nikto can only stare at the person in the reflection as the sounds swirl in his ears—a world away.

There’s so little of him left that he recognizes that it scares him.

Grinding his jaw, Nikto’s pale eyes slip down the length of the damage. His dark hair is cut close to his head, strong bones in his nose and brow above the deep sockets of his eyes—the glare of black and blue bags gives way to his lack of sleep. The wideness of his cheeks leads to a sharp chin; a square face overall.

But the marks.

The hyperpigmentation.

Half of a Glasgow Smile peels the flesh back like a tear in paper, and a line is sliced staring at his right ear and curving in a half-circle down to his jaw. Into his hairline, three ragged cuts that had been very badly cauterized to stop him from bleeding out, the hair never able to grow back properly. His neck is the same—a red scar the size of his forearm wrapping from behind and crossing it, little slivers breaking out like a tributary.

He still wasn’t sure how he survived that one, but then again he hadn’t in the long run.

Nikto’s heart had stopped after all.

There’s a knocking at the door, and the man flinches violently—head twitching to the side.

“Nikto?” Your voice is muffled by the wooden barrier, and the Russian’s breath is ragged before he blinks away the distance in his expression. “...Are you alright in there?”

He clears his throat, feet shifting over the plush purple rug you had on the floor as his fingers twitch with tight nerves. But your voice distracts him, fractured brain slowly coming back into focus.

“We are fine,” his voice is harder than he intends. More snappy.

Nikto’s eyes find your shadow under the bottom of the door, your feet moving and re-setting as they usually do. He sees you pause.

“Alright,” your voice calls. “If you need anything, just ask me.”

He watches you stand there for a few seconds longer before your shadow moves back and disappears. Torn ears twitch to your receding weight, eyes beady like a feral dog’s.

Nikto’s bare body is frozen until he finds himself moving to turn on the water to the hottest setting, stepping into the stream with a hiss and a snap of teeth at the burn. He only turns it hotter. Thinking. Wondering.

Brain damage.

—

“I can never see color,” you say into the air bluntly, watching the man tie his shoes. He freezes. “Just thought you should know.”

Your eyes see Nikto blink, a silent moment passing between you two before he looks up slowly, brows pulled in and lids crinkled.

“...Что?”

Something swirls in his vision, a deep intrigue and another that’s harder to name. Hidden. Kept under lock.

“I can never see color,” your voice reiterates, trying to put on a show that the only reason you were saying this was because you wanted to—a sign of trust.

In reality, it was a stepping point.

A small test even if you felt your face heating—growing hotter by the second. “Same accident that caused my brain damage.” You smile softly, motioning a hand to your head. “Even if I find my soulmate, I won’t be able to tell. Weird, huh?”

It was two hours after your phone call with Yaromir and Galina, and there wasn’t much to dwell on from the two. You’d talked about DNA, Sergi, and why no one was taking your claims seriously.

All they chose to tell you was that they needed more to build a case off of. Galina was still trying to get DNA samples, and without that or a large break that gave you any idea about who could do this, you were in the dark. All they had was a partial fingerprint on one of the plastic bags.

Excuses were all you got by the very frustrating end, and your hope had dwindled on every pause over the line, your phone on the coffee table and Nikto watching silently as he placed breakfast in front of you with a firm hand. He’d been quiet today, even more so than usual. You’d even given him more tea last night, though the cup was once more washed and set back by morning.

And he was stiff too. Tense.

Today, you made a firm decision to go back to AMA—not because of your shift. You had no intention of staying in that building even if you knew you should; this was a quick visit. You needed to discuss a large gap in your schedule with the CEO, one that had only shown up in the small hours of this morning.

You really hoped the explanation wasn’t because you were being fried.

Nikto is still, watching every beat of your pulse and how your fingers play with themselves in front of you. His chest is frozen, eyes unblinking as the paleness of them is similar to a knife’s edge. In your internal fight, you hadn't noticed how long he’d just been watching you…dead to the world of the living. His gaze was so intense once you did realize, that you cleared your throat softly as an awkward uncomfortableness built on your expression.

Perhaps today wasn't the best time to test your theory.

The man’s fingers twitch, he stands up to his full height, and then moves into the elevator without a single sound.

Your heart gets stuck in your throat, blinking as you make a confused noise.

“Nikto?” You turn after him. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Calling, your feet shift over the rug of your entrance, seeing the void of white as he stands with his hands behind his back and his covered face diligently forward. No words. “I thought we were past the whole lack of speaking thing?”

A chill moves up your spine slowly, and it’s enough to hide away the reason you’d mentioned your affliction in the first place. He was…so stiff again. Enough so that you partially wondered how this person could be the same that had cooked you dinner last night and barked his feral laugh into the chilled air.

What had changed in one night?

Nikto’s eyes were more of a void than the blackness of his Kevlar.

Apprehensiveness growing, you move and grasp at your jacket with a twist to your lips, slipping it on softly. No sentences being spoken, you shift into the elevator and stay to the far left of him, taking out your keys from your purse and slipping them into the metal.

With a jolt, the thing begins moving slowly.

“Y’know,” you awkwardly laugh. “It would be nice if you responded. I just told you something important to me. I mean,” your anxiety makes you backtrack with a very fake laugh, eyes glancing to the side. He hadn’t moved; was just staring at the space ahead of him. “It’s obviously none of your business,” you wave a small hand, being sly in your word choice. “But I want to be transparent with you about everything going on, especially with how I don’t know if you see color or not. It’s a disadvantage on my part and I—”

“I see color.” Is the monotone, dead response.

I know that.

“Oh. Good,” you try to smile shakily, hand jerking as it hangs at your side with a low simmer of a pounding pulse. A shimmer of excitement runs through your spine. “That’s good, Nikto, I’m glad that you do. So, if you don’t mind me asking, who’s your s—”

A low growl. “I do not want to.”

Tension overtakes the small area and your wide eyes stare unabashedly in shock. All eagerness utterly ceases to exist.

“Excuse me?” You push out your utter confusion, shoulders moving higher.

Surely he didn’t mean he doesn’t want the gift of seeing color.

No one would ever say something like that. Ever. Even those who’ve gone through Soulmate Psychosis have never stated they didn't want to see the shades and hues of the leaves—the sky or the earth. How the clouds looked when the sun was getting low. Purples and blues, colors you’d only ever be able to try and understand knowing that it would be impossible.

And what did this mean for you? You’d been banking off a confession, but this wasn’t the kind you’d expected.

“It is useless to me,” Nikto avoids your gaze. “Неуместный.”

“I have to disagree,” you stutter, slightly shifting your body to tilt his way. The crafted plan in your head is thrown to the wind. “Nikto, we’re talking about color here. Soulmates. The…the person you’re supposed to be destined to be with—how can you say that? Don’t you remember how the world looked when it was all black and white?”

A low snarl echoes, pale eyes jerking your way as a head snaps.

“Достаточно!” You suck in a fast breath as the elevator dings, both of you arriving at the ground floor, doors rolling back to the open lobby. “We do not need you speaking to us on such things.” Nikto moves forward, your nose almost bumping into his chestpiece as the scent of rotten wood infects you. Your body takes down a swift breath, head snapping up to watch. “You know nothing!” His face is right above yours, looming, nearly bending your spine over. “Spoiled girl with pretty face—thinks she knows what she wants, yes?” The Russian scoffs, speaking low as your hands clench at the assumption. “Keep this to yourself.”

He turns and stalks away with a hostile grunt, leaving you blankly staring at where his face used to be, the image of his Kevlar mask burning in the back of your mind. A knife of hurt gradually takes place between your ribs, breeding until your lungs are ruthless in its clutch.

This wasn’t what you had expected.

Nikto glares at Isaak, who had watched with wide eyes and a loose jaw, and not moments later, the doorman quickly averts his gaze to stare at nothing on his desk. The Russian’s pulse is roaring inside of his breast, mind troubled.

Brain damage. Can’t see color.

Halfway to the parked car, Nikto’s mind returns to him and he slams his fast feet to a stop. Blinking, as if something in him had changed at that moment, a second of confusion leaked into his hidden expression as he said nothing. Waiting.

At the small, hesitant movement of shaky feet coming closer, his shoulders slowly tense.

You come up behind Nikto and shift past, taking the car door in your hand and opening it. Moving inside, you close the barrier to the chilled outside morning with a definitive slam. Darkness, for a moment, enshrouds you.

Face unyielding and pulled with guilt, you get a small queasiness in your stomach as the seconds pass in the vehicle.

Maybe you’d been too forward, but Nikto’s response had been…well, explosive. And his comments about color? Who in their right mind would say that?

“That makes no sense,” you whisper, hand coming up and rubbing at the scar on the back of your head. The one you dreamed would disappear in the small hours of the night as a teenager, remembering the beep of hospital machines and the plastic taste of the tube shoved down your throat.

Doesn’t want to see color? Your mouth sucks down a shaky breath. I’d trade anything for only three seconds.

The world outside of the windows is gray as Nikto pops the driver's side door open, bending low with a grunt before sitting into the seat. He doesn’t apologize as he shoves the keys into the ignition—starting the engine. The car rumbles to life.

Maybe you’d been too forward.

“You think?” You whisper to yourself under your breath, tearing your eyes away from the Russian man, grabbing and clicking in your seatbelt.

Socially, you had grace—were used to carrying it to those horrible parties and events. But talking about more personal matters was another thing entirely from work-life. From designer clothes and when they came out, shoes, and makeup. Sex and alcohol. Everyone at AMA speaks with vanity, and you were included. You knew you were beautiful, you’d been told and retold with every pluck from your eyebrows and spread of lipstick over your mouth; ruthless petting like a cat or a doll—there was never any doubt about that.

You could speak beauty, but you can’t speak about real love. Call you hopeless, but that was really all you ever wanted.

Love. Romance. Care and concern. It was addictive to you in every sense—and you just kept coming back for a hit of what you couldn’t have. You’d warned yourself after Yefim, but it hadn’t even taken a month before you had found another man to fixate on; the body of the previous stuck still in your nightmares.

But there was that sliver of something in your gut every time you stared at Nikto; something that didn’t add up. You weren’t deterred—weren’t put off. There was something deeper there that you just had to get to the bottom of first.

There had to be something he wasn’t telling you about why he can see color.

“If I upset you,” you ease out, tongue like lead and your eyes stuck outside the moving vehicle. Your hands tighten over your seatbelt in small intervals, for a moment mute of what to say. “I’m sorry, Nikto. I was just curious, I won’t pry into your personal matters again; you have my word. Just like talking about your mask.”

“Good,” Nikto’s hands flex over the wheel. It’s all he says, and even then it’s curt.

Small-like, you mutter, “Also…thanks for breakfast.”

It had been a small and incredibly healthy—buckwheat porridge. You’d eaten the entire thing with fruit on top and never even glanced at the yogurt in your fridge. The man’s eyes had been sneaking glances the entire time you had brought the spoon back to your mouth, but you weren’t sure if it was to make sure you were liking it, or if you were eating in general.

It was his job to hover, though.

Nikto doesn’t respond to your thanks, but his shoulders slightly loosen a bit, eyes blinking from the view of the mirror.

With a sigh, you keep your mouth shut and sit in silence for the rest of the ride, pulling at loose threads from your jacket pocket. Your fingers tap something firm from the inside, and you pause, blinking down at the dark fabric.

Your brows furrow, but whatever’s inside will have to wait, because Nikto pulls up to the sidewalk and parks the car with a huff. Like before, he opens your door when he’s outside.

“Your investigators will come for any package,” he explains as you shuffle and stand, fixing the collar of your coat and glancing his way. It’s like he hadn’t just snapped at you minutes ago—that numb sheet was over his head once more. “You will not take them.”

There seems to be a moment where he waits for confirmation, raising a brow into the cold air that you can only partially see.

You clear your throat and look away down the street.

“Sure,” you say.

…Had he really called me spoiled?

Nikto glares at you, jaw clenching under his mask. He looks you up and down quickly without moving his head, skin tight and scars pulling. Your words in the elevator had… aggravated him, even if he can’t pinpoint why.

You were messing with his head—and that is an already very broken thing. Yet…your questions weren’t pointless. He knew you’d ask them sooner or later, like a fox to a trap, it was only a matter of time.

He should have expected this, and while cruelty is his nature, he can’t be that to you. The Russian had snapped too violently in the lobby, and it wasn’t your fault. Even with moments of relative calm, he knew that to be fact. But Nikto was a brooding creature—he picked only between missions and guns to be his avatars. Emotions were a loser’s game, and he would not lose at anything so long as he was living. Nikto was a bloody victor holding the remnants of a fresh kill. Nikto was as much a bear as the one printed on his back.

Pale eyes close, a low snarl stuck in the back of his throat.

You blink at the arm that gets held out to you.

“Grab it,” the man doesn’t give away anything; his eyes are ahead and his voice is low like your ability to understand his sudden change.

Every five minutes this Russian was switching between anger and relative tolerance of you. Your brows lightly rise on your forehead, wrinkles forming on your flesh.

Your quivering hand raises and slots itself through his left arm softly, head tilting.

“As much as I appreciate it,” you speak as he helps you up the curb with a firm pull, side-eyeing you. “I can manage. I’ll ask if I can’t.” A tentative smile. “Last-minute mascara is most of what I trust you with besides the food.”

“There will be less of the former in our future.” He grunts as you shut the door behind you. “We have no plans to do such things.”

“You said that about cooking,” you tease, falling back into seamless flirting, trying to get the man who had cooked you supper back into his skin. “I didn’t know you’d be such an attentive roommate.”

Those light orbs stay pinned to you for a long moment, twisting in like a knife with only a glint in the circles of his blackened pupils.

There’s a click of the car locking, and the Russian is all but dragging you forward. Chuckling under your breath, you follow as well as you’re able through the front, feet only stumbling for a moment before you can lean your weight to the side and rely on Nikto to keep you straight. It helps, you admit, though he’s a bit more stiff than Aly.

Your hand rests on his bicep, fingers moving to spread over the hard material and sensing the sinews of his flesh writhe at the action. Nikto huffs under his breath, rolling his shoulders to dispel tension.

Your scent is wafting into his nose like he’d put his head into a tank of ambrosia—your perfume addling his senses, shaming him like a venomous snake being held by a dove.

By an angel.

“Останови это.”

You blink and turn to him, humming. “What was that, Nikto?”

The man is tense again, eyes snapping about as he pushes at the front door to AMA, your own nerves becoming apparent, yet, having your distraction here to pull you away from that.

“Nothing,” he monotones. “Where are we going.”

“Upstairs,” you sigh, walking past the front desk as the women look on in confusion when you don’t stop by. They hadn’t expected you to come in, apparently. It was your job. As you pass pictures and paintings in the hallways, you slowly begin to speak.

“What color is that one,” your finger points to the frame on the far left. It was a dark shade that moved into a lighter one—Ombré.

Nikto’s feet slow, his attention moving from ahead of you to the side for a fast flash. Gruffly, and feeling his chest tighten at the sensation of you freely touching him above the corrupted flesh, he responds in a clipped fashion. “Blue and Green.”

You hum lowly. “Light blue?”

“Нет. Light green to dark blue.”

“Oh.” You tilt your head at it as you pass, peeking over your shoulder. It wasn’t like you could really understand that, but…a small smile pulled at your lips as you turned back forward.

Nikto blinks at it from the corner of his vision, narrowing his eyelids momentarily like a wolf.

“... We do not understand the fascination with it,” he grumbles. “Color.”

“I don’t want to upset you,” your head shakes. “We don’t have to talk about it—”

“I do not like losing my temper at pointless discussion.” You’re interrupted, and you feel your lips part not at the behavior, but the tone at which he takes. A strange firmness that bleeds into conviction. “It was an…error in my judgments.”

It’s only when you steer him lightly to the right hallway to the elevator that your lips move into a smirk, leaning into him even more. Nikto’s eyes flash with surprise, darting down.

“Was that an apology, Big Guy?”

“No,” he scowls under his mask, but his body is gaining heat to it. “An observation of character.”

“I think you just apologized to me and don’t know how to admit it,” you move your face close to his just as he had to you in the penthouse, nose brushing the canvas of the lower half of his face covering. You hear his breath hitch, his large frame going still and yet not pulling away. Your matching feet continue to move.

He seems to lean closer, even, or was that just a trick of the light?

Your lips release a chuckle, your face begins to burn and your veins pump oxytocin that Aly would be intrigued to learn about.

You pull back after a bit too much staring into his eyes, saying breathlessly, “I’m more flattered that you think I’m pretty, Nikto.”

His large sigh is all you hear, hand releasing his arm for a moment to push the elevator’s button to the top floor of the building, chuckling under your breath.

Nikto grumbles but responds with nothing more than a twitch of his fingers when your heat leaves him, motioning his arm again when you come back over. The sudden lapse in your pressured fingers made his spine straighten.

Kliment Fedorov’s office floor is large—very large. It takes up the entire top of the building and his influence seeps down to the very bottom like blackened oil. You’d been here before, as well as seen it from video calls, and while you could have talked to your manager about the gap in your schedule, the fact was that the man was quitting on you.

Dead birds in plastic bags were a bit too much.

It left you only able to go to the top for any clarification until a new manager could be hired.

“When we’re in there,” you comment to Nikto, hand going back to touch him. The Russian blinks slowly, fighting how his body wants to sag. “It’s probably best if you don’t speak, okay?”

Pale eyes narrow, head tilting to the side.

You sigh at the movement, placating him with an explanation. “It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment, but Mr. Fedorov is,” your voice trails off. “He’s very lofty if you get what I mean.”

“Lofty?” Nikto prompts as the elevator continues to move upwards. He seems confused by the word in English.

Your free hand raises and gestures vaguely before you twist your lips and end on a simple, “Arrogant.”

“Ah, да,” the large man utters. “I am not a stranger to such, yes?”

It’s strange how the two of you can just slip past the small arguments that pop up—or, more of the one-sided breaking points and the prodding comments. His words didn’t bother you, and that was different; if your mother had snapped like that, it would be a different story entirely even if you, ultimately, would have let it pass like the rest.

“Do you really think I’m spoiled?”

But you did tend to linger on things.

Before there’s an answer from Nikto, who grunts under his breath, the main door opens with a small ding. Sharing a glance, you shake your head with a quirk of your lips and walk out with a tiny pull at his arm.

You lean and whisper, “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Nikto doesn’t like how his heart constricts like there’s a vice around it—eyes snapping back. He holds back a flinch.

From there it’s checking in with the secretary and being waved in by her hand, already talking to someone else on the phone and typing away on her computer. You hum under your breath, and Nikto feels your hand jerk. He glances over as the doors get closer, calmed down at least for now.

“You are worried.”

“Only a little,” you mutter, brushing down your jacket, feeling that bulge of something in the pocket.

“Do not be.” The masked man looks forward after studying the layout of the floor—where the emergency exit was and the most efficient places to take cover.

Easy for you to say, you huff. Nikto had a very stiff way of comforting people.

And then you’re knocking on the door, and a voice is telling you both to enter.

—

“Lovely Seraph!” The CEO’s bald head is as shiny as you remember it, and those fly-like eyes are beady enough to make it seem like they move through you instead of at you. “Welcome, come, sit!”

A hand is waved from behind a large mahogany desk, a round face nodding quickly as you smile although it’s not entirely real.

“Mr. Fedorov,” your voice is light and airy—a fake tone of elegance. It comes easily. “It’s so good to see you again. I hope everything is well?”

“Ah,” he laughs, Nikto helping to guide you along even if the room is sparsely decorated beyond potted plants and a large rug. “It is going well, my dear. Very well.”

Eyes slip down your body, past your modest clothes. Something moves behind Fedorov’s expression, shifting. Nikto is a firm brick beside you, only letting you leave when the chair is in front of you. You slide him a thankful glance and slip away, grasping the side of the seat and moving into it with little trouble.

“My dear, I hadn’t expected to see you in last year’s collection.” You blink, eyes darting down to stare at the shirt you wear—it isn’t anything fancy or eye-catching. But it was expensive.

“Oh,” stuttering a moment, you try to play off a suddenly tight laugh. “M-my apologies, Sir. It must have slipped my mind this morning—”

“I will send the newest to you, don’t fret,” Fedorov smirks. “We can’t have one of our best ladies wearing rags.”

A spike of anger levels itself at your throat like a knife, and Nikto, who had moved like a shadow to stand at the far wall with his hands behind his back, feels his pupils constrict.

“You don’t have to do that,” you clear your throat lightly, looking to your guard quickly. “I don’t need any more presents, Sir, I promise.”

“Nonsense.” Kliment dismisses you, splaying his hands from where they rest on the desk. “You’ll enjoy them. Very nice collection this year. My gift to you for your success here.” You shrivel in at his next comment. “Your last photoshoot was…just exquisite, my Dear. Those white tones look heavenly on you.”

Swallowing down saliva slowly, you shift your thighs and let your arms circle your waist, feeling naked as gray eyes move your frame.

But you can’t say anything.

“Thank you, Sir,” you push out tinily. Nikto’s temper flares from across the room, eyes sparking up in a deep display of rage. He goes to take a step forward, not even knowing what he’s going to do, but, as if sensing this, your eyes snap over and you level him with a mute command.

Nikto’s boots still, the heel only half raised.

You twitch your head in a fraction of a shake, and he’s settling back to the wall with a glare and a hard clench to his hands. A growl is trapped in his esophagus, and you’re surprised that Kliment hasn’t gone up in flames because of it.

“Of course!” Fedorov laughs. “I personally arranged your schedule. I know what’s best, hm?”

“I was here to ask about that, actually,” you try to move the subject on, feeling dirty as Nikto silently fumes. “The gap starting in two days? I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sure what that meant and I wanted to come in personally and ask.”

Fedorov’s expression sours, scowling. “Those investigators. Messing with my work—won’t let you come in, Seraph, see. Horrible people think we can’t put up with silly little boxes and mail.”

You shakily take an inhalation and chuckle, lips twisting down and eyes dead still.

Silly little boxes. What would he do if he got a box full of dead birds or a bomb? Then again, he never would—he’d have someone else open it for him.

The CEO continues with his hand moving to grab papers from his side, sliding them to you slowly as you look down at the material with curious eyes, seeing shiny gray signatures and large looping words. The realization is as rapid as a knife to the neck.

Party invitations.

Your heart drops, bones like steel inside of your flesh. The room is suddenly far too small.

Not this again. Fuck no, not this.

“I took the liberty of confirming your attendance since you can no longer be here all the time—you’ll be doing,” fly-eyes glint. “... crowdfunding, if you will. You remember what to do. You used to be our best seller for investments.”

“Sir…I,” you fight the bile in your throat, the world swirling. Not again. I tried so hard to get out of it. Fedorov doesn’t care.

“It will also get you out of the main city spotlight!” He smiles. “I’ve emailed you the bookings and hotels—clothes to be sent.” Arrogant lines on his face. “The dresses.”

Fedorov smiles as you stare blankly, lips slightly parted; your fingers curl in to try and stop the shaking.

“But!” You flinch at the loud exclamation, and this time, Nikto does take a step forward, hand brushing his Beretta without your knowledge. “That’s all I have for you today. The two days you have to yourself to pack and get ready, yes?”

What could you say to this?

You can’t say you won’t do it—you’d be out of a job and out of a stable income. Your mother would only say it was your fault, and that would be the extent of her help; with the stalker…you had to admit being away was the best, but doing parties again…

It made you want to shrivel up and die.

“If that’s what you think is best, Sir.” Fedorov shakes his head, chuckling and sending a layered smile that peels his skin.

“I do. I know what the company needs—and what it needs is you, my lovely Seraph. Our angel from the heavens,” he smirks vilely. “Sending us down precious money instead of bread. You’ll do well away from the building for a while. Let things cool down, you see.”

And thus it’s settled with a meaningful look and a passage of papers, your quivering hands taking them up, not missing this time, and trying not to strangle them in your palm.

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper, not at all thankful. Your mind already runs to times and dates—small talk and comments about your ailments. The explosion and the stalker are going to be hot topics. You would be mobbed.

But that was exactly what the man wanted.

“Quickly now, go home,” Fedorov motions. “Be safe—remember to limit your food, Seraph.” A glance is sent to your stomach. “Have you been following your diet?”

“We need to leave,” Nikto speaks up in a sharp bark. “Сейчас.”

You see the CEO look over quickly as if forgetting someone else was here when looking at you. His face moves into a hard sneer at the sight of the large man.

“And who is this?”

“Nikto,” you explain quickly. “He’s my—”

“Yes, Girl, I know who he is.” Kliment’s voice is low. “Keep him on a tighter leash. Dismissed.”

You nearly stumble when getting out of the chair.

A hand grabs at the small of your back, pushing you forward quickly, though not unkindly. Nikto’s face is rigid under his mask, lines hard and eyes narrowed. Over his shoulder, he throws a heated glance at the man at the desk, but all he does is smirk like a crocodile. If he were any lesser, he’d have no problem getting into Kliment’s face—Nikto knew the man would pose no challenge to him, he couldn’t even shine a light.

“Nikto,” you utter, putting a hand to his side.

The Russian re-focuses, attention returning.

Your feet skid, shoes slipping at the force he guides you along until you’re back out the door and walking back to the secretary. “Slow down.”

Immediately, Nikto’s hands leave you, and you come to a swift stop with a deep breath in your mouth. Hands out, you shake them for a moment and try to calm your heart.

“Thank you,” you say under your breath, hand moving to rub the back of your skull. “You, uh,” trying to lighten the suffocating air, you blink at his chest. “But I told you not to speak.”

“What was that?” He growls. “You let people speak like that to you?”

“It’s not that serious.” It wasn’t anything he could change. “He’s arrogant, I told you.”

“He’s—”

“Why do you care,” you stare at him, suddenly defensive. “It’s my job—just like yours, I can’t lose it.”

Pale eyes sizzle. “That is different.”

You laugh despite yourself. “It’s really not.” Shaking your head, you brush past him slowly, gaining back your senses. “Even if I want it to be, this is all I’ve got going for me.”

Shadows walk beside you, keeping a close eye as the secretary doesn’t look up from her work as you both pass. “It is causing you to be stalked, Whelp. It is not sane to stay.”

You’re silent at that, taking Nikto’s tactic of steel lips and a dead stare ahead.

Beauty was all you had. He could never understand that.

“We have two days.” Uttering in the elevator, you sigh. “Even if I don’t like it—it’ll get us away from AMA. That’s the most important part, and one that even I can’t argue with.”

You don’t want to go to the parties. Not even an ounce of you was eager for it. For what was expected.

Nikto’s hands go to grasp the top of his vest’s collar, hanging as he thinks. The Russian can’t snap at you for that, it was true. Getting away was good, but it meant he had to memorize more floor plans and re-learn routines. No matter, he could adapt if it came to that.

He hums to himself, blinking.

“Very well. That I agree with.” Nikto pauses. “But I do not like that man. Like…” he snarls, “bald snake.”

A shocked snort exits you, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. Silence settles for a bit between you two as you process everything. Your teeth bite at your lip, leaning toward him delicately.

“...I was thinking frog.”

Nikto’s eyes spark, looking down at you from behind the black smudge of his sockets.

“That is better.” He comments. “Да. Frog.” You both lock eyes and you feel your lips pull in a small smile, your face losing a sliver of that fear that moves in your DNA as of late. The truth comes out as vulnerability.

“...Do you think it’ll work?” Your question makes him stare, head tilting.

“What?”

“Leaving.” The elevator nears the ground floor. “Do you think it’ll stop him?”

Nikto had said he would never lie to you.

“I do not know,” he speaks slowly, feet shuffling as his shoulders roll. “Do you?”

“I don’t know if I need to worry about the stalker more,” you chuff without any amusement, “or the parties I have to go to.”

Curiosity moves in his pale orbs, swirling at your confession to him. Nikto stores it for later, humming as the door opens and he moves—sticking out an arm that you easily loop with your own.

He walks slower, now, lips open as he hesitates for a moment. As your face is far away, expression open to the world, the Russian eases out, “I do not think you are spoiled, yes? I should not have said such things about your character. Do not apologize to me for it.”

“Everyone loves apologies, Nikto,” you joke even as your heart swells—heat coming up your neck. “It’s human nature to believe you’re not in the wrong. There’s no need to—”

“I do not like when you apologize. So do not.” He walks you forward. “Stand your ground. Speak freely.”

“That usually hurts people’s feelings,” you state in an utterance.

It’s a good while before Nikto answers you, and when he does you glance over to find his eyes already looking at you—but the makeup is wrong, it isn’t as dead as they always seem to be.

They were nearly soft if that was even possible. Hidden behind a half-lidded layer of darkness. You blink, feet almost stumbling as you lean into his arm.

Tell me, your mind begs this beast. This monster who never shows a sliver of his face—who holds scars more numerous than you can even imagine. You don’t even know why you want him, and that scares you. Tell me I’m yours.

“Then those people are not worthy if they can not handle the truth,” Nikto grumbles, shifting his head away.

The connection is broken.

You focus on the way you hold his arm as you both walk past the front desk, taking the weight and heat of it in little by little until you have to hold back a shiver. Even stretching your fingers, you couldn’t grab around the entire thing—much like it would be fruitless to try with his thighs. Even his waist would be difficult.

So consumed in the thoughts of Nikto, slowly taking you over, you both walk past the front desk swiftly.

Only when you see the flash of a square object do you begin to slow—Nikto was having none of it.

“Do not.” His arm shifts out of yours, and you startle before his limb loops your waist, nearly stapling you to his side.

“I didn’t even move to it,” you huff, looking up at him, frown over your lips.

“You were thinking it,” he grumbles, pale eyes sliding like water over your face. “Stay.”

“Woof, woof,” you sarcastically utter.

You can feel the tension in him—in you.

And then you push open the front door, and the box is left on the counter without another glance.

TAGS:

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starzshopoflove · 4 days

Text

Who's your daddy? (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! sfw mostly ,literally just me projecting onto the reader, reader is kind of a pervert drabble! This will be multi part if you guys want!! (WC:550)

Simon does his best to be as involved in his son's life while off deployment, with the little guy living with his uncle Soaps mom and sisters while his dads gone. It's always the little things he wishes his dad did when he was younger. His worst fear is being anything like his own father

This man is literally superdad, present at every PTA meeting he can be, makes cupcakes for the class on his son's birthday, every little league game, pick up and drop off, anything and everything he can do he will

His son will babble mindlessly about anything because well,, he's 4 that's what children do. So Simon doesn't process much of it as actual information, more like vague “hms” “that's nice' ' and “ah oh really?”. Now when his son started to repeatedly bring up this “Miss” Simon assumed that he’s made a friend at school which made him pretty happy since he never had many when he was younger. It sounded dumb but he just assumed Miss was short for Missy or whatever kid name

Casual asks of “How was school” being met with his boy saying “Miss gave me a sticker today” or “Miss made cookies today”. So you can imagine his surprise when he saw a random woman in the most lung collapsing sundress and cardigan holding his son looked at him and smiled while his son just waved and cheered.

Simon is guilty of occasionally being late for pick ups but usually his boy is inside safe in the lobby so seeing you holding him would be more stressful if he wasn't a tank of a man that could maim an entire army single handedly, especially when you were literally basking in sunlight holding his child in a flowy pink floral sundress with a crochet cardigan, I mean seriously don't you know its a crime to stop traffic

“Hi! Hi daddy! Miss waited with me for you, see!” Handing off the little guy to his dad you were also choking up, you became a teacher to help children learn not to ogle at their dads, but my god did it make up for your criminally low salary. The sight of a giant man in those loose worn out jeans, that tight white shirt stretched over his muscles bulging out of the fabric, and those eyes that look like they could melt you.

You could already feel the blush creeping off your neck and honestly you prayed to god with all your might that you could run back into your car, turn the AC on blast and fan whatever blush was on your face off. “You must be Mister Riley right? Hunter is a pleasure to have in class” You know what else would be a pleasure? Your di-

“Im sure he is” Oh fuck that accent you could practically feel your knees buckling just imagine how much better it would sound saying “You’re alright girl” all deep and gravelly while hes nibbling on your ear

Needless to say Simon started showing up to pickups more often and you slowly started wearing shorter sundresses.

#cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost call of duty #john price #cod simon riley

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luveline · 1 year

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thought of a cute eddie and roan request!! since it’s almost summer time they go to the pool or beach?? roans having a blast

thank you!! dad!eddie takes you and his baby for a trip to the beach (lake)!! this is when they haven't been together as long and roan is younger!! dad eddie x fem!reader ♥︎ 3k

Eddie's daughter is nearly five years old, about 3ft 5in, and weighs less than fifty pounds. She has slightly chubby cheeks, a huge smile, and she has never been this excited in her life.

"I swear I've taken her on vacation before," Eddie says, his eyes moving between the road, the side of your face, and Roan's joyous expression in the rear view mirror almost frantically.

You push your sunglasses up your nose. "I believe you. I've seen the photos, Edward."

He snorts. "You know that's not my name."

"But it makes derision much funnier to call you something formal."

"You usually go with Munson."

"I'm feeling festive today, it's such a good day."

Roan agrees from the back with a small shout.

You turn in your seat before Eddie can, eyes creased with affection when you see her again. Roan is in her best summer dress with her hair braided back out of her face, ending before her ears so her curls can take centre stage. She's got her delicate blue cardigan on, and a sandwich in her hands. You've been trying to break the long drive into smaller bits for her with snacks and songs, and it's worked thus far.

"Do you want another sandwich, baby?" you ask, clicking open the the tupperware in your lap. "We've only got PB and J left, Eds. Can I give her that? I don't wanna ruin her dress."

"If she wants it," he says, shrugging. His expression is cut short as he turns the wheel sharply to the side. "Woah! Sorry, ladies, I almost missed the turn. What a loser."

You tear Roan's sandwich into a smaller one and hand it back through the seats. "Try not to get it on your dress, princess, it's so pretty," you plead.

"I won't," she says. As soon as you hand her the sandwich she drops it on her skirts. She's just old enough to understand what's happened, and giggles like she thinks she's about to be told off.

You've seen Eddie do it enough times. Roan drops a crust or spills a drink and Eddie pretends to be cross, eyebrows drawn together in an unconvincing glare. "Roan," he always says, and if he can reach he chucks her under the chin with his knuckle, "how dare you. You know accidents aren't allowed."

It warms your heart that her reaction to a potential chastisement is laughter.

Roan has firmly passed baby stage: she doesn't look like a big baby, she looks like a very small child, with deceptively long arms and legs. She waves one leg toward you and says in her high-pitched, sometimes illegible voice, "My shoe's coming off."

Her shoe isn't coming off, but the buckle around her ankle has come undone.

"Oh no," you dote, leaning through the two front seats of Eddie's car to help. "What happened? You're too happy, babe, all your dancing must've wiggled the buckle free."

"I'm too happy," she agrees, "we're going to the beach now."

"We're nearly there," Eddie says.

Indiana Beach is an amusement park on Lake Shafer ninety miles away from Indianapolis, which is a good eighty miles from Hawkins. If you were to draw this journey on a map, it would look like the hands of a clock at three thirty, or a 'Y' without one of its eyes. With Eddie's cautious driving but not much traffic, it had taken you guys nearly three hours from the time you set off from his trailer at seven in the morning to now. It's an aching amount of time to confine a child, and Roan hasn't slept a wink, so her happy attitude is miraculous and perhaps precarious.

Which is to say, you smother her in love and hope it will keep her from becoming too agitated. You and Eddie have already discussed the possibilities of her behaviour — if she started a screaming crying tantrum as she sometimes does, Eddie would pull over and you'd climb in the back. If your company didn't help, he'd pull over again and you'd take a break wherever you were. If she still didn't improve, you'd think about going home. The point of the trip is for Roan to have fun.

You can see the Galaxi from a mile away, a huge curling roller coaster on the Indiana Beach pier. Eddie starts grinning, really smiling, the kind you don't get to see very often. He smiled like that when he asked you to be his girlfriend outside of the Hawk movie theatre, and he smiled worse when you told him you loved him for the first time, your hand pressed against his chest and your face hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Ro!" he says loudly, turning onto a side street in search of the parking lot, "look, baby! Can you see the lake? The beach? It's so sunny, oh my goodness."

His hand reaches across for you. He squeezes your leg roughly, and it aches in the best way, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your thigh. You can't help laughing, pleasantly startled by his obvious joy.

Roan starts talking and you're sorry but you're not an expert in her warbling yet, not when she's speaking a mile a minute. You catch "beach," and "sunshine," and "daddy!" but that's about it.

He drives into a ticket parking lot a fifteen minute walk from the pier and finds a space with ease. You quickly undo your belt and get out, stretching your arms behind your back and leaning forward to roll your neck out. You're sore from all the back and forth, attention split between Eddie and Roan for the last three hours.

Eddie gets out on the other side, and he should get Roan's stroller first, but it was never going to happen. He opens Roan's door and the excited stream of chatter increases between the both of them. You come around the back of the car and watch him pull her out of her car seat, fussing over her skirts and her hair and her tiny shoes. He makes one of those heaving dad groans when he picks her up, one arm skewed under her butt and the other behind her back. It's more hug than carry.

"Hey, baby," he says, "how's that? Is it nice to be out of the car?" His hand moves to her legs. "Should we do some walking and stretching?"

He rubs her legs.

"Daddy, it's sunny, it's like– like with Uncle Wayne, when'd he says that the sunshine is out to play," she says, her hands moving from her chest and into the air above her head like a burst. "It's not messing around!"

You laugh, your heart melted to a wet goo. Eddie gives you an eyeful, as if to say, Yeah, I made her, that's my kid, and I know she's the cutest thing on God's green earth, thank you very much for noticing.

"It's not," he agrees, putting her down on the ground. You stand a little ways away, knowing she won't run into traffic but worried anyhow.

Eddie holds one of her hands and Roan puts the other one back in the air, stretching up big and tall. Eddie strokes a hair behind her ear, and his thumb lingers affectionately on her cheek.

"Will you wear your hat?" he asks.

"Do you have a hat?"

"Uh, no, daddy doesn't have one," he says.

"But I do!" you butt in.

They turn to look at you. You open the trunk, digging through your packed bags to find the sunhat you'd brought with you. You pop it on your head and turn to smile at them. "See? So you wear yours and we'll be matching."

Roan doesn't hesitate to crowd your legs. You grab her hat from her 'baby' bag and place it carefully on her head. It hides her beautiful hairdo, but it'll keep her safe from the heat. She looks you in the face and grins.

"Beautiful," you compliment.

Eddie doesn't look quite as summer ready as you both. His hair is down, shiny clean but unlikely to stay that way considering the heat. He's wearing blue denim rather than black, something he'd spoken of with horror but more than pulls off, and a black Motorhead t-shirt. There's one chain around his neck that he never takes off, but besides that he's sans jewellery.

"Roan," he says, "we're gonna walk to the pier to stretch our legs, but you have to hold hands. And you can sit down in the stroller when they're tired again." She nods hurriedly at the idea that she'll be free for a while. "Okay. Alright."

Eddie gets her stroller out and unfolds it, putting her baby bag in the seat. You rake your fingers through the ends of Roan's hair while you wait, the sun warming the back of your neck already.

Eddie locks the car, and the three of you start toward the pier. Roan holds your hand and Eddie pushes the stroller out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk that leads to the pier.

The smell of salt tickles your nose. Roan's hand flutters in yours like a hummingbird, excited gasps breaching her lips when you pass an ice cream stand bragging rainbow cotton candy bigger than her head, kaleidoscope gelato, Popsicles in cherry red, raspberry blue and lime green. Her eyes widen at the sight of huge diamond kites, yellow rubber dinghies, surfboards and wetsuits dripping water down sandy ankles.

You know Eddie's been saving. He confessed, when you'd brought up your concern one night, that he wants her to have everything.

What's going on? you'd asked, frowning at his bedraggled face after another late shift. You knew Wayne had been picking Roan up from daycare to let him keep working, and it just hadn't been like Eddie to do that. You can tell me anything.

You'd been expecting, regrettably, money troubles. The Munson's aren't rich but they've never been hurting for money since you met, and all these extra hours has you assuming the worst.

Eddie rubbed a tired eye. I just want her to have everything. I don't want to say no. Not even once. When we go on vacation, I want her to point at things and I want her to know how it feels to be able to have them without a fight.

Admirable, a tinsy bit silly. Of course he wants that, isn't that what everyone wants for their children? Admirable, because he wanted it and he worked for it, and he saved up enough to bring Roan here and spoil her within an inch of her life. Silly, because Roan doesn't ask for much. She does ask for stuff, of course, but she's not gonna beg him for a two hundred dollar professional kite, or state of the art arm floaties. But just because you think it's a little silly doesn't mean you aren't incredibly in love with him, impressed by and proud of his efforts.

He wants to get Roan everything. And so they start with shaved ice.

It's the second stand you see, just off of the pier with a long, long line. Eddie scoops her up off of the floor so she can see the different flavour combinations, and it's no surprise when she chooses all the pinks and red. Strawberry, cherry, and pink lemonade. The cone is bigger than her hands and costs a ridiculous seven dollars.

The small smile on Eddie's lips when he can crack out a crisp twenty dollar bill and hand it over makes you smile, too. It's satisfying. All that hard work was worth it for this moment.

And the moment after. Eddie takes the snow cone and Roan audibly sighs.

"Oh, my gosh," she says.

You laugh. Eddie looks at you from over his shoulder and beams.

Roan wants to do everything, as Eddie predicted. She plays arcade games she's too short for, hoisted up on his knee or in your arms, face screwed in concentration every time, and though the controls escape her she loves hitting the big red button and watching the claw come down.

But she also wants stuff money can't buy. She wants Eddie to hug her when the clown walks past because he's big and bright and a little scary. She wants kisses when they stand at the side of the pier to look at the lake, blue and clear as an ocean, and drops some of her own against Eddie's sweaty cheek when she's been loved up. She wants you both to swing her by the hand when you're walking down the ramp to the beach, which is difficult but not impossible with the stroller in Eddie's other hand.

She wants to get ice cream, and a slurpee despite her half eaten snow cone. She wants soft pretzels and churros and a hotdog with extra onions. She wants a surfboard, and you dissuade Eddie from getting her one of the proper ones in favour of a floatie.

She wants you to put the finishing touches on her crumbly sand castles, and to cuddle in your lap when Eddie makes her drink from a cold bottle of water. When you've been sat in the sun so long that your brain is jellified and you have more sand in your shoes than sock, she springs up from her stomach where she'd been kicking her little feet drawing smiley faces in the sand and demands you take her down to the waterfront. You leave your towels on and the stroller further up the bank and pray for the best, and Eddie peels out of his t-shirt and rolls up his pants a couple of feet from the water. Eddie pulls her sandy dress off to reveal the swimming costume she'd been wearing underneath, a bright yellow costume with a skirt, not too tight to hurt, and bends down at the waist to talk to her as they wait for the water to rush in. You encourage armbands over her elbows.

"It's gonna be cold, Ro, so we have to run in! Are you ready?"

"I'm super ready!" she says, squeezing his hand and squaring her shoulders.

You secure her bands and take her other hand into your right hand, your shoes in your left, bracing yourself for the shock.

You run in full pelt and screaming with joy. Roan's voice turns into a stream of "oh my god oh my gosh daddy pick me up'd it's too cold oh my gosh," as the water covers your calves and her waist. Eddie immediately leans down to pick her up, out of choices and surprised by her loud aversion. Water stains him from knee to navel.

"It's not that bad, babe," he says, though he meets your gaze over her head and mock glares at your shaking head. It's freezing. "We just have to get used to it. Ready?"

He doesn't let her get ready. He doesn't let you get ready. He grabs your wrist and pulls you with him, fighting the cold as the gentle lake tide laps at your waists.

"Eddie, our pants!" you protest. You'd brought spare clothes in case of any accidents. This is decidedly not an accident.

"Please, sweetheart, just come in," he says.

He should legally be prevented from saying please and sweetheart in the same sentence. You submerge yourself to the waist as he wanted and stand there in the water, the taste of river water heavy on your lips now, splashes of cold wetting higher up your chest. It's close to intolerable, the only saving grace the heavy heat of the sunshine above you.

"How's that, Roanie?" he asks.

He's clearly having a blast. His eyes are brighter than the sun dappling that kisses the waves.

"It feels squishy," you say, adjusting your footing in the sandy bottom of the lake.

"This is so FUN!" Roan shouts, letting go of Eddie's neck to put her hands in the water. She splashes the surface and soaks Eddie's t-shirt to the neck in the process.

You almost fall over trying to find his waist in the blue. You wrap and arm around Roan and Eddie wraps and arm around you, the three of you much too deep in the lake and with no plans of turning around just yet.

"This is so fun," he says, kissing her cheek, kissing yours. "We should do this every year."

You smile at his chest.

You hadn't realised, yet, that he wanted you every year. Roan babbles her agreements, talking about her snow cone and the sunshine and her floatie. She stops suddenly.

Eddie rubs her shoulder, water shining across her pale skin. "What, babe?"

"Daddy, where's my floatie?"

You head back up the beach to find it. Her stroller and your towels have been left alone, but the floatie must've been too tempting.

Eddie, without complaint, goes to buy another.

—

more Eddie and Roan ♡

please reblog if you enjoyed, it means so much!

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

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radiant-reid · 1 year

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Single mom reader x daughter (5 year old) and Spencer misses her dance recital and when he goes to make it up to her she calls him dad “daddy…I looked for you in the crowd” “why did you have to leave again”

One of the first things you learned about Spencer was how his job worked. It was something he was very clear about being on his list of cons when it came to dating. Honestly, it didn't phase you. Not when there were some men who lived in the same city that would spend less time with you than Spencer. He was dedicated, loyal, kind, funny, romantic, witty, and not at all put off by your daughter.

Maisie fell in love maybe faster than you did. He's so great with her. Always willing to read her stories and listen to her chatter.

At five, she's a little worse at understanding his schedule than you are. Sometimes he'll be at dinner three nights in a row, and other times, you won't see him for a week.

It's why she sobs into your shoulder on the way to your car after her dance recital. "I looked and he wasn't there." She complains.

You bounce her up and down, soothing her. "Baby, it's okay. We talked about how Spencer can't always be here with us, and momma was there."

She nods, letting you buckle her into the car seat. "I know, and he always comes back."

You tap her on the nose. "You're my smart little girl. Should we get ice cream on the way home?"

"Please, please, please!" She cheers, already forgetting about her disappointment. Oh, to have a five-year-old's brain.

She's happier with ice cream, but it might not have been the best time to pump her full of sugar, so you let her race up the stairs to burn off some energy.

She squeals when you round the corner to your apartment door, and you're immediately concerned, quickly speeding up to catch up with her to see what's wrong.

It's not a bad squeal, it's a Spencer's-here squeal.

He looks like shit if you were being honest, sunken features from not sleeping, but he's smiling, and he's got ice cream.

You greet him with a quick kiss after he's finished hugging Maisie before unlocking your apartment. She keeps looking between the snacks he brought and you, gaining the confidence to ask. "Can I have a second ice cream?"

It's already nine, so you shake your head. "You can have some for breakfast tomorrow if you're in bed in 10 minutes." You challenge her.

"Can Spencer read to me?" She asks hopefully, looking up at him with puppy eyes. You can't say no to them usually, and he definitely can't.

"Of course." He jumps in to say. "I missed it."

She beams at him for a second before she races off, leaving you with him, your perfect boyfriend. "Hi." You say, chest to chest with him as he pulls you closer to him by your waist.

"I've missed you, too." He tells you. "And this." You don't have a chance to ask what he means before his lips are firmly on yours.

"They'll be more of that to come after you've had a long sleep." You tell him, winking at him.

He grins happily, nodding. "I'm going to go read a very quick story then." He says.

You go with him after putting the ice cream in the freezer, kissing Maisie on the forehead and telling her you're proud of her and that you love her before leaving Spencer with her for a story.

"Can I ask something?" She asks him, pulling her covers up to her chin. It's after her bedtime story, and he half assumes she's doing it to stay up later.

He nods, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Anything you want, little one."

"Why do you always have to go working?" She asks with a pout. "I wanted you to come to my dance, and I looked for you in the crowd, daddy."

She doesn't even realize what she's just said, and she definitely doesn't understand the enormity of it for him. It's one title he hasn't had, until now. With the perfect child of his perfect girlfriend, life has never been better.

He's tearful at that one word, but he avoids showing it too much to her. "I know, and I'm sorry. Maybe I can get a special showing tomorrow?"

"Yes!" She agrees, like it's the best idea ever she's ever heard. Her little face lights up and it's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

"I can't wait." He tells her. "But you've got to sleep so you'll have energy tomorrow." She nods in agreement and he leans down to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well, princess."

Spencer's upset, almost sleeping already, and he tiptoes out of her room before heading to yours.

Something's wrong when he walks in. He's teary-eyed with a wide smile, looking like something big has just happened.

"What's up?" You ask curiously.

"She called me dad." He says, still in shock.

You open your mouth, mirroring his shock before smiling. "Spencer... thank you." You decide on saying. "You're the best thing to happen to her."

He shakes his head. "No, you're both the best things to happen to me."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds

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saelestia · 8 months

Text

my boy | multi

general headcanons for the sweethearts who love you with their soul, first general post please interact ! ^_^

requests are opened 🤍

GN READER! fluff, no angst .

INCLUDES : OP, NARUTO, MHA, AOT, CSM, JJK, HQ, GI, HXH, BSD.

the type of boyfriend who takes you on dates to every place you had mentioned to wanting to goto in the area, who runs his hand into yours as you sit down at the restaurant you'd been yearning to goto. "thank you baby" "anything for you my love."

the type of boyfriend who asks you to join him in the bath, despite it having him shifting uncomfortably in the bath, because its all too small for him. "baby, you cant even fit in there alone" you sigh, "i know but id sit in the bath uncomfortably if it meant we could sit here together! "

the type of boyfriend who knows your size by heart, shops for outfits for you in his spare time, just so you know hes thinking of you. one bag turns into 10 and three stores turns into 6. he cant help but spoil you without you asking.

the type of boyfriend who takes months to plan a proposal, it all flies out the window when you kneel infront of him with a diamond encrested ring in an enclosed case in your hand, as you ask him the question, "will you do me the honor of being my husband?" he smiles whole heartedly as he hugs you and pesters about it for weeks on weeks.

the type of fiance who brags to his friends, family, and even strangers about how he's the luckiest man on earth to be blessed by someone with such an enlightening presence like you.

the type of fiance who always has your ring in hand when you take it off in your new home before you go to garden. digging through the soil to plant seeds. the ring remains in his concious as he mows the lawn.

the type of fiance who cries the night of your wedding. your comforting presence making him want to buckle to his knees as he cries when hes announced as your husband. holding your hand as you share your first kiss as husband and wife. "you may now kiss the bride/groom"

the type of husband who celebrates your marriage with red and white wine, sharing a bath that shared both of you in it, this time you both have more than enough room, yet he chooses to have you in his embrace before anything.

the type of husband who gets his ring cleaned regularly, wanting the diamond to shine brighter than anything else on him, he wants people to acknowledge that he's taken, and want them to be even more upset that he was the lucky one in 7 billion who has you.

the type of husband who writes love letters to you for any and all occasions, because words cannot express the amount of love he has for you. letter after letter, one each time he thinks and misses you and wants you to know something. every letter being different, each being one thing you do that drives him mad.

the type of husband who takes you out on dates as if it was when you had first met. walking you through the park he took you to during your first date as teenagers. who sits in the same spot as he runs his hands through your hair because its only the same, if not.. he loves you infinitely more.

SANJI, oikawa, DEKU, bakugo, KIRISHIMA, BACHIRA, DENKI, DAZAI, atsushi, NIKOLAI tokoyami, shoto, naruto, hinata, gojo, geto, yoichi, LEORIO, hisoka, tendou, ARMIN, eren, DENJI, yuta, YUUJI, childe, kaeya, jean, scaramouche, dottore, your fav

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stevie-petey · 4 months

Text

episode one: MADMAX

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him. “I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual. It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything.

Summary: what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, descriptions of PTSD (slightly), swearing, and general angst and exhaustion

Words: 5.2k

Before you swing in: hello ! welcome back to the rewrite, hope yall are well :) heres chapter 1 of season 2 !!! so so so excited and ready to dive into this new season. things get a bit darker, feelings get even MORE complicated, and poor reader just really needs to take a fat nap and maybe some reassuring words. shes more angsty this season, so buckle up

October 29th, 1984

You originally gave Dustin the phone number to Bookstrordinary in case of any emergencies.

Now, you’re really starting to regret it.

For the fifth time this week, Dustin calls you at work to beg for money. Him and the boys recently started going to an arcade that’s opened up in town and have spent practically every day after school there this year. Sure, you don’t mind loaning your brother a few quarters, but at the rate he’s going he’s gonna drain your next paycheck.

Just as you’re thinking this, the phone rings.

Right on cue.

Alex, your coworker, smirks. “How much do you think he’ll ask for this time?”

“If I’m lucky, only a dollar.”

“Will asked me for three tonight, so I wouldn’t jinx anything.”

You gape at Jonathan, who has started hanging around your job after school just to have something to do. “No fucking way.”

“Way,” he laughs, pointing towards the phone on the counter. “Answer before Dustin sends a drone our way.”

You sigh and pick up the phone, which is on its second round of calling, and put on your best customer service voice. “You’ve reached Bookstrordinary, may I ask who is calling?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

“Aw, I’m doing well tonight. Thanks for asking, Dustin.”

“I need five dollars.”

“Ya know, ‘please’ has such a nice ring to it.”

“... if I say please, will you give me the money?”

“No.”

Silence fills the other end. Alex and Jonathan are hunched together, trying to stifle their laughs. You send them a thumbs up, and they give you one back.

“You’re a horrible sister.”

“What!” You scoff at Dustin. “I think you owe me like, at least ten bucks now. Yet you don’t see me complaining.”

A loud groan, then an obnoxious scream. “I promise I’ll clean Mews’ litter box for a week straight if you just give me the money.”

“Tempting, and honestly I’d take you up on that offer, but I already spent my last paycheck on my Halloween costume. You’re outta luck.”

Dustin gasps. “You were gonna say no this whole time? You just wasted like, at least five minutes of my time! I could’ve been digging through the couch for coins by now!”

“Jesus,” you pull the phone away from your face as Dustin continues to shout. Jonathan lets out a loud cackle and Alex just shakes his head. “I can give you some money next week–”

The line cuts off. Dustin has hung up.

What a little shit.

“You remind me why I’m grateful I’m an only child.” Alex says, now walking from behind the counter to begin stacking some books. Technically your shift ended almost thirty minutes ago, but you and Jonathan prefer to hang around for a while. It’s rare to have some time with just the two of you (even if Alex is there as an unfortunate third wheel).

“Glad I can help.” You respond. Once he’s gone, you turn to Jonathan. “And you were right, Dustin indeed wanted more than Will’s measly three bucks.”

He laughs. “Figured as much. The look on your face was genuine disbelief when he asked.”

“Mhm, I’m scared these boys will turn into horrendous teens. The lack of gentlemen in Hawkins these days is astounding.”

“C’mon, I’d say I’m a gentleman. I mean, I’m riding on your bike pegs tonight to keep you safe.” Jonathan says, waving an arm in front of his body as if to present all his gentleman-ness to you.

“Sure, bee.” Although, he has a point. Joyce has the car tonight so she can drive Will to the arcade and Jonathan doesn’t like you biking home in the dark. After what happened last year, none of the Byers are particularly keen on letting their loved ones go off alone at night. So, to ensure your safety, Jonathan has started riding on your bike pegs all the way home.

It’s endearing really, wholly unnecessary, but endearing.

Jonathan flicks your nose. “Who else would be such a gentleman to you? Steve?”

Hearing Steve’s name sends a wave of varying emotions through you. Guilt, shame, remorse, longing. You miss him. You really, really miss him.

“I thought we agreed to stop talking about Steve.” You mumble, now busying yourself with a piece of paper on the counter.

After Will was found last year, you and Steve had gotten really close. He’d spend hours bugging you at work, he’d gotten you such a lovely Christmas gift that still hangs on your wall, and you’d grown close with him in a way you haven’t before with anyone else. He would’ve done anything for you, he cared about you with such genuineness, and you couldn’t handle it.

Summer came and the heat that came with it scared you.

You’d pushed Steve away, severed any connection you had to him. It was easier when you didn’t have to see him every day at school, but ever since junior year started, you’ve been in your own personal hell.

Steve walks past you in the halls without batting an eye. He doesn’t look your way, like the months you spent learning every inch of his wonderfully unique brain and the moles scattered along his face never happened; he doesn’t give you that smile that makes your knees weak. He’s avoided you like the fucking plague, which you can’t blame him for, but it’s only made things more awkward between him, Jonathan, Nancy, and you.

Jonathan sighs. “I’m sorry, bug. I just… he seemed good for you, ya know? I was actually starting to like the guy before you suddenly stopped hanging around him.”

You play with the piece of paper, hoping that if you don’t respond then Jonathan will just drop the subject, but a thought seems to cross his mind.

“Wait a minute. Steve didn’t like, hurt you or anything, right?” You don’t respond again and now he’s starting to get worried. “Y/N, I’m serious. Did he do something to you?”

The irony of the situation is so comical you want to laugh. Here Jonathan is, demanding to know if Steve hurt you and if that’s why you’ve stopped being his friend, when in reality it’d been Jonathan who hurt you. Jonathan, your oldest and dearest friend, is the reason you’re so fucking terrified of letting Steve in. Of falling in love with him.

You’re already in love with Jonathan, you can’t put yourself through any more hurt.

But fuck, you miss Steve. You’d come to rely on him and his obnoxious sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. The way he so effortlessly filled the room with warmth.

“Relax, bee. He didn’t do anything. I just wanted to focus on Will and the boys more.” You lie through your teeth.

He gives you a funny look. “I know you care about the boys, but you know they’d want you to have some other friends.”

“I have you, that’s all I need.”

It’s all I can afford.

“Bug, I’m worried about you. You’ve all but thrown yourself into school, you work non stop here, and when you finally have some free time you’re spending it researching child psych for Will–”

“Just drop it, Jonathan!” You finally snap at your friend.

He stops, surprised by your outburst. He can see the angry flush in your cheeks now and the slight heavy breathing you do to try and calm yourself down. Jonathan drops his shoulders, defeated. He’s been worried about you ever since junior year started. You’re more withdrawn, you look like you haven’t slept at all, and now you don’t even feel comfortable telling him what’s been bothering you.

All Jonathan knows is that one day you were glowing while telling him a story about Steve and his stupid jokes, then the next day you looked frail and sickly as you told him that Steve was no longer visiting you at work.

Something happened between you two, he’s just not sure what or how to even help.

For once, Jonathan is at a loss.

–

“And then she chased Mike all the way down the street for her money! He got away!” Jonathan finishes his story with a grand flourish, laughing and hitting his steering wheel as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

You let out a weak laugh, exhausted from the night before. It’s early morning and you’re in the school parking lot, hanging in Jonathan’s car as always, and you feel like utter shit. You stayed up late last night reading this journal you’d found in the school library about acute trauma in children. It had been fascinating and there were some things you thought could apply to Will. Before you knew it, it had been three in the morning and you needed to be up soon for school.

Which leads you to now: slouched in the passenger seat, sunglasses over your eyes to block out the annoying sun, tiredly listening to Jonathan’s recounting of his phone call with Nancy from last night. Apparently they’ve progressed to nightly phone calls now.

Lovely.

Without meaning to, your eyes start to drift shut. The car is the perfect cozy kind of warm and the late October air wraps around you as if to lull you to sleep. Jonathan notices you’ve gone quiet and pokes your cheek.

“If you fell asleep I’ll tell your mom and she’ll put you back on house arrest.”

You slap his hand away. “Don’t do that, then she’ll just ban me from your house.”

“You were up all night researching again, weren’t you.”

“If you have to ask, then that’s probably your answer.”

“Y/N–”

You put a finger up, using your other hand to rub at your temples. A headache is forming and you’re three seconds away from just skipping first period to nap in the car. “We aren’t doing this again. Drop it.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “I’m your best friend, it’s my job to worry about you–”

“And it’s my job to tell you to fuck off whenever you’re getting on my nerves–”

Suddenly a loud blue camaro comes speeding into the school parking lot, effectively drowning out whatever you’d been saying to Jonathan. The car revs its engine and almost hits a few students as it jerks its tires and then screeches to a halt, parking right next to you guys.

You and Jonathan look at each other.

“What the fuck?” You look out your window and are greeted with the sight of an attractive blond guy staring at you. His music is blasting so loud you can hear it through Jonathan’s windows.

“Jonathan,” you whisper, getting his attention. “Am I really tired or is there a guy with a god awful mullet staring at me right now?”

“He’s real.”

“Cool.” You continue to stare at the guy, unsure what to do. You’ve never seen him before, there’s no way you’d forget a face like that in Hawkins. He’s attractive, almost unappealingly attractive, and there’s a coldness to his beauty that makes you uncomfortable. He looks dangerous, like he knows how much power his beauty brings him.

The boy winks at you, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and then gets out of the car, slamming his door rather harshly. It’s then that you notice the redhead girl, much younger than him, possibly around Dustin’s age, getting out of the car as well. She slams her own door and doesn’t even spare the guy a glance as she drops her skateboard down and rides towards the middle school across the parking lot.

Meanwhile the boy saunters inside, a lazy pace in his step that also holds immense confidence. He’s cocky, cool and collected, and he takes one last look around, as if to survey his new claimed battleground. You notice a few of your classmates gazing at him with interest, which you don’t really understand. He’s hot, but his attitude alone tells you everything you need to know about him.

Once he’s gone, Jonathan finally speaks. “Who was that guy?”

“No clue,” your eyes linger on the doors he’s just walked through. There’s something off about him. “But I don’t think we want to know… C’mon, if we don’t head in now we’ll be late for our first class.”

–

During your lunch period everyone’s buzzing about some upcoming Halloween party. As you’re walking towards your locker with Jonathan, you notice a few pieces of orange paper being passed around. You don’t pay much attention to them, but when Nancy joins you two she eagerly takes a few from the girl passing them out.

Nancy playfully shoves the papers at you and Jonathan. “You guys are totally coming to this.”

“We are?” You ask, eyeing the flyer wearily. You have nothing against parties, but the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of drunk teenagers in horrible costumes is frankly terrifying to you.

“You sure are, Y/N.”

“But Nancy–”

“‘Come and get sheet faced’.” Jonathan reads aloud. “Yeah, Nance. I think we’ll pass.”

Nancy groans. “I can’t let you guys sit all alone on Halloween. That’s just not acceptable.”

“Actually,” you correct her, annoyed by the assumption, “we have a tradition with the boys. We take them out every year to trick or treat and it’s always been fun. We won’t be ‘alone’.”

“No offense, Y/N, but spending Halloween with a bunch of middle schoolers isn’t much better.”

You make a face and look over at Jonathan for help, but he shrugs. “You gotta admit, it is kinda lame.”

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like this–”

Nancy smiles at this. “See? Plus, I doubt trick or treating with the boys will take all night. You’ll be home by 8:00, and Jonathan will be listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something, while you, my dear Y/N, will be baking a fresh batch of cookies and throwing away all the candy corn you find.”

“Sounds like a nice night.” Jonathan responds, and you nudge your shoulder with his. It does sound like a nice night, one you’re looking forward to.

“I forgive you for your earlier betrayal.”

“Guys!” Nancy stops at her locker now, slight frustration in her voice. “Just… Come on! I mean, who knows? You guys might meet someone and–”

Her words are cut off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted in the air and spun around, Steve having snuck up behind her. Nancy now puts all her attention on him, he has his arms wrapped low on her waist and he’s wearing sunglasses inside like some idiot, and your heart hurts. He looks good, too good.

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.

“I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.

It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything.

Steve, as if sensing what you’re thinking, risks a look at you. Your eyes meet his and for a brief second no one else exists anymore. It’s just you and him in the small Hawkins high school hallway, where he’s yours again in a way that’s clouded with “almost” and “not enough”, and you want to tell him how lovely he is and how horrible you feel for hurting him, but then he diverts his gaze and focuses back on Nancy and you’re thrown back into reality.

He isn’t yours. Hell, he isn’t even your friend anymore, and you’re the one to blame.

Once Nancy and Steve start kissing, you share a disgusted look with Jonathan and silently agree to leave.

“Young love, huh?” Jonathan jokes bitterly when you’ve left them behind.

“I hate it.”

And you do.

You’re really starting to hate this whole “love” thing.

–

The only highlight so far this school year has been you and Will growing even closer. When Jonathan told you that Will started seeing the Hawkins Lab people for treatment and to see how he’s been recovering, you pulled Joyce aside later that night to ask if it’d be okay if you spoke with Will yourself. Since everything that happened last year, you’ve only become more interested in psychology, and you’d be lying if you said Will wasn’t an interesting case study.

You told Joyce that you’d been doing your own research, reading journals upon journals, and she made you a deal. You could help Will as long as you also took care of yourself, that you wouldn’t place an even heavier burden upon yourself. Of course you agreed, promising her you wouldn’t, and that’s how your weekly chats with Will began.

Jonathan had been against it at first, telling you that you didn’t have to worry about Will because you already do everything else for the kids. You told him you could handle it, and secretly you liked helping Will because you were able to pour all your anxiety and complex feelings for Steve into research and studying. It was a win-win in your eyes.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Waters had been extremely understanding when you asked for Wednesdays off. After all, you’d been working at Bookstrordinary for almost three years now, so she was quick to make the accommodation.

Now here you are, another Wednesday spent at the Byers’ home. You’re sitting with Will in his bed, the both of you quietly scribbling with his crayons. You’ve learned that he’s more receptive if you draw with him, if you take your time.

“How was Dr. Owens today?”

Will pauses mid-scribble. “Fine.”

“Just ‘fine’? Nothing else?” Your head is down so he doesn’t think you’re studying his reactions, but you keep an eye on him anyways.

“Yeah. I told him about my latest episode.”

“You had another one? Would you like to tell me when?”

Will thinks for a moment, and you tell him that he of course doesn’t have to say anything if he doesn’t want to.

“Last night. I was back in the Upside Down… and there was this… this thing.”

Now you stop drawing. “Like the monster we killed last year?”

“Different,” he shakes his head. “This thing was evil.”

Will’s eyes are darting everywhere around the room, and you can see his growing unease, so you decide to put the topic to rest for now. Clearly the episodes are getting worse, scaring him more, so you shift gears.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry for the episodes, but besides them how have you been feeling? Is school getting any better?” Earlier this month Will had confessed to you about the kids in school calling him “zombie boy” and treating him like a freak. You did your best to comfort him, and once you finished your chat with the boy you’d gone to Joyce to let her know.

Will sighs. “School is… school.”

You reach out and move some hair out of Will’s face. “I’m sorry, little bee. Middle schoolers are idiots, they’ll never understand how much you went through. I mean, I had to face that monster for only about twenty minutes. You had to hide from it for days, so you’re honestly incredibly braver than me.”

This gets a smile out of Will, which you’re relieved by. He’s been quiet lately, more closed off, and you’re worried that with the one year anniversary coming up, his episodes will only get worse.

A knock on the door, and then Jonathan pokes his head in. “Hey, guys. Mind if I join?”

“Actually, I think I should go. Bob’s been begging me for my cookie recipe, so I’ll leave you two alone.” You send a look Will’s way, a you better talk to your brother about this look, and he weakly nods his head.

As you walk past Jonathan out the door, you lean in close to Jonathan and whisper, “he’s struggling at school. Be gentle, kids can be fucking awful.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, silently thanking you, and you close the door behind you. While you want to help Will, make sure he’s adapting well, you also recognize your limits. He’s not your brother, Jonathan is, and you know he’ll be more open with him.

Joyce is in the kitchen with Bob, making some popcorn over the stove. He’s filming her with his ridiculously large camera and you can’t help but smile as you watch them. Joyce looks so happy around the guy, laughing more than she’s laughed in the last five or so years you’ve known her. She deserves this, she deserves a guy like Bob. Sweet, slightly silly, but good.

When Joyce sees you lingering in the doorway, she waves you in. “Hey, honey. Any luck with Will tonight?”

“A bit, he told me some of what’s happening at school. He still seems… off, but at least he was opening up. It’s a good sign.”

Joyce hums, but you can sense that there’s more on her mind. You look around to make sure Bob isn’t near, he’s busy digging through a cabinet to find a clean bowl, so you move closer to the woman and lower your voice. “What did Dr. Owens say this time?”

“Claims we need to just pretend everything is okay, despite the fact that it’s getting worse.”

There’s an edge in Joyce’s voice, so you’re careful with your words. “Well… I think he’s right.”

“You do?” Joyce turns to you, her voice loud with surprise, before she quickly remembers Bob is near and lowers it again. “Why do you think that?”

“I was up late reading a new journal I found about acute trauma in children. It’s been almost a year since Will disappeared, he spent days in complete fear, almost died… I mean, it makes sense that his body is remembering those traumatic effects.”

“So you think we should just leave Will alone, let him suffer through his episodes without any help?” There’s more confusion and fear than anger in Joyce’s voice, and you rest your hand against her arm.

“I know it seems counterintuitive, but the best studies we have all show that we have to let those who suffer from post-traumatic stress adapt at their own pace, through their own ways. They hate feeling pitied, and I have a feeling Will is starting to as well.”

Joyce turns the stove off and shakes her head at you. “You sound like Hop. I thought you hated the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” you chuckle, now helping the woman peel off the foil and sprinkle some salt onto the popcorn. “He just reminds me too much of my dad, and we all know how that ends.”

“Well if you ask me, I think it’s because you two are so similar.”

You gasp. “How dare you!”

Joyce laughs and the seriousness from the previous conversation dissipates. Bob finds a clean bowl and together you and him pour the fresh popcorn in as Joyce prepares the drinks. They’re having a movie night together, and you want to cry because of how adorable it all is. Joyce deserves this.

“You know you’re welcome to join us tonight, Y/N. It’s Will’s turn to choose the movie.” Joyce tells you, but you politely decline.

“Normally I’d love to, but I should get going. I have some homework and I promised Dustin I’d bake him some Halloween treats.”

“Oh!” Bob turns to you. “Speaking of, you promised you’d give me that recipe of yours!”

You and Joyce share an amused look. “You caught me, I did. I’ll write it down right now and you have to swear that no one else will look at this. Deal?”

Bob nods, ecstatic, and you grab a piece of paper and quickly scribble down all the ingredients he’ll need and how to make the cookies. Joyce watches fondly, and you fill with warmth having pleased her. When you’re done, you hand the paper over to Bob and make him cross his heart, just to be extra sure he won’t reveal all your secrets.

“Scout’s honor!”

“Very good then, soldier.” You salute him, and then pull Joyce into a hug. “I really gotta go now. Can you tell Jonathan I said goodbye?”

“Of course, bike home safe, alright?”

You wink at her. “Scout’s honor.”

Bob lets out a loud cackle and you can’t believe that this guy is real, but Joyce is laughing along with him and you’re pleased she’s found someone as endearing and kind as him.

–

As soon as you get home you throw down your backpack and bunker down at the kitchen table. Your mom isn’t back from work yet and Dustin seems to be off somewhere doing god knows what, so it’s just you and Mews for now.

Mews plops herself on the table next to an essay you’ve been working on and you scratch her head as you work. You get lost in your writing, humming softly to yourself, enjoying this small moment of peace.

You won’t admit this to Jonathan, but he’s right. You’ve been overworking yourself, your body aches and your eyes droop with exhaustion almost every day now. But keeping yourself busy is what’s helping you stay afloat. The more you pile onto yourself, the less time you have to think about Steve and his stupid smile and stupid hair and stupid face.

In the middle of one of your sentences, Dustin flings the front door open and scares you. “Jesus, dude!”

He doesn’t spare you a glance, but when he sees Mews on the table with you he suddenly looks a bit alarmed. “Mews is here?”

“Yeah…? She’s helping me with this english essay.” You respond, confused.

“Huh,” Dustin thinks for a second, but seems to shrug it off. “Anyways, I’m home.”

“I can see that.”

“Are you gonna ask about my day?”

“How was your day, my dear brother.”

Dustin hops onto the table and shimmies his shoulders. “I met a girl.”

“What?” You drop your pencil in shock and Mews scatters, your exclaim having frightened her.

“Don’t act too surprised, geesh.” Your brother rolls his eyes, but then he frowns. “Actually, technically speaking I haven’t met her yet, but–”

“You have a crush?” You’re in shock. In your eyes, Dustin is still a baby, no older than six years old. And yet here is he, thirteen and talking to you about a girl.

“Yes, Y/N. Her name is Max, she has red hair and is new, and she’s totally awesome.”

Red hair? You remember seeing that girl in the parking lot earlier today. “Was she with that weird new guy, the one with a mullet?”

Dustin nods, so you poke him in the stomach and ooh at him. “I saw her this morning, she was prettyyyy.”

He shoves your finger away and blushes, which you find adorable. Dustin’s first ever crush, you can’t believe how old he is now.

“Yeah, she’s pretty, but she’s also just awesome. I think she’s the one with the new high score on Dig Dug.”

“Dig Dug?”

Your brother scoffs. “The arcade game the party always plays? Honestly, do you not listen when I tell you about my days?”

“Alright, fine. If you can remember what I told you I did yesterday, then I’ll apologize for not listening better.”

Dustin closes his mouth, unable to recall a thing.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick his hat. “Anyways, since you officially like girls now, I’ve been dying to give you some girl advice.”

“Y/N–” Dustin groans, but you shush him.

“First things first, always be a gentleman. Max does indeed seem cool, but I’m sure she’d appreciate a nice and polite young man like yourself.”

Dustin nods. “Okay, be kind. Got it.”

“Good. Now secondly, we Hendersons are charming people, so just be yourself.”

“Duh,”

“Lastly, if she shows interest, tell her how you feel. Better you’re honest and true about how you feel rather than hide it and sulk.”

Dustin snorts. “Says you.”

You look away from him, slightly hurt. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“C’mon, Y/N. When are you gonna tell Jonathan you love him? I mean, everyone knows you do, it’s about time you confess.” Dustin drones on, unaware of your hurt feelings. “And he’s obviously in love with you, you guys are disgusting to be around–”

“He doesn’t love me back.” You whisper, looking down at your paper. You feel pathetic, confessing this to your little brother.

Dustin freezes, now realizing you’ve gone quiet. He can feel your mood darken and he feels like shit for not noticing it sooner. He’s upset you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought he did, I mean the party and I all assumed…”

His words fade off, and you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. It’s embarrassing, you shouldn’t be pitied like this by your brother. “It’s okay, I know what you meant.”

“Y/N–”

You get up from the table and gather your things, shoving them into your backpack. “I’m gonna finish up this essay in my room, then I promise I’ll start baking those marshmallow puffs you like–”

Dustin jumps down from the table and blocks you from leaving the kitchen. “Jonathan is an ass–”

“Language–”

He doesn’t let you interrupt. “You’re cool, he’s stupid, and I’m here for you. Alright? Don’t make me pull a code blue on you.”

You wrap your brother into your arms, something he hadn’t been expecting, and allow yourself a small laugh. “No need for a code blue, I promise. Just, give me like an hour to sulk and then I’ll be as good as new. Okay?”

When you pull away, Dustin eyes you, but understands he won’t win this argument. The two of you handle your emotions the same way: alone, in solitude, away from prying eyes. He knows you just need some time to yourself, but he still feels like a jerk for upsetting you in the first place. “Fine, but if you’re sulking later I’ll flick your nose.”

You flick his nose and then quickly flee to your room, Dustin not far behind you. “Flicked you first!”

“Not fair!”

You slam your bedroom door and giggle as you lock it. Dustin bangs on the door, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. You tell him you’ll be out as soon as you’re done with your essay, and then go and sit down at your desk. Sighing, you dig into your bag and pull out what you need. Without meaning to, you look up and see your Spider-Man poster, your wonderful Christmas gift from Steve, hanging in front of you.

The small joy you’d been feeling vanishes.

The poster stares back at you, you can almost hear it calling you a pathetic coward, and you feel guilt claw at your throat. You close your eyes, remembering the cold from that winter day, and you can almost smell the cologne Steve had been wearing when you’d thrown yourself into his warmth. Sometimes, if you sit still enough, you think you can feel the ghost of his embrace.

You open your eyes.

Steve isn’t here.

Of course he isn’t here.

You exhale, feeling the familiar ache and exhaustion within you; junior year is looking quite grim.

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tender-rosiey · 2 years

Text

HE MAKES YOU SCARED - pt 2

⤷ includes: gojo, geto; nanami, sukuna

— warnings: mentions of blood, gore and death

ᴀ/ɴ: it’s angst time, buckle up <3 hurt no comfort, we cry like men also f!reader in sukuna’s, the rest are gn!reader

GOJO SATORU:

you wouldn’t call yourself needy, like really. you, like any normal lover, just wanted to spend some time with your husband. you are also quite understanding of his situation, and a proof of that is the last time you guy had an actual date was a good two month ago.

however, it was really bothering you now and you really missed him.

today, he is back home, but who knows for how long so you approach him, “‘toru?” and he hums, a little irritated you sense, but continue nonetheless, “can I ask you something?” satoru lifts his blindfold and you can see the strain in the corner of his eyes, as he raises an eyebrow in inquiry, “yeah?”

“um…are you free to go on a date like soon?”

he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply then stands up, “y/n,” and you nod, “listen, I know we don’t spend time together, but can’t you just look at things from my point of view?”

“what?” you say in disbelief while he continues running a hand through his hair, his blindfold long forgotten on the floor.

“I am a sorcerer; I have duties. I get that your job gives you more free space, but I am fucking busy and even the days I am not required for a job, I am left tired and irritated,” and he looks at you dead in the eye, “so you should at least be more considerate and stop your nagging.”

he walks to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee and he hears you mutter, “you asshole…”

gojo turns to you, “excuse me?”

“you asshole, you fucking asshole!” you yell and your eyes are now filled with tears, tears you’re so desperately trying to hold back, “have you gotten so in your head that you can’t see what I am doing for you?” you scream and he stares at you in disbelief.

“oh really? I am the asshole now?” he eggs you on and you reply just as aggressive.

“well, yes obviously since you seem so good at dismissing everything I have done and belittling my work, you fucking ass!”

he walks to you, cup in hand, and aura you’re so unfamiliar with that it frightens you a little, “if you’re gonna keep bitching,” and his hand is raised up high, “THEN YOU SHOULD AT LEAST DO SOMETHING RIGHT FIRST!” and the mug meets the floor in a loud crash, a dirty carpet, and glass everywhere.

the only sound after that is gojo’s heavy breaths and your choked sobs.

slowly, he comes to his senses and his eyes are far clearer, no more anger and rage behind them, “y/n, wait I—“ and he reaches out for you, only for you to slap his hand away.

“DON’T GET NEAR ME!” you yell, your chest shaking with so much fear and pain before getting out of the mansion and heading to shoko’s as she is now the only source of comfort for you.

gojo’s back is now against the wall as he curses, “god damn it!”

NANAMI KENTO:

your husband is a rather calm and collected person in general, so it was quite rare getting to see him angry.

that’s one of the reasons you were caught really off guard when it happened today.

“y/n dear, please, all I am asking is for you is to be a bit more responsible and do the chores like I do.”

you cross your arms, “well, breaking news, not everyone is like you.”

he sighs, “no need to give me any sass; I am merely asking you for some sense.”

“oh really?” you quirk an eyebrow, “now, all I do is nonsense and I am a completely irresponsible, and useless adult; oh maybe even a child! right?!”

nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, “y/n, I don’t want to argue,” his eyes meet yours for a moment making you flinch lightly, “I am not in the mood. you can drop it now.”

“you can’t just start a conversation then end it half-way, kento!”

and for the first time ever, you hear your husband raise his voice at you, “WELL A CONVERSATION WITH YOU ALWAYS LEADS TO YELLING AND PURE ANNOYANCE!” he gives his back to you, “maybe if you kept it down, then you would’ve been able to notice that,” his voice dangerously low.

his hand gets nearer to you, and you can’t help the arms that come to shield you from what would’ve come. you stay like that for a bit before untangling them and your gaze lands on your husband.

he’s shocked and wounded; he’s disappointed at himself for letting you feel this way, but did you really not trust him to the point you had to shield yourself from him? he was only going to get his cup of coffee so he can go cool down and later come to talk about the issue in a more civilized manner.

but now, all he could think about is the fear in your eyes, you finally open your mouth, a call for of his name leaves it, “kento, I didn’t mean—“

“excuse me,” he says, not adding any other word before leaving the house, leaving you alone to think and think about what happened. will this cause your gem of a relationship to crack? will he leave? is he done?

GETO SUGURU:

you are already aware of what your husband does, at least the fact that he makes non-sorcerers worship him as he steals the curses on them for himself to make an army.

even with that though, he never let you see what he actually does so you don’t get uncomfortable, and you understand.

though you didn’t expect to come back from work, a job in a nearby bakery since you quit jujustu, to heart-wrenching screams coming from one of the rooms in the house. you take off your shoes, to soften your steps, and slowly making your way to the door of said room.

it was a little open, which explained why the screams were heard, but still, how can it be so loud? just what is happening to the person?

you finally decide to peak, and are met with a sight that will possibly scar you for life.

in all your life, even when you were a sorcerer, you have never seen anything as bloody and scarring as what you are seeing: limbs separated, being feasted on by wild and barbaric beasts and curses, but you don’t know if the scenery really is the problem or the fact that your husband, who’s as gentle as a petal with you, is the the one doing that.

all of that with a smirk on his face, “damn monkeys; you’re the lowest form of life.”

your feet move without thinking, not caring anymore about making a sound or not, your instincts are telling you to run, run, run.

so you do until your legs give out when you’re right in front of the entrance of your “home”, heavy breaths escape you and you hear a tender voice, “y/n, honey, what’s wrong?”

you turn to him, slowly, and his hand makes it way to your face and once it touches, you cry, you cry your eyes out. his eyes widen in alarm and he tires to envelope you in his arms, but your arms are weakly hitting his chest, “please let me go,” a sob escapes your lips with so much force it makes you cough, “don’t hurt me,please,” and realization takes over him.

“PLEASE DON’T HURT ME! PLEASE SUGURU!” you scream, terrified; what if all what he was with you was a mere plan to lead you into the same fate?

lost in your own thoughts and fears, you don’t see the tears that cascade down your lover’s face slowly, almost unnoticeable.

his heart is aching and a lump in his throat forms, you think he will hurt you?

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

he had strictly told you not to leave the grounds of the palace, but ol’ little you wanted to explore the gardens and fields behind the fence, so what’s the best option? go off and explore, but now thinking about it, you should’ve at least taken a servant to be with you cause now you’re kind of lost.

you’re praying that sukuna doesn’t find you here and instead uses another route, but at the same you want someone to help you. however still, you’ve heard all of the tales about what happened to the women who didn’t listen to him, and they frightened you to the core.

some say that one of them was hung on a tree above a swamp so she can “rot where she belongs” and another one was thrown to a bunch of predators to feast on her while sukuna watched, almost bored.

you needed to find a way back quickly; you look around, finally noticing the footsteps you took and hurriedly following them till you’re finally back at the entrance.

you cheer quietly, happy to be back and without him finding you out, but as soon as you try to enter, you’re stopped by a guard.

“can I help you, sir?”

he eyes you up and down, “aren’t you the king’s current concubine?” and you nod.

for some reason, he grabs you by the hair harshly making you scream, “didn’t he tell you not to exist this place? you’re just a glutton of punishment like all of the others.”

you’re thrown onto the ground once again, and the guard nears your whimpering form, “disobedience is a bad sin, little girl,” and just before the spear pierces through your chest, the man is sliced to 7 pieces.

he is also stepped on by a foot, and when you look up to see its owner, it’s none other than sukuna.

you sit up to bow your head quickly, crying and sobbing, barely keeping it together as you think your end has come, “please, my lord forgive me! I only wanted to see the flowers! please, I will never disobey you again! I beg you, please don’t kill me!”

the man can only look in bewilderment, just what nonsense are you spouting? “woman, stand up.”

you never thought that your life actually flashes through your eyes.

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